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!