I wear ankle socks with my dress pants. White ones. Apparently white socks don't match dark pants but it's really comfortable. Dress socks are too tight and make my legs itchy. And they trap heat. When it's 39 degrees plus humidity, every little bit helps. Ankle socks -- of any colour -- are against the dress code but that doesn't bother me. I'm told that if I want to be fashionable I should buy dress socks; at the very least I should wear black ankle socks.
I roll my sleeves up. This isn't against the rules like the ankle socks are but I'm told it's not fashionable. Apparently it's too casual. I'm told that if I want to be fashionable I should buy short-sleeved collared shirts.
I use my hiking day bag to bring books and work stuff to work. It's 4 years old and has been all over the west coast and the Yukon; it's had the shit kicked out of it. It's not dirty but it's worn. It's a great bag and I like it. However, it gets more strange looks than my white ankle socks do. I'm told that if I want to be fashionable I should buy a brief case or, at the very least, a messenger bag.
There is not a chance in hell that I'm buying more Stuff so that I'm considered fashionably dressed. There isn't language strong enough for me to convey how ridiculous I think fashion and its trends are. I don't look unprofessional with my white ankle socks, rolled up sleeves and backpack - I just don't look trendy. It is important to look professional at work - it is not important to look fashionable or trendy.
I got on this rant because 9 times out of 10 when I ask one of my students what their hobbies are, they tell me, "Shopping." And when it happened again yesterday I had to vent.
Shopping is not a fucking hobby. And you don't need to buy clothes every 4 months because the trends change. Some assholes you've never met set trends. Buy clothing that never goes out of style and stop wasting time, energy, money and resources on trends.
30 September 2010
26 September 2010
The Night Summer and Autumn Battled for Supremacy
This past Wednesday night we went to our friends' apartment to, as they put it, enjoy some "light drinking and stimulating conversation." The evening delivered on both counts but it's difficult to say why. The conversation is always stimulating but either it remained so because the drinking was light or the drinking was light because the conversation wasn't belligerent. It's typically the former when we don't discuss politics, and even when we do discuss them the belligerence isn't aimed at anyone in our group because we're all level-headed. It's fun to discuss politics but we get all riled up and are basically just complaining about the state of the world. But I digress - there was a battle to speak of.
We got home in the middle of the night and promptly went to sleep. Shortly thereafter we were woken by what I would imagine the sky would sound like if it were falling. Thunder overcame the silence like a wave: a low rumbling began at one end of the city and at its crescendo crashed upon the city-centre. Autumn was announcing its return from a long absence. In its absence summer had cast its heavy, humid blanket upon the city. Its removal sounded like the sky was being ripped apart and the pieces were being cast down around us. The sounds of this sundering went on for upwards of a minute and a half.
To those who would say I am trying to pull a memory through the fog of sleep in my estimation of how long the thunderclaps lasted, I say nay. I counted. One minute and thirty-one seconds was the longest one I counted and it was awesome. I've seen some incredible lightning storms before but I've never heard thunder to match what I heard Wednesday night/Thursday morning. What made it all the more incredible was the timing.
The Japanese are known for having their trains run on time and they have it down to a science. It's possible to set your clocks by them. To those who would scoff at this, again I say nay. I've done it. The circuit board in my cell phone has nothing on the punctuality of a Japanese train. And apparently, a record-breaking hot summer has nothing on the punctuality of autumn. The night of the storm was 22 September - the autumnal equinox.
The day after autumn vanquished summer the change in the weather was instantaneous: 35 degrees became 25 degrees; 90% humidity became 30% humidity. Typically seasons merge together in a blurring-of-the-lines sort of way. Here it was like a train arriving: one second the platform is empty and the next there's a train screaming to a halt.
On time.
We got home in the middle of the night and promptly went to sleep. Shortly thereafter we were woken by what I would imagine the sky would sound like if it were falling. Thunder overcame the silence like a wave: a low rumbling began at one end of the city and at its crescendo crashed upon the city-centre. Autumn was announcing its return from a long absence. In its absence summer had cast its heavy, humid blanket upon the city. Its removal sounded like the sky was being ripped apart and the pieces were being cast down around us. The sounds of this sundering went on for upwards of a minute and a half.
To those who would say I am trying to pull a memory through the fog of sleep in my estimation of how long the thunderclaps lasted, I say nay. I counted. One minute and thirty-one seconds was the longest one I counted and it was awesome. I've seen some incredible lightning storms before but I've never heard thunder to match what I heard Wednesday night/Thursday morning. What made it all the more incredible was the timing.
The Japanese are known for having their trains run on time and they have it down to a science. It's possible to set your clocks by them. To those who would scoff at this, again I say nay. I've done it. The circuit board in my cell phone has nothing on the punctuality of a Japanese train. And apparently, a record-breaking hot summer has nothing on the punctuality of autumn. The night of the storm was 22 September - the autumnal equinox.
The day after autumn vanquished summer the change in the weather was instantaneous: 35 degrees became 25 degrees; 90% humidity became 30% humidity. Typically seasons merge together in a blurring-of-the-lines sort of way. Here it was like a train arriving: one second the platform is empty and the next there's a train screaming to a halt.
On time.
21 September 2010
More Strange Subway Stuff
I wrote 3 months ago about some strange stuff I saw one day. I've since seen much more pornographic sandwich board advertising and have even seen more of the little Michael Jackson impersonator. But until today I hadn't seen much more strange subway stuff.
I was riding home from school practicing Japanese and two Japanese girls sat down beside me. I didn't give them much thought and went back to trying to learn 3000 kanji so I can read a Japanese book (only ~2850 to go!).
A few stops after the girls got on the train I noticed a guy shoving himself through what was now a crowded subway car. He wasn't excusing himself as he pushed his way from one end to the other. He was making for the other end of the car but when he was perpendicular to the girl two spots to the right of me he made an abrupt turn toward her and pushed his way past a couple more people to stand in front of her. He grabbed two of the rings hanging from the ceiling and then leaned in, bringing his face about 4 centimeters from hers.
From the moment I noticed this asshole shoving himself through the crowd to the point where he leaned into this girl's face was about 10 seconds. At first I thought he was just a rude asshole; then I thought that this rude asshole must know this girl because he made an abrupt turn toward her. But he didn't.
Immediately after leaning into her personal space he repeatedly shouted "Sumimasen! Sumimasen!" ("Excuse me! Excuse me!"). He shouted for about five seconds and then, disgusted that the girl didn't acknowledge him, resumed pushing his way through the crowd to the other end of the train car.
I was totally fixated on this guy: from the moment I noticed him pushing his way through the crowd, to when he was shouting at the girl, to when he stormed off in anger, I didn't take my eyes off of him. And I was the only one. Not a single person cared that he was pushing his way through the crowd; not a single person cared that he was shouting at some girl; and not a single person cared when he resumed shoving his way through the crowd. The strangest part was that the girl he was shouting at didn't bat an eyelash while he shouted at her.
When the screamer exited the car I looked over at the girl and she was gorgeous - and very composed. Her beauty explained why the guy took an interest in her but I wasn't able to figure out how she remained totally serene. It bothered me more than it did her that she got screamed at by this guy. She acted as if he hadn't existed. Maybe she's adjusted to these kinds of things the same way women in North American adjust to being hooted and hollered at?
If I spoke better Japanese I would have loved to talk to her about the whole episode. If I ever see her again I'll have a leg up on the competition, too - I'll know not to break the ice with a "Sumimasen."
I was riding home from school practicing Japanese and two Japanese girls sat down beside me. I didn't give them much thought and went back to trying to learn 3000 kanji so I can read a Japanese book (only ~2850 to go!).
A few stops after the girls got on the train I noticed a guy shoving himself through what was now a crowded subway car. He wasn't excusing himself as he pushed his way from one end to the other. He was making for the other end of the car but when he was perpendicular to the girl two spots to the right of me he made an abrupt turn toward her and pushed his way past a couple more people to stand in front of her. He grabbed two of the rings hanging from the ceiling and then leaned in, bringing his face about 4 centimeters from hers.
From the moment I noticed this asshole shoving himself through the crowd to the point where he leaned into this girl's face was about 10 seconds. At first I thought he was just a rude asshole; then I thought that this rude asshole must know this girl because he made an abrupt turn toward her. But he didn't.
Immediately after leaning into her personal space he repeatedly shouted "Sumimasen! Sumimasen!" ("Excuse me! Excuse me!"). He shouted for about five seconds and then, disgusted that the girl didn't acknowledge him, resumed pushing his way through the crowd to the other end of the train car.
I was totally fixated on this guy: from the moment I noticed him pushing his way through the crowd, to when he was shouting at the girl, to when he stormed off in anger, I didn't take my eyes off of him. And I was the only one. Not a single person cared that he was pushing his way through the crowd; not a single person cared that he was shouting at some girl; and not a single person cared when he resumed shoving his way through the crowd. The strangest part was that the girl he was shouting at didn't bat an eyelash while he shouted at her.
When the screamer exited the car I looked over at the girl and she was gorgeous - and very composed. Her beauty explained why the guy took an interest in her but I wasn't able to figure out how she remained totally serene. It bothered me more than it did her that she got screamed at by this guy. She acted as if he hadn't existed. Maybe she's adjusted to these kinds of things the same way women in North American adjust to being hooted and hollered at?
If I spoke better Japanese I would have loved to talk to her about the whole episode. If I ever see her again I'll have a leg up on the competition, too - I'll know not to break the ice with a "Sumimasen."
16 September 2010
How We Almost Killed Our Japanese Friend
Most of you know that we've got some elderly Japanese friends who like to show us around Japan. This past Sunday we went with them to Yunouyama Onsen to go hiking. They had wanted to take us out hiking ever since they rescued us back in May and the weather had finally cooperated (read: cooled down) enough that we could go hiking with them. Or so we believed.
We met them at the train station at 7:00 in the morning and caught up on what we'd all been up to since the last time we were together. Yasuo (the one we're closest with) had climbed up a mountain near Fujisan and he showed us some pictures of his adventure; we showed him some from our summer hike from Tateyama to Kamikochi.
The train ride out to the base of the mountain was an hour and a half. On the way I practiced my Japanese and Yasuo practiced his English. My Japanese is a lot better when I practice it in my head - when I actually have to speak Japanese to Japanese people I get nervous and verbally stumble around like an idiot. I'm sure it's very endearing to my Japanese friends but for me it's frustrating.
When we got to the base of the mountain, Yasuo pointed out the hotel where we'd be drinking beer and relaxing in the onsen after our hike. It was a ritzy looking European-style hotel. We were excited to get into the onsen but then Yasuo told us that it wasn't a real onsen - it was just boiled water. This news was a little disappointing but after a long hike even a hot bath feels good.
Early into the hike Yasuo set a pace that was good by our standards - we had expected something a little slower from a man who is in his seventies. But it started to wear on him after about 30 minutes. I think he was worried that we would be frustrated if he slowed down. We assured him we wouldn't but it's difficult to do in a language that neither Aimee nor I have enough skill in to express more than basic feelings. By the time we reached the halfway point he was pretty burned out. Though after some water and a snack you wouldn't know it looking at him.
The above picture was at the halfway point. From right to left: Yasuo, Hayashi-san, and the-guy-with-calves-like-steel-cables.
After snacking at the halfway point, Yauso told us that our group would be splitting into two. He, Hayashi-san and their other friend would form one group and Aimee, me and Steel Cable Calves would form the second group. We would go on ahead since we were younger and the other group would meet us at the top. Please note that we were the younger group in name only - Steel Cable Calves is 60 years old. And he ran us up that mountain like a couple of dogs.
I had been watching Steel Cable Calves for most of the first half of the hike. He was very nonchalant about the hike; he had an air of sprezratura about him that couldn't be ignored. It seemed like he didn't care if he had to walk up the mountain or bound up it as fast as he could. He was more than willing to show us that the latter was as easy as the former.
As soon as I slung my bag onto my back, Steel Cable Calves took off like a shot. His pace was like a speed-walker, but up hill. He didn't scramble up rocks so much as he leaped over them. It was impressive but after a little while it became a little bothersome. Hiking at a fast pace means your eyes are glued to the trail because you don't want to slip up. You can't enjoy any of the scenery and enjoying the scenery is half the reason we go hiking, especially when the view from below the top is a lot better.
To get to the top of Gozaisho (the highest peak in the area, 1212m) you can either hike or take a cable car. If you know me well you can see where I'm going here. Once we got to the top, The Hikers and The Cable Car People mix together and the two just don't fit. I realize I'm generalizing, so please spare me, but I don't like The Cable Car People. It's a 2 hour hike at an easy pace from the bottom of the mountain to the top - there is no reason to build a cable car, a restaurant, a washroom, a petting zoo, a ski hill that maybe has a vertical gain of 100m, and a chair lift for said ski hill. Ridiculous.
The view from the top was beautiful but it was marred by the infrastructure and the crowds of Cable Car People. It was also irritating how impressed The Cable Car People were when we told them that we hiked up instead of taking the cable car. "You hiked up!? Wow, that must have been difficult." No, it wasn't. It's 1212 vertical meters - it's pretty easy. Anyone can do it. Our seventy year old friend is doing it right now. Next time try walking up, and then tell your friends, and then maybe more cable cars and everything associated with them won't be built.
About 20 minutes after we reached the top, Hayashi-san found us and told us that Yasuo was struggling with the heat and the steepness of the paths and that he and the other guy would be a while getting up. He told us to go on to the next peak and then head down and that he, Yasuo and the other guy would take the cable car down and meet us at the onsen. At this I could feel Steel Cable Calves ears perk up. It was as if sitting and waiting was more trying for him than hauling ass up a mountain.
Steel Cable Calves descended the mountain like a mountain goat. He jumped from boulder to boulder and damn near ran on boulder-free parts of the trail. Aimee did a pretty good job keeping pace with him but I had no interest in doing so so I ambled along behind them. I saw some cool spiders and some really nice rapids that Steel Cable Calves and Aimee missed out on.
We got to the onsen about 10 minutes before the group coming down in the cable car so we went in without them. I didn't think I would be able to tell the difference between a real onsen and a man-made one but I could. It was strange. The water had too much of a processed smell to it. But, there was a cold bath and that more than made up for the onsen being fake. After loosening my muscles in the various hot baths the cold bath was very refreshing.
After cleaning ourselves up we enjoyed some beers in the lounge while we waited for the bus. Yasuo kept apologizing for not being able to make it to the top which made us feel worse for having suggested we hike up Gozaisho. We assured him that it didn't bother us at all and that we were very worried about him when Hayashi-san told us he was struggling to make it to the top. When we got home we got an email from Yasuo suggesting that our next outing be somewhere flat and we happily agreed. Maybe one of us will have to race Steel Cable Calves.
We met them at the train station at 7:00 in the morning and caught up on what we'd all been up to since the last time we were together. Yasuo (the one we're closest with) had climbed up a mountain near Fujisan and he showed us some pictures of his adventure; we showed him some from our summer hike from Tateyama to Kamikochi.
The train ride out to the base of the mountain was an hour and a half. On the way I practiced my Japanese and Yasuo practiced his English. My Japanese is a lot better when I practice it in my head - when I actually have to speak Japanese to Japanese people I get nervous and verbally stumble around like an idiot. I'm sure it's very endearing to my Japanese friends but for me it's frustrating.
When we got to the base of the mountain, Yasuo pointed out the hotel where we'd be drinking beer and relaxing in the onsen after our hike. It was a ritzy looking European-style hotel. We were excited to get into the onsen but then Yasuo told us that it wasn't a real onsen - it was just boiled water. This news was a little disappointing but after a long hike even a hot bath feels good.
Early into the hike Yasuo set a pace that was good by our standards - we had expected something a little slower from a man who is in his seventies. But it started to wear on him after about 30 minutes. I think he was worried that we would be frustrated if he slowed down. We assured him we wouldn't but it's difficult to do in a language that neither Aimee nor I have enough skill in to express more than basic feelings. By the time we reached the halfway point he was pretty burned out. Though after some water and a snack you wouldn't know it looking at him.
The above picture was at the halfway point. From right to left: Yasuo, Hayashi-san, and the-guy-with-calves-like-steel-cables.After snacking at the halfway point, Yauso told us that our group would be splitting into two. He, Hayashi-san and their other friend would form one group and Aimee, me and Steel Cable Calves would form the second group. We would go on ahead since we were younger and the other group would meet us at the top. Please note that we were the younger group in name only - Steel Cable Calves is 60 years old. And he ran us up that mountain like a couple of dogs.
I had been watching Steel Cable Calves for most of the first half of the hike. He was very nonchalant about the hike; he had an air of sprezratura about him that couldn't be ignored. It seemed like he didn't care if he had to walk up the mountain or bound up it as fast as he could. He was more than willing to show us that the latter was as easy as the former.
As soon as I slung my bag onto my back, Steel Cable Calves took off like a shot. His pace was like a speed-walker, but up hill. He didn't scramble up rocks so much as he leaped over them. It was impressive but after a little while it became a little bothersome. Hiking at a fast pace means your eyes are glued to the trail because you don't want to slip up. You can't enjoy any of the scenery and enjoying the scenery is half the reason we go hiking, especially when the view from below the top is a lot better.
To get to the top of Gozaisho (the highest peak in the area, 1212m) you can either hike or take a cable car. If you know me well you can see where I'm going here. Once we got to the top, The Hikers and The Cable Car People mix together and the two just don't fit. I realize I'm generalizing, so please spare me, but I don't like The Cable Car People. It's a 2 hour hike at an easy pace from the bottom of the mountain to the top - there is no reason to build a cable car, a restaurant, a washroom, a petting zoo, a ski hill that maybe has a vertical gain of 100m, and a chair lift for said ski hill. Ridiculous.
The view from the top was beautiful but it was marred by the infrastructure and the crowds of Cable Car People. It was also irritating how impressed The Cable Car People were when we told them that we hiked up instead of taking the cable car. "You hiked up!? Wow, that must have been difficult." No, it wasn't. It's 1212 vertical meters - it's pretty easy. Anyone can do it. Our seventy year old friend is doing it right now. Next time try walking up, and then tell your friends, and then maybe more cable cars and everything associated with them won't be built.
About 20 minutes after we reached the top, Hayashi-san found us and told us that Yasuo was struggling with the heat and the steepness of the paths and that he and the other guy would be a while getting up. He told us to go on to the next peak and then head down and that he, Yasuo and the other guy would take the cable car down and meet us at the onsen. At this I could feel Steel Cable Calves ears perk up. It was as if sitting and waiting was more trying for him than hauling ass up a mountain.
Steel Cable Calves descended the mountain like a mountain goat. He jumped from boulder to boulder and damn near ran on boulder-free parts of the trail. Aimee did a pretty good job keeping pace with him but I had no interest in doing so so I ambled along behind them. I saw some cool spiders and some really nice rapids that Steel Cable Calves and Aimee missed out on.
We got to the onsen about 10 minutes before the group coming down in the cable car so we went in without them. I didn't think I would be able to tell the difference between a real onsen and a man-made one but I could. It was strange. The water had too much of a processed smell to it. But, there was a cold bath and that more than made up for the onsen being fake. After loosening my muscles in the various hot baths the cold bath was very refreshing.
After cleaning ourselves up we enjoyed some beers in the lounge while we waited for the bus. Yasuo kept apologizing for not being able to make it to the top which made us feel worse for having suggested we hike up Gozaisho. We assured him that it didn't bother us at all and that we were very worried about him when Hayashi-san told us he was struggling to make it to the top. When we got home we got an email from Yasuo suggesting that our next outing be somewhere flat and we happily agreed. Maybe one of us will have to race Steel Cable Calves.
05 September 2010
Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day Six
11 August 2010
When we woke up in the morning the only sign of the typhoon was our waterlogged hiking gear. The fly was soaked; our clothing was soaked; our boots were soaked. But we were only an hour's walk from an onsen (hot spring) so we were pretty happy.
I've talked about onsen experiences before so I won't go into too much detail. My favourite part isn't actually sitting in the onsen - it's washing myself before and afterward. I like the whole process of getting clean before getting into the onsen and then doing it again afterwards. It's more relaxing for me than lounging in the pools. Probably because I can't tolerate the heat of the pools for too long. The water that you wash yourself with is from the pools but you're not immersed in it so you don't notice how hot it actually is.
We spent about an hour in the onsen before heading to Takayama. We spent about 3 hours in Takayama eating and shopping for Aimee's sister (she bought her a nice ceramic mug). We ate, in no particular order: frozen pineapple slices, Hida beef stew, sukiyaki (a soup from which you take vegetables/meat and dip them into raw egg before you eat them), ice cream and Hida beef skewers. We were really excited to have some more owara tamaten but the vendor was closed.
The city was crawling with tourists and it was very hot so we didn't hang out much longer after we were full. On our way to the train station we did have to stop so I could get a picture of these:
They're ocarinas! You know, from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time? I thought they were just something invented for the video game. Apparently they're Italian. They're also very, very expensive (which is why I'm not running around with one, stopping periodically to summon my horse. Anyone...?).
Final Thoughts on Hiking in Japan
We were both really impressed with the beauty of the North Japan Alps but we had a lot of mixed feelings about the trip. One thing that bothered us was the amount of people. The trails were crawling with people almost everywhere we went. Back home we never ran into people - ever. Most of the places we hiked back home weren't national parks though. They also weren't in a country with as many people as Japan has. And while the number of people did irritate us at times, it was great to see so many people outside enjoying the outdoors. Japan has incredible natural areas and while a lot of people use them, as a percentage of the population hikers aren't a large group. The only way parks like this will continue to be protected (and created) is if people use them. Which brings me to our next mixed feeling: the huts.
It was a lot easier to accept the large number of people than it was to accept all of the huts along the way. The huts ranged from nothing more than large one-room sleeping areas to all-inclusive resorts in Kamikochi. Neither of us felt they were necessary - especially the resorts. To build these places, maintain them, and keep them stocked requires a fleet of helicopters. And for what? So people can have a shower, drink cold beer or sake, watch television, and even use the internet. It's an incredible waste of energy and resources. However, these huts bring in different kinds of people (read: People. With. Money.) and if more people (With. Money.) come then these places, and others like them, continue to be created and preserved. And even though thousands of people pass through these parks every year and these extravagant and wasteful huts/resorts are built, the area is still very pristine. I don't think it's asking too much for people to hike the way we hike, but maybe I'm wrong.
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
When we woke up in the morning the only sign of the typhoon was our waterlogged hiking gear. The fly was soaked; our clothing was soaked; our boots were soaked. But we were only an hour's walk from an onsen (hot spring) so we were pretty happy.
I've talked about onsen experiences before so I won't go into too much detail. My favourite part isn't actually sitting in the onsen - it's washing myself before and afterward. I like the whole process of getting clean before getting into the onsen and then doing it again afterwards. It's more relaxing for me than lounging in the pools. Probably because I can't tolerate the heat of the pools for too long. The water that you wash yourself with is from the pools but you're not immersed in it so you don't notice how hot it actually is.
We spent about an hour in the onsen before heading to Takayama. We spent about 3 hours in Takayama eating and shopping for Aimee's sister (she bought her a nice ceramic mug). We ate, in no particular order: frozen pineapple slices, Hida beef stew, sukiyaki (a soup from which you take vegetables/meat and dip them into raw egg before you eat them), ice cream and Hida beef skewers. We were really excited to have some more owara tamaten but the vendor was closed.
The city was crawling with tourists and it was very hot so we didn't hang out much longer after we were full. On our way to the train station we did have to stop so I could get a picture of these:
They're ocarinas! You know, from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time? I thought they were just something invented for the video game. Apparently they're Italian. They're also very, very expensive (which is why I'm not running around with one, stopping periodically to summon my horse. Anyone...?).
Final Thoughts on Hiking in Japan
We were both really impressed with the beauty of the North Japan Alps but we had a lot of mixed feelings about the trip. One thing that bothered us was the amount of people. The trails were crawling with people almost everywhere we went. Back home we never ran into people - ever. Most of the places we hiked back home weren't national parks though. They also weren't in a country with as many people as Japan has. And while the number of people did irritate us at times, it was great to see so many people outside enjoying the outdoors. Japan has incredible natural areas and while a lot of people use them, as a percentage of the population hikers aren't a large group. The only way parks like this will continue to be protected (and created) is if people use them. Which brings me to our next mixed feeling: the huts.
It was a lot easier to accept the large number of people than it was to accept all of the huts along the way. The huts ranged from nothing more than large one-room sleeping areas to all-inclusive resorts in Kamikochi. Neither of us felt they were necessary - especially the resorts. To build these places, maintain them, and keep them stocked requires a fleet of helicopters. And for what? So people can have a shower, drink cold beer or sake, watch television, and even use the internet. It's an incredible waste of energy and resources. However, these huts bring in different kinds of people (read: People. With. Money.) and if more people (With. Money.) come then these places, and others like them, continue to be created and preserved. And even though thousands of people pass through these parks every year and these extravagant and wasteful huts/resorts are built, the area is still very pristine. I don't think it's asking too much for people to hike the way we hike, but maybe I'm wrong.
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
02 September 2010
Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day Five
10 August 2010
Today was our longest day yet. We ascended from 2500m to 3060m and then descended to 1400m. By the end of the day we were tired, soar, hungry and soaking wet. But it was a lot of fun.
Because we knew the weather was going to be bad we were up by 5:00 and on the trail by 6:00. Four hours would get us to the fork where we would decide to head south if the weather was bad or push on east to Yarigatake if the weather was good. From 2500m where we camped up to 2800m (the first peak of the day) the weather was fantastic. We couldn't even see where the typhoon would be coming from. At this point we thought we might get lucky and it would miss us entirely. Whoops.
At the fork the weather was still good but we could see dark clouds chasing us from the west. We were still 4 hours from the peak of Yari but we figured that, worst case scenario, we'd be a few hours from the top before the edge of the storm descended on us. We decided to get to the top of Yari, take a quick break, and then hike down the mountain 2 hours to the next hut, since we didn't want to stay on top of Yari during the typhoon.
As expected, about an hour from the fork the mist that had slowly been creeping up on us from the west got tired of toying with us and turned into rain. This bullying also coincided with us running into Glen again. Until this point we had only ever seen him at the camps because he left so early. That morning he hadn't left till 5:00 and he wasn't surprised we caught up to him. We exchanged plans while putting on our rain gear - he was going to go to Yarigatake and stay there for the night, braving the typhoon.
The final ascent to the top of Yari was pretty grueling. It had stopped raining so we were able to take off our rain gear and air out, but that didn't make the monotonous switchbacks any easier. Everywhere the mountainside was the same - scree and mist, scree and mist. With the trail switching back every 10m it didn't feel like we were making any progress. When we looked back to see where we had came from we couldn't tell - for all we knew our starting point could have been 10m back or 1000m back. And then all of the sudden we were at the hut - 3060m.
The hut and the area outside it were very crowded. The rains returned in earnest immediately after we dropped our packs so everyone crammed together under the awnings. The foreigners were particularly popular here - all two of us. While putting on our rain gear for the descent to the next camp we were accosted by drunk, rich Japanese climbers. Drunk because they were drinking beer from the hut; rich because they could afford to. A beer at 3060m cost 1000￥ - and that's the cheap stuff. Foreigners are uncommon in Japan; to see them on hiking trails is rare. So we got the usual questions: where were we from, why were we here, what did we think of the mountains... We weren't feeling as accommodating as we usually do (these kinds of interrogations happen frequently and we're used to them) because we were in a hurry, so we played the foreigner ace card: "wakarimasen" ("I don't understand"). The questions quickly turned to "gambatte!" ("goodluck!") and we were on our way.
We decided against ascending to the peak (3180m) because of the weather. This was a little disappointing but we couldn't even see the top from where we were because of the clouds so we weren't missing much. As we were heading back to the trail to take us down the mountain we ran into Glen for the last time on the trip. He had ascended faster than we thought he would. I guess getting out of the rain was good motivation. We exchanged expletives about climbing up that "fucking" steep slope in the "fucking rain," shook hands and bid each other goodbye.
Thirty minutes into our descent the rain, which must not have felt that it was being paid much attention to, redoubled its efforts. Thunder lasting for what seemed like minutes echoed off the valley slopes; lightning lit up the underside of the clouds; and raindrops the size of pennies washed away the trail beneath our feet. This lasted all day and well into the night.
I make it sound a little bleak but it was actually kind of fun. Neither of us had been in a storm of that magnitude before; nor one whose power was so unrelenting for so long. It's one thing to be in a storm that powerful; it's quite another to witness one that sustains that power for 6 hours. I've never been in even a light storm that lasted for that long.
The above picture is of us exploring a cave about 1100m down from Yarigatake. A monk used to live there for half the year and would ascend Yarigatake... many times a year. I forget how many. He would spend his days chanting something about being in awe of the power of the gods. It was a 1 or 2 sentence chant that he would repeat all day, every day.
We made the next camp in two hours despite the rain. It was still pouring when we arrived though so we decided to push on another two hours to the next camp since we couldn't set up in the rain and we had no idea how long it would last. We had been to that camp during Golden Week and we knew it was only 3 hours from there to Kamikochi (and 2 hours from where we were) so it wouldn't be too much work. We got to see some interesting wildlife on this stretch.
We saw (and avoided stepping on) dozens of these giant toads all the way from the first camp we stopped at to the last camp. They were huge and came in different shapes and sizes. Some skinny, some fat; some brown, some yellow; some all warty, some very smooth; some old, some young; all huge. They were adept climbers. The rock this one is climbing was probably a meter high and it got right to the top. They weren't hard to miss because they a) were huge, and b) jumped like crazy when they felt us coming. We also saw a rabbit and some more grouse.
We made the next camp and it was still pouring rain so, yes, we decided to keep going. This time we decided to push straight through to Kamikochi... but we bit off more than we could chew. An hour away we were wiped out: hungry, sore, soaked. We collapsed under the awning of the closest hut, defeated.
Aimee dug the stove and dinner out of our packs while I endeared myself to the receptionist by dripping water all over the foyer of the expensive mountain hut while paying for our campsite. Then we further endeared ourselves by cooking our food on our rocket stove (it's loud) under the awning that was conveniently placed over the window of the expensive restaurant. Then we put on a show for the patrons - we set up our tent under the awning so we could walk the assembled tent out into the rain.
After staking the tent by myself we collapsed inside it and went to sleep. The wet grass gave us the most comfortable sleep of the trip. Our 13 hour day soaked us; tired us; took us from 2500m to 2800m to 2500m to 3060m to 1400m; and left us 1 hour from our final destination. It was a great day.
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Six
Today was our longest day yet. We ascended from 2500m to 3060m and then descended to 1400m. By the end of the day we were tired, soar, hungry and soaking wet. But it was a lot of fun.
Because we knew the weather was going to be bad we were up by 5:00 and on the trail by 6:00. Four hours would get us to the fork where we would decide to head south if the weather was bad or push on east to Yarigatake if the weather was good. From 2500m where we camped up to 2800m (the first peak of the day) the weather was fantastic. We couldn't even see where the typhoon would be coming from. At this point we thought we might get lucky and it would miss us entirely. Whoops.
At the fork the weather was still good but we could see dark clouds chasing us from the west. We were still 4 hours from the peak of Yari but we figured that, worst case scenario, we'd be a few hours from the top before the edge of the storm descended on us. We decided to get to the top of Yari, take a quick break, and then hike down the mountain 2 hours to the next hut, since we didn't want to stay on top of Yari during the typhoon.
As expected, about an hour from the fork the mist that had slowly been creeping up on us from the west got tired of toying with us and turned into rain. This bullying also coincided with us running into Glen again. Until this point we had only ever seen him at the camps because he left so early. That morning he hadn't left till 5:00 and he wasn't surprised we caught up to him. We exchanged plans while putting on our rain gear - he was going to go to Yarigatake and stay there for the night, braving the typhoon.
The final ascent to the top of Yari was pretty grueling. It had stopped raining so we were able to take off our rain gear and air out, but that didn't make the monotonous switchbacks any easier. Everywhere the mountainside was the same - scree and mist, scree and mist. With the trail switching back every 10m it didn't feel like we were making any progress. When we looked back to see where we had came from we couldn't tell - for all we knew our starting point could have been 10m back or 1000m back. And then all of the sudden we were at the hut - 3060m.
The hut and the area outside it were very crowded. The rains returned in earnest immediately after we dropped our packs so everyone crammed together under the awnings. The foreigners were particularly popular here - all two of us. While putting on our rain gear for the descent to the next camp we were accosted by drunk, rich Japanese climbers. Drunk because they were drinking beer from the hut; rich because they could afford to. A beer at 3060m cost 1000￥ - and that's the cheap stuff. Foreigners are uncommon in Japan; to see them on hiking trails is rare. So we got the usual questions: where were we from, why were we here, what did we think of the mountains... We weren't feeling as accommodating as we usually do (these kinds of interrogations happen frequently and we're used to them) because we were in a hurry, so we played the foreigner ace card: "wakarimasen" ("I don't understand"). The questions quickly turned to "gambatte!" ("goodluck!") and we were on our way.
We decided against ascending to the peak (3180m) because of the weather. This was a little disappointing but we couldn't even see the top from where we were because of the clouds so we weren't missing much. As we were heading back to the trail to take us down the mountain we ran into Glen for the last time on the trip. He had ascended faster than we thought he would. I guess getting out of the rain was good motivation. We exchanged expletives about climbing up that "fucking" steep slope in the "fucking rain," shook hands and bid each other goodbye.
Thirty minutes into our descent the rain, which must not have felt that it was being paid much attention to, redoubled its efforts. Thunder lasting for what seemed like minutes echoed off the valley slopes; lightning lit up the underside of the clouds; and raindrops the size of pennies washed away the trail beneath our feet. This lasted all day and well into the night.
I make it sound a little bleak but it was actually kind of fun. Neither of us had been in a storm of that magnitude before; nor one whose power was so unrelenting for so long. It's one thing to be in a storm that powerful; it's quite another to witness one that sustains that power for 6 hours. I've never been in even a light storm that lasted for that long.
The above picture is of us exploring a cave about 1100m down from Yarigatake. A monk used to live there for half the year and would ascend Yarigatake... many times a year. I forget how many. He would spend his days chanting something about being in awe of the power of the gods. It was a 1 or 2 sentence chant that he would repeat all day, every day.
We made the next camp in two hours despite the rain. It was still pouring when we arrived though so we decided to push on another two hours to the next camp since we couldn't set up in the rain and we had no idea how long it would last. We had been to that camp during Golden Week and we knew it was only 3 hours from there to Kamikochi (and 2 hours from where we were) so it wouldn't be too much work. We got to see some interesting wildlife on this stretch.
We saw (and avoided stepping on) dozens of these giant toads all the way from the first camp we stopped at to the last camp. They were huge and came in different shapes and sizes. Some skinny, some fat; some brown, some yellow; some all warty, some very smooth; some old, some young; all huge. They were adept climbers. The rock this one is climbing was probably a meter high and it got right to the top. They weren't hard to miss because they a) were huge, and b) jumped like crazy when they felt us coming. We also saw a rabbit and some more grouse.
We made the next camp and it was still pouring rain so, yes, we decided to keep going. This time we decided to push straight through to Kamikochi... but we bit off more than we could chew. An hour away we were wiped out: hungry, sore, soaked. We collapsed under the awning of the closest hut, defeated.
Aimee dug the stove and dinner out of our packs while I endeared myself to the receptionist by dripping water all over the foyer of the expensive mountain hut while paying for our campsite. Then we further endeared ourselves by cooking our food on our rocket stove (it's loud) under the awning that was conveniently placed over the window of the expensive restaurant. Then we put on a show for the patrons - we set up our tent under the awning so we could walk the assembled tent out into the rain.
After staking the tent by myself we collapsed inside it and went to sleep. The wet grass gave us the most comfortable sleep of the trip. Our 13 hour day soaked us; tired us; took us from 2500m to 2800m to 2500m to 3060m to 1400m; and left us 1 hour from our final destination. It was a great day.
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Six
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