My Christmas Adventure

As I mentioned in my previous post; I was feeling a bit glum around Christmastime this year.  So, I had determined to ignore the fact that the day was not a holiday here, and instead do some 森林浴
 (shinrin yoku, or "forest bathing") with a trek in the woods north of the little mountain town of Otsuki (大月, literally 'big moon' -- or 'big month,' I'll go with Moon).

A friend of mine had suggested the trail; I had been through the area a few times before, on my way to 富士山 (Mt. Fuji), so I expected a fun hike.  The weather was expected to be outstanding as well (for a hike, not for Christmas Day) with clear skies and an anticipated high of over 60 degrees Fahrenheit.

I got started a little later than I had hoped; but discovered a larger problem when I realized about halfway though my (nearly two-hour) train journey, that while I had remembered to pack food and water and a spare jacket, I had forgotten to pack the map showing the trail!  No problem, I thought.  I have my smartphone with GPS and maps, and since the Sun will be up, I'll always have a good point of reference.  What's the worst that could happen?  (Note to reader: if you ever find yourself saying or hearing or thinking this, just stop everything you are doing, and re-consider your life choices).

Mt. Iwatono from Ostuki Station

Having arrived at the station, I could not find a tourist or visitor center (that would have maps), but I did find some helpful maps on the walls of the station, so I photographed them and set on my way.  I began by climbing 岩殿山 (Mt. Iwatono: translates as "rock building" or "rock fort"), seen here (right) from near the station:

Fuji-san from Maruyama on the slopes of Iwatono

At the first overlook of the climb, I was already rewarded with this (below) view of 富士山.  Absolutely spectacular, even with the direct sun making contrasts poor.  I had hiked up 富士山 just this summer; I don't know whether it is true, but I've been told that more people die climbing 富士山 in Winter than those who successfully summit in Winter.  Looking at it from this distance, I can understand.  Continuous and steep snow fields that are clearly icy (based on the bright specular reflection on the eastern -- left-hand -- slope in the photo), and evidence of very strong winds both near the base and at the summit.

The summit of Iwatono-san

Onward and upward, I reached the grounds of a former temple (according to outside descriptions), which now appears to serve as a tour guide.  However, it is off-season and the office is closed.  Fortunately, there are maps available outside, and so I stock up on anything that looks as though it will show me the course I expect to follow.  I climb to the top along a fairly steep trail (I am soon to learn the true meaning of "steep," and this ain't it), reaching the summit of 634m (2080 feet).  Little did I suspect at the time that this visit to the highest point (right) on my planned route would be the easiest part of the journey.

The town of kamihamakura (上畑倉).

I descended quickly (is there any other way when the average grade is approaching 50%?) to the fork in the trail that took me along the loop trail that was my plan for the rest of the afternoon.  First, (see below photograph) I waited to hear this friendly Ent tell me the history of the People of the Valley.  Fortunately, it is not a very important history, so it did not take very long to say.  That town in the next valley is called Kamihamakura (上畑倉), which blandly translates as "upper warehouse."

Trail closed due to landslide

A few hundred meters along, the following sign tells me that the trail is out due to a recent landslide (photo below left).  Fortunately, a detour is provided... to just above the top of the landslide.  It has been dry recently, so this should be safe.  Up, over, down, and back on my way.  This is getting to be a fun little adventure.

Climbing gear required from here on?

But then I come across this (photo on right).  Now, I was told by my friend that this route was "interesting" for its rope-assisted trekking.  Well, here, I seemed to find it.  Turns out the rope was more useful as a crutch than as a support, as I was able to scramble up this climb quite readily without using the rope.  I suppose I would have relied on it more if I were descending.  But, if that is the worst that could happen (there it is again, life would be so much easier if it played the "dun-dun-dunnnnn" soundtrack of pending doom every time someone had that thought), then this hike will be a blast.

After some time along the ridge, I come to another fork in the road.  Here are my choices:

This time, I can read enough kanji to learn that the "forest route" (林間:left) is sending me down a slight slope (but really, just along the side of the mountain), while the クサリ場 (right), which seems to translate either as "cursory trail" or "squirrel trail" (my Japanese friends later tell me it means "chain route"), continues upward.  The forest trail has a rope for security; but it is not very taut, and the heavy blanket of fallen Autumn leaves makes it almost impossible to detect the vanishingly small trail that I assume exists parallel to the rope.  It is also several hundred feet down a very steep (in excess of 60 degrees) and wooded slope if I should lose contact with the ground.  As much as I'd like to continue my 森林浴 actually in the forest (森林), I decide to take the squirrel/chain route over the rocks.  What could possibly go wrong?

Yes, that is really the trail

This must be what my friend meant when he told me about the places where ropes were needed to continue on the trail.  If you look carefully, the photo on the right was from the top of the climb, so I successfully topped out over that small cliff.  Well, at least that's over with and now I can enjoy the rest of the trail peacefully.  Which is what I think until I reach the next vertical climb.

This climb begins with the traverse you see at left, is much longer than the previous, and whose top I cannot see from the base.  Holding on to the dual metal rails bolted into place as I traverse to the rock is not a problem, though I would have liked to have seen the view over the valley.  I reach the rock face, and there are again ropes, and now chains, making me wonder if I've just entered somebody's sick S&M fantasy world.  Glutton for punishment, I surely am.


You know, this post is getting rather long.  I think I'll break it up into two segments.

(How's that for a literal cliff hanger?) :-D