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I Love Wasting Ink · Sep 21, 2023

The urge to drop everything

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“Around Japan?” Ms. Chioko asked, in English, after we had both finished our ice creams and coffees. She had spotted me from the window, a woman from Tokyo who for some odd reason decided to spend a month of her life bumming around the northern tip of Hokkaido. She had done crazier things: 40 years before, she traveled for three years around Australia.

“Yes,” I said.

And so my walk to end all my walks in Japan is officially underway. Before we parted, and I walked on to take a bath in a hot spring as salty as brine, Ms. Chioko showed me her pictures from the other end of Japan, Ishigaki Island, not far from Yonaguni, where I am headed: lush tropical jungles and turquoise seas. It took a leap of imagination to think that I would walk there from these northern latitudes, which look and feel like where I live in the Baltics, with the addition of some hills, far more deer, and a volcano off the coast that floats on an island of its own and is higher than anything in the Baltics by almost a mile.

Map

There is a map of my walk here.

It’s updated manually every couple of days, so it isn’t like you can follow me as a very slow blinking dot moving south-west along the Pacific Rim, but it’s good enough to get a general idea of where I am.

Etc

In my previous email, I wrote about launching a membership program that I called Walk Forever Club to support my work. As I made my final preparations for this walk, I realized that going on a long walk where I will be living out of a rucksack and sleeping in playgrounds, sheds, and abandoned railway stations for months is not the ideal moment to launch a project that requires a lot of uninterrupted computer work. The wisdom of being forty three years old and feeling…five?…sixteen?…eighty five? A very big thanks to all of you who signed up — you should have received your refunds by now, if not, please email me — and bear with me until I figure out a better way to do it.

But for now — off for a day’s walk in the hills south-west of Bifuka, the birthplace of Fukase Masahisa, who made one of my favorite books, the profoundly beautiful Karasu.

P.S.: The volcano:

A helmeted rider sits astride a parked custom cruiser motorcycle at the roadside, head bowed and looking at something held in both hands. The motorcycle has a dark green tank with flame detailing, chrome forks, and a low-slung profile. Behind the rider, a wide coastal flat of low scrub and vegetation opens to a calm sea, with a solitary conical peak rising from the water on the horizon under a pale, hazy sky. Low-angle light rakes across the grass and catches the chrome, casting long shadows that suggest late afternoon.

And my traverse of it last year.

This post is an email from In Between, a newsletter I wrote between 2022–2025.

Posted on: September 22, 2023

Read the original on ilovewasting.ink

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