Ishizuchi San

Yesterday, with a small crew of friends, co-workers and students I fell in love with Japan again whilst climbing Ishizuchi San, the tallest mountain in Shikoku and Western Japan. I got up at 5:30 and met every one at work at 7:00. We drove for three hours over to the base point for climbing, at which point I discovered the batteries on my camera were dead, so the images are lifted from the internet.


The middle of the rainy season over here, it rained and was cloudy until we hit a 5km magic tunnel which delivered us into blue skies, just as we turned off the main road and began the slow climb up towards the base point. Along the way the clouds put on a dramatic show for us and we marvelled at the views off the edge of the windy road until we became immersed in the clouds and the day took on a faery atmosphere.

A 4km walk slowly uphill along a ridge line led us to the famous chains that you can climb up to the peak. The mountain takes on a 70 degree incline at this point and it becomes true mountain climbing, made more difficult by the wetness of the rocks I was trying to find footholds on, preferring the raw challenge of the climb to simply scrambing up the chains. There are three sets of chains, each about 100 metres high, the last being the most technicaly difficult. After a brisk walk the climb was exhilarating and very tiring, though I would have loved to do it over and over again!


At the top, we clambered down more chains and over to the true peak where I leant over the edge and gazed in wonder and at the sheer drop curving beneath me. The whole way up visibility was limited to a 100 metres or so and here there was just the rock falling away into the nothingness of the clouds.

On the decent, by unspoken, unanimous consent we took the stairs, no one really wanting to risk what could be a life-threatening fall, naturally much more hazardous going down. As we crawled into the car, the rain finally set in and we felt blessed.

It was a really amazing day that is impossible to put into words, but stay tuned for when I post some more photos taken by Nikki.

Dogs

I just had the scariest experience I've had in Japan yet.

I've just been to karate where my sensei is training me up for my next belt, and he's making me fight all the black belts to train me up for having to fight 10 people in a row. Tonight I've been fighting this black belt who weighs 100kg and he's fast. We fight for 45mins without a break and everything hurts. My legs have dozens of bruises that have all joined up and I'm frequently collapsing in tears from a mixture of the pain and the unbelievable amounts of adrenalin that are coursing through my body making me hyper-emotional. Towards the end he's trying to show my how to kick close up, but my shins hurt so much just touching them hurts like hell and tears are flooding down my face with frustration and pain.

I leave early at 9pm when all the kids go home and all the senseis are playfully giving me a hard time about leaving.
"Are you okay?"
"No, everything hurts -- yeah, I'm fine." I reply, and hobble onto my bike.
I ride down the steps as usual and wish, for the first time, for rear suspension, the jarring sending spasms through my legs.

Riding along the road, next to the freshly planted rice paddies the frogs are croaking in mating ecstasy after the rain that has been falling earlier in the evening. I head up towards the castle, planning to ride, as usual, through the grounds that surround it, beautiful trees, a moat, It's always the favourite part of my ride.

As I enter the castle grounds, a dog, off its lead, starts barking and runs over, closely followed by its mate. People walk their dogs at all hours here, and I figure it'll run back to it's owner soon enough. Seconds later though I'm surrounded. Big dogs, little dogs, medium dogs are all running in my direction, giving chase like they mean it. They're running at my side, scooting in front of my tires, I can hear them right on my tail, the collective barking must be waking the dead. There must be twenty or thirty of them. I realise that they mean business, no stopping here and offering them my hand to smell to show I'm friendly. I sense that if I pause, or even slow down, dozens of crazy dogs will immediately pounce. They're in pack mentality and know they have strength in numbers. The park is dark and there is no one else around. I'm terrified I'll crash into one and come off my bike. There is a big moat around the castle and the nearest exit is a good 500-600 metres away. I must reek of sweat, adrenalin, emotional and physical exhaustion.

I've had a series of punctures over the last week and tonight I replaced my inner tube, carefully inspecting the tire to make sure all possible foreign objects had been removed. I found a bunch of tiny thorns, that unbelievably had managed to penetrate deep into my tire. I hope I found them all!

I can see the headlines tomorrow: "Gaigin mauled to death by frenzied dogs." I ride like I'm being chased by a pack of angry dogs, praying they'll get bored or tired and leave me alone. But they don't. I can see them in my peripheral vision and the faster I ride the faster they run. The nearest exit is just up ahead and gradually the weaker, smaller dogs are dropping off the chase but the big ones are still alongside.

The exit is a bridge over the moat, a set of steps and a narrow ramp running up alongside at a forty-five degree angle. I've also been having problems with my chain coming off at inconvenient times when changing gears and going up hill. Cheap parts. I don't want to risk the gear change and summon the last shred of adrenalin to launch me up the ramp. Please let me make it.

Then I'm over the bridge and sailing down the other side. I'm suddenly on the well lit main road and the dogs have disappeared.

Toki toki goes my heart still. I think I will be riding home along the road from now on. Japanese drivers don't seem so crazy anymore.

Have been trying to detox lately, but that vending machine beer tastes so good.

May Blues

There's a phenomenon that hits Japan called the May blues. It is as it sounds, though I only found out about it because a more knowledgeable friend informed me that I sounded like I had contracted a case.

After Golden Week, I didn't have much to look forward to. I had already organised with my boss to use all my nenkyu (holidays) in August when I wanted to go and study Japanese full time for a month. Life had settled into a very predictable routine and my classes which I used to love were now wearing my patience thin. The cute little old ladies questions were starting to drive me nuts and I was getting frustrated at the lack of progress my lower level adult classes were making.

Changes were happening at work too, not for the better; I found out that in September, many of my classes were going to be moved from nice rooms into run down old buildings because of continuing budget cuts. Then a rumour hit that we were going to be moved from our reasonably nice new office into another run down old building a further half hour from my house. This would involve an extra hour a day at least of travelling and make things like going to karate after work, my favourite activity in Japan, almost untenable.

I briefly entertained the idea of quitting, though a week earlier, the idea of not staying in Japan had never occurred to me. Though my contract wasn't due to be renewed for a couple of months yet, I had already agreed to stay on another year. I wanted to get my black belt in karate and become good at Japanese. But then I started thinking about what I would do if I wasn't working here, and all the possibilities blew the blues away and I started getting excited about crazy ideas.

When the rumour was quashed, a wave of disappointment ran through me. My perfect excuse for leaving had just dissipated. I was really confused about the gamut of emotions that were fighting with each other and spent a lot of time soul searching. surely I was just having a down period. A few days later though, I was pretty sure it was time to leave, but didn't want to make any rash decisions.

I decided I wouldn't make a final decision until the end of June, thus giving me a month to make sure and my workplace a good two months to replace me. However a couple of weeks later I was already sure, already talking to prospective boats I could go sailing on, volunteer organisations I could work for and hinting strongly to my mum and some of my friends that I might be home soon.

Last week I called a meeting with my boss and quit my job. It was such a good feeling afterwards. I was jumping up and down in excitement about the idea of being released from the all the time I spend trying to look busy in the office.

My rough plan at this stage is to go up to Hokkaido and do some camping after my contract finishes, before returning home for about a month mid Septemberish. Then I'm going sailing. I've been wanting to do an ocean crossing for a long time now. I have an option that looks promising, but don't want to count my proverbial chickens. Whatever happens, there are lots of boats out there and I know from experience, finding sea miles shouldn't be too difficult.

After that who knows? I can do anything. I might even come home semi-permanently and go back to school.

Until September, I just want to savour my last few months in Japan, though I have a pretty strong feeling I'll be back at some stage.

Golden Week #7: Shimanto Gawa and Kochi

I left Oki Beach and continued towards Nakamura, the gateway to Shimanto Gawa, which a friend had told me a while ago when asked, that this was his favourite place in Shikoku. It was beautiful, but I must admit I was somewhat disappointed, preferring the tumbling, rock dominated smaller rivers that cut through the mountains of central Shikoku.

I was also, metaphorically and actually on my way back home. The grey day turned rainy and for the rest of the day, after leaving the river behind, I followed narrow winding inland roads through beautiful forests where the tourists for the most part hadn't penetrated. I was a beautiful bonding experience between me, nature and my iPod.

I ended up in Kochi town, and headed for the tourist information to find a hotel. I wanted to see the castle the next day, but get a good night's sleep beforehand, tired after driving all day. Unfortunately, every single hotel in Kochi and the surrounding region was full. I was in another big city and camping wasn't an option. I was also desperate for a hot shower, my last reall wash being in Matsuyama four nights before.

I sat in my car and contemplated my options, eventually running into the train station to buy the necessary omiage for work, students and friends. Taking off for a week and returning without gifts would have been inexcusable. I asked a lady at an omiage shop what was famous Kochi food and bought a bag full of the same thing for everyone before hitting the expressway home.

This was my first time driving on the expressway and I'd heard they were extortionately expensive. I figured it would have to be cheaper than a hotel I hoped. I flew along this super fast and wide road, finding a whole new range of noises my car made as it bundled along at just over 100km/h for the first time.

I hit a major inexplicable traffic jam where in the space of 30 seconds everyone slowed from super fast to about 5km/h, then stopped, then edged forwards some more. We covered about 5km in about an hour. Luckily it happened just past a series of 3 and 4 km tunnels, which anyone who knows me at all well would know that would have completely freaked me out!

Then as suddenly as we had stopped, we started moving again and I was home in just over and hour, not including a long sojourner at my local onsen.

I had a day to do my washing and settle back in and then Golden Week was over.

Golden Week 6#: Oki Beach

I left the surfers and drove another kilometre or so down the road to be hit with a sign pointing to Oki Beach. Joy of joys, there was a proper camping site in a grassy field next to the mouth of a small river that emptied into the sea. This was my spot. There was a reason why asizuri Hanto had been so packed. I was meant to stay here instead.


Golden Week officially started the next day and I met a fellow gaigin who was setting up a series of tents for friends that were coming down later. He assured me that by the next morning the camp site would be completely packed as people left work and headed down overnight to spend a few days surfing, camping and chilling out. Oki Beach is one of the most famous spots in Japan for longboard riders.

I put up my tent, marked out my spot and headed back into town to stock up on food and beer, revelling in the idea of a day on a beautiful white sand beach with lush Pacific water to swim in. Over the next few hours his friends turned up and we all made a good show of being on holiday. Throughout the night I was woken many times by cars arriving and noisily setting up camp in the dark. I awoke the next morning to find cars and tents crammed in next to each other. Everywhere you looked surfers were waxing boards and consuming breakfast beers. What was reallycool was that all the girlfriends were surfing too. I discovered why some people at least favour really big people mover vans. Many people had transformed their cars into surf vehicles with beds, storage areas and surfboard hangers built in.

I went for an early morning swim and made myself some breakfast and then spent a truly excellent day on the beach. It was the first hot day of the summer to come and you couldn't wish for better weather.

The next day was grey and cloudy and I decided to move on. This was what the camping spot looked like at this time. Only in Japan could people camp on top of each other in perfect harmony.

Golden Week #5: Cape Ashizuri

I spent the morning idling along the coast road, hardly a soul, or other car in sight.

Along the way I found signs warning of monkeys.


Then I came upon a truly beautiful sight, a small turnoff to a sightseeing spot where one could see a statue of Kannon, the Godess of Mercy. I wandered up looking for the statue and it took a few minutes to realise that this statue was a naturally formed rock, jutting out from the sea, somewhat akin to the Three Sisters in Katoomba, a couple of hours west of Sydney.


Further on I found a national park where there were real life monkeys in abundance.


Heading down to wards Cape Ashizuri, on the south western point of Shikoku, it's about as far away as you can get from anywhere. Not true. What a complete disappointment. After days of wondering where everyone was, this being Golden Week, and one of, if not the busiest time of the year, I found a sizeable portion of Japan's population clustered on this small peninsular, where I had thought I would find somewhere beautiful, on the edge of a cliff to camp. However it was clearly not to be. I kept driving, now getting worried about finding somewhere to find the night, not wanting to have to stay in an expensive hotel in a town shared with all the other tourists.

However, my prayers were answered. Not long after, heading towards Nakamura, cited as being a good starting place from which to explore Shimanto Gawa, which is famous for being the only undamned river in Japan, I spotted a gorgeous beach off to my right. I soon found a parking space crowded with surfers, but alas nowhere to camp. I figured if I was desperate I could camp on the beach but it didn't look like a good option.

Golden Week #4: Uchiko

After driving about an hour out of Matsuyama, I found myself sitting in a cute little cafe in Uchiko, sipping a delicious grapefruit frappe, gazing out at (yet another) picture perfect zen garden.

Uchiko is a quaint, Edo style town, brimming with tourists, yet retaining a quiet feel; we all respectfully browse up and down the tourist section, gorging ourselves on the "Japanese" atmosphere and feeling lucky to be on holiday on such a beautiful day.




Yokaichi Gokoku quarter and its surrounding in the town have been designated a national important traditional building preservation zone. The town's predominant industry used to be wax manufacture, and I dutifully wandered about the wax museum, wishing I could read the Japanese information sheet I had been given.



I spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the drive down the coast and managed to find the most perfect camping spot for the night. Driving down small one lane roads, praying not to meet another vehicle, I stumbled upon a tiny bay, with only a couple of farmhouses in residence. Right next to the beach, sheltered by a cliff, was a spot where I could pitch my tent and gaze out to the horizon.

A little old lady was farming in a nearby field, and I went and asked permission to camp, wanting to reassure the locals about the strange gaigin who had appeared in their midst. Later, as I was cooking my dinner, another local walked her dog across the beach and clearly wanted an excuse to talk to me. It turned out she had barely left this secluded hamlet in her life. I congratulated her on her good fortune of being born in such a beautiful spot and we both commiserated about the fishing garbage that litters the beach these days.

Sunset was perfect and I awoke the next morning to exotic emerald waters. Thank you universe. The last shot was a sad goodbye.

Golden Week #3: Matsuyama

After leaving my idyllic camping spot, I went back to the main road and drove a while longer through cascading mountains, past tumbling rivers and fell more and more in love with the middle of Ehime Prefecture. Then I hit the tunnel. 4km long. On one side pristine forest, the other, the industrial edge of suburbia, ugly in the way that only large sprawling cities can be.

I headed towards the centre of town and aimed towards Dogo, home of the famous Dogo Onsen.

Sitting in the information bureau, asking about hotel reservations, I made an interesting discovery: it's no secret that Japanese hotels are often shy about accepting foreign visitors because they are afraid of the language difficulties. But when the information guy told the hotel that my Japanese was "jouzu" really good, I realised that this was contingent on them accepting my reservation. Dumped my car and my stuff at the hotel and headed into the middle of town. On a hilltop in the middle of Masuyama is Matsuyama Jo (castle).

Plagiarised from a tourism site:

Considered one of the most beautiful of Japan's few remaining original castles. Situated on a steep, but flat topped hill, the castle is one of only three Japanese castles with multiple wings.

Matsuyama jo was constructed from 1602 to 1628. In 1635 the castle was assigned to a branch of the Matsudaira family, relatives of the Tokugawa, and remained in their hands until the end of the feudal era. The current three storied castle tower was constructed in 1820 after the original five storied one was destroyed by lightening.

After discovering that there was over an hour long wait to take the chairlift to the top, I opted to walk up and was really happy I had done so. The surrounding gardens were peaceful, and, like the rest of the town that day had a laid back feeling uncommon in Japanese cities. I later learnt that Matsuyama is always dead on a Monday and the rest of the week swarms like anywhere else. I felt lucky to have arrived in that time of tranquillity. At the top I took a photo of myself Japanese style, in front of the main gates, mainly for the benefit of my students, downed a can of sports drink and headed back down in search of long overdue food.

I found a cute little restaurant that displayed many different varieties of rice. Unfortunately, inside I discovered that it was a yakiniku restaurant, where you cook meat on your own little brazier on the table. However they also had an adorable raked gravel zen garden to gaze at whilst you contemplate your food, and for the first time in years, my blood sugar levels crashing, I forgot I was vegetarian and ordered a nama biru (draft beer) to accompany the zen garden. Yes I am evil! But it actually tasted good.

I headed back to my hotel and crashed out for a while, sleepily revelling in the minimalist perfection of my Japanese style room: tatami mats on the floor, a simple futon with the best quality cotton sheets, shuji sliding paper doors and a view onto another traditional Japanese garden.

I awoke a couple of hours later and headed down to the onsen. More internet plagiarising:

The Dogo Onsen bathhouse is set in a large, traditional Japanese house and offers a number of different experiences depending on your budget.

Simple no-frills entry into the Kami-no-Yu (神の湯, "Bath of the Gods") costs a mere ¥300, but that's all you get, you even have to bring your own towel and soap. For another ¥320 you're loaned a yukata robe and fed green tea and a few sembei cookies after your bath. The entrance process for this second level is a little on the confusing side though: you have to ascend the stairs and disrobe right there in the relaxation room, in sight of all the attendants and anybody in the street below who's looking up. But only down to your underwear -- after putting on your yukata, you go downstairs, strip away the last vestiges of your dignity, and enter the bath. (There are coin lockers if you need to store your valuables, at ¥100 a pop.) The bath isn't particularly spectacular, just two identical giant granite tubs in separate rooms, more often than not full of Japanese tourists. If you want a little more space to yourself, try visiting on a weekday afternoon, before the pre-dinner rush. The process repeats in reverse on the way back, except that you can lounge about in your yukata for an hour, sip on the tea (free refills). The relaxation room is on a breezy 2nd-floor balcony, nice and cool even on a sweltering summer day and with nice views of the yukata-clad tourists clip-clopping about the streets. The entire place is surprisingly traditional with few concessions to modernity, eg. not a vending machine in sight.

Should you want to get away from the unwashed masses, you can fork out another ¥360 -- we're up to ¥980 now -- and enter the Tama-no-Yu (玉の湯, "Bath of the Spirits"). Tea and cookies are provided here as well, and you finally get to borrow a [towel] too. And if you cough up yet another ¥300, you can retire to a private room on the 3rd floor for changing and sipping tea for all of one hour and twenty minutes.

Still not satisfied? Then you can book Botchan's Room, named after the protagonist of Natsume Soseki's famed novel of the same name, who used to lounge around the place when off duty (as Soseki did in real life). Prices are negotiable, but presumably not terribly cheap.

And for even more luxury there's the Yushinden (又神殿?), reserved for the use of the Imperial Family and so hallowed that a mere glimpse inside will set you back ¥210.

Whilst the water was divine, the tiny room, packed with Japanese tourists gave me a feeling of discomfort and claustrophobia. Outside the building had been a troupe of Taiko (traditional Japanese drum) players, and watching them I had thought how idylic it would be to relax in a bath whilst listening to them. However, now inside, I could no longer hear them. All I wanted was to be back outside in the fresh air watching them again. Needless to say, I didn't linger long and soon I was back outside marvelling at how cool the young guy in the middle was. He sat there, composed and serene like the Taiko Kami (spirit), hardly any outward expression, just being. The backdrop of the tastefully floodlit onsen behind, the casual throng of watching visitors in their summer yukata, onsen wear, the aura was beautiful and a love of Japan was reignited in me.

I got back to my hotel just as the downpour began and fell asleep soothed by one of my favourite sounds. The next morning I woke to the light filtering though the shuji, the world washed clean, and headed down to the hotel onsen, unfortunately not a real one, with water straight from the town water supply rather than a hotspring.

Breakfast was rather more inspiring, traditional fare of pickles, rice, miso soup and a piece of fish that I pushed to one side. I was still offered a knife and fork, however!

Golden Week #2: The River

After I left my knights in shining white k-trucks I pulled back onto route-11 where the scenary got more and more beautiful. I pulled off again, this time onto a road with a signpost that said it was actially going somewhere, and found myself in the middle of a quaint little village sitting on the banks of a river with a view, the Japanese equivalent of Tolkien. I climbed down the cliff edge to eat my tomato and cucumber sandwich and realised I wasn"t going to Kyushu this week. I also unfortunately noticed a cute little old couple fishing, just around the bend. I tried to move where we could each have some privacy to revel in nature, but was somewhat disappointed that this made skinny dipping an inviable option. Luckily, by the time I had finished my sandwich and my flask of instant coffee, they had gone and I lasted all of about 30 seconds in the crystal freezing waters. But it was the ritual that counted, and I was truly back in the mountains again. (Last summer, every time I went to Chiiori, I would stop off at my favourite swimming hole along the way and cleanse all the town dirt and sweat from my pores.)

Feeling fully refreshed and drove further down the road until I found a camping spot, just a little dirt area on the side of the road but next to a smaller river that fed into the larger one, that was even more beautiful. A series of interconnected pools and waterfalls with a walking path on either side, climbing further up into the forest.



I went on an exploratory mission, walking until I found what ever it was I wasn"t looking for. I tried my limited climbing skills to climb some of the rocks so I could get up to the next pool that looked like the heavenly placed image of perfection. I slipped, landed myfoot in a crevice and in a moment's reaction, through my weight sideways so as not to get my ankle caught and twisted. The next thing I knew I was plunging headfirst into the river - insanely lucky I hadn"t hit my head, but baptised for the second time that day, this time fully clothed. I scrambled out and sat on the side of the river for a time, contemplating my good or bad luck - I couldn't decide which! But it was a warm day and I couldn't get much wetter so I continued to play in the forest, well away from the rocks, until my hunger got the better of me.

Ahhh, why does food cooked outside always taste so much better?? I guess it's infused with the spirit of nature and the nourishment just zings through your body. I sent up camp for the night and spent the evening watching the stars and listenening to the chattering river.

The next morning I did yoga on a rock, bathed in the river, wrote for a while and dreamed of porridge. Unfortunately the lighter on my camping stove had broken and I couldn't find a lighter or matches anywhere and my porridge became an odd muesli. At least I hadn't set the mountainside on fire this time!