One thing leads to another. And from one race comes another race. So from the adventurous journey – not a race but a voyage – through Patagonia, a thousand kilometers passing through Chile and Tierra del Fuego, to the one in Japan, 777 kilometers in nine stages, departing from Kyoto and arriving in Tokyo, the three friends return to wandering on bicycles. An irresistible temptation.

If the Patagonia journey had produced a book (https://www.tuttobiciweb.it/article/2025/04/30/1745944698/ciclismo-viaggio-patagonia-avventura) and a documentary, plus more than a hundred meetings to tell and share their stories, this time Francesco Frank Lotta, Paolo Penni Martelli and Willy Mulonia have first and foremost produced another book and another documentary, "Japan" (Terre di mezzo, 160 pages, €22), a sentimental journey, an emotional guide, a graphic, geographical and photographic chronicle.

The "journey where the sun rises" unfolds between dirt roads and asphalt, between conifers and mountain passes, between riverbanks and volcanoes, also among cups of tea and bursts of Nikon cameras, between geishas and sumo wrestlers, between bamboo and bullet trains, between "public baths fed by hot springs" and "monks who tend gardens with slow and precise gestures". There is also the magical encounter with a human-powered bicycle, "a sturdy operator of a 'jinrikisha', the Japanese rickshaw: its name literally means 'cart powered by human strength'. The drivers, called 'shafu', wear traditional clothing and are highly knowledgeable historical and artistic guides". And there is also a fantastic discovery: "In the evening, you can leave your bike outside, with your bags mounted on it, and go to sleep peacefully. No one will touch it".

The three wandering men agree: "Perhaps cycling in Japan means precisely this: learning to maintain balance. Between modernity and ritual, between order and surprise, between the urge to go and the need to stop. Every climb, every detour, every glance gives back something different. On a bicycle you don't cross a land: you breathe it, you interpret it, you live it at a pace that forces you to look". And then: "Cycling in Japan teaches you that respect is not a rule, but a form of poetry. A slowness that you learn, a calm that you conquer. And perhaps this is precisely the strongest concept I take home with me: wherever you go, the way you choose to be on the road tells who you are"