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Climbing and Crossing the Hou-Ou Sanzan

It was truly a long and winding road that the crowded bus followed up into the mountains. The forests had erupted with verdant life, new leaves recently unfolded and the mountainsides varying shades of fresh light green. At Yashajin Pass we mountain revellers lumbered off the bus, weighed down by our packs, and began preparing ourselves for the long hike ahead. Though it was cloudy, not long after hitting the trail the sun came out and for a while the forest was warm and sweet. Then the sunlight faded in the clouds and the trees gradually became bare with patches of snow appearing here and there along the trail. As the line of hikers slowly dispersed into individual parties it became time to put on crampons to keep from slipping on the slushy snow and the hard patches of ice.

It was a long haul up the mountainside in the clouds. There was no view to distract me, only the moody, almost haunting bare and cold looking forest standing in the fog. It was supposed to be a five and a half hour hike to the tent site and hut but I was still trudging my way up through the snow when the guide book’s time limit had passed. I arrived after seven and a half hours, though I had stopped for a half hour break to eat and early dinner. There were about 30 tents already set up and about a metre of snow still covering the ground. I set up my tent and crawled inside to spread my things out. The sun peeked out and I wondered if I shouldn’t run up to the nearest mountain top for evening photos. But it was an hour’s hike up there and the sun soon disappeared again. I felt really tired out and sleepy after a short night’s sleep before and then carrying my 30-kilogram pack all the way up. I lay back to rest a moment but dozed off a little. Instead of just resting I prepared to go to sleep, even though it was only just after 6:00.

I slept much better than usual in the tent but I had forgotten to take my phone of vibration mode and slept through the alarm. I awoke after having a strange dream about animal statues coming to life and attacking people to find the sun had come up without me ready to photograph it from the mountain top. It was only 5:00 AM but the sun had already come up 15 minutes ago. I ate and prepared myself as quickly as possible and in my haste left my sunscreen behind as I rushed to the trail to get up to the first peak. It was a steep trail at first and was tricky to get up in the snow and ice but later it became almost level as it followed just below the ridge of the mountain. After a few more climbs I reached a rocky plateau with a view over the Shirane Sanzan, the three mountains of Shirane: Kitadake – 3,193 metres, Ainodake – 3,189 metres, and Noutoridake – 3,026 metres.

The clouds came up over the mountains and sometimes blocked the view of the peaks across the valley while other times they blocked the sun overhead. I was on Ho-Ou Zan, a mountain with three peaks. First I went up Yakushidake and then went over to the highest summit of Kannondake (2,840 metres) where I watched the clouds begin to clear and saw the surrounding mountains peer out from their hiding places. Then from Kannondake it was a slippery descent down through steep snowy patches and mountain birch trees. At the bottom was a saddle between Kannondake and the third peak of Jizoudake, with its famous tower of granite known as The Obelisk. I read it is 25 metres high but when I saw a climbing stand on the top it was hard to say where the 25 metres had been measured from. Where was the base? The climber looked so tiny.

I had a long and lazy afternoon to enjoy the scenery and stop to photograph when I felt like it. I tackled the climb back up through the slushy slippery snow without urgency and rested for a while below Kannondake while casually photographing the movement of light and clouds over the snowy peaks. Clouds stole the sunset but the late afternoon light was still very nice. I returned to my tent in the murk of twilight feeling satisfied with the day though still regretting having missed the sunrise. I heard it was supposed to rain the next day but I had three nights to stay and planned to sit out the rain and see how the last day turned out.

It was much more difficult to sleep the second night because in the tent beside me was a party of five who talked loudly until 9 and then snored loudly after finally going to sleep. Also in the tent behind me someone was listening to a talk radio program and the tinny voices of the radio were annoying. I heard snoring from that tent too and realized that the occupant had fallen asleep with the radio on!

I woke up at 3:10 and was ready to leave the tent just after 3:30. With a headlight I followed the trail back up through the snow and trees until I reached the rocky viewpoint an hour later. The sky was almost completely covered by clouds but in the northeast there was a warm red glow. I managed a couple of photos before the light faded. The sleepy, half-closed orange eye of the sun glared without interest at the world through a crack in the clouds. Then the light faded and the morning was just grey all over. The Shirane Sanzan was clear at first but a swelling lake of clouds was dammed up behind and rising. After a half hour the summits were engulfed in clouds. Remembering the rain warning I finally turned away and went back to the tent site and hut.

I spent the next couple of hours in the hut looking at books and magazines, trying to read Japanese. The stove was burning wood and I sat near it dozing off on the table. By 10:30 the rain began and I killed the rest of the day until after 4 just snoozing near the stove, drinking hot cocoa and flipping through mountain photo art books. Though I was doing very little I was not bored.

Then at last other hikers arrived. A man in his fifties and his wife joined my by the stove and we chatted. Then three women in their mid to late twenties joined us and we all talked together. Being the only foreigner there most of the conversation was directed at me. Particularly people are surprised to know my knowledge of Japanese mountains.

I enjoyed my easy day and went to my tent around 8. The rain continued but the wind had picked up and the weather report had said nearly the whole country would have fine weather the next day. But again I couldn’t sleep well. My body heat was melting a mould in the snow beneath the tent but as I turned and shifted the mould changed shape. It was hard to get comfortable.

After a fitful night I woke up at 3:00 and prepared myself. The rain had stopped but it had become so windy and cold. My boots were frozen and it was hard to do up my laces. I put on my headlight and for the third time I hit the trail. After 15 minutes though, my light began to fade. The batteries were dying. Fortunately I had anticipated that might happen and I had brought a spare pair.

As I climbed higher the light in the northeast grew lighter and I didn’t need the light for much longer. I made it to the first viewpoint 20 minutes early than I needed to and so decided to continue on up to Yakushidake. The wind up there was incredible. I staggered like a novice sailor on deck in a storm as the wind assailed me and tried to knock me over. Sand and grit from the eroding granite blew about. When the sun came up I couldn’t set up my cameras where I wanted because the wind was shaking and rattling them. I had to hide behind boulders and try my best to find compositions I liked. But more often than not I couldn’t and I was frustrated. I stayed up there shooting just a little longer. But the wind and cold were getting to be too much. The water in my bottle was freezing.

It was time to go down. I needed to pack up my tent and get back down to catch the last bus at 3:30. Content with my visit I made my last trek through the forest and came back to the tent site and found my tent was blocking the path. The wind had tumbled my tent over, shaking it free from its fastening pegs and with my backpack, remaining food, sleeping bag, cooking gear, etc. still inside.

I dragged the tent back to the spot where it had been set and carefully packed up my things. Somehow, after eating most of the food and drinking the 5 litres of water I had brought with me, it seemed the volume of my belongings had increased and the pack was harder to stuff. I said goodbye to the staff in the hut and began the long descent. The wind was not so bad lower down and the sun was warm. I had burned myself terribly on my nose and neck the other day when I had woken up late and forgotten my sunscreen and so I stopped a couple of times to reapply protection.

As I came back to lower elevations the forests were opening their small packages of new leaves. The air was warm and relaxing. The peaks across the valley now stood high above the trail instead of almost across from it. At Yashajin Pass there were families who had hiked up from the parking lot below. People were stopping to rest and eat lunch while the mountains stood stark and white against a deep blue sky.

I took my time during the final stretch through the forest and stooped to photograph the new leaves on the trees. The maples were particularly lovely; their freshly unfurled leaves drooping elegantly like the fingers of a noble woman about to pick up a handkerchief. And then my adventure came to and end. After I washed the sweat off with water and a cloth in the parking lot, the bus came and I rode it back down from the mountains. The low green mounts I had seen from above were now growing higher and higher as the bus turned and turned down the mountain.

Before long I was stuffed in the vestibule of a crowded train and on my way back to the city.