Koma-ga-take (2956m), Central (Chuo) Alps, Japan

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Japan

Koma-ga-take (2956m)

Central Alps, Japan
April 1996
Report by Darren DeRidder
Party: Malcolm Field and Darren DeRidder

We drove up the expressway zipping past the other cars. Mal has a way of driving...fast. I don't blame him when he gets out on the expressway for wanting to hit the gas; most of the driving elsewhere is so plugged up with lights and traffic it takes ages to get where you're going. Today traffic could have been worse, it being a national holiday and all. As we drive along, the flanking foothills of the South Alps rise up on our left. The giant bony ridge that comprises the Akaishi range looms faintly above the steep forested slopes, an ethereal blue grey massif floating in the pale light-washed sky. How clearly I can recall the days I spent walking among the mist shrouded high places there, the howling chasms spewing blasts of smoky cloud and wind, the tiny wildflowers nestled in the rocky ledges, the harsh sun, untempered in the thin alpine atmosphere.

The melancholic strains of one Van Morrison tune after another playing on the car stereo sets a relaxed mood as we ride along. Soon we are right alongside the Central Alps, which rise up in a series of ever higher mountains on our left. Japan is a small country, but it often seems bigger than it is because of the difficulty in getting anywhere. On the expressway, making good time, we were nearing our objective just a couple hours out of the city. It was my normal day off, and since it was a national holiday, Mal was off, too. I was envious, since I had to work on national holidays as a general rule. I had invited him along to Koma-ga-take, in the central Japan Alps, for an easy day out in the mountains. I had planned to go with H., but we all three ended up in his car. Having been to Koma already, Mal knew the road and the route.

Spring is a wonderful and complex time in Japan. The cold Siberian air masses retreat over the Japan sea and are replaced with warm air currents welling up from the pacific. Before the arrival of the rainy season, the weather is crisp and clear, the air laced with the lingering chill of winter, a hint of the warmth of the approaching summer, and the smell of cherry blossoms wafting on the lightest breeze. The warming air gives rise to a haze that dissolves into the sky, and the sunlight filtering through illuminates things with a glare, seeming to bleach the color out of everything. Photos have an overexposed look about them. After the colour-saturated richness of the fall, and the clarity of winter, spring is a pastel panorama of faint and delicate hues. We are early enough in April yet to enjoy the gracefully extended arches of blossom laden boughs that hang over the road at intervals. The cherry trees scattered along the hillsides announce themselves with a beautiful splash of pinkish-white.

Suddenly the peaks of the central Alps themselves become visible, still dressed in their winter covering of snow. The brilliant snow clad summits sparkle clearly high above the lower slopes. I grab my camera for a few hopeful shots through the window. Turning off the expressway, we make our way to the bus station. The road points directly at Koma-ga-take, and the mountains seemed to rise in front of us like a wall. Framed by the cherry trees growing along the road, the sight of the mountains covered with dark pine trees and the peaks covered with white snow is breath-taking.

We are in for a bit of a surprise at the bus station. The bus takes you up to the ropeway, and the ropeway takes you up to the cirque, from whence you can climb up a relatively easy snow slope to the top of the ridge, and make your way across to the summit of Koma itself. The ticket prices are on special for the national holiday - specially steep. They have jacked the prices up a few notches just for us. Oh, well. If they can get away with it, they'll do it.

H and Mal and I are an interesting trio, for sure. H with her neatly coordinated outfit, and tiny little backpack, me with my mountaineering gear all on and ready, and Mal, with his assortment of gaiters, jackets, and who knows what all thrown into an enormous pack that must have weighed a ton. He frets over the size of it, digging various items out and tossing them in the boot. Mal and I are gearing up mentally for the climb, but H is off here and there, unconcerned, as if we were in for a picnic. We manage to get everyone organized and onto the bus, and then we're off.

So began our excursion to Koma-ga-take in the central Japan Alps.

Having been to the mountains far more often than H, both Mal and I were aware of what we would be facing. But H was rather happily oblivious to what we were up to. I had planned to take her up at her own pace, and be content if we didn't make it to the top. But with Mal along, my summit fever was fueled, and together we started to become psychologically unified in our focus for the summit, adopting the partner mentality that is the strength of mountaineering teams.

The bus ride up was thrilling. We drove right past steep drop-offs that seemed to tumble down a thousand meters to the rocky riverbed and rushing whitewater far below. The peaks around us rose so steeply that we could glimpse them now only occasionally. A family of wild monkeys beside the road drew the enthusiastic attention of the passengers, and while everyone strained their necks to see, I looked on the other side and saw six more monkeys.

The ropeway had a ski-hill atmosphere about it, and there were even some college boys with snowboards in search of a little late season snow. The ropeway serves only to take hikers and sightseers up to the cirque; they would have to climb the snow slopes just like us. There were a few people equipped for climbing on the snow, but most were simply out for a good view from the top of the ropeway, a light lunch and a few souvenirs from the inevitable trinket shops. Once at the top, we wasted no time inside the heated building, but walked right out to the snowfield. Mal and I began to make final preparations and adjustments to our gear. We had slipped into that sense of urgent determination that goes with climbing. H on the other hand was completely unaware of this and was interested in looking around a bit, running to the shop and getting ready at a leisurely pace. Mal and I were not impressed. Finally she decided against going up with us.

Mal and I were happy to take off on our own, knowing we could really push for it and certainly make the summit and back, perhaps exploring a new route on the way down. A trail in the snow was already well established and at the start, Mal spoke with two old-timers sitting at a table, apparently in charge of regulating who went onto the mountain and who did not. Our gear checked out, and we were off and away, gaining altitude quickly. About halfway up the snow slope, on a ledge of snow against a rocky rib that led up towards the summit ridge, a couple of climbers were keeping an eye on things. They had a look at our gear and wanted to know what we were up to. Mal didn't have an axe, but we sort of bragged our way past them, saying we climbed a lot, even in Europe, etc. They were suitably impressed and chose not to question us further.

The climb up the steep snow slope was super. The wonderfully shaped granite ridges cut up through the snow and climbed almost vertically right up to the ridge. There were fissures and cracks and ledges in abundance, and even some snarled stunted pine trees clinging resolutely to their meagre perches. Perfect for an easy on-sight rock climb. We were not prepared for that however, so continued to plod up the snow slope, looking down occasionally to see the ever-receding ropeway station become smaller and farther and farther below us. Looking out across the cirque, we could see that we were almost level with the tops of the surrounding ridges, and across the broad and haze-hidden valley the walls of the south Alps opposite us rose in the distance. Near the top of the ridge, the snow grew thin, and we saw wire mesh laid over the scree, placed there undoubtedly to preserve the edge of the ridge and for the safety of climbers, but unsightly none the less. I felt glad to be doing the climb on clean white snow, in the cool of spring, and not on muddy, crowded trails in the humidity of summer.

We were the only ones around. We had the place almost completely to ourselves. Once atop the ridge, the ground was quite easy. A wide snow-covered saddle connected a lower peak on the north with a higher peak to the south. Back the way we had come up, the ropeway station was now out of view and we could look across to the south Alps miles away. The haze was increasing as the day wore on and our views began to deteriorate after that point. The peak on the left was one over which Mal, Iain and Joe had climbed on their descent from Koma in the winter time. It was tricky and apparently a real eye-opener for Joe, who was unaware of what climbing involves at times. It was a very pretty peak, looking like a piece of marble sponge cake, swirled as it was with white snow against dark brown granite. A wooden signpost directed us ahead to Koma however, and so we crossed the ridge and made way over easy ground down a gentle slope on the other side which landed us on a wide and rounded plateau that in turn joined another snow slope. It loomed in front of us like one last obstacle, but was put to scale by a couple of climbers coming down from the top. It wasn't that big after all, it just seemed like a long way to haul our out of shape and oxygen-starved bodies. In fact, aside from the normal weariness that comes from exerting oneself, neither Mal nor I felt the effects of the altitude, really, and were enjoying ourselves greatly. The thought of having left Hiroko back in the ropeway station made me anxious to get the climb done though. Up the final snow slope we went. It was like a large dome , and angled off nearer the top. Mal took a separate way than I, since I wanted the security some scattered rocks and Mal preferred to stay on snow.

The top of Koma was quite nice. The views of the surrounding peaks were magnificent of course, and there was plenty of space to throw off your pack, clear a spot in the snow and plop yourself down. We chose to plop down next to the small shrine that adorned the summit, a common sight on Japanese mountains. Only the roof of the dog-house size construction poked through the snow, and we snuggled our packs against it while we got out our cameras for a few summit photos. We each posed for a couple of shots at the edge of the snow slope. Then Mal pulled out of his enormous pack a bottle of water and the one thing no respectable member of the Toyohashi Alpine Club should be without whilst on a summit of any size...Mars bars. We savoured the sweet taste of a finely crafted chocolate bar mixed with the gratification of our achievement.

We had taken about two and a half hours to this point and were ready to head back. A little bouldering before shouldering the packs, and then we were off, back down the way we had come, over the ridge, and then down the steep snow slope of the cirque to the ropeway station. We walked part of the way down to the ledge where the Japanese climbers were still keeping an eye on things. They asked us if we'd been to the top, and we said yes. I asked them about the possibility of the slope avalanching but they said it was quite unlikely. The slope had already avalanched some time earlier in the spring and the debris field was still visible, a large U-shaped area of bumpy snow and partly melted snow blocks. The long descent back to the ropeway didn't overexcite me, so I decided to try a quicker approach. I sat right down, and with my ice hammer in hand as a brake, took off shrieking down the hill, sliding as far as I could go until wet snow halted my progress. I called at Mal to give it a try, and he did, coming right down behind me with his crampons aimed right at my back. I only just managed to leap out of the way before he swept into the place where I had been sitting, all twenty-four crampon points glinting like little knives.

When we arrived at the ropeway station, H was having lunch. She had made a fantastic box lunch for all of us. But she was chilled and not in the happiest mood. Mal and I had lunch and then we headed back down on the ropeway.

All in all the day was fairly good. We all enjoyed the beautiful mountain scenery and the mountain wildlife, like the monkeys and the serow we saw at the upper bus terminal while waiting for our transportation to arrive. We enjoyed the fine weather and the cherry blossoms on the way in as well, and had a chance to get out of the city, which is important for those who have grown to love the outdoors. We talked as we drove back, with Mal offering some encouragement to H, and then the conversation drifted and flowed onto other topics like the cherry blossom scented wind that came whispering down from the hills and through the valleys where we had just been.