Kashimayari

I keep saying that this or that mountain will be my last climb, and I keep managing to sneak another one in.:)

The early fall weather is making up for the lousy summer by offering up beautiful, cloud-free days with temperatures just cool enough to keep the haze from shrouding the mountains.  I was lucky enough to squeeze in a day climb up and down the Akaiwa course to Kashimayari the day after my school festival.

The tunnel through the dam.

Originally, I'd planned to spend an extra day on the ridge line, having brought back my backpacking gear from America especially for this trip. I'd toyed with the idea of summitting both Jiigatake and Kashimayari on the same day, or possibly continuing on to Goryu. However, A and my schedules didn't mesh, and he needed the car both Sunday and Monday.  Luckily, he was kind enough to drop me off at the ripe hour of 5:30 a.m. and pick me up so I was at least able to do the day trip.

Having met a bear on this course in July, I held my bear bell in my  hand and was shaking it like a percussionist at a Christmas concert.  I didn't meet anyone else on the forest road until I got to the official start of the trail at a large dam.  Coming back to this course, I was much better prepared for the steepness of the trail, which starts climbing basically straight up shortly after beginning.  Despite the steepness, there are a lot of ladders, offering a nice respite from boulders and tree roots.

Looking towards Kashimayari through fall foliage.

I had amazing views even from the base of the course of both Kashimayari and Jiigatake.  By the time I reached the first resting spot called Takachihodai, I was a half hour ahead of schedule even though I'd stopped numerous times to take pictures of the early fall foliage.  From here to the hut is a bit rocky, but really no more steep than what I'd been doing.  I passed one exhausted-looking older man who asked me if the trail was that steep the whole way.  I said yes, and he said he'd only climbed Kashimayari from the more popular route, which is apparently easier.  I never saw him at the summit or anywhere coming back down, so I hope he made it safely.

Views from the start of the ridge line.

When you reach the ridgeline, you almost walk right into the Tateyama range.  Suddenly, it's there staring you in the face, and you can turn in a full circle and start name-dropping peaks.  The Kita Alps, Tateyama and Tsurugi, Fuji-san, and once you reach the summit, Goryu and Shirouma.  I met the group of climbers I'd been alternately passing and being passed by, and they were just as giddy as I was.  I truly love the mountains, but I especially love the energy and enthusiasm of the others I meet along the way!

Up down up down 

Mentally refreshed, I jogged down the ridge line to the hut.  After refilling my water and using the loo, I continued along the ridge towards the south peak.  You can see the up and down required to get there from quite some distance, and the trek is just as bad as it looks.  Though not technically difficult (no ropes, ladders, chains, hooray!) you have to summit and descend one smaller peak before heading up the long slope to the top.  By the time I was about halfway up the last slope, I was following a man whose body language perfectly indicated my own feelings.  Walking hunched over with his arms alternately on his hips or folded across his body, he trudged up the switch backs one slow step at a time.  I went to my marathon place, focusing on taking each step, avoiding looking up to see how much further I had to go.  In these times, I just remind myself that if I keep moving, I will get there eventually.

Finally, there was no more up, and this time I walked right into a view of Goryu and Shirouma.  Turning in a full circle, I think my mouth really did drop open, as I could see almost every mountain I've ever heard of.

The summit with Tsurugi in the background.

Trying unsuccessfully to balance my camera on the pointy rocks, a nice man on his way to the descent offered to take my picture.  Asking me which mountain I preferred as my background, I happily told him Tsurugi.  After my disappointing climb up it earlier this summer, I consider this trek revenge for the beautiful views I didn't get from there!

Looking towards Goryu and Shirouma.

Including break times, I made it from the trail head to the summit in under 5 hours.  I allowed myself a half an hour to enjoy the top, playing with photo angles and taking a short video.  I could have stayed there all day.  Besides the fact my legs were crying out at the prospect of returning all the way back down, I was desperately curious what sunrise and sunset would look like from the hut's campground.

Sadly, I shrugged my pack back on and stopped for another 25 minutes at the hut for lunch and rest.   I was pretty much entirely alone on the return trip, but I think I pushed my legs too far, as about an hour in I tweaked my right knee.  Unable to bend it more than about a quarter of the way, I had to limp the rest of the two and half hours it took me to return to the dam.  This has to rank near the top of my most unpleasant physical experiences, as all the boulders, tree roots and rock faces that had to be negotiated required a lot more thought with only one good leg.  After about an hour of compensating for my right leg, my left quad was shaking uncontrollably.  Literally grabbing it with both of my hands, I continued down the trail, using my hands, back and even sliding on my bum for support.  Several times, I accidentally tried to use my right leg, and the shooting pain had me doubled over and near tears.

After what seemed like days, I finally made it back to the dam.  The light was waning, and being paranoid about bears, I opted not to rest.  I'm not sure if you've ever been injured before, but I have more often than I'd like.  Though it's definitely not a good thing, eventually, the injury sort of goes numb (or your brain does:) and you are able to push through to the finish.  This is what happened once I reached the dam, as the road was a fairly flat forest road with no more difficult bits to negotiate.  I headed down the road so fast I passed two other groups of people.

Legs shaking and sweat soaked clothes starting to cool, I sat down on the picnic table at the trail head and elevated my leg. It was 3:45 p.m., exactly 10 hours after I'd started.  I dug out my down coat, hat, and gloves and waited for A to arrive to take me home.

In conclusion...

This weekend I made my last big hike in Japan up Mt. Yari.  Where exactly it ranks in terms of height differs, but I most often see it listed as number 5.

Enjoying the trail to Yarisawa.

Because I only had a weekend, I chose to do the most popular course starting in Kamikochi.  This hike is very easy, albeit rather long, about 22 kilometers one way.  I made it to Yokoo Sansou in 2 hours, walking on a wide, flat path from Kappa Bashi.  From Yokoo Sansou it's a little over an hour to the next hut at Yarisawa.  There are many huts along this trail, offering places to stay, water, food, etc.  In the early morning, you have amazing views of the sunlight filtering through the trees to illuminate the rushing river.  I took my time from Yokoo to Yarisawa, playing with camera angles and effects and enjoying the sun before it took off for the rest of the trip.

After Yarisawa, you walk along a nice, wide valley for about 2 hours.  The trail gets gradually steeper, but nothing problematic.  Snow was still remaining when I went, with a bit of slushy snow walking required.  Eventually you'll cross the valley to the other side and start the slightly steeper hike up to the ridgeline and Yarisansou.  I was told this trail seems very long, because if the weather is clear you can see Yari just sitting and waiting for you, but as it was cloudy it was a fun surprise to pop out and realize I was there. :)

About 800 meters from the hut.

Altogether, including break times, I made it from the bus terminal in Kamikochi to the hut in about 6 hours. But, I was packing super light, with no special gear (ropes, helmet, etc.), tent or cooking materials.  Most people I met were in the mountains for several days and were carrying at least twice as much as me, and so had done the same course in two days.

This trail up to the hut is not at all problematic, with no rock climbing, ladders or chains necessary.  In fact, I passed several groups of trail runners who were able to run over half the course.  When I arrived at the hut, the clouds were dancing all around, teasing me with whether or not I would get a clear view.  I checked in and dropped my pack in the woman-only room (hooray!), grabbed my camera and headed up to the top.

My favorite.

Just looking at Yari, I knew this last bit would not be any fun unless you are an adrenaline junkie who enjoys that kind of thing.  The clouds had firmly rolled in, which just like Tsurugi, proved to be a sort of misguided blessing.  Unable to see much above or below me, it was very easy to just focus on the task at hand and not worry overly much about anything else.  The way up was more difficult than the way down, especially as I was caught behind an extremely slow group of older people which left me hanging onto the rocks for much longer than I would have liked.  Luckily, they were able to let me pass on a small ridgeline, and I was very grateful.  I had also been worried about crowds going up and down, and didn't know they have a separate route for each way.  The ladders nearer the top seemed very sturdy (I shook them firmly to check, not that I had a choice if they weren't:) and I scurried up them to the summit where I once again found myself almost alone, with just two other people resting and enjoying the beautiful 真白 scenery. ;)

After descending back to the hut, I used my free drink ticket provided by my Montbell card membership to warm up with some hot cocoa while perusing my photos.  The hut at Yari sansou is huge, and it has a big tatami room where people can gather, read magazines or books, and watch TV.  After changing my top layers, I went over to the tatami room and found an interesting magazine about hiking in Nepal.

As I've mentioned before, my favorite part of mountain hiking here is the people. This hike was no exception.  I met a super friendly group of hikers from Kyushu, who plied me with questions, and answered mine about mountain recommendations and conditions in Kyushu enthusiastically.  It turns out they were hiking with a guide who taught me some great alternate courses to get to the mountains in Tateyama bypassing crowds and the Murodo mess. 

Seeing the magazine I had open in front of me, the man sitting behind me told me during a break in conversation that he was Nepalese, and had in fact, climbed all of the courses I was looking at. He was spending three months working at Yarisansou and then would return to Nepal.  When the Kyushu group found this out, a fast game of question and answer ensued, putting me in the unlikely position of translator, as the Nepalese guide didn't speak any Japanese. Most confusing was when he offered me he and his brothers' business cards.  Turns out his older brother is a guide and they are both from the Sherpa clans, and use Sherpa as their surname abroad.  I had a hard time translating this system to the eager Kyushu group, because they were confused about what their names actually were. The best I could do was explain that Sherpa was more like a title than a surname in this instance, and that I worried to ask what his real surname was for fear of being rude. 

Looking back down the way I came.

Just then, there was a break in the clouds and everyone hurried outside to snap a few shots before the clouds came back in.  I decided to buy a beer and sit outside and enjoy the brief respite.  I met a nice American girl who was too scared to summit Yari and was waiting for her boyfriend and friend to return.  It was nice to meet a friendly foreigner for a change, as most I meet avoid eye contact and seem to make as much effort as possible to distance themselves from other foreigners.  We chatted until it abruptly started hailing, and I retreated back to the hut.

I met more friendly people at dinner, and we compared route plans.  Many people had been in the mountains for awhile already, and had varied courses and approaches they were taking or had taken. I was most intrigued by my futon mate's pictures from Tengu Pond, which in clear weather boasts a perfect reflection of Yari in its snow-bordered waters.  If the weather was clear in the morning, I decided to take a little detour to check it out.

My room.

Though the weather was not great, I was happy as the rain that was supposed to have been falling all Saturday waited until Sunday night.  It wasn't a good night for the few in tents, as most got soaking wet in the 6 hour deluge when I met them drying off around the heaters in the kitchen the next morning. I had a terrible time sleeping in the dark, hot room, and ended up leaving around 2 a.m. to sleep against the wall in the tatami room.  It was still raining, so I took my time getting ready, and didn't head out until about 6.  The clouds were even thicker than the day before, so I decided to just head straight back to Kamikochi and not even dare to hope I might catch any views from the pond.

Yari through the fog.

I made good time on the way down until I said good morning to a girl coming up who stopped me and asked me if I was American.  Turns out she was from St. Louis (Creve Couer of all places!) and she was in Japan for 12 days to climb some mountains and check out a few other of Japan's famous sights.  We had a good chat, and I am actually a bit worried about her, as she seemed woefully ignorant of the courses in the area, even the one she was taking, and didn't speak a word of Japanese.

That conversation slowed me down somewhat, but I still managed to make it back to Kamikochi in time for the noon bus to the parking area.  After the GPS went haywire trying to find Shirahone onsen, I finally found a hotel in the area with a bath and gratefully began the process of getting clean. I got lucky and didn't run into much traffic on the way home and returned to Ikusaka about 3:30.

This hike is my last major hike in Japan, as because I leave in late July of next year, I will miss out on some of the bigger mountains due to snow and will probably be very busy that last month preparing to return to the U.S.  Every remaining weekend in September is booked solid this year, though I hope to do Kashimayari and Jiigatake this fall, and Tsubakuro in November. I also want to do a course I found about beginning winter hiking, and another about avalanche awareness skills.  If the snowfall isn't heavy and I'm not too busy, I'd love to fit in the Warusawa/Akaishi circuit in the Minami Alps in July next year... but it's not a sure thing.

Mountain "climbing" in Japan is relatively easy.  Most of the popular mountains require no technical skills whatsoever, and the abundance of mountain huts make it possible to hike for several days carrying very little gear. The routes I've taken here have inspired me to learn more about mountaineering.  When I return to America, I want to learn how to do technical work--ice climbing, ropes and harnesses, rock climbing, navigation and safety, etc.  Someday, it would be amazing to get an Alpine Guide certification.  Ideally, as a teacher there is the possibility of finding a job that allows me to have break periods off.  I'd love to find a full-time teaching position during the school year and spend my break periods training in the mountains.

Contemplating leaving this area just as I've developed such a passion is difficult, but I'm happy to have a new goal to work towards.  I've been lucky to accomplish so much in my life so far, and I'm looking forward to starting a new phase when I return home next year.

Kanpai!