I left Biei and upgraded its gentle rolling hills for some proper mountains around the town of Sounkyo, in Daisetsuzan National Park. Although I made four trips from the café in which I was staying, two stand out as examples of my short career as a Japanese hiker.
My first journey up the mountains was to the point marked via a trail which I was warned could be steep and rather difficult. This was certainly true, but all would have been fine if my only issues were some low hanging branches and inclinations. The real things battling against me the entire way were various members, particularly of the blood-sucking variety, of the animal kingdom. A minor altercation with a snake quickly became the least of my worries as ticks upon ticks came out of nowhere to latch on to my arms, neck and bare calves. By the time I realised this assault several had already become firmly latched, one in a very personal place indeed. This was disheartening to say the least. The fact that the path was narrow with many plants (most bearing large spiders and webs) to climb through did not improve the situation. Twice I very nearly gave up.
Fortunately I did continue, and the result can be seen at the top of this page. Sounkyo Gorge feels very much like a Japanese Yosemite Valley, and I could see all of it from that one precarious outcrop. However, having spent nearly two hours working my way up and with my new parasitic companions redoubling their efforts I allowed myself only a short while to enjoy the cool breeze and muse upon the meaning of life before making my way back down.
This was, in some ways, even worse than the climb up. The parts which had been tiring and steep now became dangerous. If the first part had been a frustrated and uneasy trudge the second was an all out arms-flailing dash of terror from spiders, another snake, countless ticks, mosquitos, wasps and at least one of the terrifying giant hornets. Once home it was straight into a cold shower with a pair of tweezers for a final test of my willpower, resisting the urge to burn the clothes I had walked in.
The Big One
I had headed up the main mountain (Kurodake) in the early evening and intended to stay the night at a hut just past the peak, get up for at sunrise and then walk around a large volcanic crater. The hut was cramped and uncomfortable to such a degree that I didn’t need an alarm to be wide awake at half past three in the morning. The sunrise was classically difficult to photograph, but the real advantage was the clarity with which one could see the rest of the area. Normally it is covered in clouds, but that morning and for a few minutes the evening before the weather cleared and everything was gloriously visible.
Reaching the edge of the crater was another spectacular moment. The variation in terrain in and around it was such that it felt as though every aspect of Earth’s geography was represented (visually, at least) at once.The walk was long and hard, particularly as I only had a small plastic bottle of (delicious, clear and cool) glacial river water by way of refreshment. I started walking at about a quarter to five on a strict ration, and eyed with envy the bourgeois climbers with their real walking boots, seventeen water bottles clanking away and a backpack stuffed full of snacks. I certainly earned my breakfast. Unfortunately the lack of water meant that I couldn’t detour to Asahidake, the highest mountain in Hokkaido, which lay an hour off the trail.
In a way I was rather glad to be leaving when I did and returning to a (relatively small) city in the form of Sapporo, with pavements and flatter ground. This move was doubly pleasant as the owners of the room where I stayed in Sounkyo not only drove me there but also gave me a place to stay at their house after we failed to find accommodation for my second night. Live jazz and a beer festival capped the whole thing off.
Next stop Osaka.