Japan's spectacular bike ride through six remote islands

The 70km Shimanami Kaido, webbed with fishing harbours, hillside citrus orchards and historic shrines, is often regarded as one of the world's most incredible bike journeys.

As I cycled along the asphalt road, the rural Japanese landscape of rolling hills merged with the sea at low tide. Rifts of sunlight gleamed dimly on the water, minutes before dusk. The small, round body of a stone-carved Jizo Bosatsu – a custodian Buddhist deity – was seated on the rocky shore, guarding people from maritime accidents. It felt like a scene from Japanese folklore. 

On a month-long trip to Japan last November, I was actively looking to avoid the busy cities and experience a rural slice of the country instead. This was how I came across Shimanami Kaido, a 70km-long cycling route that links the main islands of Honshu and Shikoku, weaving through six smaller islands floating in the Seto Inland Sea, a vast body of water that spreads for 400km connecting the Pacific Ocean to the Sea of Japan. 

For millennia, these small, mountainous islands were only accessible by boat until the Nishi Seto Expressway was constructed for road transport in 1999. The Shimanami Kaido cycle path runs parallel to the motorway, connecting Onomichi in Honshu Island to Imabari in Shikoku Island via some of the world's longest suspension bridges. Designated as Japan's first "National Cycling Route" in 2019, Shimanami Kaido, webbed with fishing harbours, hillside citrus orchards and historic shrines, is often regarded as one of the world's most incredible bike journeys.

Cyclist Mei Nakamura says that the trail offers a perfect mix of rural Japan's relaxed charm with opportunities to enjoy great cuisine and fresh seafood. "What makes the Shimanami Kaido special is that it's enjoyable for everyone," she explains, "from experienced road cyclists like myself to people who usually ride city bikes." And the slow, peaceful rhythm of the Seto Inland Sea creates a calm and welcoming vibe. "It's one of the things I love most about it."

Yet, it is more than just a cycling route that crisscrosses seaside villages. Yoshi Kubota, general manager of the boutique hotel Azumi Setoda in Ikuchijima Island – a key stop along the way – says that Shimanami Kaido can be a great model for addressing overtourism. Nearly 35 million tourists flocked to Japan in 2024, most of them visiting tourist sites in Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto. But as demand for cycle tourism grows globally, bike routes like Shimanami Kaido help bring visitors to other parts of Japan to experience a relaxing atmosphere, bucolic scenery and local culture.

"You can promote cycle tourism and encourage people to stay longer in smaller communities. It helps distribute visitors evenly while benefiting the local economy," Kubota says. "When you interact with locals, you get the feeling of actually living there. And you experience the slow life on the islands."

When I arrived at the small seaport city of Onomichi to begin my journey, I could see what Kubota was talking about. On a sunny autumn day it felt as if time had lost its meaning here. Families flocked to the harbourfront to enjoy matcha ice cream, lemonade bars lined the pedestrian alleys and narrow lanes cut through the hillside town past a series of Buddhist shrines known as the Temple Walk. As I climbed up to the famous Senkoji Temple, the cityscape unravelled before me. Cargo vessels were moored to the pier. Beyond them was a chain of jungle-studded islets, bound by the sea's vastness.

Although experienced cyclists can finish the entire 70km length in a few hours, I decided to cycle a 50km stretch over a single day. I was – quite ambitiously – armed with my experience as a child cyclist who leisurely pottered behind my father during his weekend rides in Sri Lanka. Luckily for me – and other beginners – Shimanamai Kaido is safe and easy to navigate, with luggage delivery services, rest spots, vending machines and bicycle repair shops along the way. The entire bike path is clearly indicated by a blue line painted on the side of the road, and is mostly car-free and flat with gradual inclines near the bridges with dedicated cycle passageways. Several companies offer bike rentals (including e-bikes), and cyclists can rent and drop off their bikes along the way.

Although a bridge connects Onomichi with the neighbouring Mukushima Island, I opted for the short ferry ride between the two. When I rolled off the ferry in Mukushima, I set off along the blue-lined pathway and rode past along the seafront, from where I could see the distant bridges of Shimanami Kaido as ferries drifted across the water. Before long, the next-door Iwashi Island came into view and I wheeled in along the circling road to my first crossing, the 770m-long Innoshima Bridge.

Over the next few hours, I took several detours through Innoshima Island. Although fit cyclists can ride up to Mount Shirataki along a steep, twisty road, many find it easier to tackle on foot. The observation deck, surrounded by 700 stone Buddhas, looks over the expressway that snakes past the green thicket before it joins the Innoshima bridge. Forested islands and the Inland Sea stretch off into the distance. It's said that the temple here was built by the Murakami Suigun, a maritime clan who controlled the trade in these treacherous sea routes from the 13th to 16th Centuries, and the island's Suigun Museum showcases their artefacts.

As I rode through Innoshima, patches of citrus groves clung to the hilly vistas, and I stopped for daifuku (Japanese rice cake) – stuffed with sweet, sour and slightly bitter local hassaku oranges – at the Hassakuya confectionery. With mild weather throughout the year and fewer typhoons, the Setouchi region (as the area surrounding the Seto Inland Sea is called) produces most of Japan's lemons. In fact, the town of Setoda on Ikuchijima Island, almost at the midpoint of Shimanami Kaido, is regarded as the origin of lemon cultivation in Japan. It's still a key production area, evident in a series of shops, restaurants and cafes that line the 600m picturesque main drag selling everything citrus-made from lemon ramen to lemon beer, tarts, cakes, juice and gelato.

After a long day, I decided to stay the night at a guesthouse. But first I headed to Setoda's Kosanji Temple. Built over a span of 30 years by the steel merchant Kosanji Kozo in memory of her mother, the temple's colourful pagoda replicates architectural styles from all over Japan and a dimly lit cave illustrates a Buddhist hell. It also houses an Italian white-marble garden called Miraishin no Oka (meaning "eternal hope for the future") with gleaming towers. A couple of blocks away, I soaked at the town's sento (public bath) where navy-blue mosaics cover the walls with murals of the sea.

In recent years, Setoda, like the surrounding islands, has seen a rise in accommodations, cafes and restaurants. When I spoke to Kubota later, she told me that Shimanami Kaido has helped revive the region where most locals have left for cities for better opportunities. With new businesses cropping up, she explained that some of the island's younger people are now returning home. As locals, too, frequent these establishments, it's now "gradually transforming the town", she says.

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The next afternoon, I set off for another 9km with the plan of returning to Setoda for one more night. The palm-lined cycle path followed the coast, from where I could see, hear and feel the rhythm of the Seto Inland Sea. As I continued, other cyclists rode past and men gathered to fish. Ferries sailed. Grandmothers rode their bikes with groceries. At Setoda Sunset Beach, families came together for a weekend picnic, their laughter filling the air.

I cycled past a few scattered settlements as the road ascended through lemon farms towards the impressive, 1,480m Tatara Bridge with its long, fan-like cables. After traversing my third bridge of the journey, I entered the island of Omoshima, where I watched local families setting up their tents on a camping ground as I munched on onigiri (rice balls) inside a small wooden hut next to a convenience store by the sea.

Heading back, I reached Setoda just in time for sunset. The waterfront was brimming with people catching the last light of the day. As I settled in for homemade lemonade from a nearby cafe, I thought about how cycling here helped me see a different side of Japan filled with stunning nature and the slow, idyllic atmosphere of the islands. By then, the novice cyclist in me was already planning a return trip next autumn. 

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