Hokkaido Highway Blues

the coldness lingered like patches of snow, unmelted. The northern Japan Alps formed a wall of bad weather. There were no cherry blossoms in Joetsu.
    Kikumi dropped me off at the ferry terminal. She was a bit frazzled. It had been a long ride and she was now facing the return. She wouldn’t get home until well after dark. How do you properly thank someone in a situation like this? You can’t.
     

14
     
    I BOARDED THE last ferry to Sado with time to spare. Snug and satisfied, I stood on the upper deck and watched the last-minute traffic race in. The ground crew was just about to throw the ropes free, when a car came flying in, lights flashing, horn honking. It just made it. No sooner had the car rattled up the ramp and onto the lower deck, than the drawbridge rose up. A trio of youthful celebrants piled out of the car, along with an American girl—well, I assumed she was American. (Hang out in Japan long enough and this will happen to you too.) They were laughing and grinning and congratulating themselves on their sudden-death timing.
    The ferry had a cafeteria and a coffee shop, but for the last run everything was closed down. I bought a pack of peanuts and a can of Sapporo beer from the ferry vending machines and, as the icy mountains of northern Japan pulled away, I watched from the window as a storm rolled in toward us, low along the sea.
    The sky darkened and the storm hit, strafing the deck with rain, and then—we were through. We broke free of the storm and we were out at sea, with only horizons of waves stretching in all directions. I went back onto the deck, feeling immortal. On the far edge of the sea, rising above the water like a whale’s back, was Sado Island.
    Night was falling and the island of Sado began to fade into darkness as we approached, becoming more and more indistinct the nearer we came.
    By the time we reached Sado, Sado had disappeared.
     

 
     

 
     

1
     
    NIGHT. FALLING SNOW. The town of Ogi was small but confusing. Streets led you inward only to abandon you. After trudging up one narrow lane and down another, I eventually stumbled upon a noodle shop, which I entered with a gust of cold air, eliciting frowns and hard stares from the patrons who sat, hunched over steaming bowls. The men looked up as though I had interrupted a conspiracy.
    “Hi there!” I said.
    The noodle lady shot a glance in my direction and said, more sharply than was necessary, “No more service!“ even as she ladled out another bowl of broth and slithering noodles. I talked my way into a space along the counter, but I had to put up with disgruntled silence as I ate. Where was the youth hostel? Up the bill. Where? Up the hill, up the hill! A hand waved, taking in several directions and leaving me without bearings or welcome.
    Outside, the streets were deserted and the snow was sifting down, dusting the streets and accenting the rooftops. I eventually called the hostel from a lonely pay phone. The woman who answered—her voice as weary as might be expected of someone dealing with a simpleton—gave me directions that were only marginally more coherent than Up the hill! Up the hill! Sado Island is nothing but hills, I grumbled and set off.
    The road wound deep into a hidden valley. In the chilled white moonlight the rice fields were ridges of bone. A dog barked psychotically, almost choking on its saliva as I approached a farmhouse. We faced off in the darkness. “Don’t worry, Will. He’s as scared of you as you are of him,” I said, unsuccessfully trying to convince myself to be brave.
    I stood there, my very presence egging the dog on to more and more outlandish threats, “First I’m gonna rip your head off! Then I’m gonna chew your skull! Then I’m gonna—” The front door slid open and a woman in an apron came out and cursed the dog into silence.
    I schlepped my bag into the front foyer and signed in. The interior of the farmhouse was layered in dust as thick as dryer lint. The walls were adorned with framed jigsaw puzzles of the Rocky Mountains, and the living room was stuffed with sagging furniture. The woman took my money and then grunted something that might have been, “Welcome to Sado Island!” or possibly, “Piss off,” and then vanished into the various Escher-inspired hallways. A small child trailed after her and I was alone.
     

2
     
    THE EARLY MORNING revealed a landscape of mist, muted in faded green and gold, the wisps of steam hanging low like dragon’s breath across