At dawn, I crawled out of the tent to clear skies and a sea of cloud resting on the valley below. I thought about climbing back up to the summit to take in the views but I had another really long day awaiting, so after breaking down camp and stuffing a cereal bar down my throat, I bade farewell to Hiro and Maki and continued along the ridge.
The route passed through a sea of bamboo grass, the maintenance decreasing in direct proportion to the distance from Minami Numa. I had finally reached the least traveled part of the traverse: most folks escape down to Tomuraushi hot spring before rejoining the mountain range further south at Tokachi. I fought my way through the overgrown mess, sweat darting from my tangled mound of hair like a malfunctioning sprinkler. Rays of sunlight pierced the openings in the foliage, transforming the landscape into a heat-shimmering sauna. Looks like summer had finally arrived on the roof of Hokkaido.
After several hours of stamina-zapping movement, the path opened up to a series of broad hills, whose contours guided me to a deep col sitting on the doorstep of the 2000-meter summit of Mt. Oputateshike. The humidity and heat had attracted the clouds, blotting out the peaks like an ashtray full of spent ash. At the low point in the valley stood a flat area with room for no more than two or three tents. A group of university students occupied the largest of the sites, tent pitched among a latte of thick mud. An ideal place to spend the night this was not, so after chewing on some beef jerky, I loaded up the gear for the agonizing march up the final climb of the day, losing the path countless times in the dense fog and escalating winds. The crawl to the top easily took two hours: the last three days of full-on trekking were taking its toll.
Once topped out, the pitch mitigated before dropping abruptly to yet another col at the front door of Biei-Fuji. A spur led to a small wooden hut situated on a flat shoulder of the volcanic cone. I dropped my gear and peeked inside the lodge. There was capacity for around 20 people, but I was shocked to find a group of nearly 40 occupying every square inch of the facility. There were even people who had laid their sleeping bags in the boot-covered entrance. I felt like telling them to bugger off and camp outside so I could have a warm place to sleep. After all, they were people who had just entered the mountain earlier that day, while I had been going nonstop for the better part of a week. In the end I asked about water sources and retreated to the lonely mist of the deserted campground.
After setting up camp, I searched in vain for the only source of water: a small snowfield situated somewhere in the valley below. For the life of me I could not find it, and with darkness quickly setting in, I gave up, opting to filter and boil a puddle of rain water sitting next to my tent. I had reached a low point in my trek, but luckily there was only one more final push to the hissing steam vents of Mt. Tokachi, the final peak in the traverse.