I Spent 3 Days Biking Around Kyushu, Japan — Here’s Why It Was an Incredible Way to See the Island

I am not a cyclist. I don’t even own a bicycle. So I was surprised to discover, after pedaling around one of Japan’s main islands, that it might be my favorite new way to travel. 

I always associated bike tours with scenic rides through the Loire Valley, or maybe Tuscany — places where guests wake up in a countryside hotel and spend the day cycling to the next one, stopping for leisurely lunches, maybe a couple glasses of wine, while a support car ferries their luggage. Japan may be less well known for cycling vacations, but its prefectures have all the key ingredients: pastoral countryside, cute cafés, incredible food, distinctive hotels. Not to mention a rich culture of hospitality.

The trip was planned as a three-day bike tour to experience the end of foliage season in November. I flew from Los Angeles to Tokyo, then caught a connecting flight to Fukuoka, a dynamic city on the coast of Kyushu. The southernmost of Japan’s four large islands, it is ideal for biking, with beautiful roads and paths suitable for both amateurs and serious cyclists. The island even started a professional cycling race that’s held in October, the Tour de Kyushu. And then there was all the stuff I wanted to do off-bike: visit artisanal pottery studios and remote shrines and, of course, eat the food — including my personal favorite, tempura.

First I took a day of rest to let the jet lag wear off. I was staying at the Ritz-Carlton, Fukuoka, a sleek tower overlooking the harbor. Opened in 2023, the hotel is an elegant blend of Japanese and Western styles: in the lobby, a carefully tended rock garden near the elevators; upstairs, an infinity pool with a view of the city lights. My room couldn’t have been more perfect for rest, with walls and screens that slid around; at night my bathroom turned into a glowing box. 

Then it was time to hop on a bike. My guide from Cycling Island Kyushu met me at the hotel in a van stuffed with equipment. Will Liew grew up in Vermont and moved to Japan after college. A former competitive cyclist, he’s the only foreigner working as a cycling tour guide in Kyushu, at least to his knowledge, and speaks fluent Japanese and Mandarin. Liew is also a gifted artist, and he designed his routes around the Japanese concept of komorebi. When I asked him, while driving, to paraphrase this term, he thought about it for a second. “The scattered light that shines through the leaves,” Liew said, then pointed out the window at a forest by the road, where the sunlight was broken up by the branches. “Like that!” Recent clients from Thailand told Liew that they felt like they were riding on his canvas. “You meet wonderful people,” he said. “That’s what I enjoy most.” 

Kyushu is mountainous and lushly forested, and is home to Mount Unzen, one of Japan’s most active volcanic groups, as well as beaches that draw crowds in the summer. But it’s also stuffed with tiny villages and good-sized cities. After a short drive into Nagasaki Prefecture, we reached Unzen, a resort village built around onsen (hot springs) that perch on the slopes of overlapping volcanoes. The afternoon was spent riding up and down the hills, swooshing past views of the sea — which meant I was very grateful that evening, after a dinner of fresh sushi and local Wagyu steak, to relax alone in the hotel’s thermal waters, the dark sky above me full of stars.

The next day began on a more spiritual note. Liew and I rode half an hour up a country road outside the city of Imari, past small houses and outbuildings, to a shrine called Dake. Liew explained that it was dedicated to two powerful gods, a brother and sister. According to Shinto mythology, they were among the deities who created Japan. The shrine, old and wooden, was built on top of a mountain. We dismounted at the base, parked our bikes, then climbed a series of 300 stone steps. Inside were numerous photographs of people in the community who’d kept the shrine in good shape over the decades. After a minute to catch our breath, we prayed and asked for blessings.

From there we made a fast descent into Okawachiyama, known as the “village of secret kilns.” The remoteness of the town helped the Nabeshima family, which ruled over this part of the island in the 17th century, conceal its pottery techniques from other clans. Our bike tires rumbled over cobblestoned streets — this was not the first time I was glad I’d brought a pair of padded biking shorts — past studios selling beautiful blue and white pottery. With the mountains above us robed in mist, it felt like we’d stepped out of time. 

A similar feeling accompanied our final stop for the day: Calali, a coffee shop in the small coastal city of Karatsu. We ducked through a low front door to enter an immense wooden building that was once a pharmacy. It was all very warm and welcoming. “Kyushu is a place that Japanese people leave big cities like Tokyo to move to,” Liew said. “They want cities that feel small and are full of natural beauty.” 

Karatsu, our final destination, wasn’t a big city at all — it has just 100,000 residents. So it seemed like a wild coincidence that I got to meet another American there, who also happened to be from Vermont. Writer and photographer Prairie Stuart-Wolff moved to Karatsu, her wife’s hometown, in 2007. In 2023, Stuart-Wolff opened Mirukashi Salon to host culinary experiences — foraging, cooking, and sharing meals. We spent the morning shopping at local markets, then prepared lunch in her kitchen. First there was a savory egg custard made with dashi, the traditional Japanese fish stock. Then tofu dressed in white miso and served over fresh persimmon. After that, seared mackerel with citrus, followed by yuzu sorbet with cinnamon. It was all rooted in the precise moment of the season — and served on pottery made by her wife, Hanako Nakazato, a member of a storied ceramics family. “Kyushu usually isn’t on visitors’ lists for their first trip to Japan,” Stuart-Wolff said. “But it definitely should be.”

It can be easy in cities like Tokyo or Osaka, amid the blinding billboards and skyscrapers, to forget that Japan is an island nation — but on Kyushu the sea was never far away. For our final afternoon of cycling, Liew and I loaded our bikes onto a ferry for the half-hour ride to the small island of Shikanoshima. It resembled something from coastal Maine, but more wild. We rode the island’s perimeter as large waves smashed against the rocks. It was windy, it was beautiful — and it made me think how all the biking that week had enabled me to see more than I would have if I’d walked, and to feel more connected than if I’d been driving. 

I told Liew on the drive to the airport afterward: I may not be a cyclist in my life at home, but I think I’m going to become one more often when I’m away.  

Three-day tours with Cycling Island Kyushu from $1,300, all-inclusive. 

A version of this story first appeared in the Novvember 2024 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline “Wheels on Fire.”