“It’s hot, isn’t it?” said the bell attendant, guiding the elevator up to reception. “Looks like the rainy season’s already over.” That was his take, anyway. But you never know with the weather. A clerk at Mitsukoshi offered a different view—it might just be a pause in tsuyu, or the rainy season.

Either way, as the rain gave way to sunbursts along the latter part of my walk on the Chūō Line, the change in weather made for easy conversation with strangers. Drizzle had needled my face through Sumida-ku, Kōtō, and Edogawa. But by the time I reached the edge of Chiba City, the skies had cleared, and the heat had begun to rise. As I moved through the long, repetitive stretches of suburban hinterland, fatigue began to take hold.

I hadn’t anticipated quite such hot weather, but had kept the final leg deliberately short, sensing I’d be lifted in spirit, yet physically spent, by the time I reached the end of the line. I was thankful for that, as 33-degree temperatures pressed down en route to the last stop.

Overheated and exhausted, with 222,524 steps behind me, I arrived at the Chūō-Sōbu Line’s eastern terminus, Chiba Station. There was no ceremony, and no one was waiting. Only the city, taking me in, indifferent.

The journey's first half from Takao to Ryōgoku passed through plenty of familiar ground. Beyond Ryōgoku, though, much was new. Traversing the city west to east in this way, I found the gradient I’d anticipated is there, and remarkably coherent. However, it’s not a simple rural-to-urban trajectory, nor does it conform to the typical centre–periphery model. Instead, it is a complex, multi-point gradient.

The Chuo Line's route presents a progression through a mosaic of urban typologies, each reflective of different historical processes: mountain-edge commuter zones, postwar new towns, inner-suburban high streets, central vertical Tokyo, old working-class neighbourhoods, and bay-facing industrial sprawl. Taken together, it forms a longitudinal cross-section of Greater Tokyo. 

There’s still a great deal to process, and I haven’t yet decided how best to present it. For now, the Field Notes short-run newsletter—daily dispatches from my walk shared in real time—is archived in full. It’s an unfiltered chronicle of the city as I experienced it. Members can revisit the entire series at any time

I’m settling back into Tokyo now, ready for a less peripatetic week of city exploration. There will be fewer steps for my legs, and fewer kilos on my back. In the meantime, I’ve gathered another round of Chūō Line highlights to share with you.