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Posts Tagged ‘Takaosan’

Osaka’s Mt Takao

Everyone has heard of Takaosan in Tokyo, but few know about Osaka’s majestic counterpart. Nestled in the southwestern part of the Ikoma mountains, Osaka’s Takaosan may be just a fraction of the height of its Tokyo neighbor, but it boasts an impressive grove of daffodils, providing a refreshing splash of color to the gray days of winter.

It is with these flowers in mind that I team up with my trusty hiking companion Minami, who is preparing for an upcoming winter ascent of Mt Karamatsu in the North Alps. She’s keen to stretch her legs and partake of the floral facade decorating the western face of the mountain. We meet at JR Namba station on a brisk Monday morning for the 45-minute journey to Kashiwara station on the edge of the Ikoma hills.

Our peak rises gently above our peering heads as we navigate the quiet narrow roads of the sleepy town. Shops lay shuttered, yet to awaken from their weekend slumber as shoppers have not begun to make their rounds. The Kashiwara city office is a gaudy display of Showa glory, reinforced concrete walls stained with the extravagance of a forgotten generation of pensioners. We turn left and then right, crossing under the dangling shimenawa of a polished stone torii gate marking the entrance to Nudehike Nudehime shrine, a peculiar name assigned to a sacred precinct with apparent Tendai origins. We reach the shrine grounds and make an offering to the deity before ascending the concrete road to the right of the worship space.

Fortunately we are soon greeted with a proper track tucking into the forest on our left, and soon reach a junction signposted as the entrance to the daffodil grove. A few daffodils lie amongst a swath of lush bamboo grass, enticing us with their presence. We take the left fork, darting into a dark forest of hardwoods on a muddy horizontal traverse through the foothills. Considering the proximity to the city, the cedar groves have been held at bay, the coffers at city hall likely filled with subsidies for residents instead of the forestry workers. This is in line with other observations about urban mountains, because even in Kobe city the Rokkō mountains are spared the cedar blight for the most part.

Minami and I soon reach a large clearing of bamboo grass on our left, with an array of daffodils in full bloom. Access is far from straightfoward, involving an improvised ascent of a stone wall and some careful footfalls between flower stalks. We take a few minutes to capture the scenery with our lenses but soon retreat back to the main trail to continue our upward progress. About a hundred meters further on, we find the mother lode: an absolutely massive daffodil grove, complete with a network of narrow trails so that visitors can get up and close with their petals of choice.

The lack of crowds here is surprising. If this grove were situated on the slopes of Tokyo’s Takao, there would be food stalls and a sizable queue just to enter the garden. Oh, and an entry fee wouldn’t be out of the question. Minami and I explore the vast network of paths completely alone, lost in the interplay of sun and shadow as the clouds whisk through the wintry sky. As I turn the corner on one such idyllic path, I stumble upon a cave entrance marked with an intriguing signpost. Here sits a kofun, or ancient stone tomb, likely dating from the 6th century. Little information is given about the person who was once buried inside, but an engraved map indicates that this is tomb #4 of 11 such graves scattered throughout the Hirano/Ōgata region. An academic survey of the sites is available here in Japanese for those with who are interested.

Rumbles in our tummies remind us that we had better get moving if we want to partake of lunch on the summit. Just above the grove we reach a junction and turn left towards the upper part of the shrine. A lone kannon statue stands gracefully on the top of an unmarked stone carving, a reminder that this peak was once the stomping ground of the esoterics. Adjacent to the altar. a faint path leads straight up a large rock face. I take the lead through the maze of boulders, reaching a clearing at the top of a cliff face flanked with a shinto shrine, the innermost sanctuary of the Nudehike Nudehime shrine we encountered at the trailhead.

We considered having our lunch break here, but the gales pushing in front the north were threatening to send up tumbling off into the abyss, so we push on through another collection of near-vertical scrambles until popping out onto a narrow summit stuffed with a regime of elderly pensioners twenty strong. There is absolutely no room for us to stand among the throng of an oversized tour group, so we wait patiently as they commence their descent. An elderly lady places a few Valentine’s chocolates in my left palm, grateful as I am for her choice of whiskey bonbons. Once the army departs Minami and I are once again left to ourselves, absorbing the warm rays of the sun as we stave off the chill from the strong wind gusts. The chocolate complements the coffee quite nicely as we gaze out over the flatlands of eastern Osaka.

Sitting here on our 277-meter-high perch, I think back to my ascent of Tokyo’s Takao many autumns ago, and still remember the overdeveloped chaos of the concrete-smothered summit. While it may not feature in the Michelin guide, we will gladly take Osaka’s Takaosan any day of the week. Minami and I already make plans for our 2021 winter ascent to once again partake of the flowers and views that can only be found in this forgotten corner of Osaka.

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