Having cycled through Rikuzentakata, a city East of Japan devastated by the 2011 tsunami and earthquake, we weren’t in great spirits. Eerie, flat and empty eight years on, few crippled buildings yet to be rebuilt, highlighted the destruction. Visiting the memorial at sunset, a preserved lone pine tree stood tall above a collapsed school. Of 70,000 trees, only ‘Miracle Pine’ survived. A humbling reminder that life is delicate. Searching for a place to sleep, we entered an abandoned campsite and then another supposed ‘campsite’ resembling someone's front garden. We kept cycling along the concrete sea walls. Down a steep unlit path to the coast of Osafunasaki, battered fishing equipment was strewn amongst the bushes. Ducking to avoid spiders the size of our fists and careful not to step on any frogs, we found a grassy area amongst some trees to pitch our tents, behind what resembled a fisherman's storage hut. It was dark. We couldn’t be fussy. Sunrise removed any creepy visions that lurked in our minds. Pierre, Simon and I had a spot by the ocean to ourselves. How did a place so ominous-looking turn out like paradise? Eagles circled the tall green trees. Were we alone? Feet dangling off the pier, a dog wobbled over. Her deep brown eyes glistened under the morning sun. I brushed her golden fur wondering where she came from. Having cycled south for two weeks, a rest day was needed. Perched outside 7/11, a man approached us giving us each a vanilla ice-cream cone. He seemed reserved, yet open enough to approach three shabby-looking foreigners. His jet-black hair was slightly balding from the front. He had a few wrinkles. We smiled from ear to ear giving us our own wrinkles. Before we could ask anything, he returned to his car without saying a word. Overwhelmed by the sudden kindness and how abruptly he disappeared, we bowed and waved saying arigatōgozaimashita, thank you, multiple times. Then he was gone. After cycling to Goishi Cape, we returned to our tents. A beam of light shone through the dark trees. We scrambled to turn off our torches. Were we trespassing? The blinding light approached us. I rattled my brain, sifting through my limited collection of Japanese phrases. It was a 4x4 car. A middle-aged lady emerged from the car in a traditional elegant Japanese dress, her hair tied back. She began crossing her arms. She spoke no English. We spoke little Japanese. She pointed to the hut. I slowly realised what she was saying. We could place our mattresses on the concrete with a roof over our heads! It was warm, had gas but no water. Before we could thank her, she disappeared, leaving us alone, bewildered. Her husband arrived. He looked strangely familiar. He licked his hand. A cat? Lollipop? Ice-cream! We laughed with surprise. Out of the thousands of people in town, we’d met Tadashi, unaware that the three strangers he’d given ice-cream to earlier had been camping just a few hundred metres from him. We followed Tadashi into his home barefoot. Tadashi, a retired tuna fisherman, welcomed us as he'd been welcomed around the world when sailing to Cape Town on his tuna fishing boat. Paintings of his beloved boat, previously his home, adorned the walls. Mitchko, Tadashi’s wife, returned from her dance class. We sat on the floor around the horigotatsu table, our feet dangling under the floor. Cigarette smoke hung in the room with even an ashtray with cigarette butts by their toilet. Conversation flowed through broken Japanese and English, miming and trusty Google translate. "Takusan, takusan"! More, more! They filled our plates with mussels, large shine muscat grapes, traditional nashi pears and homemade onigiri, rice balls in seaweed. Tadashi proudly presented his swords and boat model carefully housed in a glass box. Futons spread across the floor, we were invited to sleep in their home. The morning news flickered with warnings of Typhoon Hagibis. Preparing to pedal fast towards Tokyo for shelter, our bags were weighed down with five kilograms of homegrown rice, snacks and cans of coffee they so kindly gave us. And the golden dog we had breakfast with the previous morning? That was Ran, their dog!