Bicycle Journey - July 14, 2012: Day Five—Ishinomaki to Ofunato; Distance: 113Km

July 14, 2012: Arrival and departure of Minami Sanriku city where 17,000 people has simply ceased to exist

On March 11, 2011, we witnessed the unbelievable power of the tsunami from our living rooms. We all watched helplessly as a furious and merciless wall of water charged towards the inland, destroying everything in its path. What we saw that day was nothing compared to the horror of actually being there. The reality is indescribable. I dismount the bike at what appears to be the center of town. The astonishing view stretches out at least four to five kilometers in all directions. At least 98 percent of the buildings have been reduced to piles of wrecked wood, pieces of concrete, and twisted metal. There is very little left: a mangled seawall; and few gutted buildings; the only business in town is a temporary gas station.

I was standing in the place where over a year ago children were swept from their parents’ arms as families tried to escape the powerful tsunami. Many people, old and young, Japanese and not Japanese, couldn’t outrun the wall of water. Right where I was standing residents lost loved ones, homes, jobs and their lives. An entire town of around 17000 people has simply ceased to exist here. I was surrounded by the details of destroyed family lives: a broken toy train, ripped pages from a children’s book, a twisted stroller, and a crushed child car seat lying in the debris. I went through all of emotions that you can ever read, and more than one can never fully explain: horrified, lonely, angry, afraid, sad, etc.

I have hit some psychological lows in my life, but nothing compared to this. I felt tears silently rolling down my cheeks. My legs were violently shaking – my knees couldn’t support the weight of my body. In the pouring rain, too horrified to move further, I dropped down on my knees. Too weakened by grief, I lay there looking up at the cloudy sky through the hood of the helmet. I cried out loud, “what on earth did these people do to deserve this?” but the screeching winds blew away my words.

The pouring rain made everything more miserable, and the wind was relentless. My body from head to toe was soaking wet and I was shivering. Forgotten were the aspects of comfortable life. I didn’t miss the computer, TV, microwave, coffeemaker, the counted minutes – and I thought only of the things I once took for granted, the small pleasures. Switching on the AC in a hot summer day, taking a hot bath in cold day, watch favorite TV show from the comfort of couch, wander into the kitchen to make chicken noodle soup in the middle of night, or munch a couple of cookies, grab a juice from the fridge, sleep on a comfortable bed and wake up refresh.

I could have lay there and waited for all night, but I knew I could not change the past. I finally get the nerve - opened my eyes - cleared my throat - wiped my tears off; I had to force myself to return to the road. I moved forward slowly through the debris, I felt each turn of my tire; I kept my eyes on the road beneath me, I could see every bit of gravel and dirt.

After steady ascent in the mountain road, I dismounted at the summit. I took one last look at the lost city of Minami Sanriku. I sobbed uncontrollably. I think it was my soul's way of coming into terms with that I am a lucky man - I have been blessed with so much more than I deserve. And I take nothing for granted. Every luxury is a precious blessing to me.

As I prepare for the descent, I felt unusual warm breeze and then I knew that I have been fortunate (and stubborn) enough to be able to be honest, to be uncompromising, to pursue a dream. It was good, I thought, to ride my bicycle to raise money for the children in Tohoku.