I have to admit – my first impression of Utsukushi-ga-hara wasn’t good. A mere stopover on the way back from climbing Yatsu-ga-take, just to tick another famous mountain off the list. Fumito didn’t even bother getting out of the car. The experience was so writhing that we both came up with a fitting nickname for the area: “utsukushikunai-hara”! So, some of you may be wondering why anyone would bother coming back a second, and dare I say it, a third time? To discover the reason why Mr. Fukada included it on his Hyakumeizan list and we quickly found the answer to the riddle: winter!
Gone are the heel-wearing, parasol-wielding tour groups. School kids? Nope. Even the cows are herded down to lower altitudes and browner pastures. Scenic. Serene. Refreshing. The behemoth collection of communication antenna are still there, but don’t see nearly as daunting when caked in a layer of ice and crystalline powder.
Our first winter excursion gave Fumito and I a chance to try out the snowshoes we’d rented in hopes of conquering Kusatsushirane in the snow. Utsukushi-ga-hara proved to be a respectable warm-up, and gave us the added challenge of white-out conditions and fierce winds. Not surprisingly, we had the entire plateau at our disposal, with not another living creature in sight. The snow drifts covered the tops of the wooden fences, making landmarks impossible to identify. Good thing we had a GPS, for we’d definitely go down in mountaineering history by succumbing to the elements on such an easy stroll.
We beat a hasty retreat in order to make our scheduled appointment with Mt. Kusatsu, but we vowed to come back to experience the jaw-dropping panoramic views of the Japan Alps, and the plateau did not disappoint! The second trip exactly one-year later was a warm-up for our winter ascent of Mt. Tateshina, and again there wasn’t a soul in sight. The tourist hotel on the summit is actually open all-year round, but even the staff aren’t used to seeing too many folks in the slow season.
Fumito and I must’ve stayed on the summit of Ougahana for close to an hour, tracing the outline of the Alps with our frozen gloves, name-dropping as we went. “Hotaka.” “Jonen.” “Yari.” “Harinoki.” “Kashimayari.” “Goryu.” The list went on and on, as each peak has a unique story forever etched in my mind. Across the valley, the peaks of the massive Mt. Myoko caldera showed off their wintry features, while Mt. Asama looked on with an eager eye.
We left the plateau with a heightened awareness that even in the most unsightly of places, true beauty can be found. You just have to nail the timing.
The Tozan Tales 
Wow, that looks like a fantastic view towards the Alps. I’m very jealous of those snowy mountains!
Also, thanks for introducing me to Myoko. One day…
B&W for the brooding sky is most effective. I’m glad you include the small pictures at the bottom as links to the larger versions.
Hmm, you might just have inspired me to take a trip up there in the snow – I’d rather written it off as being one of Fukada-san’s lesser choices. I agree with Julian, that B&W shot is most atomospheric!
Well, I think – although I’ve never been there – you’ve captured the atmosphere of the place very well. Even in Fukada’s day, the place was under threat. There is a distinct ‘there goes the neighbourhood’ tone to our favourite author’s essay. This is what he says:-
“The poet himself (Ozaki Kihachi) lived to regret the headlong vulgarisation of Utsukushi-ga-hara. “As only the magnificent view is unchanged, my poem sings the elegy of this place, accompanied by the wandering wind,” he wrote. How fortunate I am to have known an Utsukushi-ga-hara where one could walk out even on a May morning and meet not another soul. Where I would wander out into the meadows of Sanjiro, pretty as a picture with their stands of silver birch, their cows and horses, their pear trees in full blossom. And then, as if wrapped in a golden breeze, I would head towards Takeishi-mine at one corner of the plateau. All alone, I would drink my fill of this upland’s height, its vastness, and its views.”
PS: Many thanks for publishing a photo of the memorial – that may be the memorial to Ozaki, which is also mentioned in Hyakumeizan. Great stuff: I’m enjoying these vicarious (for me) climbs of the Hundred Mountains.
My wife and I have been there many times, and I agree that you have to nail the timing to make it worthwhile. Often, even in the winter it is clouded in and you can barely see 5 meters. You may only get a brief clearing of the clouds all day.
In the spring, Utsukushikunaihara fits it perfectly. Brown, brown, and more brown.