Total Japan _ countryside

The Total Japan Experience, my way.

Or, more realistically,

The Total Kanagawa, Half Kanto, Teenie Weenie Bit of Japan Experience

Starting off in the far West with Hakone

(in cold, wet and windy mode)

(a nice warm train! Yay!)

Then, closer to home, the radish and cabbage fields of Misakiguchi.

The roughest sea I've ever seen, but also the first time I've even seen Fuji-san from there!

Then moving eastwards still, my beloved Kominatotetsudo and Isumi railroads.

Such a change form last time I went.... Maybe they sell yearly passes?

Feb. 2012

Oct. 2011

Takao-san

Invited by my friend Gigi from the japanese classes, I made my first ascent of Takao-san, a nice-sized mountain near Tokyo. And there was snow!

There is a big temple and a big shrine complex on the mountain, which were both very elaborate.

Besides the usual (beautifully!) carved dragon above the temple entrace, they also had bas-reliefs depicting various scenes with the different deities (here a turtle).

The mountain's special divinity is kind of half-man half bird, but is a good, protective deiety, despite the statues being rather frightening.

Our group of 9 met up outside the station, with all the other 20 groups meeting up outside the station. And then set off for the top, on the only path open for people without proper snow equipment.

It was a beautiful hike, through the snow and trees, with some wonderful views down onto the greater Tokyo. I was completely lost without my usual Sumitomo landmark, but was able to point out the Sky Tree in the distance to everyone, or at least everyone who had brought their glasses along.

We had a nice picknick lunch at the top, the youngest child having ever so much fun in the snow, and everyone else just enjoying the sun and the view.

Another person out to have fun was the middle-aged man who had carried a monstrous, carved conch shell in a macrame holder all the way up the mountain, and gave everyone little renditions at various look-out points along the path. He seemed to be quite a good conch-shell player, although I'll admit that is hardly a cultured opinion.

Then back down the mountain again, and into the pretty little town at the base of the mountain, famous for its fresh, handmade soba noodles.

Although the hike was not particularily long or difficult, not the day particularily cold, there is something fantastically satisfying in setting down with a big steaming bowl of noodles in front of you.

Trekking the Miura Alps

I feel there is a lot lost in translation between English and Japanese (and I add my fair share translating it back into English), which is why trekking the Miura Alps is not quite as awe inspiring as it sounds.

Alps are, in Japan, any mountain range, and this streaches the definition of 'mountain' to near breaking point. The Miura Alps are the mountain range that run down the center of Miura peninsula, with a culminating peak is at just over 200m (that is 2 hundred, yes).

Having searched rather in vain on internet for new walking paths in the hills behind Oppama and Kanazawa-hakei, I was pleased to happen upon a map of a new hiking trail in Zushi! _Turns out I should have been searching for trekking courses, not hiking courses!_

My enthousiasm quickly waned when I discovered, using my 'real' map (a street map made by a company, and therefore showing nearly all the roads and paths of Zushi city), that this path was mainly on paved roads, except for a small excursion into what appeared to be a sports complex.

Determined to try out the path anyway (one never knows!), I found a few little detours on the 'real' map, that I thought might be interesting.

So early this morning, I set off my lunch, map and camera for Zushi. By train. From the Keikyu station, I then wandered down a part of Zushi I had never been in before, with an odd assortment of very very old, beautiful wooden houses, and very modern 'architect' houses.

The first of my detours I never found, as where it was shown to start on my map turned out to be a cemetary, and I had no intention of wandering among the graves looking for my path.

So back to my 'hiking course', which was, at this point, the main road going through a long tunnel between Zushi and Hayama. In the tunnel, I passed a group of people all holding the same printed out map of the Zushi hiking course. Now I walk faster than most japanese, but like to stop and take photos and such, so for the next 10 minutes we kept overtaking each other.

Then, my second detour loomed large in front of me. This path also started next to a shrine, but it was clearly marked, and so up up I went. As my confidence in reading, or at least deciphering kenji increases, so does the size of my hiking paths decrease.

But the paths are always well marked, and it gave me plenty of excuses for a breather to have to stop and get out my map to match up the kanji on the sign with the kanji on my map. This is not always possible, as my 'real' map is a road map, and so doesn not necessarily mark the name of every hill, especially if they are not accessible by car.

A forest fire extinction tank and bucket.

By this method I made my way easily up to the top of my 'detour' mountain, and found that, as hoped, there was another way down. My 'real' map showed a dead end, but so far during my rambles in Japan, I have never encountered a well-marked dead end. They will attach a rope to a tree and have you rapel down a cliff face rather than have you go back the way you came.

This new route continued on to 二子山, top and bottom. 二子山 bottom being the smaller of the 2 mountains, the taller one being the culminating point of the Miura Alps, at 207.8m. From there, a wonderful view of Tokyo Bay, again all the way to Tokyo. I shall have to add that new Sky Tree to my list of landmarks, in with Oppama's red Yokosan, and the big Sumitomo things.

Then down to a small stream, and following the stream to its source gradually got closer to Taura. More beautiful forests,

more wonderful views of Tokyo Bay,

even a glimpse of Fuji-san, right behind 二子山, and the path opens up to the uppermost part of the Taura plum grove.

Fuji-san, between the tower and the twigs _ white with snow.

Despite being much less lost these days, Taura plum grove is still no where near any station, and so it was still another 30 minutes' walk to finally get to the station. Taura being in Yokosuka city, I kept walking off the edge of my map, but finally recognized a road I had taken on my first bicycle outing. As I had also been lost last time, it wasn't much help, but I eventually wandered back into the map zone, and finally caught a train home.

Miura peninsula is only 10km wide, and the highest peak is hardly more than a hill, but if you take the detours, you can walk for 5 hours without seeing a paved road, and your muscles will tell you that 150m-tall hills are quite a climb, if you go up (and down!) enough of them!