Days Like This
By the time Project 47 reached Nara, I had been on the road for more than five weeks.
The excitement was still there. The love for the ride was still there. But so was everything else — fatigue, missed meals, constant logistics, hotel searches, crowded roads, bad timing, and the slow mental weight that builds when you are traveling alone for that long.
This episode follows a solo motorcycle journey through Nara Prefecture, Japan — not as a polished travel guide, but as a real day on the road when things do not quite come together.
A ramen stop interrupted by earthquake and tsunami warnings. A quiet shrine away from the crowds. Traffic. Navigation failures. Deer parks. A forest hike that takes longer than expected. A failed attempt to reach one of Japan’s most famous temples. Another roadside hotel. Another budget meal. Another day carried forward because the journey does not stop just because the rhythm is off.
This is not a Nara travel guide.
It is a motorcycle travel film about fatigue, frustration, quiet moments, and continuing through the uneven days that are part of every long solo journey.
A Solo Motorcycle Journey Through Nara, Japan
Nara was a prefecture I expected to connect with more easily.
It is one of the most famous historical places in Japan, full of temples, shrines, deer, old streets, and the kind of atmosphere people travel across the world to experience. On paper, it should have been simple.
But solo motorcycle travel does not always work that way.
By the time I rode out of Mie and headed inland toward Nara, I was tired in a way that had been building for weeks. The days were starting to blur together. I was riding long enough to forget to eat. I was constantly thinking about the next route, the next place to sleep, the next stop, the next weather system, the next video, the next decision.
That is the part of a motorcycle journey across Japan that is hard to show from the outside.
The road looks romantic.
The routine can be relentless.
Nara became a chapter about that tension.
Heading Inland After Five Weeks
Leaving Mie behind, the road carried me inland toward Nara.
After weeks of coastlines, mountain roads, campsites, city traffic, and long days crossing prefectures, I could feel the journey starting to catch up with me. This was no longer the fresh beginning of a trip. This was the middle stretch, where the excitement remains but the body starts asking questions.
Have you eaten?
Have you slept?
Where are you staying tonight?
How far is the next road?
How much of this can you still do safely?
By the time I finally stopped for food, I was not looking for a perfect meal. I just wanted ramen, rice, protein, and a chance to stop moving for a while.
That is how Nara began.
Not with a landmark.
With hunger and fatigue.
Riding Until I Forget to Eat
Long motorcycle days have a strange way of compressing time.
You think you will stop soon. Then the road opens up. Then the map changes. Then a stop is closed. Then the next town is only another twenty minutes away. Then suddenly you realize you have ridden half the day and barely eaten.
That was where I was when I stopped for ramen.
Nara is known for ramen, but at that point, I was not judging the finer details. I was tired, sore, hungry, and ready to sit down.
That meal should have been a simple reset.
Instead, the TV behind the counter changed the mood completely.
Tsunami Warnings and Road Stress
As I ate, the news showed a large earthquake off the coast of Hokkaido and tsunami warnings across northern Japan.
I was far away from the danger zone, but the moment still hit hard.
I lived in Sendai for years. I still have friends in Tohoku. When you have a connection to that part of Japan, tsunami warnings are never just background noise. They bring back a very specific kind of fear.
That moment threw me.
One minute I was thinking about food, fatigue, and getting to my hotel. The next, I was thinking about northern Japan, friends, coastline, warnings, and all the people who have already been through more than enough.
That is part of traveling through Japan too.
The road does not exist outside the world.
Sometimes the world reaches into the ride.
Recovery After a Long Stint
After that, I just needed to get to the hotel.
It was only a short distance away, but even those final few hundred meters felt like the end of a much longer day. I checked in, saw the jacuzzi bath, and knew exactly what I was doing next.
Sometimes recovery on the road is not dramatic.
It is a bath. A bed. A door that closes. A place to put the gear down. A few hours where the motorcycle is parked and no decisions need to be made.
That night was not about adventure.
It was about getting the body back to a place where I could ride again in the morning.
Planning the Ride Through Nara
The next morning, I knew Nara was probably not going to be a long episode.
There are roads in the south of the prefecture, but I had already ridden through a lot of that kind of terrain coming out of Mie. I did not want to force a two-hour detour just to chase roads for the sake of it.
So the plan was simple.
Ride through Nara. Visit a few places. Avoid turning it into a tourist checklist. Then continue toward Kyoto.
But Nara is complicated.
When most people think of it, they think of deer, temples, and a very specific image of old Japan. And that image is real — but only in concentrated zones. Outside those zones, Nara is also traffic, neighborhoods, roads, parking problems, hotels, shops, and ordinary daily life.
That is the side you see when you cross a prefecture by motorcycle.
Not just the postcard.
The whole place around it.
Beyond the Tourist Facade
The first stop was Isonokami Jingu.
That was intentional.
Instead of heading straight into the most crowded and obvious tourist areas, I wanted to start somewhere quieter. A shrine that did not feel completely overwhelmed by visitors. A place where the atmosphere could breathe a little.
Isonokami Jingu gave me that.
Trees, shade, smaller shrines, a prayer service, chickens calling through the grounds, and a feeling that was different from the bigger tourist-heavy places.
That stop mattered because it showed a side of Nara that often gets missed.
Not the Instagram version.
Not the deer-feeding crowd.
Not the famous temple shot.
A quieter, older feeling.
And for a tired rider five weeks into a solo motorcycle journey, that was exactly the kind of start I needed.
Finding a Shrine the Crowds Miss
There is something different about visiting a shrine when it is not packed with people.
You notice more.
The sound of the trees. The smaller buildings. The way people move quietly through the grounds. The details that disappear when a place becomes part of a crowded route.
Isonokami Jingu was not empty, but it had space.
That space gave the day a better rhythm, at least for a while. It reminded me that Nara is not only the places everyone already knows. There are still corners of the prefecture where the atmosphere remains intact, where the motorcycle can take you somewhere quieter than the train-and-tour-bus route.
That is one of the reasons I keep doing Project 47.
Riding through Japan lets you find the edges of famous places.
Not always hidden.
Just less consumed.
When Navigation Fails Completely
After the shrine, it was time to ride into the more complicated part of Nara.
Almost immediately, navigation started failing me.
It told me to keep right when I should not have kept right. I ended up heading completely the wrong way, almost being pulled toward the expressway.
That kind of thing sounds minor until you are on a motorcycle in traffic, tired, and trying to manage the road while the navigation gives you instructions that make no sense in the real world.
The problem with riding in tourist-heavy or urban areas is not only the traffic.
It is the decision load.
Lane choice. Road signs. Cars. Pedestrians. Buses. Parking. Navigation. Route changes. One-way streets. Time pressure. Fatigue.
Every small mistake adds friction.
And Nara had plenty of friction waiting.
Escaping the City Traffic
Once I escaped the worst of the city traffic, the ride improved.
The roads started looking better. The scenery opened slightly. The kind of Nara most visitors never see began to appear — not the main tourist zone, but the roads around it, where people live, work, farm, walk, and move through ordinary life.
That is one of the important distinctions in a motorcycle travel documentary.
The famous place is only one part of the prefecture.
The road around it is part of the story too.
By motorcycle, you see the transitions. The edge of town. The way traffic thins. The small roads that climb out of the obvious places. The quiet pockets just minutes away from the crowds.
And in Nara, that contrast became the whole episode.
The Reality of a Tourist Zoo
Then came Nara Deer Park.
Or at least, the view of it.
From the road, it looked exactly like what I had been worried about — a sea of people with deer scattered through the middle. Tourists, phones, crowds, traffic, and that strange atmosphere where a place starts to feel less like nature and more like a tourist zoo.
I know the deer are part of what makes Nara famous.
I know people come from all over the world to see them.
But at that moment, I just could not bring myself to step into that crowd and pretend it was the experience I wanted.
So I changed the plan.
I still wanted to show the Nara deer experience in some form, but I wanted to find a quieter version of it.
That meant heading up toward another deer area in the mountains.
A different kind of deer park.
Seeking a Different Kind of Deer Park
Only a couple of minutes away from the main deer park, the atmosphere changed completely.
There were still deer, but the feeling was different. Quieter. More natural. Less like everyone was pushing toward the same photo.
I stopped for a moment, watched them, and left them alone.
That felt better.
One of the great things about exploring Japan by motorcycle is that you are not locked into the most obvious version of a place. You can see the famous area, decide it is not for you, and keep riding until the road gives you another angle.
That is what happened in Nara.
The deer were still there.
But the experience finally had room to breathe.
Riding Through a Sanctuary
From there, the road climbed into a deer sanctuary.
And it was beautiful.
It looked like the kind of road you would want to ride hard, but that was not the point. Deer were nearby, sometimes right beside the road, and the last thing I wanted was to collect one because I was riding like an idiot.
So I slowed down.
That ride became one of the best parts of Nara because it showed a side of the prefecture most people do not reach if they only arrive by train, walk the famous park, and leave.
The road was green, quiet, and tucked away from the chaos below. Deer moved through the trees. The city felt far away, even though it was close.
This was the Nara I connected with more.
Not the crowd.
The sanctuary.
Choosing the Trail Over the Temple
There were two possible directions from there.
One was the open deer area and viewpoint most people came for. The other was a trail toward a waterfall.
The sign said the waterfall was about two kilometers away. Someone had told me it might take around 15 minutes.
That was optimistic.
Very optimistic.
But once I started walking, the decision made sense. I love shrines, and I understand why Nara’s temples matter, but places like that forest trail are where I feel most at home.
Nature is my temple.
The trail was quiet, green, and exactly the kind of space I needed after traffic, crowds, navigation errors, and the tourist-zone pressure of the morning.
It ate far more time than expected.
But it gave something back.
Nature is My Temple
The waterfall was worth the walk.
Not because it was the biggest waterfall in Japan. Not because it was the most famous. Not because it was the kind of place that would dominate a travel guide.
Because it gave the day a reset.
After five weeks on the road, those quiet natural spaces matter more and more. The body is tired. The mind is full. Every day asks for more decisions, more movement, more filming, more energy.
Standing by a waterfall in the forest cuts through that for a moment.
No traffic.
No parking.
No tourist chaos.
No schedule.
Just water, trees, and the feeling that maybe this was the part of Nara I needed to find.
The Reality of a Tourist Hotspot
By the time I got back to the bike, the walk had taken far longer than expected.
That created another decision.
I could still try to visit Todai-ji, one of Japan’s most famous temples, but time was getting tight. I still had to find somewhere to sleep that night. I still had to ride. And the tourist areas were already looking difficult.
I decided to try anyway.
That was a mistake.
The closer I got, the more chaotic it became. People everywhere. Traffic. Unclear parking. Signs that seemed helpful until they were not. Motorcycle parking that I kept missing. Roads looping me back toward the deer park. The whole thing started doing my head in.
This is the reality of tourist hotspots in Japan.
They can be worth visiting.
But getting in and out by motorcycle can be a nightmare.
At My Wits’ End with Parking
I kept looking for motorcycle parking.
Everywhere I looked, I saw parking signs — but not the kind I could use. Car parks. Pedestrian flows. Buses. Train station traffic. Crowds trying to leave. Roads that seemed to loop back on themselves.
I missed the bike parking once.
Then missed it again.
And suddenly I was back near the deer park, exactly where I did not want to be.
At that point, I was done.
Not every plan is worth forcing. Not every famous place needs to be conquered just because it is famous. And not every episode needs the big-name destination to work.
Sometimes the honest story is that you tried, failed, got frustrated, and moved on.
That was Todai-ji for me that day.
Close enough to see the edge of it.
Too mentally done to keep fighting for the stop.
Calling It a Failure and Moving On
I called it a failure.
And honestly, that felt like the right call.
Todai-ji is important. It is famous for a reason. The Great Buddha is impressive. The temple is absolutely worth seeing under the right conditions.
But I was not in the right condition.
I was tired, frustrated, hungry, and still had to solve the most basic problem of the day: where am I sleeping tonight?
That is the part of solo motorcycle travel people often underestimate.
The journey is not just the riding and the places. It is the constant logistics behind the scenes. Every night requires an answer. Hotel? Campsite? Free camp? Too expensive? Full? Too far? Still open? Safe to reach before dark?
So I pulled into a 7-Eleven to stop, think, and make a new plan.
That was the real Nara moment.
Not the temple.
The decision to stop forcing the day.
Logistical Realities: Finding a Bed
Hotel prices were high.
Rooms were limited.
Tourism in Japan was clearly back in force, and Nara was feeling it.
The only affordable option I could find was another love hotel, technically still in Nara but close to the Kyoto border. It was not the romantic dream of motorcycle travel, but it was available, within reach, and under budget.
That mattered more than the aesthetic.
When you are on the road for weeks, practicality wins.
A room is a room. A shower is a shower. A bed is a bed. Somewhere to park the bike safely matters more than whether the decor looks normal.
This one was very gold.
Very dramatic.
Very much not my thing.
But it solved the problem.
Budget Stays in a Crowded Country
Japan’s accommodation situation has changed a lot.
With tourism booming, hotels can be expensive, booked out, or simply not available where you need them. That makes budget travel by motorcycle more complicated than it looks from the outside.
Love hotels, for all their weirdness, can sometimes fill that gap.
They are often bigger than business hotels, sometimes cheaper, and usually easier to use if you are traveling by bike and do not mind being a little outside the center of town.
It is not glamorous.
But long-distance motorcycle travel is not always glamorous.
Sometimes it is a golden room on the edge of Nara because everything else is too expensive.
And that becomes part of the story too.
A Memory Lane Refuel
To end the day, I crossed the street to Yoshinoya.
For most people, it is just a quick, cheap meal — beef and onion over rice, fried chicken, something fast after work or drinking.
For me, it carries a memory.
When I first lived in Japan, I had a job interview in Sendai. I was completely broke. I had enough money for the train, but not for a hotel. It was the middle of winter, around minus five degrees, and I had no proper winter clothes.
So I spent the night waiting for my train back inside a Yoshinoya.
That memory has stayed with me.
So after a frustrating day in Nara — fatigue, traffic, missed timing, failed parking, and the golden love hotel — sitting down to that simple meal felt strangely right.
Not special in the obvious way.
Special because life on the road often loops back to earlier versions of yourself.
Riding Toward Kyoto
Nara did not become the episode I expected.
I thought I would connect with it more easily. I thought the famous places might carry the day. I thought it might be a simple one-day crossing between Mie and Kyoto.
Instead, it became something more uneven and more honest.
Fatigue. Hunger. Tsunami warnings. A quiet shrine. Failed navigation. A tourist zoo. A better deer encounter. A forest trail. A waterfall. Parking chaos. A missed temple. A strange hotel. A budget meal tied to an old memory.
That is what solo motorcycle travel really looks like sometimes.
Not the perfect destination.
The day as it actually happened.
And sometimes days like this are part of the journey too.
Watch the Full Nara Motorcycle Travel Film
Days Like This | Solo Motorcycle Journey is part of Project 47, a long-form motorcycle travel documentary series following one rider across all 47 prefectures of Japan.
This episode is for riders, travelers, and anyone who understands that long journeys are not made only from perfect roads and unforgettable destinations. Some days are uneven, frustrating, crowded, tiring, and still worth carrying forward.
Watch the full Project 47 series:
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbArCx0u7LtjYBwxR-rRE5GNXNUOzTTdX
Follow the journey on Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/RideThruJapan/
Support the ride:
https://ridethrujapan.com/support/
About Project 47
Project 47 is a solo motorcycle travel documentary series across Japan.
The goal is simple: ride through all 47 prefectures, not as a checklist, but as a long-form journey through the roads, landscapes, people, and quiet moments that make Japan feel endless again.
One rider. One motorcycle. Forty-seven prefectures.
This is Japan by motorcycle.