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!

Autumn leaves

The calendar says it's Christmas time, and the narcissus have just started blooming, but for the tree world, it is now autumn! And I had every intention of enjoying the beautiful autumn colours Japan is so famous for!

The view from the steps to the house

Today I set out on a well-planned walk into the hills behind Oppama, wich quickly turned into my favorite "got lost, got back onto a known road, got lost again and finally ran into a train station and came home" kind of walk.

I started out on the Buddha hiking trail to Jinmuji, with only a couple sightings of fat grey squirrels. The Buddha is still doing well, but now has a fuzzy hat of pampas grass.

The view from the lookout tower was, as always, beautiful. It was overcast, so Fuji-san was not visible, but on Tokyo Bay side, the couds has parted, allowing an amazingly clear view all the way to Tokyo. The new completed Sky Tree was very obvious, despite it being blue, and that's more than 50km away!

I followed the main path for quite some time,

before being inexorably pulled aside by several smaller, but well-kept paths heading off into the forest! These turned out to lead around the hills and valleys paralelling the main path, before joining it again.

It was on one of these side paths that I found a small little rock outcrop, bathed in sunlight, and overlooking the forest (and a bit of freeway and high tension lines _ this is rather a unavoidable problem in this area), and decided to stop for lunch. Halfway through my sandwich, the shadow of a kite came over me, and sure enough, he had his eyes on my sandwich!

Now after the rather unfortunate event of having the last of a -cheese!!- sandwich plucked from my hands by one of those horrible birds, I don't like them much. But it is the Christmas season, and one must try to be forgiving! And besides, I had had a wicked idea!

Being on an outcrop, if I could throw a bit of my bread far enough into the air, would the kite not swoop down right close to me to get it? And would that not be a terriby thrilling experience?

The next 15 minutes were the most fun I've had in a long time, throwing bits of bread in the air and having the kites swoop down, catch them, and then gobble them up from between their toes as they gained altitude again. I also attracted a large crow, who took to scuttling around the scrub brush below the outcrop, eating up all the missed bits.

When more and more kites kept coming, I decided to stop, as it's fun with only 2 but with 15 it looks and feels a bit like a Hitchcock remake.

So off I went down the path, and ended up on the hiking course that leads either back to Oppama, or to Taura station.

Now I knew from experience that the path to Taura station is closed at that end. Yet there was no sign on this end, and no sooner had I started down the path that a runner passed me. At the speed he was going, he would either pass me coming back before I was even half wath through if it was a dead end, so off I set off to find where this end of the path went to. Turns out it does go to Taura, but joins the main road quite a way from the station.

One mystery solved, many more yet to investigate, as I saw many a small branching path on today's rambling that will need investigating! I wonder if japanese officials consider "there are lots of little paths behind Oppama that I haven't been on" a valid reason for wanting an extended visa?

Kimono

For the end of term, my japanese school propose various events, to allow foreigners to experience japanese life, or at least parts of life they don't get to experience every day. This year, they proposed a 'lets wear a kimono' event, which I was most enthousiastic to join!

Not only is wearing a kimono not your everyday japanese life, it is something few Japanese have a chance to do, apart from at their wedding day.

The class was at a scmall school near Tokyo station, very chic and refined, but the 2 teachers we had were absolutely marvelous, and spoke very slowly and clearly, so we could follow without any trouble. 'We' was a Korean lady and myself, so it was pretty much a private lesson!

We got to put on the most formal type of kimono, the furisode, with long, ankle-length sleaves (or at least, close to the ankles of a shorter person). As is common in Japan, it is the kimono with the fewest yet most elaborate designs that wins in status over the complicated flower or bird motifs. The plain top and middrift of the fancy kimono then allowing for a more elaborate obi.

The putting on of the kimono is a lot like being tied up like a parcel. There are undergarments, and towels, and rags, and strings, and sashes, and little rolls to give volume, and little cards to stiffen thens up, and pins, and elastics, ... But eventually, all the trailing bits are neatly tucked out of sight, and after a few last tweaks,

Voilà!

After a long photoshoot, we then learned the basics of how to accept tea and sweets, which led to a lot of 'am I doind this right' sidways glances, and a lot of 'you had better do that again from the start', but was very fun.

All in all, it was an amazingly rewarding experience. The teachers were superb, the kimono was really quite fun to wear, once you get it on. It is a pity the price, and time and skill it takes to put it on someone means it is slowly going into disusage.