Vernal. Once home to cuddly dinosaurs. Now home to mormons and singletrack.

Loaded up with a breakfast of sugary-coated cereal, then resting my backside gingerly on the newly-welded Brooks saddle, I bade farewell to my sunglass-toting hosts, Jim and Barbara in Manila. It was a long climb out of Flaming Gorge; hot and interminably rolling. A climb that forever seemed to lose as much altitude as it gained, it did finally breach the 8500 foot pass forty miles later. My original plans involved a dirt road detour beyond the top but in light of my damaged perch, I dove straight back down on pavement, finishing the day with a ten mile, ten switchback descent that unravelled almost into the backstreets of Vernal.

Ten blissful miles of descent.

The bike shop where I hoped to invest in a new seat was shut by the time I tracked it down on the fringes of town, so in a moment of wild abandon, I booked myself into a discounted room at the Sage Motel. Such indulgent luxury! As it happened, it was just the kind of independent motel I like. Cheap and quirky round the edges, it was run by a friendly Indonesian family, and when the back door opened, I caught a waft of Nasi Goreng.

Just a few miles from the main drag in Vernal, a web of trails criss-crossed the desert.

To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much from Vernal. But as it happened, it had just hit the big time in mountain biking circles, thanks to a magazine feature on its brand new network of trails within easy reach of town. I liked its desert heat and oddball feel; the enormous, surreal and almost cuddly dinosaurs poking their heads high into the clear blue sky, and the faded, classic Americana shop facades in the older part of town.

Blue skies in Utah. Thanks Troy at Altitude Cycles for donating me a saddle to keep me rolling.

Two other mountain bikers had booked into the same motel, brothers Jim and Tim from Salt Lake City; Jim a keen mountain bike racer and Tim an extreme distance runner, before fatherhood took over a chunk of their lives. Over at Altitude Cycles, owner Troy’s unremitting enthusiam for the trails he’d been working on inspired me to strip down the bike and spend a ‘day off’ riding lovely, dusty singletrack out in the desert with the two brothers.

Jim throwing some moves in the desert.

Brothers Jim and Tim. They invited me to join them for a day's mountain biking, then kindly treated me first to lunch, then to a gargantuan Mexican dinner. I slept on their motel room floor the second night - thanks guys!

So as often the case when travelling, a turn of bad luck was far outweighed by the experiences that came from it. Breaking my saddle rails resulted in a night at Jim and Barbara’s, and an impromptu stop in Vernal. Which in turn introduced me to Jim and Tim, whose company both on and off the trails I really enjoyed. ‘It’s a good earth’, said Jim. And I agreed.

In the morning, we rode McCoy Flats and in the afternoon, we squeezed in a ride around the Red Fleet Trails.

Then it was time to load up once more and head south, via the dirt roads of Baxter Pass, which would lead me me over the mountain range into Colorado.

As I rode south to the wonderfully named but sinfully ugly Bonanza, the desert took on a surreal, wind sculpted, biblical quality.

I would have had the valley to myself but for the profusion of hunters stalking the mountains for deer and elk, garbed in full camo gear, somewhat incongruous with their day-glo orange waistcoasts and baseball caps.

All the creeks had dried up, so I flagged down pickups and asked for water. Everyone quizzed me on where I’d ridden from, and what I was doing out in the middle of the mountains alone. When I told them, they forced out whistling sounds from their mouths and shook their heads. Just to temper their perception of my madness, I often added that there was a couple on a tandem homeschooling their kid, and two brothers on a similar journey, one of whom was towing his dog in a trailer. ‘Well, I sure as hell don’t blame him for that,’ said one of the hunters, to unanimous nodding from his camo-clad friends, as if leaving a dog behind would have been far more of a surprise than the journey itself.

One couple asked me simply, ‘So what are you going to do when you get there?’ It was a question no one had put to me before. ‘Er, fly home, I guess,’ I answered, seeing in a moment of clarity how so many people must view this journey.

Happy to be camping out in the mountains. Do I look a bit like a stickman? Maybe I need to eat more.

A biking trail! After a few ambiguous turns and some compass squinting, it was good to see this sign and know I was on the right track.

The border with Colorado was cattle ranching territory. I stopped in at a hunting outfitters, and was warmly welcomed in by Bruce - see cowboy hat below - where I was offered a giant platter of elk meat cooked up by his wife.

A group of hunters had gathered in the barn, where huge carcasses were hanging like pendulums from the rafters; one man was busy severing an elk's head from its 700lb body. For someone who's not been brought up in this kind of world, it was pretty gruesome watching him working away at the animal with his knife. But I figure that if I'm prepared to eat meat, perhaps this is a more natural way of experiencing how it gets onto my plate, rather than neatly embalmed in a styrofoam packet, purchased from the disconnected convenience of a supermarket.

Rick was one of the guides, and we talked about the ethics of hunting. He argued that that many people are happy to eat meat pumped with chemicals from McDonald's, but balk at the idea of the 'blood and guts' of hunting. To him, living off the land and understanding where your food is coming from form the essence of hunting - the size and majesty of the antlers comes second. To me though, I still find the 'trophy sport' aspect of it - hunting for the thrill of the kill - hard to deal with.

With a belly full of elk meat and a generous slab of carrot cake to top it off, I left the outfitters. From there, the track deteriorated as it began to switchback up the pass.

With the approach of winter, the aspens were turning, a blaze of colour burning across the hillside. When the wind blew, bright leaves fluttered to the ground like snowfall.

At last, the top of the pass, at 8650 feet. From here, I'd been promised a white-knuckled, pedal-free descent.

Which it was for the first 10 miles... Then a howling wind stirred into life, threatening to blow me back up the hill. And the rock-strewn and washed out trail swelled out into a body jarring, filling-loosening washboard road. Both of which I were taking their toll on my spirits and energy supply. You can't see the two evils of bike touring in this picture, but they were there, believe you me.

I'm now largely beyond bear country. Here, critters take a different form. Being an arachnophobe, I wasn't impressed to hear there are small but lethally poisonous spiders the size of a penny scuttling across the desert floor. Further down the pass, I nearly ran over this camouflaged snake. I'm not sure if it was dangerous, but it certainly had the attitude to be. It did the iconic snake dance - raising itself up on the ground and bobbing its head from side to side...

As I closed in on the highway came the incongruous sight of gas and oil stations, sprouting out of the otherwise empty desert like sets from a post-apocalyptic movie.

Reaching sun-kissed Fruita has suddenly injected a little holiday-like spirit into the journey. There's two great shops in town, Single-Tracks and Over The Edge, where a steady stream of visiting riders check in before hitting the trails.

Pedalling into such a formidable headwind, I didn’t make it into town until dark, and luckily ended up sharing a campspot in the overpriced State Park ($20 for a tent!) with Craig, Bonnie and Dean from Canada, who’d been mountain biking in twin meccas of Fruita and Moab.

All in all, it had been a great segment of the journey. One that had been incredibly varied: from snow to mud to dust to desert to highway, with some wonderful encounters in between. Next up is the Kokopelli Trail to Moab…

Toca madrugar, y ya de comienzo una baja Frechi la ha liado con la horquilla. A las 7 rumbo al norte de Burgos. Las bicis van bien cómodas en la zona trasera de la Vanette roja de Asier. Nos juntamos en El Peso con los Etxebarritarrak, las bicis de éstos van cómodas y fresquitas con el artilugio de última generación. Carretera para arriba con sus típicas curvas. Amanece y las nubes están rojizas, bonito momento. El mismo momento vive Julen pero éste en soledad pues viene solito desde Gasteiz.

Desde un alto se adivina por donde vamos a pedalear esta templada mañana. La cosa promete. Parking, sacar bicis, realizar labores de topógrafo, salir pitando a buscar a Julen que se veía perdido en el medio de Castilla. Nuestros cuerpos no asimilan la temperatura y tendemos a sobre abrigarnos. Con las primeras rampas nos damos cuenta que nos sobraba algo de ropa, pero para algunos ya no había remedio y fueron destilando txakoli en sus partes nobles toda la vuelta.

Hacemos varias paradas en pueblos preciosos, que atrapados en el cañón aun desprenden esencia a auténticos. Probamos los primeros tramos de “singletrack“, la gozamos, pero el GPS compacto (Asier de Etxabarri) nos advierte que esperemos al último por que es el mejor. Comemos intentando protegernos de un vientillo fino que sin sol refresca nuestros cuerpos demasiado. Y mientras comprobamos que en los pueblos hay quien hace las cosas a lo grande, 500 metros cuadrados de casa para una pareja.

Tras un rápido bocado, una “subidica”, que se hace más larga de lo esperado pero que viene bien para volver a entrar en calor. Llegamos a LA BAJADA, no se puede llamar de otra manera. Tras unos tramos de singletrack por bosque bajo, el sendero se desploma hacía el fondo del cañón. Varias zetas con un par de pasos complicados en los que algunos echamos pie a tierra por prudencia. Interesante tramo, a repetir para la próxima.

Es la hora del autentico sinlgletrack paralelo al río, siguiendo el sentido aguas abajo, vamos que la tendencia era bajar. Intensimos momentos siguiendo la rueda del de alante, esquivando piedras, troncos (bendito casco), curva recurva, repechito a la izquierdda, hasta que por fin un pedrolo que algun día se  precipito desde la pared del cañón se interpone en nuestro camino y nos hace parar. El pelotón de cola aprovecha para respirar, y darnos cuentan de que rápido-rápido no vamos pero el movimiento de coleteo de curva recurva nos ha acelerado el pulso.

Llegamos a Pesquera desfilando paralelos a la hilera de chopos, gran momento que un aficionado fotógrafo intenta retratar, mientras nosotros amagamos a levantar los brazos victoriosos.

Una gran ruta, en un maravilloso paraje. Un buen estreno para el GPS y pedales automáticos de Julen (tiene mucho valor el chaval estrenar en una ruta en la que hay tramos muy expuestos). El año que viene hay que repetirla.

I attended my first VTT (MTB) race last weekend in Grenoble. It was a pretty low key affair and tailored for families. My seven year old son entered his first downhill, xc and trials race and finished a respectble 5th out of about 30 kids in his age group.

I along with a friend enterd the 2 hour relay XC race. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the short course about 10 mins per lap the 3 short sharp climbs (nothing like we are used to in Alpe d’Huez) and the 20 or so cyclo cross bikes !

The event took place next to the cycling clubs velodrome so each lap involved a quick sprint on the velodrome before handing over to your coleague to do a lap. It was hard going with short recovery times with lung busting short climbs. The great thing though about french events is there is always loads of food to eat.

For the record I believe we were 27th out of quite a few more ?!

Once the snow melts off the ground here in in Hokkaido, the vegetation grows like crazy.  Some trails that I have had my eye on had not had any trail maintenance for about a year and were in desperate need of a brush cutter’s razor. I tried to walk through one of them in early summer and found that it was nearly impassable. A machete would have been handy.

The maintenance has finally been done and they are still fixing some parts of the track, including putting in some new stairs, hopefully not too many.  Quite rooty and techincal at the top, but then faster and easier down near the bottom.

The fall colors are really impressive presently.

I have been pouring over maps to find some good trails in the Shakotan area of Hokkaido which is on the west coast. After a great morning ride in the Sapporo region which was guided by some local riders I drove down the coast to do some exploring. Followed numerous tracks, trails and logging roads that all seemed to lead to either cemeteries, dead ends, or overgrown bushes. Tired and defeated I retired to the van for some shouchu while watching the sun go down.

Decided to catch the sunrise on the Cape the next morning. Not a soul around as the road is closed until around 9am, so had the place to myself. Rode to the end, and despite numerous steps was a worthwhile journey.

Then met up with Teppei and Martin and we decided on an assault of  Mt Shakotan which is the second highest mountain in the area. The ascent took us about 3 hours of which about a third was rideable and the descent about an hour with about 800 vertical meters and 6 kilometers. Quite a technical trail and both Martin and I kissed the dirt on our hard-tails. Teppei struggled up the mountain with a heavy all mountain bike, but was in his element on the downhill. We had such a good time that we have decided to make it an annual climb and ride.

This area is in our ‘Cape of Divine power’ trip; cape_of_devine.html

i am, very much so, a mountain biker. To me a bike ride just doesn’t seem complete without the shedding of blood, mixed liberally with mud and twigs.  Without being involuntarily separated from my bike and tossed rag-doll style through sylvan terrain it just feels like i haven’t put forth enough effort to call it a “ride”.

That said i want to share how i fell in love with riding skinny tires. Over the winter i picked up an ancient Cannondale crit series bike for less than i could have brought home some solid steel monstrosity from Walmart. She’s light (especially for her age), her drive train is tighter than Oprah’s waistband, and even her throw-back frame shifters have a certain endearing charm. i picked it up to help keep me in shape over the winter months, not that there is an “off-season” in my world but the trails take longer to recover from precipitation in the cold dark of winter. Over the winter months i spent many hours pulling hills; & zipping down their backsides; on two skinny tires. Over those hours i went from thinking of my geriatric ride as an exercise  tool, something to be used to keep my legs strong, my weight under control and my lungs and heart pumping; to thinking fondly of my rides on the asphalt.

The Old Girl: My aged Cannondale.

With the great weather late August and early September bring i have spent very little time on my roadie, riding almost exclusively single-track for the last several weeks. Today i had some time but just didn’t feel like loading up the mountain bike and heading to a trailhead. So i pulled the road bike off the rack, checked the air in the tires and hit the road. i had forgotten how much i have come to love pedaling over warm pavement.

The hiss of the wind and your tires.

The calico patch spots of the tarmac rolling underneath you.

The sheer speed of a long downhill run.

The feeling at the end of the never-ending slog to crest that mammoth hill.

To those who live outside the world of two wheeled, human powered machines the two disciplines (mountain & road biking) may seem to hold the same thrills, but nothing could be further from the truth. The two have their own very different types of magic.

When mountain biking there is an intensity. The world is coming at you warp speed, tight and dangerous. You know you are having a good ride when you find yourself in “The Zone”: that place where nothing else exists except the eight inch wide dirt snake that’s twisting and bucking beneath your knobby tires making every effort to loose itself from you and your highly engineered steed. It’s all about picking the perfect line, lines that are surgically precise, the smallest error can turn a smooth flowy line into a you vs. brahma bull moment.

A good road ride is very different to me, sure there are lines to be picked out, but they are less picky, they feel more like a commercial for a fine foreign car, shot on a closed off section of road as the S’s of the road weave elegantly beneath the tires. On the ideal road ride my body feels like a well tuned machine, my legs like two pistons, my lungs processing massive amounts of oxygen to keep the motor running.

While the zone on my mountain bike is intense, in my face, un-ignorable. The zone on my road bike feels much more serene (even when my body is screaming with pain), like i am on auto-pilot, there is a certain peace that comes with it. In musical terms Mountain Biking is punk rock, road biking is classical.

i love mountain biking because while i’m out there i’m not thinking about anything else. i love riding my road bike because while i’m out there i am thinking about things i normally push onto the back-burner of my brain: my next art project, words i need to write down, the beauty of everyday life, things like that.

i may never (and i do mean NEVER) trade in my baggies for skin-tight “faggy-pants”, i may never log more hours on the hard-top than the soft-pack, i may never ride in a “tour de” anything BUT as long as my body holds out road biking will probably have a place in my life.

The Curt Gowdy Project is rolling on.  The hand construction seems to be never ending, but the work the crew is doing is phenomenal.

Here is a photo of the sustainable singletrack the crew is pounding out and a photo of the terrain that we are going through.

Here’s some helmet cam footage I did for Luke over at www.snowcam.co.uk

More footage to follow, I took a couple of big diggers first run with the camera, so hopefully he gets some of those vids posted!

We took a trip out to the west coast of Hokkaido today to an area that I have had my eye on for a while.  The road map showed what looked to be a walking trail right by the ocean that was about 5 kilometers long.  We figured that even if the track wasn’t rideable, the walk and good views would be worthwhile.  As usual there was the beware of bear signs and recent bear sighting warnings by the entrance to the trail, but we weren’t to be put off.  Anyway, success.  A beautiful ride with stunning views, topped off with a swim in the Sea of Japan at the end which was almost bathwater warm.  For a Taswegian that is something.

This area is on our ‘Cape of Divine Power’ trip. cape_of_devine.html

Bigfoot stayed with Ride Oisans in August 2009 here is their take on the holiday.

More photos from the guys at Bigfoot mbc from their mountain bike holiday in august with Ride Oisans

So Lance Armstrong won the Leadville 100. The annual mountain bike race (yes, mountain bike) is held in Leadville, CO. I think it is pretty cool the guy can be a competitor in both the biggest road races of the year and turn around and win a race using a completely different kind of bike on a completely different kind of route (i.e. dirt tracks).

See Singletrack’s photo here: http://img190.yfrog.com/i/qb7e.jpg/

Day 5 started with a bit of a road climb up to the mythical trail of Oulles with its mythical 84 switchback back down to Bourg d’Oisans. We all struggled down the trail which drops off a very steep wooded mountainside. When you look back at the end of the descent you can not quite believe that there is a path down the mountainside. After a quick lunch stop back at our base in Bourg d’Oisans the guys asked if they could do some of the trails (that we did on tuesday) from Alpe d’Huez to Villard Reculas and then down to Bourg d’Oisans  again. We were happy to oblige and after loading our bikes on the local bus service we were on our way for an excellent afternoon of over 1000m of vertical descending on very dusty trails. 

Day 2 of the bigfoot mtb club week saw us tumble down the side of Alpe d’Huez all the way back to Bourg d’Oisans with 2000m of vertical descent on our lift assisted day. The day included technical rocky singletrack,th epurpose built downhill run, 2 natural rocky singletrack switchback trails, 1 fast flowing singletrack trail and finally my favourite trail from Villard Reculas down to Bourg d’Oisans – a superfast switchback singletrack wooded trail.

A generous offer from friends to use their house in Angel Fire for the weekend was the ticket away from sweltering Albuquerque heat, and the ticket to ride some high country singletrack.  First thing Saturday, we hit up one of my favorite loops in the area, the Valle Escondido.  It climbs from the Valle, just outside Taos, via FR 70, Elliott Barker Trail, and Trail 164 (South Boundary), to Osha Summit.  At the summit you have the option to head down Jarocito Trail, or continue on #164.  We opted for #164 this time since that first section to Garcia Park is such a hoot.  Then at Garcia, it’s a rippin, fun decent back to the start in Valle Escondido.  Perfect weather, epic trails, and riding with my best friend; what could be better?  Afterward, put steaks, veges, and fresh pineapple on the grill and enjoyed a tasty dinner on the deck at our home for the weekend.    More riding Sunday morning on the very fun greenbelt trails, then it was time to head home.  At less than 3 hours from home, this is a great destination.  Higher resolution photos are on the sidebar flickr links.

Entering Osha Park near Elliott Barker Intersection

Near Elliott Barker, Trail 164 (South Boundary) Intersection

The big climbing is done.

Corner Park

Nice Aspen Grove on Trail 164.

Ann rolling into Quintana Pass.

A reward from the deck.

There is a thing about being spoilt and having a selection of bikes. To be honest though, I don’t feel that spoilt as I did buy them all! That aside, if, like me, you started as a mountain biker, and took many years to get into road cycling, then you might be able to relate.

Yesterday I went for my mid week ride with Trevor. He was riding well, and seems fresh and ready to go following his 24hr podium. I am trying to get a little fitness, and having ridden 3 or 4 times recently with The Pretty One I am beginning to get there.

My decision yesterday was that I would ride to the meeting point, and then start the ride from there. I had been told that it was 13miles, which sounded reasonable. It was 16 miles in the end, but the main point of what I am writing is this.

Riding a mountain bike on the road isn’t ideal! I know that it is good training and if you are double hard like Jeff you can do it, but I would prefer not to! I chose the hardtail, with Conti Race Kings, because they roll so well. After the road bike though, this setup will always feel really sluggish, and trying to TT to the meeting point I was sorely missing the road bike. The route included a few long straight uphill sections, and is traffic heavy with commuter traffic which passes mere cms from my bar ends. It was a case of tucking in, ducking down and concentrating on turning the gears. The wind was against me too, so the 17.5mph average was extremely good work.

Once in the woods though, the bike came alive again, and all was forgiven. The singletrack was twisty and demanding like always, and my nerves aren’t as strong as they have been following my face plant last week. Also, the race king tyres met their limits on some of the more polished compacted gravel sections, where the small knobs of the profile couldn’t get traction and the front end was a ‘little’ wishy washy.

50km on a school night is a good effort in my lardy arsed opinion.

Thanks to Trevor for bringing me home too.

Hey all! Wanted to clue you into the following, in case you’re not receiving our shop email newsletter.

Fall is just around the corner and we’ve decided it’s time to sell part of our TREK rental mountain bike fleet. These TREK 6700 Series MTBs are excellent, race-bred all-around hard-tail bikes for bombing down single-track or urban trails.  Change the tires to a multi-use and you’ll have a fantastic campus, town, or all-around bike.  All bikes have been ridden and have some transport dings, but all have been well-maintained by our team of professionals.  You’ll have the bike in time for some great fall riding, AND you’ll save hundreds over MSRP!

Call us at 719-395-8001 to purchase yours today!

Original Retail:  $1099.99                     Sale Price: $400-$600

TREK 6700 MTB

Specifications

Series: 6700
Sizes: 15.5″, 17.5″, 19.5″, 21.5″
Front Fork: Rock Shox Tora w/lockout
Derailleur: SRAM X-9
Shifters: SRAM X-7
Brakes: Avid Juicy Three hydraulic discs
Color: Blue/Silver

Stopped by my old hood on the east side of the Sandias.  I still consider this a neighborhood ride as it’s so close. Never many riders to be found here as it’s a tough climb full of rocks and roots.  There’s  just enough flowy, fun trail to keep you interested.  I got 5K climbing in over 32 miles.  Fun to get back up there.

You know summer is winding down when the asters bloom.

one of many chunky sections

Oso Corridor has some nice flowy sections

as I neared the ski area on 10K trail, the grass was waist high in places

nice to be at the top finally

Mark and his son Andrew are presently on a self guided trip of both the western and Central parts of Hokkaido.  This gave me the opportunity to travel to Niseko and do some riding around there.

Niseko is better known for the winter seasons where it can get incredible amounts of snow.  I spent the time riding both on the road and single track of the area, on mountains that I am usually skiing down.  Two buddies were kind enough to take me to the Hanazono track, which winds its way  through the forest below Annupuri Peak.  It is a nice and flowing track with a few technical sections that was made all the more interesting with the recent heavy rain. 

Later that day I attended the Wednesday Night Jam which is a shuttle of local mtbers on the ‘D-Sen’ track which was made last year.  Each ride up on the truck is 100 yen.  Very wet and muddy and one participant collided with a tree!

Mornings were spent riding the roads of the area.  If you see a guy in a tie dye shirt, you will know it is my buddy in the last picture.

My wife Kirsten and I took our very first trail run “together” last night. We don’t normally run together much because we run at different paces. However, I’ve really enjoyed the trail runs in Forest Park lately and I convinced her to join me. When the temp is above 80, running in the trees is the only way to go.

I rushed home after work and changed into my running gear. As we left the house, the temp was well into the 90’s. A short 10 minute drive and we arrived at the Wildwood Trailhead. I grabbed my hydration belt and we hit the trail. We had planned to run the Wildwood Trail (singletrack) for the first 3 miles, then cut down the Hardesty Trail and run the much-wider Leif Erikson Trail the last 2 miles back to the road. However, we somehow missed the Hardestry Trail cutoff and ended up going quite a bit further. We finally came to Firelane 7a and used it to cut down the hill to Leif Erickson.

In spite of our navigational error and running 2+ miles longer than we originally planned – the run was amazing as usual. Kirsten loved her first trail run (at roughly 7 miles it was her longest run ever). My legs were a little sore, but mostly because it was my 3rd consecutive day of running. I normally run every other day. Ahh…days to remember.

Cheers

We took Graham Simmons, a journalist from Australia  for a mountain bike ride last Autumn which is along the route of our “Playground of the Gods Tour.”  Check it out:

http://www.theage.com.au/travel/the-gods-must-be-cycling-20090115-7hpu.html?page=-1

Spent a great day mtbing in Daisetsuzan with a group of 3 from Chitose; Yugo, Tadashi and Misa.  They were all impressed with the single track of the area.  Tadashi and Misa both had nice bikes that were put together by Tadashi, who saved a great deal of money buying the parts off Yahoo Auction. 

On one of the steepest parts of the track we were met by 4 people on horseback who were amazed that we were riding down on bikes in such a steep place.  We said the same thing of them riding up such a place on horses. 

To finish we descended down in to the valley to Tomita Flower Farm and enjoyed the views of the blooming lavender with the Daisetsuzan Mountains in the background.  Just for your information, the lavender blooms in Central Hokkaido from late June with dark purple and precocious lavender, Okamurasaki lavender from July and then Lavandin in early August.  For more information on Farm Tomita, visit http://www.farm-tomita.co.jp/en/index.html

In the pictures are just some of the places that we visit on the Daisetsuzan ‘Playground of the Gods’ bicycle tour; http://www.biketoursjapan.com/playground_of_gods.html