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Archive for June, 2018

Shaken up – part 2

8:00am

As my heart rate returns to an under-par golf score I take a few unsteady steps to the convenience store and step inside. Merchandise is strewn about the floors, punctured cans of toppled coffee forming a small lake in the far aisle in which a few pre-packaged loaves of bread stay afloat. I step over the mess, grab a 2-liter bottle of water, and head to the register. A shell-shocked employee rings me up, her upper lip quivering as an unsteady voice announces my total. I hand over the coins and step aside, sheepishly slipping away instead of offering to assist in the cleanup.

8:05am

I arrive at school and immediately plug in the laptop to get a read of the situation. National broadcaster NHK has set up a live stream on their site, so I clicke the feed to find the epicenter relatively close to my current position – hence the violent jolt and disheveled state of things. I abandon my fruitless pursuit to ring my wife and opt for a text message, which seems to go through. A prompt reply ensures that everything is fine on her end. A few other teachers have somehow made it to school as we ponder about class cancellations. The office won’t open for another half an hour, so there is nothing to do but watch the news and wait. The first reports of fatalities come in as helicopters send down images of damage and destruction. A busted water mane in Tatatsuki city sends up a geyser of water 10 meters in height. Rescuers frantically try to lift a concrete block wall that has crushed a 9-year-old girl on her way to school. Reminders that any one of us could go at any time without warning.

(To be continued)

 

 

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Is there a more scenic ridge in the Minami Alps than the sandy granite boulders of the Hō-ō mountains? Some may favor the loftier heights of the Akaishi mountains and their distinctive deposits of red chert and green limestone, but what Hō-ō lacks in altitude it more than makes up for in scenery.

The mountains sit snugly against the Kofu basin, soaking up the fine rays of sunshine which often grace the Yamanashi prefectural capital. After a period of rainy weather, it is indeed the Hō-ō mountains that make the earliest return to fair weather skies. It’s not too common for it to be sunny here while the rest of the Minami Alps lie caked in cloud and mist.

The mountain is most often referred to at the Hō-ō Sanzan, or the Three Peaks of the Phoenix. Named after the trio of Buddhist deities of healing (Yakushi), compassion (Kannon), and hell (Jizō), a full traverse of all three mountains in as a day-trip may very well conjure up the feelings of all three deities. Regardless, you will find a few trail runners in recent years who opt for the 27km return route from Yashajin-tōge. Those with a enlightened sense of sanity will want to break up the arduous journey by overnighting at either Minami-Omuro or Yakushidake mountain huts.

Most Hyakumeizan baggers opt for an ascent of Mt. Kannon, the highest mountain in the range, while adventure seekers prefer the vertical climb to the top of the obelisk, Hō-ō’s unofficial symbol and a rock outcrop that make it clearly identifiable from the summits of Yamanashi’s surrounding peaks.

The photo used on the calendar was supplied by Naresh Deora, an Indian hiker who splits time between Tokyo and Kofu. He is currently attempting to climb the Yamanashi Hyakumeizan, a collection of 100 peaks located within the prefectural borders. If successful, he will be the second foreigner (behind Julian and his amazing border terrier Hana) to complete the mountains. At the time of writing Naresh has currently finished 73 of the 100.

Trekkers typically start at Yashijin-tōge on the long gentle slog to Yakushi, Kannon and Jizo, where several option await. Most turn right and head down to one of the hot springs flanking the eastern foothills. Others continue along the ridge over to Kai-koma, a tough ridge of undulating track that will take a full day to navigate. This the route I chose back in 2005 during my first visit to the mountain range. Last year, I made a return visit to assess trail conditions for a forthcoming guidebook that I am co-authoring. The publisher needed clear-weather photos and the weather fairies delivered, possibly bringing me the best weather I have ever had in the Minami Alps.

On that traverse over to Kai-koma, the first major peak along the ridge is none other than Takamine, a peak just one meter lower than Mt. Yakushi but just as impressive. Amazingly, this mountain was not included in the Hō-ō triumvirate, perhaps because Japan likes to group things together by threes and not fours. Thus, a deity was not enshrined here and the rather mundane name of ‘tall peak’ put in its place. If given the chance, I would suggest offering the mountain to Dainichi, the Buddha representing emptiness.

 

 

 

 

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Shaken up – part 1

7:56am

I push the button next to the door of the Kizu-bound JR train – those self-service buttons on rural trains that only allow those in the know to exit the train. The doors open and I glide onto the platform, swimming through throngs of high school students funneling through the ticket gates. My ticket is swallowed by the wicket machinery, and allows passage via a narrow flight of stairs to the north-south corridor of route 22. Descending down to street level, I turn left along the narrow shoulder to my usual stance at the broad intersection. From here I can hop through the pedestrian crossing and directly into the convenience store, avoiding the rush of students following pursuit. It’s a perfect plan, and part of my usual Monday morning routine to kick off yet another busy week.

7:58am

I stand at the front of the pack, like a marathon runner taking position at the starting gates. Suddenly, I am pushed from behind and instinctively lurch forward into the middle of the road. The asphalt thrusts upward, throwing me off my stance. I scurry over across the street, against the light, along with around 50 other students who are escaping from the terrifying sound of screeching metal and the unmistakable ping of electric wires. Screams of panic fill the air – I turn around and glance up at the pedestrian overpass swaying with panic-striken kids holding onto the railing for dear life. Directly behind me, the wall of students patiently waiting for the red light is replaced by an undulating wall of scaffolding, teetering on the edge of collapse. Is this what pushed me from behind?

7:59am

Hands on my knees, I pant for air and wait for my redlining heart beat to subside. I watch as the power lines continue to sway, always among the last things to stop moving during a seismic event. Reality starts to set in – this was a quake, and quite a strong one at that.

(To be continued)

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The Togakushi highlands are an oft-overlooked section of northern Nagano prefecture offering a unique mix of nature and culture. The Togakushi range is dominated by the pyramidal peak of Takazuma, one of the Hyakumeizan, while the lower jagged ridge of Mt. Togakushi is relegated to 200meizan status.

The cliffs of Togakushi make for a stunning backdrop against the green pastures of the farmlands sitting snugly at the foot of the range. Troupes of wild monkeys can sometimes be seen foraging through the long grass in search of sustenance.

Rough igneous rock soars skyward as a reminder to Togakushi’s tumultuous past. Fossilized sea shells scattered along the summit plateau suggest subaqueous origins, a massive underwater volcano violently thrusting itself up to a height of nearly 2000 metres.

The climbing routes starts from the upper precincts of Togakushi Shrine, itself reached via a 2km corridor flanked by towering cryptomeria trees that make for a picturesque backdrop if you can manage to find a brief break in the large crowds that march like a holy procession.

From the the shrine a narrow path rises through native beech forests to the base of the cliff face. Fixed chains lead climbers through a maze of crumbly rock to an exposed knife edge ridge, which for once actually lives up to its name.

After this gravity-defying walkway the route opens up to the summit plateau, where it’s an easy stroll along the ridge over the summit and down to a saddle marking the entrance to Mt. Takazuma. Hyakumeizan hunters can typically be found resting in front of a bomb shelter of an emergency hut perched directly on top of this junction. Crowds often grow here, with peakbaggers giving Togakushi a miss in favor of Takazuma’s impressive pyramidal tower, a castle keep of sorts.

Unobstructed vistas all the way down to Mt. Fuji can be found on rare days of fair weather and good visibility. Most visitors are cursed with that all-too-familiar blanket of fog.

It’s easy to become enamored with the sheer beauty of the place, well deserving as its spot on the May page of the wall calendar. Observant folks will also recognize the cover shot of the calendar as no other than Togakushi’s kagami-ike (lit: mirror lake). From this angle Togakushi looks split in two, with jagged peaks rising both to the left and right of the lake shores. The left peak is Nishidake, whose rocky spire actually rises higher than the summit of Mt. Togakushi itself. Perhaps it is time to pay this ‘Western Peak’ a visit.

 

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