I took Thelma to the shipper's warehouse, this involved a ride through Tokyo's finest traffic jams. Lane filtering alongside the scooter boys and generally being first away at the lights meant I got through in just one and a half hours. I was pleased to find that the warehouse was expecting me - in fact they had a picture of me in A4 on the desk and held it up to show me- I was relieved to see it was one of the more flattering ones. I had a minor "discussion" with the shippers about removing my front wheel. And for once I lost the argument, unfortunately this means the wheel stays on.

Now for those of you who are wondering why on earth I would want to remove the wheel (perhaps fondly imagining me carrying it on the flight with my hand luggage so that I could at least have a part of Thelma alongside me on the 747?), the reality being economics. I am being charged by the cubic metre for the shipping costs- so the smaller I can make Thelma the less I have to pay. A sort of breathe in and hold it while you get measured activity. With a motorbike it means:

Lowering the height by:

Removing the windscreen- though in Thelma's case it rather unfortunately came away in three pieces in my hands due to the rough and ready treatment and falls in Mongolia and Siberia, the look of horror on the Japanese warehouseman's face was worth it!

Taking the top box off

Making the bike narrower by:

Removing the handlebars and strapping them onto the bike whilst being careful not to disturb the brake fluid line which could be nasty.

Reducing the length of the bike by:

Removing the front wheel and standing it alongside the bike within the crate.

The veto on the wheel removal is frustrating and I'm waiting to see how much extra it will cost me.

I then filled the top box with the extras that will not fit in my flight luggage and hauled it to the Post Office on Kawai's trolley to send it off -a heavy 16 Kg that will hopefully catch up with me in America.

Everything else I crammed into my tankbag and small back pack, I said goodbye to Kawai who has been such a great host and who has uncomplainingly eaten the weird and wonderful english-style vegetarian concoctions I have been cooking up in his makeshift studio kitchen. In fact it seems the meals have been what he has focussed on with his blog- he assures me he has only said favourable things about the food but he also knows I can't read Japanese so he might well have written anything.

For those who can read it, or want to see how the meals look

http://www.ftazul.com/Site/Blog/entori/2009/11/2_Tiffany_made_a_curry.html

http://www.ftazul.com/Site/Blog/entori/2009/11/1_wai_rentsuara_lairu.html

Before I took Thelma to the warehouse, we had a photo shoot, though the photographer seemed to focus a lot on the bits that are wrong with Thelma- the scars, dents and missing bits that are all evidence of her chequered history and which the Japanese bike riders with their immaculately turned out bikes find inconceivable. The photos were followed by an interview over cups of tea about Thelma, me and our travels. I'll let you know where and when that interview appears.

So now I am in the strange position of wearing bike gear and no bike to ride - all dressed up and no place to go.

Japan is an interesting country with some intriguing contradictions.

For example it is not OK to cough in public and definitely not OK to blow your nose in public- a bit tricky for me as I arrived with a cold and a cough from my Siberian experiences.
They are also a bit coy about the toilet, many toilet seats are heated so that you cannot tell if this is due to recent use by another person or not.
But then, in many neighbourhoods, the homes do not have bathrooms and so the public bath-house comes into play. In Tokyo I was using the bathhouse, my first visit (and, I hasten to add that the changing and bathing areas are separated by sex) I was led through the routine by a septuagenarian woman - showing me where to put my clothes, and indicating where to head next. This was into the steaming and warm area of the baths, where there was a row of taps at about knee height. I looked around to see what the others were doing so I could follow suit.

1. Grab a low plastic stool

2. Select a plastic basin

3. Position your stool in front of a pair of taps and sit down on it.

4. Fill your basin with warm water from the taps and wash yourself.

I committed a couple of faux pas (not unusual in my Japanese travels) by first of all not having a small towel, in appearance similar to a terry nappy, this is for washing with and wrapping hair in. I just used my hands like I do at home, and then I realised that I had selected the wrong basin, mine was smaller than everyone else's, and I had noted the Mickey Mouse decal on it, thinking to myself "Oh how the Japanese love their cartoons"

but had not realised these ones are meant for children. Never mind, I think I managed everything else without mishap.

After thoroughly washing and rinsing myself, it was time for the bath. There were three of them in the room of varying sizes, the smaller ones for three to four people while the larger one could hold eight of us.

I eased myself in and what bliss, the thermometer indicated a water temperature of 42 degrees, just perfect for lounging in. The baths are a sociable place and the women were chatting to one another.

I lay there in the steam thinking how strange, these same women would be appalled if I blew my nose in front of them and yet we're all in the same bath.

I've had a few emails asking me what has happened that I have ended up in Japan when I was only supposed to be going to Mongolia and then heading directly home.

Well, I haven't managed to lose my way and arrive here by accident- always a distinct possibility when relying on Russian road signs. It has become Plan B.

I have to confess that as I travelled towards Mongolia, I was enjoying life on the road so much (hardly a surprise) that when I looked at the map and saw how close to the sea Mongolia is, relatively speaking, only 2000 miles as the crow flies. I got the urge to reach the Pacific Ocean, as many of you know, I live on the Atlantic coast of Cornwall in England and so I felt it would balance out the journey to extend my trip from one ocean to the other.

Of course when I first started putting together a vague plan I was in the sweltering desert conditions of Kazakhstan and I hadn't reckoned on having to cross an icy Siberia- riding the equivalent of London to the border of Iran non-stop in such cold conditions. But I've made it, and then to find in the final city of Vladivostock that there's a ferry to Japan (I can never resist ferries particularly if they go to islands) and so I ended up on a boat bobbing around on the Pacific.

I am now looking at my onward travel options. I will be shipping Thelma out of Japan across the Pacific Ocean - we'll have to see where I will end up.

Unusually for heading east we had to put our watches back two hours after leaving Russia- I'm still trying to work that one out. The main disadvantage is that I was wide awake at 5.00am on my first morning in the tent. I met the others getting off the ship- the landcruiser was getting shooed away from every spot that it tried to park in, apparently there are a lot of restrictions for cars but not so with bikes as I had been leaving Thelma parked at all sorts of places in town.

Despite Fushiki, the port I had docked at not appearing on a single map, I was able to work out roughly where I was and so said goodbye to the others and went northwards and then cut across the mountains past ski resorts and amazing mountain panoramas whilst also keeping a worried eye out for snow. Thelma's lights have not been working since the Vlad accident and so I was having to ride the mountain tunnels with my thumb pressed on the high beam switch the whole time. It was either that or no lights- a risky business in the dark tunnels with speeding drivers coming the other way.

I am loving Japan, not just the fact that I am back to riding on the correct side of the road - they are such friendly smiling people here and even when they don't understand me (which is often as I am even worse at Japanese than I am at Russian) they are still going out of their way to help me.

I stayed with Chris and Misagi (Horizons contacts) in Miyota-Machi - in a lovely house set amongst trees and even a little pink garage for Thelma to park in. They have been great hosts, answering my myriad of questions about life in Japan ranging from are you allowed to overtake within a yellow line to why are the toilet seats heated?

They also proudly pointed out the live volcano that dominates the landscape and is just a few miles away, it has a constant plume of steam escaping from it - note to self, keep Thelma parked facing out ready for a hasty exit if the volcano erupts.

Whilst staying with them I took the opportunity to wash the Siberian mud and dust which was coating Thelma- this revealed a two inch chunk missing off the pannier rack. Another trip to the welder and what a great guy he was, full of Japanese "oohs and aahs" at the condition of Thelma's racks - he did an excellent job.

On the good ship M/V Rus Majur, with its fine complement of unsmiling waitresses and sleazy truck drivers. It has been quite an experience. Women are few and far between on these boats and after a few vodkas, the truck drivers obviously couldn`t see staright and made a beeline for us. I was sitting with Rebecca and Lorna who had arrived in Vladivostock on the Trans Siberian express, six days non-stop from Moscow. Rebecca the Kiwi also suffers from seasickness and was very interested in my accupressure wrist bands which work really well for me. I have never been sicj\k whilst wearing them, I made her a pair of hopme-made ones using a couple of paracetamol tablets and electrical tape from my tool kit. She seemed very pleased with them, but maybe she was just being polite.

Also with us were Mike and Linda - the South Africans on a global fisheries mission, making a documentary and travelling in their Toyota Landcruiser, they have had the longest overland route to get here.
www.marine-expedition.co.za
is their website.

The Russian guys didn't seem to get the hint as we sat and tried to chat to each other in the bar and then we saw the way the Russian women were telling them "No" - by literally pushing them away and so that was what we did.

Not unusually for me I was first off to bed and so missed out on the dancing that happened later, though I'm not sure I could have danced while coping with the motion of the boat.

Every mealtime on the boat we managed to get a "Nyet"answer from the waitress for even the simplest request, it became a bit of a joke. Though for those who were desperate just for a spot of milk in their tea, it wasn't funny.

The cabins were like hot ovens and when we asked if there was any chance of the air conditioning being switched don to cool them a bit we got a "Nyet" answer.

On the final morning, I awoke to find us moored in a huge bay and I watched as the sun rose over the mountains- my first in the Land of the Rising Sun.

I managed to clear Japanaese customs about six hours faster than the others- they were properly prepared and have Carnet de Passages (basically a passport for their vehicles) while I had nothing except a name to ask for - Mr Sakai of the FKK cutoms agents. And what a guy, he came onboard to collect me and took me in his car to customs and the insurance office, I was off the boat with Thelma within an hour. What a relief after the prolonged (two days) experience of clearing customs out of Russia.

A night spent camping in a nearby park- as I had told the others I would wait for them and their vehicles were stuck onboard still, we had a few drinks in a small bar that we found

Kirin beer- definitely a thumbs up but the sake, well the jury is still out on that one.