People often ask me whether solo motorcycle travel gets lonely.
The answer is yes. Sometimes it does.
I miss my wife. I miss home. After spending months riding alone across Japan for Project 47, there have certainly been days when I would have liked somebody else sitting across the table at dinner or another bike beside me on the road.
But loneliness has actually been a surprisingly small part of the experience.
Because there is a difference between being alone and being lonely.
Learning that difference has probably been one of the most valuable things I’ve taken from travelling across Japan alone.
And if you’re thinking about doing your own solo motorcycle trip in Japan, learning how to deal with the time inside your own head is every bit as important as choosing a motorcycle, planning a route or packing your luggage.
Is Japan Good for Solo Motorcycle Travel?
Japan is an excellent country for solo motorcycle travel.
The road network is enormous, fuel is widely available, convenience stores are everywhere, accommodation is easy to find in most parts of the country and even relatively remote areas are rarely completely isolated from civilisation.
But travelling alone still changes the experience.
When you’re riding with other people, there is always somebody to discuss the route with, somebody to help when something goes wrong and usually somebody to talk to when the riding stops.
When you’re travelling solo, all of that disappears.
Your decisions are yours.
Your mistakes are yours.
And sometimes you can spend hours riding without having a meaningful conversation with another person.
That can sound intimidating.
It can also become one of the best parts of the trip.
Prepare Before You Leave, Then Stop Worrying
One of the biggest challenges with solo motorcycle travel happens before the journey even begins.
It’s uncertainty.
What if the bike breaks down?
What if I get lost?
What if the weather changes?
What if something happens and nobody knows where I am?
For me, preparation is how I deal with that anxiety.
I know my motorcycle. I know my gear. I pack things in roughly the same place every day so I know where everything is. Someone always has a rough idea of where I’m heading.
You cannot eliminate every risk from a motorcycle journey, but you can remove a lot of unnecessary uncertainty.
Before travelling alone in Japan, I would recommend at least having:
- a basic understanding of your motorcycle and its controls
- roadside assistance or a plan for mechanical problems
- reliable navigation
- suitable clothing for changing weather
- a way to charge your phone
- emergency contact details
- somebody who knows your approximate route
Japan is safe and extremely well developed, but mountains, remote roads and sudden weather changes still deserve respect.
Preparation isn’t about trying to control everything.
It’s about taking care of the things you can control so that, eventually, you can stop worrying about them and ride.
Don’t Try to Fill Every Moment
This took me some time to understand.
You don’t have to fill every hour on the motorcycle with music, podcasts or noise.
Sometimes I just ride.
You hear the engine. You smell the forest. You notice the temperature changing as you climb into the mountains. You feel the air change as you drop towards the coast.
And the road just unfolds in front of you.
Japan is particularly good for this kind of riding because its landscape changes constantly. A road can move from a small town into forest, climb a mountain pass and emerge into farmland or a coastal village surprisingly quickly.
After a while, riding like this becomes almost meditative.
Nobody is asking anything from you.
Nobody needs an answer.
Nothing needs to be responded to immediately.
It is just you, the motorcycle and whatever happens to be going through your head.
That kind of uninterrupted time has become something I really value.
Use the Hours on the Bike
One thing I sometimes do is start the day with something I want to think about.
It might be a problem I’m trying to solve.
It might be something happening in my life.
I’m also an author, so occasionally I spend hours riding while mentally planning parts of my next book.
Whatever it is doesn’t really matter.
The point is that solo motorcycle travel gives you something that has become increasingly rare: hours of uninterrupted thought.
Use them.
Some days you’ll solve absolutely nothing.
Other days an answer arrives somewhere halfway up a mountain road when you weren’t even deliberately looking for it.
That’s part of the experience.
Being Alone Can Actually Make You More Social
This was one of the things I least expected from travelling alone.
I have become more outgoing.
Being alone doesn’t have to mean isolating yourself from everyone around you. In fact, when you’re travelling solo, small interactions become much more noticeable.
You see another rider at a roadside station.
Don’t wait for them to speak first.
Walk over.
Ask where they’re riding from.
Talk to the person behind the counter at a small shop. Ask someone whether the road ahead is open. Say hello to the person parking the motorcycle beside yours.
In Japan, you don’t necessarily need fluent Japanese to do this.
Even a few basic phrases, some patience and a willingness to start the conversation can get you surprisingly far.
Most of these interactions might last thirty seconds.
Occasionally they turn into much longer conversations.
Either way, when you’ve spent several hours alone on a motorcycle, thirty seconds of genuine human connection can mean more than you might expect.
Even the simple wave between two riders passing on opposite sides of the road matters.
Two complete strangers acknowledge each other for a second and then continue in opposite directions.
When you’re travelling alone, you notice those moments.
Solo Travel Forces You to Become Self-Reliant
There is another side to travelling alone.
Everything is on you.
Your route.
Your decisions.
Your ability.
Your fears.
When something goes wrong, there isn’t automatically another rider beside you helping to solve the problem.
You have to deal with it.
That forces you to become self-reliant.
But solo motorcycle travel has also changed what I think self-reliance actually means.
It isn’t believing that you can handle absolutely everything yourself.
Spend enough time travelling alone and you’ll discover pretty quickly that sometimes you can’t.
Real self-reliance is understanding what you are capable of and being honest about what you aren’t.
There is nothing particularly impressive about continuing down a dangerous road simply because you’re too stubborn to turn around.
There is nothing weak about asking for help.
There is nothing wrong with changing the plan because you’re exhausted, the weather has deteriorated or the road is beyond your ability.
In fact, being alone makes those decisions more important.
Nobody else is there to tell you when you’re making a stupid one.
You Learn Your Actual Limits
Solo motorcycle touring strips away quite a few excuses.
There are hard days when nobody is there to encourage you.
Nobody cares whether you reach your intended destination.
Nobody is going to stop you from abandoning the plan and going home.
That means discipline has to come from you.
But so does restraint.
Travelling alone forces you to continually answer a fairly simple question:
Can I actually do this safely?
Not, should I be able to do it?
Not, would somebody else manage it?
Can I do it, today, in these conditions?
There is a useful honesty in that.
You discover what you’re genuinely capable of. You also discover where fear, fatigue, lack of experience or simple bad judgement start influencing your decisions.
Those discoveries aren’t always comfortable.
But they’re valuable.
Know When to Turn Around
One of the most important skills for anyone travelling through Japan alone is knowing when the original plan no longer matters.
Japan’s roads can change very quickly.
A route that looks perfectly reasonable on a map can become extremely narrow, steep, damaged or remote once you reach the mountains.
Weather can also transform conditions rapidly.
And when you’re travelling alone, there is nobody beside you saying, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
You have to make that judgement yourself.
Turning around isn’t failing.
Changing the destination isn’t failing.
Stopping early isn’t failing.
The objective is to complete the journey, not win an argument with yourself.
That becomes increasingly obvious the longer you travel alone.
Create a Routine
Long solo motorcycle journeys become much easier when certain things become automatic.
I tend to pack the motorcycle in the same way each day.
Important equipment goes in the same place.
I check the bike regularly.
I keep an eye on fuel rather than waiting until I’m desperate for a petrol station.
I think about where I might finish the day before I actually need somewhere to sleep.
These sound like small things, but routines reduce mental load.
When you’re travelling for weeks or months, you don’t want to make hundreds of unnecessary decisions every morning.
The more basic tasks become habits, the more attention you can give to the road and the experience itself.
Let Someone Know Where You’re Going
Japan may be a relatively safe country, but solo travel still means accepting that nobody is immediately beside you if something happens.
Someone should have a rough idea of your plans.
They don’t need a minute-by-minute itinerary.
My own routes often change while I’m riding.
But somebody knowing that you’re heading through a particular region or expecting to arrive somewhere that evening creates a simple safety net.
This becomes more important if you’re taking the smaller mountain roads that make motorcycle touring in Japan so rewarding.
Many of those roads see very little traffic.
That’s exactly why they’re enjoyable.
It’s also why you should treat them with respect.
Don’t Be Afraid to Ask for Help
There is a strange temptation when travelling alone to believe that asking for help somehow defeats the point.
It doesn’t.
I’ve increasingly realised that independence and stubbornness are not the same thing.
You should know how to solve basic problems yourself.
You should understand your motorcycle as well as reasonably possible.
You should be prepared.
But if you genuinely need help, ask.
Japan is full of people who will try to assist you even when there is a language barrier.
You may need to be the person who starts that interaction.
That is part of travelling alone too.
Solo Travel Can Get Lonely
There is no point pretending otherwise.
Some evenings are quiet.
There will probably be moments when you wish somebody you care about was there.
I certainly have them.
I miss my wife.
But one of the unexpected things this journey has taught me is that enjoying time alone doesn’t make the people you love less important.
For me, it has done the opposite.
Distance has made me appreciate those relationships more.
Being comfortable alone isn’t the same as not needing anyone.
Learning how to enjoy your own company can actually make you more aware of how important other people are.
What Solo Motorcycle Travel Can Teach You
After months travelling across Japan alone, the motorcycle part of the journey is almost the easiest thing to explain.
You ride.
You find roads.
You deal with weather.
You find somewhere to sleep.
Then you do it again the following day.
What is harder to explain is what happens internally.
Solo travel has pushed me outside my comfort zone.
It has made me more outgoing.
It has made me more disciplined.
It has forced me to become more self-reliant.
And perhaps most importantly, it has made me more honest about my own abilities, weaknesses and fears.
There is the person you think you are.
And then there is the person you discover when nobody else is around.
Spend enough time travelling alone and the difference becomes fairly obvious.
Should You Ride Japan Alone?
If you’re considering a solo motorcycle trip across Japan but are worried about being alone, I wouldn’t let that stop you.
Prepare properly.
Know your motorcycle.
Tell somebody where you’re going.
Be realistic about your abilities.
Learn enough Japanese to start a basic conversation.
And don’t feel that every minute of silence has to be filled.
The solitude is part of the journey.
There will probably be lonely moments.
But being alone and being lonely are not the same thing.
If you embrace that time instead of constantly trying to escape it, you may discover that the empty roads, quiet evenings and hours inside your own helmet become some of the most valuable parts of the trip.
You might learn something about Japan.
You might learn something about riding.
And, somewhere along the way, you might discover something about yourself.
I know I did.
I’m riding through all 47 prefectures of Japan for Project 47, documenting the roads, people and places I encounter along the way. You can follow the complete journey here on Ride Thru Japan.