Forest ridge roads and tight bends west of the city.
Open this ride in the planner →
Forest ridge roads and tight bends west of the city. Out of Tanashichō and back again: 196 km, roughly 4 h 28 in the saddle. On the way it passes Hanno, Chichibu green line, Nagatoro river stop and Ogose hills.
Tokyo north-west edge is where the day begins.
Hanno is where Saitama's flat suburbs run out and the green ridges begin, at about 100 metres above the sea, on the Iruma river at the mouth of the valley that leads up toward Okutama and Chichibu. It is a city of about eighty-six thousand people, so a fuel stop is easy, and it has a long history as a timber town. For centuries the cedar and cypress felled in the mountains upstream were floated or hauled down here to supply the building boom of Edo, and the old lumber trade gave the place much of its wealth.
Today Hanno is better known for something gentler. Moomin Valley Park, beside Lake Miyazawa, is a Finnish-inspired village with a theme dedicated to the beloved trolls of Tove Jansson, and it is a favourite family outing. The lake itself is a quiet reservoir surrounded by woods, with a path around its shore, and it is often the starting point for walking and cycling trips into the hills. Cherry blossom in early April and the autumn colours bring crowds.
The Hanno riding starts the moment you leave the town. Routes 299 and 70 climb into the valley through cedar forest and small hamlets, with tight bends, shade and occasional mossy patches, and it is known among riders as the gateway to the best roads west of Tokyo. The Shomaru and Tokigawa areas have cheerful, winding roads, and the Chichibu basin lies just over the hills. At weekends, the road is thick with bikes and cars, so a weekday or a very early start is a good idea.
Convenience stores and petrol stations are plentiful in town, but they become sparse as you climb, and some mountain stations close early in the evening, so fill up before you head into the hills. Many riders gather at a few popular stops near the foothills, particularly on Sunday mornings, and the atmosphere can be quite sociable.
Check your tyre pressures, warm up the engine gently and enjoy the long, shaded climb. After the grey suburbs, the green of the mountains feels like a reward.
The road climbs 620 m on the way up to it, steadily. Nothing on this route is higher.
Nagatoro is a small town on the Arakawa River, at the point where the water leaves the Chichibu mountains and cuts through a long stretch of flat, banded rock. The riverbed here is made of crystalline schist, a pale green stone laid down in broad stepped terraces, known as Iwadatami, or rock tatami, because it looks like a floor of giant mats. Geologists have studied the formation for well over a century, and it is among the most celebrated rock exposures in Japan.
The best way to see it is by water. Open wooden boats, steered by boatmen with long poles, carry passengers through the rapids in a trip that lasts about half an hour, and it is a fun and slightly wet experience in summer. In winter the boats run with covers and heaters. A footbridge and a path along the bank give good views, and the autumn colours of the surrounding hills are lovely. The town has a number of shops selling shaved ice, noodles and souvenirs, and the main street has an old-fashioned atmosphere.
At about 140 metres above sea level, the town sits in a gentle valley, and the roads leading out of it climb into the hills in all directions. They are mostly narrow and winding, with some tight bends and occasional rough patches, and they are popular with riders on weekends. Traffic can build up in the town at peak times, especially on sunny Sundays, so early morning is the best time. Near the river you will find parking for motorcycles at several spots.
The nearest large town is Yorii, about seven kilometres away, with petrol and supermarkets, and there are petrol stations in Nagatoro itself. A bowl of soba or a plate of the local miso potato dumplings makes an easy lunch. Shaved ice with syrup, made from natural ice, is also a local speciality in summer.
Walk down to the rocks, take off your gloves and watch the water. It is a lovely, quiet place to stop.
Ogose is a quiet town at the edge of the Kanto plain, where the flat sprawl of greater Tokyo gives way to the first low hills of the Chichibu and Okutama mountains, and it has the feel of a place that most people pass through without noticing. Its pleasures are modest ones: terraced tea fields, stands of cedar and cypress, small orchards, and a plum grove, the Ogose Baien, that blooms in March and fills the slopes with white and pink. The roads that wind through these hills are the sort that a rider remembers as the pleasant end of a long day.
The hills here are the Musashi ridge, a fringe of old forested ridges that rise to a few hundred metres, and the landscape is a patchwork of woodland, villages and rice paddies, with narrow valleys running between. The area is known for its tea, the Sayama tea that is grown and processed in the nearby hills, and for its small farms, which sell vegetables, eggs and persimmons from stalls by the road. In the autumn, the persimmon trees hang heavy with orange fruit among the bare branches, and the maples on the ridges turn red.
Riding here is a matter of careful pace. The roads are narrow, often with one lane and passing places, and they twist sharply between the houses and the trees, with blind corners, steep ramps and drainage grates at the edges. The surface is generally well kept, but fallen leaves and wet patches in the shade can be slippery, and on weekends, there are many cyclists and other riders. Speed limits are low and strictly enforced, and a patrol car may wait at the bottom of a popular hill. Drive on the left, and watch for traffic coming out of side roads.
Morohongo, only three kilometres away, and Sakado and Ogawa, a bit further, are the towns for fuel, convenience stores and meals, and there are noodle shops and small restaurants by the station. In Japan, you can rely on a vending machine for a hot or cold drink in almost every village, and on a convenience store for a rice ball and a coffee. The best seasons are March, for the plums, and November, for the colour, and the roads are least crowded on weekday mornings.
The end of the ride is the beginning of Tokyo again, and it comes in stages. First the hills drop away, and the road widens; then the first signal lights, the first convenience store, the first apartment blocks, and finally the glow of the capital spread across the plain in the dark. Arriving in Chofu at the end of a long day, with the Tama River running quietly beside the road, is a gentle way to come home.
Chofu is an ordinary city of two hundred thousand, quiet in the evening, with a stadium that hosts football and rugby, a long riverside cycle path, and shopping streets where small restaurants serve grilled chicken and cold beer. After a day in the mountains, a plate of yakitori and a noodle soup in a place with a steamed-up window is about as good as it gets. The locals are used to bikers returning in the dusk, and the hospitality is easy.
A few practical points make the last hour smoother. Japan drives on the left, and speed enforcement is strict, with fixed cameras and patrol cars, particularly on the expressways. Rain makes painted lines and manhole covers slippery, and in the city, taxis and delivery vans stop and start without warning. Tolls are charged on most expressways, and an electronic card saves time at the gates. The Chuo Expressway can back up for many kilometres on Sunday evenings, with the Kobotoke tunnel as a notorious bottleneck, so plan to leave the mountains early or accept a slow crawl.
This is also a good place to check the bike over after a long day, look at your tyres, and wipe the bugs from the visor. Park in the places marked for motorcycles, because the rules about street parking are tight and fines can be steep. Then take a deep breath, and let the ride settle.