Surreal Escapes

I’ve returned safely and have lived to tell about my journey to the mountains. Okay, there probably wasn’t much chance of me actually dying, but I’m afraid of heights so it certainly seemed like there was to me. Yeah..I neglected that fact when I decided to go climb big tall 3000m+ mountains. Aside from a little stress, the trip was excellent. I had beautiful weather and great views. The following is the story of my journey…
The bus ride up to the Murodo Plateau was a foggy one, and things weren’t looking much better when I first arrived. I took my time around the bus terminal, had some lunch, picked up a few maps of the area and got myself oriented. Eventually the clouds started clearing off and I was able to enjoy the several kilometer hike to my lodge.

Along the way there was a crystaline crater lake, deep blue and mountain chilled. The crowds of tourists thinned as I moved further from the terminal. I admired the surrounding peaks, knowing I’d be on top of them the following day.

My lodge was in a perfect location, in a nice quiet spot down off the plateau a little ways and near the center of the basin. The sunset was beautiful that evening. The sun itself disappeared early, dipping below the mountain tops, but the western horizon remained a redish-orange hue for several more hours. I laid outside most of the evening, watching the light disappear, feeling the temperature drop, seeing the stars peep out one by one until the sky was completely filled with them.

In the morning, after a fitful night’s sleep on the hard top bunk and being serenaded by snoring, I learned that there were several cases of food poisoning from dinner the night before. I was fine, but the lodge had to close down for a few days, meaning that my planned return after a two day hike wasn’t going to work. I decided I would hurry back the following day and be sure to catch the last vehicle out of the mountains. So I set out from the lodge, back up onto the plateau, and soon came to a crossroad. I could have climbed the hill pictured above…

…but no, I was here to climb a mountain. The trail started out easy enough, a stone-laid path winding gradually up the base of Mt. Tateyama, occasionally crossing some remaining snow. I was sure to reach down and touch some, the first time I’d ever touched the cold white powder in August.

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Before long though, the easy path disappeared and turned into a rocky scramble up the side of the mountain. This was a new experience for me too, hiking that involves using your hands. About half way up, where I took these photos, I started questioning my decision to come out here. I’m not a rock climber, I’m inexperienced, and I’m afraid of heights. It looked like a long way to the top yet, but just as far back down. And going down seemed scarier. So up I went, hoping something good was waiting and the top, and hoping even more that the other side was an easier way down.

In another hour or so I reached the summit, all the way supressing my fears. The views were definitely worth it, Murodo below…

…and the Japan Alps all around.

There was even a shrine at the very top, 3003 meters. I attended a short service there. Though I’m not sure what they were praying about, I know I was praying for my safe return out of the mountains. I also received a bell to tie to my pack, whose jingle would give me encouragement as I travelled along the tops of the mountains.

I followed the trail beyond the shrine to Mt. Tateyama’s second peak, its highest at 3015 meters. It was there that I stopped for lunch since it had a nice view and I was getting hungry. While I was eating I had a realization. My exposed arms were looking pretty tan and I assumed my neck and face were looking the same. I had no sunscreen, and my only long-sleeves were those of my black hooded sweatshirt, a sure bet for over-heating. A group of older ladies were sitting near me, eating their lunch, so I ventured over to see if they had any sunscreen. Luckily they did, and they made sure I covered every inch of exposed skin, but not without a scolding for being on the peaks without long-sleeves.

During a short break at the third peak, I realized that I did have another set of long-sleeves: my lightweight and breathable Goretex raincoat. I put it on, hoping it would work just as well as a suncoat. Previously, I had ripped the sleeves off my spare t-shirt and tucked them into my hat to cover my ears and neck. I was looking pretty stylish with those rags and my bright orange jacket, but it was keeping my skin from melting off so I didn’t really mind.

Other than a short descent from Mt. Tateyama, following the ridgeline was easy going. About six hours after leaving my lodge, I was thinking I shouldn’t have too much further to go…on second thought, holy crap! Those people are tiny down there. Seems I had a while before reaching the mountain hut.

An hour later I was feeling pretty tired, and I still had this to climb, with no guarantees that it would be entirely easy after getting to the top. My urban hiking has been keeping me in shape, but the ups and downs, thinner atmosphere, and beating sun were wearing me out.

Somehow I made it up Mt. Bessan and a little further along the ridge to where I could see my mountain hut and Tsurugi-dake, my planned second day climb. Tsurugi means sword, and I can see why they named it that. I decided I wasn’t going to climb that frightenly jagged thing on tired legs, especially when I learned that it is the hardest peak to climb without gear in Japan.

The hut seemed to have lost my reservation, but let me stay without a fuss. One of the workers there had lived in Kentucky about ten years ago. Small world, huh? His English was still quite good and we spent some time talking when he wasn’t busy with work. Turns out he liked watching the Packers while he was in America, and was surprised to learn that Favre is still playing. I also talked to the other men in my room, mostly 50-60 year olds. They kept telling me I could climb Tsurugi because I was young. The guy from Kentucky was also trying to persuade me, and offered to climb with me. I decided that if I was feeling fresh in the morning I would give the first peak, Ippuku-Tsurugi, a shot. In the early morning light, the mountain looked much gentler and together we set out for the first of the the three peaks.

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The climb wasn’t as easy as it had looked and while much shorter than my ascent of Tateyama, it had more treacherous spots that involved some true climbing. I’d gained confidence from the day before, and having someone with me kept me moving and not worrying too much. I was having fun and gained a greater appreciation for rock climbing. It’s amazing how little you need for foot and hand holds. The views were decent from the peak and I’m sure even better at the true peak, but this was far enough for me. I was afraid fatigue would get me stuck on the mountain if I went further, and I had to make it back in time to leave Murodo anyway.

After resting back at the hut, I hiked up and over the ridge towards Murodo. It was more of a slog than anything, and I was really losing steam towards the end. A pair of skis certainly would have helped over this long snow covered stretch.

Finally, I reached the bottom, where a crystal clear mountain river awaited. I gazed up at Mt. Tateyama, finding it hard to believe that just the day before I was looking down on where I was standing now.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 11th, 2006 at 9:37 am and is filed under Japan. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.