The landlady took me to the ferry terminal. There were a couple of tour buses full of package tourists returning too.
There was a stiff wind blowing, which churned up a swell and caused the ferry to permanently list during the crossing. Nonetheless, the vessel was big enough not to be distressed.
After we had been under way for a few minutes, a crow noisily announced its presence near the lifeboat. It hopped from perch to perch for several minutes, examining its transportation. Ah brave traveller crow, so you are launching yourself beyond the island? No train timetables, no tourist guides, no Internet to guide you, just you and the elements! At that sentiment, the crow stretched its wings and rode the ferry's thermal back to the island. Oh well, so much for that supposition. Maybe it just wanted to ride the ferry for a while to have something to crow about to its mates. (Sorry!)
A cute petite girl wearing a Shimano shirt and leggings came on deck to take some photos. She could have been an advertisement for the company; her costume with its sharp blue and white design hugged her figure, not a hair of hers was out of place. Obviously cycling around this part of Hokkaido. Later I looked for her amongst the passengers but Shimano Girl was nowhere to be found. Maybe she had changed back into a mild unassuming sales assistant.
In the distance the peak of Rishiri Island faded into the mist. Maybe it had been a dream after all.
I dropped off my backpack at the hostel and took the walk past the roasted smell of kelp drying yards to Noshappu Misaki (Cape Noshappu), the second northernmost cape of Hokkaido. (The first is Soya Misaki about 30km away, where the Japanese, with great taste, have installed a concrete marker. I wasn't going to pay just to visit that point, but I'm sure the tour buses pause there.) The walk looked like only a km or so but it was actually 3 km.
Here you see the remains of my lunch. Just kidding. When I asked about sea urchin (uni), the hostel warden said that the season was over.
There is a lighthouse and an aquarium at the point. Also a seafood and souvenir shop, awaiting the tour buses.
I spotted a tray of cooked hairy crab for only 440¥. Why not? I had the hunger, the time, and the wet tissues. So I took my purchase to a bench across the street. Eating crab is a messy business, but I had all day. Then I finished with a soft icecream for desert. Those crab legs made the long walk there and back worthwhile.
After resting at the hostel and doing my laundry, I climbed the nearby Wakkanai Koen promontory for a overview of Wakkanai. The tourists had been, only a few stragglers like me were left. The city stretched out below me, but neither human nor devil came to tempt me with more crab legs.
In the evening, because the hostel had absorbed so much heat during the day, I took a walk around the block to cool off and observe Wakkanai nightlife. Hakodate nightlife is sad, but Wakkanai nightlife is defiant in a last outpost of civilisation sort of way. Beyond here in winter the ice floes visit. A whole street was lit up with period lamps but hardly any of the shops were open. A small cinema complex emitted a cheerful glow, but the train station next to it was closed, the last train had been. So you'd need to come by car. Presumably the place would have be more enticing than renting a DVD. A sign at the other side of the building promised that the rest of the entertainment complex would be open by 2012.
I've always thought Japanese bars to be lugubrious places, even in busy cities. Why would you pay through the nose to sit there drinking yourself silly surrounded by shallow hostesses? But Japanese salarymen do.
It seems the Terminal Hotel is used not just by business travellers but also for wedding receptions and similar. I suppose it's easier for outstation guests.
The rail and road to Wakkanai follow a broad river valley with mountains visible in the distance. The land is used for farming and cattle ranching. However the flow of the river is towards the north, which suggested that we were descending a high plateau.
Wakkanai is a scruffy end of the road kind of town. Road signs include Cyrillic. It looks like the Russians come to get consumer goods like DVDs. I suppose there must be trade with Russia; the Wakkanai Chamber of Commerce is labelled in Cyrillic also. With three hours to kill until the ferry departure. I explored the town.
To the north of the harbour is a huge sea wave barrier, emblematic of the town. Above a seafood market I got an undistinguished ramen though the portion was big.
More crabs.
The ferry terminal is shiny and has a gift shop for the usual last-minute purchases. There were many package tourists, mostly older Japanese, going to Rebun and Rishiri islands. There is a ferry service to Sakhalin but it costs a lot and you need a visa for Russia.
The second class passage just gives one floor space to sit or sleep. Many elected to sit on the deck, walk around or watch the sea from the railings. I enjoy ferry crossings. The fresh breezes give you a feeling of change.
An hour and forty minutes later we put in at Oshidomari, Rishiri's port. Femke was waiting there. She had come with the landlady who was sending another hosteller back to the mainland by the return ferry. At Femke's suggestion, we stopped at a convenience store on the way back to the hostel for me to grab a bento box because the hostel didn't serve dinner.
Daytime temperatures are mid-20s, and around 15C at night. For the first time on the trip I used my pyjammas and slept well despite the floor mattress and tiny pillow.
