Having arrived in Hiroshima only hours before the others left by ferry, we thought there was a chance of catching up a bit by getting a ferry ourselves, so Cec and I went into the city to arrange bookings, etc.. Drew was in Japan for three months and saw no reason to hurry and decided to paddle, and was preparing to leave as we caught the tram into town. However, on hearing the cost of transporting ourselves and canoes it seemed a bit prohibitive in view of the couple of days it would save, so we decided we may as well paddle too - after all it was what we came for. A bit of shopping, and the usual last minute repacking delayed our start till 1700 hrs, against a foul tide, but we didn't wish to impose further on the hospitality already given us. We left quietly, and struggled south against the rippling current, aiming for the end of Miyajima for the night. Here we found the most incredibly beautiful campsite of the whole trip, a sandy point covered in short grass, and sprinkled with pine trees to break the area up. There was also a semi enclosed ‘shelter shed' at one end and a fresh water stream about 100 yards away.The night was still and warm and had it not been for the occasional mosquito it would have been  very pleasant just curling up on the shore. Fire-flies were flickering through the forest on the edge of the camping area and we caught one in a large plastic bag for a closer inspection. Other life forms included large land crabs, with nasty looking, bright red nippers; and large slithering centipedes. The crabs were actually quite harmless, scurrying away into the undergrowth at our first approach, but still giving you a nasty start if you came across one unexpectedly. The centipedes, I was to have a closer acquaintance with next morning, while getting into my canoeing gear, which had been draped over the rail round the shed. Pulling on my shorts resulted in a very painful nip on the thigh, and as my shorts fell to the ground, a five inch red and black creature wriggled away through the grass. The rest of my clothing received a very close inspection before putting on, but was free of native life! The bite remained fairly painful for a few hours, then gradually faded away into insignificance.

The coastline today was heavily populated and the smoke from the many industrial chimneys combined with the low cloud helped reduce the visibility to a few hundred yards. We paddled off on a compass bearing for a few hours, gradually closing the coastline just before the U.S. Airforce base at Iwakuni. Here, I thought, would be an opportunity to carry on a conversation in our own language, with a beer or coffee stop, for an hour or so. Fat chance - we sat in our kayaks off the end of a jetty talking to various people, including a man and his wife, living on a cruising yacht they'd sailed up from Taiwan - but not a hint of an invitation to step ashore for a while. Here we were, a couple of thousand miles from home, in the middle of a very foreign country, and not even the offer of a cup of coffee - to put it politely, it was ‘bloody inhospitable'.

After half an hour it was obvious we were wasting our time so pushed off again, to stop on a small beach for lunch. So far, camping would have been impossible, due to the heavily built up nature of the area, and for the first time on the trip we were beginning to doubt whether we would find a possible spot. A few hours later the position was looking even grimmer, with only a few scattered beaches a couple of yards from major highways. By now the tide was turning, but the island away to the left seemed relatively uninhabited so the decision was made to push on in search of a better campsite. Another couple of hours later we were struggling round point after point, ferry gliding across tide races, still searching. The beach that looked so promising from a couple of miles away was only so at low tide. At high tide, the water would be two feet up the sea wall - and everywhere else the ground was too steep to camp on. Finally, as dusk approached, we spotted a long shed across the next bay, and found it open and deserted, but at the top of an eight foot high stone sea wall. With much effort, and the assistance of a local strong man, we hauled the kayaks up and flaked in the shed - this was one of our longest days on the whole trip.

Slept in a bit in the morning, pouring with rain, tide not suitable till 1100 hrs - a fair bit of Hiroshima bay pours out under the bridge about half a mile away. Left about 1000 hrs in poor visibility; many fishing boats and dinghies under the bridge were just misty objects as we went through. Later in the day, passed under another bridge in bright sunshine, camping on the verge of a cemetery, on a small island. This island was served by one small passenger ferry, and the locals obviously thought we had come across on it, because many of them went to great lengths to explain that the approaching ferry was the last one back to the mainland for the day.
As we were camped out of sight round the point from the village they were really puzzled when we ignored the ferry and kept on having a look around. Just about every little place we stopped at had something different and interesting about it worth photographing.

The sea walls are everywhere through the Inland Sea, totally surrounding many islands, usually about the high water mark, and therefore stopping any erosion by sea action. This one had gaps along the top giving access to various ramps and steps down to the beach, and the gaps had slots in the wall each side to take 3 inch thick planks. It seemed rather incredible to think that the water would ever reach this level, but it obviously does as the planks are stacked up next to each gap ready for use. One wondered what the sea conditions must be like under these conditions.

The next day was to give us some idea. Heading across a long hop outside a large island, using our sails in the freshening wind, we were spotted by a patrol boat that quickly sped out to us and made us understand that Typhoon No, 5 was on its way. The language barrier prevented much discussion on when it would arrive - today, tomorrow, or the day after? - but we were advised to keep close inshore. We switched our route from outside, to inside the island, but the wind was still a bit fickle - not filling the sails at times. An hour or two later it was gusty enough to have us keeping a bit of an eye out for a camping spot in case the wind was unmanageable.

However, it stayed about the same over our lunch break and we set out again along the coast towards Shimonoseki. Out in the open, the full strength was felt and we upped our sails for a wild, exciting ride across to the next chain of islands - the bows now and then going under and the kayak coming to a standstill as the water came up the front deck to the cockpit. Then it would lift free, the sail would strain with another gust and you would take off on another long ride. This was easily the most fun of the whole trip - a little more like conditions at home, and we were surprised to learn later that Drew had made camp at midday, not enjoying the following conditions at all. About 1600 it was getting a bit of a handful with the sails up, so we headed in between two islands, under a bridge, and into a dock area.

One person had watched our mad ride into shelter and met us when we landed on the rocky foreshore. He went off to enquire about guest house or hotel accommodation nearby, but returned, not finding anyone in attendance. Then out of the gathering crowd stepped a gentleman who immediately took charge of the situation, taking our kayaks into a huge double storey boat shed where his father's company builds large ocean going fishing boats. Then we were whisked across the road to his father's house for a shower, and afternoon tea, while we waited for the end of the working day. Piling into his car we were driven a fair distance to his own house near Tokoyama City, and greeted by his beautiful wife. He had studied English but we were the first people in sixteen years he could use it on, and it was excellent. Married for only a year, he is a designer for his father's firm.

It turned out to be a really typical Japanese night - we were dressed in bathrobes (his wife spending some time with Cec to arrange her's properly) - and then faced up to a huge meal of raw octopus, fish, cucumber, seaweed, bean curd, etc. - and beer. We declined the offered forks and made a fair effort with chopsticks, getting reasonably adept towards the end and thinking we'd done pretty well to get through the lot, only to find a huge plate of noodles and a bowl of soup followed. This was far more than I was accustomed to eating and I made little inroad on it.

The ‘Green Tea' ceremony is about 900 years old, and a hobby of our host, who took us right through it, explaining every detail of the intricate manoeuvres. As already mentioned previously, this stood us in great stead later on in the trip. I was beaten in arm-wrestling by a friend who dropped in for a few beers, and then we retired - but not before seeing numerous floods and landslips on the TV news, where Typhoon No. 5 had passed south of us. Our house had steel shutters over all windows, and we were prepared for a violent night.

In the morning the sun was out, the wind light, and the house still intact. The Typhoon had by-passed far to the north and was now causing damage up there. We were driven back to the boat yard and left early, paddling along the inside of a chain of islands, then out across a long hop into the light, but persistent wind, to the next point. This light SW to S wind was against us for virtually the rest of the trip - annoying, but not hard enough to build up any sort of sea.

I toured off round the bay looking for the channel, finally arriving at it to find Cec had found it straight off and had just finished lunch, so we pushed off down the channel against the tide and out into an unpleasant choppy bay. Rested for a while at a yacht club, before continuing along the coast to a very pleasant sandy beach to camp for the night. Along this section we saw our first flying fish, jumping out of the top of a wave and gaining height before gliding into the wind for up to a hundred yards at a time. They have two sets of wings, large ones just back from the head, and much smaller ones near the tail. They were to appear almost daily from now on.

Up at 0600 hrs to take advantage of a strong tide and thought we could make Shimonoseki with a little bit of effort. Had regular breaks every hour till reaching the city of Ube about noon, and pulled into a fishing dock for a quick lunch break!! It was here we met Mrs Nagai (see part 1 of trip report) and we did not leave Ube till 0830 hrs the following day. A fishing boat with TV camera aboard followed us for a mile or so and then we were left to continue the long hop across to Shimonoseki, with a light following wind, and regular following seas. We were in the main shipping lane here as all traffic converged on the strait entrance; ships of all shapes and sizes thundering past 30 or 40 yards away!

It was un-nerving at first to peer back over your shoulder and see a big tanker lumbering up behind and wonder which side he would go - or even whether he had seen you at all; but in the end we just headed where we wanted to go and ignored them. Because of the immense amount of shipping around Japan, from tankers and ocean going ferries, down to fishing boats and small inter-island ferries, they keep a really good watch, and adjust their course to pass just ahead or behind a craft in their path. By choosing and maintaining our course, they could start making allowances well before hand, and not suddenly have us stop or alter course, or back paddle in front of them. Their seamanship is first class and even in very fast flowing narrow channels, they still pass very close to each other (and us).

We had phoned Drew (at the Youth Hostel) from Ube and he was standing in the rain, waiting for us at Shimonoseki and directed us to a tiny harbour close to the Kammon Bridge. After the TV coverage in Ube, people were now aware we were in the area, and three photographers were waiting our arrival.

Took gear to Hostel, and then wandered around a bit, and got caught in a real cloud burst - no bull, the water was 4 inches deep across the road and footpaths all in a few minutes. We used the drying machines extensively for the evening and part of the next morning to get clothes dry.

It was here that we started fun and games with the Marine Police. On arrival in Tokyo, I had gone to the Australian Embassy and asked them to ring the Marine Police Headquarters to see what sort of restrictions there might be on foreign canoeists, but after about fifteen minutes of conversation, the story was that if we didn't have motors, we could do what we liked. However, in Shimonoseki, the local division found out (through the media) that we were here and rang the hostel to talk to us. But none of them spoke a word of English, so the hostel owner talked to them, and they asked us to go to their office. It seemed much better that they come to us, which three of them did the following morning, complete with photographer. The hostel owner had the foresight to invite a friend of his up to interpret, as the M.P. hadn't bothered to bring an English-speaking person. How they imagined they were going to conduct an interview without one was beyond us. The officials were concerned about our safety, despite us telling them it was the easiest conditions we'd ever seen. They gave us a phone number to ring in case of emergency, but when asked if an English-speaking person would answer it, the reply was, “No, but ring it anyway.”

This seemed pretty pointless so we didn't bother making a note of the number. It gradually became apparent they had no power to stop us paddling, so after sitting us on a sofa together and taking several pictures, they left.

The tide in the eddies along each side of the strait can turn up to 4 hours before the main stream, and we left just before high tide. The Marine Police were there in a launch to watch our departure into the mist, but did not follow us at all. The current was slight (although 8 knots at full flow) and it was a pleasant paddle along the western side, round the corner, and then slipping through some light shipping to the other shore. Here we had a bit of luck and got in behind a tug and barge going our way, and the Longboat was continually knocking flakes of rust off the stern of the barge as it was sucked forward. We cut out quickly when a Marine Police launch started to approach and were innocently paddling along as it pulled up 30 yards away to inspect us. When it left, I went for the barge again, now a fair way ahead, but caught it reasonably easily, then relaxed as it pulled me miles along the built up wharf area.

Cec and Drew didn't bother and were tiny specks in the distance when I cut out to wait for them and then we carried on along the outside of miles of breakwater to a sandy beach where a front-end loader was spreading new sand about. This was in preparation for the official four weeks summer holiday, and various stalls and shelters were undergoing repair as well. Drew made some enquiries about the possibility of using an empty pavilion, and a kindly old gentleman and his good lady invited us to use their's for the night. They were ‘camping' in it themselves, while doing it up, just one big room with ‘kitchen' facilities at one end.

It was a bit of a circus just after dark as we were invited to use the bath - this was a big, round, iron ‘copper' outside; the water being heated over an open fire next to it. Each time after one of us used it, the lady would go outside and stoke the fire a bit more and ladle more hot water into the bath, then invite another one of us to use it.

Left very early the next morning to get out of the couple's way, and stopped for breakfast later on at a fishing village. Plenty of flying fish evident today. Due to to the early start, I decided to camp early in the afternoon, mainly due to finding the second best campsite in Japan at the back of a long sandy beach, on the edge of a pine plantation. Cec wasn't too happy about this decision, but stopped anyway (I had most of her camping gear in my boat), while Drew went on further. He would have parted company with us in a day or two anyway as we had decided to try for a ferry again, from Fukuoka, to gain time on the others. Rained heavily during the night and I woke to see Cec scooping water out of her tent with a big orange enamel mug. Left at 0815 hrs, clear morning, and stopped across the other side of the bay for fresh water where a waterfall was splashing down the rocks into the sea. Carried on again slowly against a fresh SW headwind; had lunch in a small river mouth, and camped later on under some pines near a fishing dock. Crowds of people fishing, swimming, and surfing. Walked into nearest shopping area for a meal at a restaurant, and some shopping at a supermarket. Spent a very pleasant, warm night - no dew - dozens of squid boats lighting up the calm waters of the bay.

This was in direct contrast to the next day when the heavens opened up and the wind blew.

For a time we paddled with bowed heads, to prevent the rain stinging our faces, at the same time enshrouded in thick fog. The sea very quickly whipped up into a heavy sea, but eased again as the rain and fog cleared, and we could see the shore slipping past again. A short stop at another resort beach undergoing frantic preparation for the holidays, then a 90o turn under a bridge, across the bay to Fukuoka. Passed two ships anchored in mid-bay, with a Police launch alongside. One ship had a large dent in its side, the other had a crushed bow. Considering the very fast tide in this area, and the wild morning, it was not surprising. We paddled up a river mouth to land, as the wharf area seemed miles above our heads. Walked a short distance to the ferry terminal and found an overnight ferry to Hirado, due to leave at 0415 hrs the next morning. It took sometime to find out the fare - Y1,500 each (2nd class), but we had to go back and bring the kayaks round before they would quote on them - Y5,000 each. This seemed a bit steep, but what the hell - we were running out of time.

After sorting out the fares we had time on our hands till 0415 hrs so pounded the pavements looking for an eating place. Found an absolute gem a few blocks away from the wharf. As you slide back the door you are greeted by two loud drum beats on a bongo type drum, and a cry of welcome from the proprietor. He was beautiful to watch in action, cooking the meals, serving drinks, welcoming new guests, all with a flourish and style that added real character to the place. The food was already on thin wooden sticks - meat, eggs, potatoes, fish etc. - about 30 different combinations. They were cooked over a charcoal grill after you ordered, the speed and precision was entertainment in itself.

We weren't allowed on the ferry till after 2130 hours, and did so shortly after this time, getting off to sleep fairly quickly. But not lying down on the floor as we had expected, we were shown to a first class cabin on the upper deck (they must have felt sorry for us). There was hardly a sign of life on board and we thought it was going to be fairly empty.
I didn't stir when we departed, and woke early in the morning, shortly before our 0600 hrs arrival at Hiradagouchi.

Entering the channel to Hirado and Hiradagouchi we passed through a huge tide race that heeled the ferry over as we passed from one current to the next. As we off loaded we could see hundreds of passengers asleep on the floor in the 2nd class area. There are no seats on ferries, just raised carpeted areas where you claim an area and park your body.

The kayaks were off loaded onto the floating terminal and we made enquiries as to the direction of the Youth Hostel. Waited till 0700 hrs to ring up and book in, then carried some of the gear miles into the hills to the Y.H., past cows being led out to pasture, and arrived about an hour later. Here we were informed the others had left yesterday morning - missed them by less than 24 hours. Used laundry facilities, then off sightseeing for the day. This area is full of history of early Dutch influence.

Left about nine-ish next day into fresh southerly; through the ‘Ninety Nine Islands'. This is a beautiful picturesque area of over 200 islands in about 30 miles of coast line, but sharp jagged shores unsuitable for camping. Watched a man and his wife pulling up cement traps - complete with trapdoor - imagine they are for crab or something similar. Finally camped on a narrow stretch of sand between mainland and island, the tide coming to within a couple of feet of the tents.

Paddled across to Inoda early next morning and got a bus into Sasebo, the American Naval Base. The local ferry employee indicated we couldn't leave the canoes where we did but we ‘no comprendo' and left them there anyway. He softened up when we pointed out our route from Kobe. Got some more cash in Sasebo, did a bit of shopping, then caught the bus back to Inoda but wrong bus - ended up hitch-hiking the last mile or two. Left at 1500 hrs and continued on through the islands, getting out on one fish farm to photograph the women feeding the fish. These huge netted areas are held up by large foam floats, and have narrow plank walk ways between them. A couple of women were casually strolling along these carrying large tubs of fish meal, (and a young baby on their back). Cec crawled along on all fours to get close enough to photograph, much to everyones amusement.

Camped on a beaut little spot in a sheltered bay, between rice fields and the sea wall. Walked up a narrow roadway over the hill to a village, and could see miles across the next bay to the islands where we were due to hop across to the Goto Islands. Inspected a large milking shed before wending our way back to cook in the dark, while fireflies flittered about.

A large U.S. Navy ship passed close astern of us the next day as we crossed to Oshima, but not a wave or a whistle - they really are a sour lot. Stopped at lunch time for a five minute break but didn't leave for three hours. While I was away tracking down ice creams Cec enticed a local out in the Longboat. He then invited us back to his house where we ate and drank for most of the afternoon. Left reluctantly to push on to Sakito. Thought there may have been a ferry from here to the Goto's - but only a passenger ship late in the afternoon next day. It was here that we were approached by the guy already mentioned in the first episode, and spent a very pleasant night with him and his wife.

On the water paddling by 0620 hrs, now off our large scale map and onto a small inset with little detail. Many islands and rocks left off and we were thoroughly confused later on thinking we had passed all the islands and were approaching the main island of the Goto's. It turned out we were still one island short and were rather disgusted to find we still had 4km to go. The last stretch to this island had been through very rough water, a fierce southerly current combined with a shallow area had produced big waves breaking in all directions, and we were pushed miles off course. However once through this patch we upped sails and pushed easily back against the tide to the island of Hirashima. Pulled up on the wharf area where many locals flocked to inspect us. The others were here three days ago, and stayed in the same house that we ended up in - the local policeman's place.

He insisted on seeing our passports, copying all the details down, and then pointed out the most notorious areas for bad conditions. One was the first stretch next morning across to the main Goto island. We copied down the tides from his tide table, and then had the usual hot bath, followed by supper. Had a good breakfast next morning, then wandered over the island a bit, till the tide was right at 1000 hrs. This island was the usual steep mountainous type, but a new bitumen road was being constructed towards the northern end, and will obviously open up a vast new area for cultivation. This was common in this part of the world, and it appeared that great efforts were being made to make more land available.

Left slightly early just to get the last of the tide and see what it was like - and it was fierce, worse than the previous day. We crossed without incident and paddled south into the persistent southerly wind, stopping briefly at a small village for lunch. Just before pulling in to camp for the night we passed some large rocks about 1/2 mile off shore, with 5 men camped on them for the weekend - fishing. Must have been terribly uncomfortable, with not a flat spot in sight. No boat around, so they must have been dropped off by a fishing boat. We saw many more such groups in just as unlikely places, clinging precariously to cliffs.

Camped on a small rocky beach, where some little old ladies and men helped to carry the boats up the beach. The few houses here seemed to be a retirement village, all the occupants seemed to be extremely old. Never the less we were offered the use of a bath, and the next morning two of the ladies brought breakfast down to the beach for us. It was a constant source of amusement to us to try and imagine what some of these people we met were thinking of when we turned up - no doubt many of them thought we were just plain crazy. Still - we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, meeting such friendly people, and were sad to think there were only a few days left.

The next day produced a stiff SW and we slogged down the coast till able to turn north up a channel between the islands. Sailed again, and raced up against the tide, past many little bays closed off with huge nets for the purpose of fish farming, and making camping impossible. As it turned out, there were less campsites on the Goto's than the rest of Japan, the islands were jagged rocks rising almost sheer out of the sea, with almost every flat spot taken up by houses. We did see a lot of postcards of beautiful beaches but they were further south than we went. Pulled up on a concrete boat ramp belonging to the local Yamaha agent, and lunched. His wife insisted on doing our washing so we spent some time walking round the town while it dried in the warm sunshine. Left late in the afternoon and proceeded up the channel a couple of miles to a large town in a big bay. Just as we were going ashore to check out a campsite Cec's Sea Leopard was picked up by the wash from a passing ferry and dropped onto a sharp pointed rock, holing the front compartment just forward of the bulkhead. Fortunately it was a perfect campsite, flat ground that had been cultivated in the past, but the three houses there were now deserted, two of them almost decayed in the damp tropical climate.

The next day brought a heavy downpour, so we slipped the Sea Leopard into one of the derelict houses to keep it dry, but the roof leaked like a sieve. One house was in perfect condition with all the doors and windows shuttered, so we checked it out. The back door was not fastened so we peeped inside and found it obviously hadn't been lived in for ages. The Tatami flooring was stacked against one wall, and the grass outside was waist high. It was too good an opportunity to miss so we moved in. Found a kerosene heater and got it going and were soon very comfortable, with some of the floor back in place. It poured all day so we stayed put and repaired the Sea Leopard, and dried some gear out.

The following day was similar, but we dashed into town and back for a few supplies, and were accosted by the  local policeman as we entered. He didn't know a word of English so we said ‘Good Morning' and kept going, even though it was obvious he wanted our passports. Leaving town he was waiting for us again, but again we carried on, leaving him staring after us. However he gets full marks for persistence, because later on in the day he tracked us down to the house, and we slid a window open to 'talk to him. We felt a bit sorry for him by this time, he was only trying to do his job, so we offered our passports, which he copied into his book. He didn't seem all that happy about us using the house, but eventually left us with a friendly wave. We had planned to use this as a base camp for a few days, to explore the nearby islands with empty boats, but decided to move on early the next day. Went back into town to ring Justin and crew at the Nagasaki Y.H., and while doing so Cec attracted the attention of three gentlemen staggering home from a restaurant. They were amazed she'd paddled so far, and bowed deeply before going on their way.

In view of the lack of campsites in the Goto's we changed our plans and decided to head back to civilization as quickly as possible, to give Cec a chance to track down some ‘hand made paper' experts. Being a crafty type she had expressed interest in this before leaving Australia, but because of all the delays had almost given up the idea.

Thursday 8th July - left our house at 0800 hrs and had the tides all the way with us till 1300 hrs when we stopped for lunch on a little pebbly beach, with four large boats on shore, covered with green canvass. After lunch we rounded the corner of the island and were in the channel heading for Fukue to get the ferry to Nagasaki. The tide was running strongly in the right direction, and we were now only hours away from Fukue, and could have camped anywhere. But there wasn't anywhere really suitable, so we went on and on, Cec eventually accepting a tow for the last hour or so as we crossed the channel and camped at a dairy farm, having covered 28 miles.

We were less than an hour away from Fukue, and arrived there about 0715 hrs next day, hoping to catch the first ferry to Nagasaki. The Marine Police had seen us arrive and three of them turned up within a few minutes, and wanted to know every port of call since leaving Kobe. Not having a clue as to the names of half the places we'd visited, and being in a bit of a hurry I just thrust the maps at them, with the route marked with a black marking pen and let them work it out for themselves. As it was the ferry pulled out while we were still unpacking. We left the kayaks on the dockside, stripping all fittings off that we could reuse again, and also disposed of a quantity of old canoeing gear, food, and numerous other articles we didn't intend carting back to Hobart. Even so we had more than we could carry, and made two trips - on the second trip the Marine Police had a vehicle for us, which was very decent of them.

Well that's just about it (thank God you say). We were hassled for passports again just before getting the ferry, spent a night in the Nagasaki Y.H., caught a train back to Tokyo and eventually tracked down hand made paper, after many visits to craft museums, and a long rambling train trip into the country side for a day, where we located one of Japan's revered experts in the craft - these people are referred to as ‘National Treasures”.

The Tokyo Fish Market was also visited at 0530 hrs one morning, an unbelievable sight with every describable fish on sale, and an absolute hive of activity. It is supposed to be the biggest fish market in the world and after wandering around for a couple of hours this was very easy to believe.

Did some more duty free shopping, and met up with the others at the airport for an enjoyable flight home with Qantas.

And what about the others? Justin, Lawrie, and Robert's trip covered the same route we did (more or less), meeting similar people. They went on to visit the mud baths at Beppu, met some white water canoeists and got on to a river with them. Their trip report will be in the next few ‘Southern Canoeist'.

Was it all worth it? it certainly was. It seemed a bit of a hassle at times - raising money, building boats, etc, and but for Justin's enthusiasm and organisation would have been a lot more difficult. It was his idea to run an overnight trip on the Derwent for novices - we shepherded about 32 beginners for two days, supplied all the gear, food, had a superb overnight camp, and still made about 1000 dollars profit. In fact it was so successful it will probably become an annual fund raising event. Justin also negotiated with Synthetic Resins for a magnificent donation of material at 50% discount (we built our boats for round about 60 dollars each), and he also obtained a good deal from Qantas on the fares.

Although at the time of the party splitting up it seemed a bit disappointing, it actually was one of the best things to happen. With much smaller parties it was easier for the Japanese people to invite us in - with six of us even the very hospitable Japanese would think twice, we would have strained their resources to the maximum. As it was, both groups encountered superb hospitality in a land we will long remember.

YOUTH HOSTELS - We used these quite a bit, particularly before we got our boats through customs, and then later on about once a week - to use the laundry facilities. We joined the Youth Hostel Association in Hobart before we left, although it is slightly cheaper to do so when you arrive in Japan.

We found the owners particularly friendly and helpful, most of them speaking a little English, which you would expect as there are many English speaking visitors using them. Even in some very out of the way places, off the tourist track, where you wouldn't expect much English we were surprised. We were also surprised that the staff of the main Govt. run hostel in Tokyo didn't speak English, and this seemed to be the least friendly place. The three storey hostel is locked up like a shop at night, steel gates cover the front entrance, making it fairly difficult if you spend ten minutes too long in town at night. We had some very near misses, arriving back with less than a minute to spare. Just as a bit of a game I challenged their security one night, and slipped out by a devious route about 0200 hrs one morning. The subways stop running at night so I couldn't go anywhere and just walked the streets for an hour or so. The looks I received from several policemen were a bit unnerving, and made it a bit awkward to get back into the hostel - however I made it without disturbing anyone. Most hostels later on made allowances for the nature of our trip, they are normally closed during the day from 1000 to 1500, and we quite often arrived in the middle of the day, dripping wet and looking for a hot bath.

I personally enjoyed the hostels at Tarami and Setoda the best. Yukio at Tarami (near Kobe) put up with us for about ten days or so, was very friendly, and allowed us to come and go at virtually any hour of the day or night. It is right on the waterfront, a few minutes walk from the railway station and shopping centre. Yukio speaks very good English; and his wife prepared a beautiful meal for us on our last night there as we celebrated getting hold of our kayaks.

Most hostels have six to eight bunks in a room, a washroom, bathroom, and eating hall. Although most of them have some facilities for you to do your own cooking (which we quite often did) it's not the normal thing. Substantial Japanese meals are provided for a reasonable price, and this obviates the necessity for the ordinary hosteler to cart lots of gear and food around with him/her.

Setoda was where Cec was laid up for a couple of days, and again we were in and out during the day. Drew and I spent one night with the owner who produced a variety of puzzles for us to play around with. One particular one he looped through a button hole in our clothing and it took us hours to work out how to get it off. The owner also played a game with black and white counters on a chess board with one of the lodgers, and watching them play it looked simple enough. Later on I was invited to play a game, and the old guy absolutely thrashed me about 61-3. But I thought I had a few of his moves worked out so played another game. About 3/4 of the way through it seemed to be reasonably even but at the finish it was about 61-3 again. Being about midnight I retired to bed disgusted. While at this hostel the lady of the house produced a clothesline and huge oscillating fan which we set up in one of the spare rooms to dry out clothing - extremely difficult in the very humid ‘wet season', and upon our leaving presented us with small bronze bells with a relief of Cosanji - the Sea Goddess - on one side. This lovely lady also produced a table top griller and various items of food when we were preparing our meals. It was times like these that we felt the lack of a common language to truly express our thanks.
 

TOILETS - Not really the subject for a sea canoeing magazine? No, not really, but they were part of a unique experience, and I can do no better than copy some articles out of a tourist magazine we picked up in Tokyo:-

The chances are that sometime during your stay in Japan you will find yourself having to use a Japanese-style lavatory. It is not made for sitting down, but don't despair.

The receptacle is usually on a raised floor. The opening is rectangular with a sort of hood over one end.

Climb up on the raised floor and stand flat footed astride the opening with your face towards the hood. Then bend down into a crouching or squatting position, making sure that your rear is over the opening and not protruding beyond it.

The position may not be comfortable but it is sanitary because no part of your body comes in direct contact with the fixings.

In the case of the male, he urinates by standing on the lower floor and aiming for the opening. Please aim carefully.

The -most commonly heard word for toilet is ote-arai and to-ire (pronounced ‘oh-tay-araee' and ‘toe-ee-ray'). To ask for the washroom, simply say “toire doko?” (toilet where?).The word for toilet easiest to remember is benjo, pronounced like two Western first names: ben-joe. However, priggish women object to the word just like some Western women avoid the word “toilet”.

Public latrines are few and far between - and most of them are filthy. If nature calls when you are out in the streets, the best thing to do is to go into the nearest coffee shop or Tea room and invest in the cheapest drink. It won't cost you much more than the tip you have to give to the lavatory attendant in many other countries.

WHEN YOU CROSS THE ROAD
When you cross any road in Japan, remember that on the lane immediately in front a you cars will come at you from the right. So, look to the right first and then to the left before you cross the street.

Japan is one of the countries where left-hand drive is the rule of the road. “Keep to the left” goes for pedestrians, too. There is an exception to this, however. When  you are on a road where there is no sidewalk, walk on the right side - that is, face the vehicular traffic so that you can see what is coming towards you.

NOT FOR WASHING, BUT FOR RELAXING.
Many a story is told about the Japanese country hick who goes abroad for the first time in his life and becomes the cause of a flood in his hotel. It's because he uses the Western bathroom unknowingly in the same way that he uses a Japanese bath.

The visitor from abroad in Japan, too, can become the cause of considerable consternation if he should use a Japanese-style bathtub in the Western way. Of course, if he stays only in Western-style hotels, there won't be any trouble. But those who venture to spend a night in a Japanese ryokan should be aware of the different bath taking custom.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the Japanese bathtub is not for washing. It is for warming your body and relaxing your tired muscles and nerves. If the proper ritual is followed, the Japanese bath melts away the physical and nervous tensions that have accumulated during the day:

And unless the proper ritual is followed, it could turn out to be an uncomfortable experience. You are expected to wash the most obviously dirty parts of your body before entering the tub. For this purpose, a basin and a dwarfish stool whose sitting area seems to be only half enough is provided. You sit on this stool and draw water into the basin from a tap.

If you should soap or scrub your body inside the tub, it is going to cause trouble for the room maid or the bathroom attendant. And you may be regarded as a barbarian who doesn't know how to take a bath in a civilised way - the same thing they must be saying in Paris, London or Los Angeles about that Japanese country hick.

After this preliminary washing, you climb into the tub for a good long soak. The Japanese like their bath hot, but you can adjust the temperature to your liking with water from the tap.

When you are warmed up to the bone, you get out of the tub and wash your entire body clean. Rinse off all the soapsuds by splashing your self with plenty of water and then slip back into the tub for a second soak.

Some people condense this ritual into two processes. First, they wash themselves thoroughly clean and then, after rinsing away all soap suds, climb into the tub for one long soak.

The tub water is NOT CHANGED for each bather. Many persons use the same tubwater for soaking. Therefore it is a matter of courtesy for those who go in first to keep the water clean.

 THE JAPANESE WAY OF DOING IT AT RYOKAN.
The average Japanese sleeps on the tatami or straw mat floor and sits on the floor to eat from a low table - and the average tourist from abroad would dearly like to see this home life.

But the visitor who gets a chance to see Japanese home life is indeed a rare one. The easily available alternative is to stay at a ryokan, a Japanese inn. Here the visitor will be able to live for a few hours in a typically Japanese atmosphere - room, furniture, bath, bed, food, kimonoed maids, etc.

The very minute that you step into a ryokan, you are in a different world. The entrance vestibule gives you the feeling that you are half inside and half outside the ryokan. This is because the floor of the vestibule is concrete and usually level with the street whereas about six feet from the door and a step or two higher is the floor proper of the building.

You sit on the higher floor and remove your shoes, changing into slippers bearing the mark or name of the ryokan. Leave your shoes where you took them off and forget about them; the maid or male attendant will put them away until you need them.

A room maid will show you to your room. Even if she is of the weaker sex, her job is to carry your baggage, so from this moment forget about your “lady first” manners.

When you get to your room, remove the slippers before stopping on the tatami floor. Only stockinged or bare feet are permitted on tatami.

If it is a really typical ryokan, the room will be separated from the corridor by a lockless paper sliding door. No door key. Modernised ryokans, however, have doors that swing open fitted with locks.

There may be no chairs in the room. If that is the case, you got for yourself a genuine Japanese room. The maid will bring out a cushion and you will have to make yourself comfortable on that.

You won't find any bed in your room. When the time comes for you to go to sleep, the maid will bring out bedding from the closet and lay it out on the floor. The Western hotel terminology of single or double or twin is not used in the ryokan. As many sets of bedding as the number of guests staying in one will be laid out side by side.

Rooms in modern-type ryokans are fitted with a private bath and toilet. But the older type ryokans have common facilities. For the proper use of these facilities, refer to the other articles on this page. The common bath is sometimes a large one in which several people can bathe at the same time.

You may not have complete privacy in taking a bath, but you will have privacy in taking your meals. The two meals that go with the hotel charge - breakfast and dinner - are served in your room on the low table. It is a set menu. If you wish to place a special order, you are advised to inform the room maid when she asks at what time you want your dinner or breakfast served. If it's an old-style ryokan which is not suffering from labor shortage, the maid will sit by the table to serve you second helpings of rice, to pour tea, etc.

This personalised service extends to bringing you tea every time you return from a trip outside and even to hanging up your clothes and helping you put on the yukata, the Japanese style bathrobe, which is provided by the ryokan. You can stroll through the corridors, lobby (if any), or garden in the yukata at any time of the day.

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