I had never been so scared. I was alone lying in a tent by a forest and something big was striding towards me.

I knew what it must be. Back in my hometown in Japan of Mito, between drilling holes in my teeth, my dentist had warned me about the bears of Hokkaido. “They are enormous”, he said; “they can kill you with one claw”, he said.

He laughed, and I laughed too. It was all a big joke - until that first night camping.    

I had arrived in Hokkaido on an overnight ferry ride from Ibaraki where I was teaching English at a High School. The ferry arrived in the early afternoon at Tomakomai, a port on Southern Hokkaido

I had left Ibaraki in the summer of 2005 on a 6 week holiday with a determination to see what Japan looked like. Over the 6 weeks, and 6 more weeks the following spring I ended up cycling over 5,000 miles across Japan. But nothing was as hard or traumatic as that first night.

Getting off the ferry, I cycled 40 miles to Yubari, a small town in the central Hokkaido hills now famous for melons and abandoned coal mines. The main attraction for me though was Yubari had a campsite, at least according to my biker’s map of the island. But as the sun started to set behind the hills, I discovered the campsite had closed in 2004.

As darkness encroached, I suddenly felt alone and vulnerable. I asked two passing ladies for help. They suggested I camp behind the museum. So, I did - it looked a good spot in the twilight.

After pitching the tent, I walked down to a noodle shop in town. It was nice inside, homely and warm. I felt safe and comfortable. After paying the bill, on the way out, I foolishly decided to ask the master something that had been on my mind:

“Erm , are there any bears around here?”.

“Oh, yes. Lots. And they will kill you with one claw”, he said. He burst out laughing, and I laughed too.

Then I opened the noodle shop door and walked into the darkness. I plodded up the hill behind the museum to my isolated tent. I now realized the forest was closer to my tent than the nearest habitation. And the forest was bigger and darker than I remembered it.

I could not think about anything else other than the bears now. I needed some calm rational thinking. Lying in my tent, I tried to consider the situation from the bear’s point of view. This was probably a mistake. The inescapable conclusion was always that I would be their dinner. It was just a matter of when.

So, after 4 hours of lying there, with a mere 30 seconds of this time spent with my eyes closed, I decided to pack my tent up and start cycling.

It was the best decision I made of the trip.

Despite the pitch black, I made good progress - cycling north at a world record speed for 5 hours until I passed out at 8am on a suburban bus stop bench. What the passing schoolkids must have thought I have no idea, but at last I felt I was finally seeing Japan.