Our relationship with Japan started long before Shogun
Our relationship with Japan goes back to school days. As primary and then high school students — and best friends — we studied the language, culture and history of Japan from a classroom on the other side of the world. For a long time, it was an abstract place made of textbooks and grainy VHS tapes: neatly drawn kanji on the board, photos of shrines and bullet trains, the occasional class excursion to a Japanese cultural event or restaurant where nothing seemed quite like we imagined it would.
The first time we set foot in Japan, everything changed
That changed the first time we actually set foot in Japan. We came on exchange as teenagers and were completely undone by the reality of the place: the density and bright lights of Tokyo, the smell of broth curling out of tiny ramen shops, the way mountains seemed to rise directly behind train lines and shopping arcades, the utter kindness and generosity of the people, the respect and manners built into society, the convenience of life, the feeling of safety. Japan stopped being a subject and became somewhere we missed when we weren’t there.
Coming back again and again, and travelling deeper
From that point on, we kept finding excuses to come back. Study trips turned into language stays, then holidays, then working holidays teaching English. We did the things most visitors do — temples, castles, big cities — but gradually we started drifting further out: into small regional towns, ski areas in the off-season, onsen villages that barely surfaced in English-language guidebooks. We learned enough Japanese to do more than point and smile. Conversations with homestay families became friendships; quick chats with innkeepers and bar owners became hours at low counters while trains stopped running outside.
When we started riding in Japan, the country rearranged itself
Motorbikes arrived a little later, but when they did, something clicked. The Japan we’d been exploring on foot and by train suddenly rearranged itself around a different centre. Roads we’d barely noticed from a bus window turned out to be extraordinary from the saddle. Little blue lines on the map — minor prefectural roads, forest connectors, old trade routes — stopped being abstractions and became days in our heads: the valley with the hidden onsen; the ridge road where you glimpse the sea on both sides; the slow, beautiful stretch between two small towns where nothing “famous” happens and you remember it anyway.
Why we created Shogun Motorbike Adventures
Shogun Motorbike Adventures grew out of that combination: long-term affection for Japan, hard-earned language and cultural knowledge, and the realisation that this country might be the best riding destination in the world for people who want more than just a string of passes. We didn’t set out to build a tour company first and then go looking for a destination. Japan was always the starting point.
How we build routes that work in the real world
We are not going to claim that we have been leading groups through every corner of the country since the dawn of time. What we do have is years of on-the-ground travel here and a slightly obsessive desire to share our love for this country, its culture, history and its people. Routes get traced, ridden, adjusted. Inns and hotels get stayed in, not just looked at online. When something doesn’t work in practice — a connection that’s too slow, a day that feels rushed, an onsen town that looks better on paper than it does on arrival — we change it.
What riders actually need to feel confident riding Japan
Over the years, we’ve also met plenty of riders who are more than capable of riding Japan on their own, but who get put off by the gaps: licences, laws, seasons, navigation, etiquette, and the sheer confusion of looking at a dense map of mountains and coastlines and not knowing where to start. Japan is incredibly accessible once you understand the framework — but until you do, it can feel oddly opaque.
What makes motorcycle touring in Japan so special
So when we talk about what we do (and what we think makes Japan so special on two wheels), it usually comes back to three main things we pass on:
First, why Japan is worth the effort: the roads, the regions, the history and the daily texture you can’t see from a train window.
Second, what it actually feels like to ride here: the departures from centuries old family-run inns, the passes and plateaus, the roadside stations, the baths and dinners and late-night walks through towns you’d never otherwise visit.
Third, the practical toolkit that makes it all smooth: guidance on licences, riding rules, planning, packing, Japanese culture and respect for the people — enough that you can step off a long-haul flight, collect a rental bike and feel like you understand what you’re stepping into.
The Shogun approach: respect, realism, and no clichés
We approach this as riders who love this country, not as outsiders hunting for cheap clichés or as marketers trying to turn everything into a slogan. Where the law is strict, we say so. Where the culture is subtle, we try to explain just enough that you can navigate it without feeling like you’re walking on eggshells. Where a road is genuinely special, we tell you why, not just that it’s “epic”.
If you’re feeling the pull, you should ride Japan
If, by the time you finish reading this, you feel two things — a stronger pull to ride Japan, and a clearer sense that you could actually make it happen — then this has done its job. If you decide you’d like some help, Shogun exists for that. If you decide to build your own line across the map, we’ll be quietly pleased every time another overseas rider rolls into a lantern-lit country town, eases to a stop in front of a small ryokan, and walks inside helmet in hand, carrying that unmistakable mix of anticipation and satisfaction that only comes at the end of a long, good day out on the road. Either way, drop us a line - we'd love to help any way we can.
