Kohsuke Kawaguchi

As I ramp up on Italian history in preparation for a trip, I stumbled upon the bizarre, fateful story of two men who made the unified Italian state a reality...

Last winter, I visited the Tamiya show room in Tokyo with a high school friend. Inside, Honda’s historic first F1 machine was on display. My friend, a lifelong racing enthusiast,...

The final pass ended, the borrowed lives folded away, and the unread pages of France began to feel larger than the ones I had opened.

Race cars, Roman stones, Leonardo's layers, and Bordeaux wine made time stretch from 200 years to 2000 and then far beyond.

A leek at the register, closed Sunday shops, missing kitchen tools, and one apple turnover became lessons in being foreign.

Six thousand photographs still missed something. Sketching, memory, and the scenes I failed to catch showed me another way to see France.

In rented kitchens and local markets, France began to attach itself to me through asparagus, sea bream, wine, and a very persuasive dog.

On the mountain I had dreamed of for years, victory gave way to something quieter, breath, patience, and strangers climbing beside me.

From Marseille's restless harbor to a cold river in Provence, a brutally hot ride kept handing me flashes of human life.

Rain, a rail strike, and a closed winery door ruined the plan, then left me exactly where the story could begin.

A late train, a wandering bikepacker, and castles glimpsed between detours turned a modest Loire ride into the day travel is for.

What began as a fantasy about Tour de France climbs became a month of borrowed homes, local kitchens, and roads I had only seen on television.

What’s a story that never fails to bring you to tears?

I went to see the premier of “Java documentary”. I was a part of the broader effort to build Java from 2001 all the way to the acquisition by Oracle,...

My cycling trip through northern Japan was so wonderful that, during this beautiful season of May and while I fortunately had some free time, I decided to visit the famous...

On the final day of the journey, the true protagonist was not the sea, but the land, and the water carving its way through it.

When the spontaneity of solo travel combines with the mobility of a bicycle, you gain the absolute freedom of a bird.

On this day, I realized I had slightly misunderstood the nature of the Seto Inland Sea. The sea does not divide the islands. Rather, in this region, the water serves...

On this day, I felt as if I were traveling not through the real world, but through a dreamland.

This trip begins in Hiroshima. Looking back, this day became a journey tracing the heavy burden of war memories and the path of subsequent rebirth and sublimation.

Recently, I left my job. It was early summer. It didn’t take me long to decide that I wanted to grab my bike and just go. I was pretty sure...

(If you missed the introduction, you should start here.)

(If you missed the introduction, you should start here.)

(If you missed the introduction, you should start here.)

(If you missed the introduction, you should start here.)

(If you missed the introduction, you should start here.)

This year, I rode ~10,500km and climbed 80,000m over 475 hours. Over the last few years, these numbers are steadily declining, but it’s still a lot, reflecting the special place...