After the Heavy Rain...

 After that recent downpour from the linear rainband, I figured there’d probably be some landslides.

So, I hopped on my bike and set off for my usual loop around Tonda Reservoir.

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In the grassy parking area, a small white flower caught my eye.

Turns out, it’s called Warunasubi—literally, “Bad Eggplant.”

What on earth was the botanist thinking when they named it that?

By the way, in Kansai, we usually call eggplants nasubi, but apparently, people in Kanto mostly just say nasu.

Maybe there’s some historical reason for that…

Makes me wonder—was the botanist who named this thing from Kansai?

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Usually after heavy rain, parts of the loop trail get blocked off due to landslides.

But today? Nothing posted at the entrance.

As I rode along, I realized…

Autumn is slowly sneaking in.

The green shade of summer is now filled with the calls of Tsukutsukuboushi cicadas.

Unlike the deafening chorus of Kumazemi, these ones sing individually—you can actually hear each voice.

Some even start a beat late, layering their calls, and then finish in unison.

I’m no music expert, but maybe you’d call that a fugue? Or a canon?

Either way, it’s much more charming than the Kumazemi roar.

And, as expected—landslide damage.

Looks like floodwater from the storm focused at the base of a gentle slope, carved away at the surface, and brought part of the cliff down.

Luckily, there was a quick repair—passable for now.

The brilliant white Yukuzu flowers were past their peak, looking a little lonely now.

Nearby, the Nemunoki (silk tree) that once had fluffy pink blooms now bears seed pods, as if to remind you it’s part of the pea family.

Just as I was about to head further into the mountains—

“Road Closed. Use Detour,” said the sign.

Too bad—I was looking forward to those winding ups and downs.

Oh well, I took the paved sidewalk along the prefectural road instead.

Since I was out anyway, I rode all the way to Wakita’s coastline.

Offshore, rows of offshore wind turbines stood, their massive three-blade rotors turning lazily.

I suppose one day, I’ll get used to this sight too.

After a short break—

—I looped back into the cycling route via the tree-lined paths of Hibikinada Green Park.

On the forest floor, a massive mushroom sat like a little throne.

The magnolia fruits are ripening nicely, too.

For my second lap, I took the inner route, past Daihokutei Pavilion.

I spotted something white by the water—turned out to be a swan.

The floating bridge is still closed now, but I’ve always loved walking on it—it has this soft, springy feel that just makes you smile.



Daihokutei itself was a gift from Dalian City to Kitakyushu to mark their sister-city relationship.

Maintenance has been ongoing for a while, and now there’s a new sign warning of falling debris—probably storm damage again.

The mushrooms here are smaller, though.





And sure enough, even on the steepest uphill stretch, there was another large-scale landslide—

right next to where they’d repaired a previous one.

Still, it was passable.

Reaching the top of that climb and seeing the red bridge below—always such a satisfying moment❣

Even though it’s called a cycling course, lots of locals use it for walking.

And honestly, here in Kyushu—where there are no bears—

humans are scarier than bears.

So I’ve got bear bells on both the front and back of my bike, ringing away as I ride.

Still, some people don’t notice…

and I really hate it when they glare at me.

Anyway, another ride done, another good sweat.

All’s well that ends well.