NIGHT ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN OF DEATH
(continuation of last one - see last one for orientation)
At the top of the Mountain of Death
I say a prayer for my dead father
and mother-in-law
Night. 6.30. pitch black. Nothing else to do, so curl up in sleeping bag and try to sleep. I`m wearing thermal top, long johns, two pairs of thick hiking socks, trousers, T-shirt, shirt, thick winter fleece, Gortex jacket and balaclava AND I`m in my sleeping bag. Still cold. Drop off quickly - tired - but wake up at 8 o`clock. One advantage of sleeping in the toilet, my dear, is that it`s not far to go to the lu! The pattern repeats most of the night, tho` I get in a longish stretch from about 4 am till 6 am. The worst part of the night was at 3 in the morning (it always is). The wind had got up and was howling round the eaves and singing through the sliding door `downstairs`. The whole night I kept thinking someone was singing to me. The pitch of the voice varied with the intensity of the wind - sometimes a soft warble, sometimes a crescendo. But not a hostile song.
Gassan
all night long
the mountain sang to me
But at 3 am I started worrying that the morrow might be misty. Rain would be OK, wind would be OK - but mist would be dangerous. I kept going over the track I`d taken up that day in my mind, reassuring myself that I could, if I had to, make it back down the same way in mist or fog. I`m sure I could`ve, actually. Not only was the trail clearly marked (red paint blotches on rocks), but it was also quite clearly a trail, most of the way made up of rocks. Also, I knew if I headed west (I had a compass), I`d have to hit a precipitous ridge. Then I`d follow it to the left and eventually hit the trail I`d taken going up. But still I worried. You do, at 3 in the morning. So I repeated the sacred mantra to myself, the one that goes: "clear and dry, no wind; clear and dry, no wind..."
Mountain gods I can deal with
Human beings are a little more complicated
Woke up 6-something, rushed down to check on the weather. The wind had dropped and it was clear and dry.
Gya tei gya tei hara so gya tei
bodji sowa ka han nya shin gyo
Gone, gone to the other shore!
Packed, rushed out munching an apple and drinking cold cocoa from a carton. Said thank you at the shrine of the god (clap hands twice to get his attention, step back, bow twice deeply, 3 full prostrations, slight bow, step aside), picked up the trail to the right of the shrine and took off, stumbling over rocks on a very well marked trail down to Butsusho-ike-goya, a hut just below Omowashi-san (1828m). It very soon started spitting a bit with rain, longs wisps of cloud drifting over the path and up the valleys, but I was still well above most of the cloud. Stopped at hut to get out of my long johns (!) and have burekfasto (leathery Furanso bread, cheese, banana).
You can see why the Japanese venerate rocks:
a single strand of red momiji
across mossy rock
below Omowashi-san
Walked on in gathering rain on the wooden-platformed trail over Midi-ga-hara, `a scenic marshland with countless small ponds and plants, including some rare species said to have existed since the glacial era`.The rain had really set in now and I had all my waterproofs on. Hit the carpark at Gas-san-hachi-gome, from where the bus would`ve gone if there had been one. The infrastructure boys were busy infrastructuring the carpark and there were a few sodden tourist cars. Briefly considered hitching a lift down, but I wantd to commune with the mountain, not make small talk with tourists. Anyway, this is, actually, a pilgrimage route and I wanted the anticipation of the wondrous Haguro-san ahead of me for hours as I trudged towards it, not to get there in a bus and have it presented to me.
all day long
I trudge from death to life
Haguro-san
So down I trudged, for mile after mile and hour after hour along a one-track metalled road, always down. I went through three climate zones: the tops with only wiry grass; the dwarf maple zone, resplendent in red and yellow; then, lower down, mixed deciduous wood, beeches, a few pines. It rained. Then it rained some more. Then it rained some more again. No, it didn`t - it just never stopped. I went a bit mad.
HULLO MOUNTAIN! I yelled at the mountain.
HULLO MOUNTAIN!
HULLO MOUNTAIN!
HULLO BEECH TREE!
HULLO RUSTY METAL POST!
HULLO LIGHT BROWN SLUG THING!
HULLO BLACK SQUISHED NEWT THING!
(He`s not mad - only bonkers)
The NAR (Newt Attrition Rate) must be pretty high on that road. They sat on the side of the road, or in the road. Presumably it was slightly drier on the road than in the pond? I think they were some kind of newt. The waddled, they didn`t skitter, like lizards do. I drove one to safety by stamping on the road near it to make it waddle onto the edge of the road; against my `principles` - ie the one that says, "Don`t meddle with Mother Nature", but, what the hell, Mabel, humans are always meddling with Mother Nature. But then didn`t bother anymore. It rained - did I say that?
About 2/3rds of the way down I came across a tiny shrine to the forest god - with overhanging eaves. I moved his sake and beer offerings and took shelter next to him for 15 minutes. I`m sure he didn`t mind.
Forest god shrine
I shelter from the rain
Mountain god passes me on to forest god
"Look after him," he says,
"he`s a poet"
After 6 1/2 hours of continuous descent the road finally bottoms out (4 and a half hours from the beginning of the road). A few farmhouses - looks like Bavaria. Overhead road sign at crossing with main road says `Haguro-san`, but not how far. I squelch on, road slightly uphill again. Come past house being built and take note: if I have to, maybe a doss there. Come across the incongruous sight of a large, well-lit `education centre`. Wot the hell, looks like civilization! Squelch in, no-one around, just wildlife brochures and displays. Phone rings and guy appears to answer it. When he`s finished I ask him if he speaks English. He shakes his head, says, "chottomatte kudasai". I hang around and the Fairy Princess in the shape of this marvellous, attractive young woman appears! We sort of communicate, at least I can`t take my eyes off her, is she a mirage or what? She rings up a nearby hotel who`ll come and get me in a car. Whilst waiting she shows me around the visitor centre, pointing out the plants and animals and exclaiming over how far I`ve walked. I bask (silly males are easy to flatter by the female of the species!). Car comes, she gives me a present (a button clip of a flower which gros on the mountains); she stands at the door to weave me off. Ahhhhh ....
Forest god he fond of joke
Find nice young woman to get poet hotel room
ahhhh
At the top of the Mountain of Death
I say a prayer for my dead father
and mother-in-law
Night. 6.30. pitch black. Nothing else to do, so curl up in sleeping bag and try to sleep. I`m wearing thermal top, long johns, two pairs of thick hiking socks, trousers, T-shirt, shirt, thick winter fleece, Gortex jacket and balaclava AND I`m in my sleeping bag. Still cold. Drop off quickly - tired - but wake up at 8 o`clock. One advantage of sleeping in the toilet, my dear, is that it`s not far to go to the lu! The pattern repeats most of the night, tho` I get in a longish stretch from about 4 am till 6 am. The worst part of the night was at 3 in the morning (it always is). The wind had got up and was howling round the eaves and singing through the sliding door `downstairs`. The whole night I kept thinking someone was singing to me. The pitch of the voice varied with the intensity of the wind - sometimes a soft warble, sometimes a crescendo. But not a hostile song.
Gassan
all night long
the mountain sang to me
But at 3 am I started worrying that the morrow might be misty. Rain would be OK, wind would be OK - but mist would be dangerous. I kept going over the track I`d taken up that day in my mind, reassuring myself that I could, if I had to, make it back down the same way in mist or fog. I`m sure I could`ve, actually. Not only was the trail clearly marked (red paint blotches on rocks), but it was also quite clearly a trail, most of the way made up of rocks. Also, I knew if I headed west (I had a compass), I`d have to hit a precipitous ridge. Then I`d follow it to the left and eventually hit the trail I`d taken going up. But still I worried. You do, at 3 in the morning. So I repeated the sacred mantra to myself, the one that goes: "clear and dry, no wind; clear and dry, no wind..."
Mountain gods I can deal with
Human beings are a little more complicated
Woke up 6-something, rushed down to check on the weather. The wind had dropped and it was clear and dry.
Gya tei gya tei hara so gya tei
bodji sowa ka han nya shin gyo
Gone, gone to the other shore!
Packed, rushed out munching an apple and drinking cold cocoa from a carton. Said thank you at the shrine of the god (clap hands twice to get his attention, step back, bow twice deeply, 3 full prostrations, slight bow, step aside), picked up the trail to the right of the shrine and took off, stumbling over rocks on a very well marked trail down to Butsusho-ike-goya, a hut just below Omowashi-san (1828m). It very soon started spitting a bit with rain, longs wisps of cloud drifting over the path and up the valleys, but I was still well above most of the cloud. Stopped at hut to get out of my long johns (!) and have burekfasto (leathery Furanso bread, cheese, banana).
You can see why the Japanese venerate rocks:
a single strand of red momiji
across mossy rock
below Omowashi-san
Walked on in gathering rain on the wooden-platformed trail over Midi-ga-hara, `a scenic marshland with countless small ponds and plants, including some rare species said to have existed since the glacial era`.The rain had really set in now and I had all my waterproofs on. Hit the carpark at Gas-san-hachi-gome, from where the bus would`ve gone if there had been one. The infrastructure boys were busy infrastructuring the carpark and there were a few sodden tourist cars. Briefly considered hitching a lift down, but I wantd to commune with the mountain, not make small talk with tourists. Anyway, this is, actually, a pilgrimage route and I wanted the anticipation of the wondrous Haguro-san ahead of me for hours as I trudged towards it, not to get there in a bus and have it presented to me.
all day long
I trudge from death to life
Haguro-san
So down I trudged, for mile after mile and hour after hour along a one-track metalled road, always down. I went through three climate zones: the tops with only wiry grass; the dwarf maple zone, resplendent in red and yellow; then, lower down, mixed deciduous wood, beeches, a few pines. It rained. Then it rained some more. Then it rained some more again. No, it didn`t - it just never stopped. I went a bit mad.
HULLO MOUNTAIN! I yelled at the mountain.
HULLO MOUNTAIN!
HULLO MOUNTAIN!
HULLO BEECH TREE!
HULLO RUSTY METAL POST!
HULLO LIGHT BROWN SLUG THING!
HULLO BLACK SQUISHED NEWT THING!
(He`s not mad - only bonkers)
The NAR (Newt Attrition Rate) must be pretty high on that road. They sat on the side of the road, or in the road. Presumably it was slightly drier on the road than in the pond? I think they were some kind of newt. The waddled, they didn`t skitter, like lizards do. I drove one to safety by stamping on the road near it to make it waddle onto the edge of the road; against my `principles` - ie the one that says, "Don`t meddle with Mother Nature", but, what the hell, Mabel, humans are always meddling with Mother Nature. But then didn`t bother anymore. It rained - did I say that?
About 2/3rds of the way down I came across a tiny shrine to the forest god - with overhanging eaves. I moved his sake and beer offerings and took shelter next to him for 15 minutes. I`m sure he didn`t mind.
Forest god shrine
I shelter from the rain
Mountain god passes me on to forest god
"Look after him," he says,
"he`s a poet"
After 6 1/2 hours of continuous descent the road finally bottoms out (4 and a half hours from the beginning of the road). A few farmhouses - looks like Bavaria. Overhead road sign at crossing with main road says `Haguro-san`, but not how far. I squelch on, road slightly uphill again. Come past house being built and take note: if I have to, maybe a doss there. Come across the incongruous sight of a large, well-lit `education centre`. Wot the hell, looks like civilization! Squelch in, no-one around, just wildlife brochures and displays. Phone rings and guy appears to answer it. When he`s finished I ask him if he speaks English. He shakes his head, says, "chottomatte kudasai". I hang around and the Fairy Princess in the shape of this marvellous, attractive young woman appears! We sort of communicate, at least I can`t take my eyes off her, is she a mirage or what? She rings up a nearby hotel who`ll come and get me in a car. Whilst waiting she shows me around the visitor centre, pointing out the plants and animals and exclaiming over how far I`ve walked. I bask (silly males are easy to flatter by the female of the species!). Car comes, she gives me a present (a button clip of a flower which gros on the mountains); she stands at the door to weave me off. Ahhhhh ....
Forest god he fond of joke
Find nice young woman to get poet hotel room
ahhhh
posted by waveringbats at 10/06/2005 07:51:00 am
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