Hike to Karasawa

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Japan

Karasawa Cirque

August 9, 2022
North Alps, Japan
Party: Darren DeRidder, Iain Williams
Report by: Darren DeRidder

Karasawa Cirque looking towards Kita-hotaka-dake

"I wonder if that's the last time I will see that view", said Iain behind me. Turning around, I saw Kappabashi bridge, the Azusa river and the walls of Mt. Myojin rising up into the clouds. It really is a beautiful view. The gateway to the North Alps; starting point of so many good memories.  "Nope", I replied, "Sorry, but you've got to come back and finish that route!"

This was the second time we'd tried to climb the north ridge of Maehotaka-daka and been put off by the weather, and I'd like to think that we'll eventually be able to tick that route off our list.  But Iain's question caught me off guard, a little.  It's hard to believe, but it's been nearly 30 years (thirty years!) since I first came here, and back then I didn't think about a "last time" for anything. Now decades later that perspective has changed.  Who knows if, or when, we'll be back. I certainly hope we'll get back here again, both of us, and climb our route or something similar to it. The Kita Alps are one of my all-time favourite places in Japan, and simply being there and getting the old hiking legs back into action rekindled a love for being in the mountains that has been laying dormant for several years as family and other activities took precedence over climbing trips. I might not climb at the same level, with the same speed, or with the same level of risk that I used to in my 20's, but there's an awful lot of great climbing at moderate grades still to be done. And who am I kidding, I only ever climbed relatively safe and moderate climbs anyway.

This trip came together somewhat unexpectedly when I got the news, just the day before leaving for a two-month trip to Japan, that Iain had decided to go to Japan as well for 2 week in August. When he realized that his trip coincided with the O-Bon holidays we decided to go as early as possible after his arrival up to the North Alps to try and beat the rush. Scheduling required juggling some work responsibilities on my part, because of an "on-call" schedule, which has never been part of any previous software engineering job I have done, and which I have decided I really don't like and won't be part of any future job.

After meeting with our families in Kyoto on Sunday (7th August 2022), and spending a very hot day walking around some of the tourist areas, on Monday Iain and I took the Shinkansen to Nagoya and then the Tokaido/Takayama line up to Takayama, enjoying views along the way. Once in Takayama we dropped our luggage at the hotel, a new and impressive facility conveniently located right next to the station, and then spent an afternoon wandering around an old and very picturesque part of the town, although like everywhere else in Japan this summer, it was awfully hot.  My hiking boots were uncomfortable in the heat and I quickly saw the wisdom of Iain's sandals, so we found a small climbing shop (Kong) and had a look around, but I failed to find any sandals in my size. I would just have to endure hot feet and appreciate not having to carry the extra weight of boots in my pack.

The hotel in Takayama gave us a good jumping off point to be able to get to Kamikochi and hike up to the Karasawa cirque in a day, from where we planned to climb the north ridge of Maehotaka-dake.  We left Takayama on the bus to Hirayu Onsen about 9:30 AM -- a bit late but it got us to Kamikochi around 11:30 AM which we thought was plenty of time.  

But en-route to Hirayu-onsen

Kamikochi bus terminal

We did a last-minute gear-sort on the picnic tables next to the Visitor Center in Kamikochi, and I grabbed some fresh water from the faucets there. I took a quick peek inside as well, where I once again saw the bulletin board featuring the "10 Highest Mountains" in Japan which lists one peak that is not in the "Hiking in Japan" guidebook by Paul Hunt.  It lists Mt. Obami somewhere near the bottom of the list, but it seems highly debatable as to whether this peak really qualifies as a mountain on its own, or is just a subsidiary peak. It is essentially just one of the bumps along the ridge below the summit of Yari-ga-take.

Notice board in the Kamikochi Visitors Center

Gearing up in Kamikochi

The Kamikochi trail-head

Myojin peak en-route from Kamikochi

It was a bit of a dilemma whether to take my new trekking poles; I didn't want them to get in the way during technical climbing sections, but I also knew I'd be happy for them if we descended down the steep Dakesawa route. In the end I decided to leave them behind to cut down on the amount of stuff. For climbing gear we had our harnesses, helmets, a selection of slings in the 160cm - 240cm range for belays plus a few smaller ones, a couple of prussik cords, about 8 quick-draws (including a few "alpine" draws with extendable slings), Iain's 8mm 60M rope, a set of nuts, a Friend in the commonly-used #3 size range, a couple of large-ish hexes, belay devices and a couple of locking carabiners each. 

After leaving a couple of bags at the luggage storage counter and depositing our "trekking itinerary" form at the Technical Information desk in the visitor's centre, we were off, departing Kamikochi at right around noon. Incidentally, these trekking itinerary forms are now legally required by Nagano prefecture police, and you can get fined for not doing them. Most people apparently submit them online using a website called Compass, but I couldn't figure out how to use the web application which was in Japanese.  The paper form was in both English and Japanese and simply asks where you plan to go, and whether you have the essentials with you. The old gentleman at the Technical Information desk where I handed in the itinerary was delighted to meet a foreigner who could speak Japanese (albeit far from perfectly), and he was even more impressed that I had filled out the hiking form. He saw that we had a rope and was quite excited when he heard our plans to climb Maeho's north ridge, giving us a big thumbs up.

It was refreshingly cool in Kamikochi, and the fresh breeze as we walked along the wide easy trail beside the river was heavenly after weeks spent sweltering on the Kansai plains.  We soon passed Myojinkan, the climbers hostel where I had stayed a couple of times before. Not long after that we passed by the turn-off to Tokugo-toge Pass, which Iain reminded me was once a high mountain pass that cattle were taken over in the summer and brought down to our current location to graze in the riverside meadows. I believe this bit of information is something Iain got from reading early accounts of the area by Walter Weston and other early British visitors to the area, in the excellent library of the Alpine Club in London (by which I mean "the" Alpine Club, the original, British, hard-to-get-into one). This was also the route that Iain and I had decided to climb back in 2011 when we had come here with the same goal of climbing the North Ridge on Maehotaka-dake only to find the weather to be cloudy and drizzling.  On that trip we had slogged up to the Tokugo-toge pass where we stayed in a small climbers hut and were rewarded with a meal of steak, prawns, and beer as part of a work-party celebration that was going on when we got there. I can't believe it's taken us this long to come back here (11 years). Life happens; I have a lovely daughter who means more to me than all the mountains put together, and taking a break from mountain climbing to be the family man has been worth it.

Junction to Tokugo-toge Pass

Signs warning of land-slides on the Tokugo-toge trail

We made good time all the way to Tokusawa-en, arriving at 1:20pm. There we stopped for some lunch and a soft ice cream cone and I took the rope from Iain. At this point I discovered I had left an onigiri (rice ball) in my stored luggage back in Kamikochi, as well as Iain's coffee satchets, much to his chagrin.  I had plenty of other food with me in the form of calorie bars, chocolate etc. so I was more concerned about the rice ball making my stuff in storage smell bad. 

Easy trail to along the Azusa river

Tokusawa hut

Leaving Tokusawa at 1:55pm, we wanted to take the Panorama Route over to Karasawa but when we arrived at the turn-off it was blocked off with a sign in Japanese that seemed to indicate the route was closed. Knowing that Japanese people tend to be pretty rigid about things being closed for sometimes strange reasons, we debated going anyway, but the trail was indeed looking a bit overgrown so we headed back across the bridge where we'd come from and continued up towards Yoko Sanso.  The trail in this area was bifurcated and quite oddly had a large section where land-works were being constructed with heavy machinery. Walking along a gravel bar I stopped and chatted with a girl who had the look of a local and was coming from the other direction, and asked about the Panorama Course. She mentioned something about it being closed due to snow, which I found very strange and not at all believable, because snow simply does not persist through August at those elevations.

We kept the pace going pretty well, chatting occasionally and stopping once when a troupe of monkeys gathered on the path ahead of us. They weren't at all interested in us as we strolled past. It was the first time I had seen Japanese Macaque monkeys so close, and I found it fascinating and a little scary to pass by so close to them.

Crossing to find the Panorama Route (closed)

Monkeys on the trail

Yokoo-sanso

We arrived at Yoko Sanso at 2:24pm and carried on across a bridge and began the long ascent up into the Karasawa Cirque. Anyone who has hiked up to Karasawa this way knows that the path gets increasingly steeper as the elevation gets higher. The last kilometer or two up the hut are a lot like climbing an unrelenting stairway and with a pack on it becomes a mind-numbing slog. Around 3:35pm about half-way along the slog up this valley we crossed another wire suspension bridge where we took a few photos before shouldering our packs for the final push up to the hut. Iain began saying at this point that he didn't think we would make the hut by 5pm, a statement which caused me some concern as I had been told we needed to check in by 4pm in less than half an hour.  I determined to push on thinking we'll get there when we get there.  I didn't even dare look up at the path ahead because it was too depressing, so I put my head down and just kept putting one foot in front of the other. At around 4:30pm I made it to a signposted gully called "S Gully". I passed one or two others on their way up to the hut, glad not to be the only straggler.

Mountain walls en-route to Karasawa

Last bridge before the final push

Last bridge before the final push

Steep trail up to Karasawa

The "S Gully"

Eventually, I heard conversation from above, climbed the final steep steps on the trail and made it up to the Karasawa Hyutte at 5:07pm where I quickly checked in.  Iain followed shortly after, having paused for a moment where the tail splits, going one way to the Karasawa Goya (hut) and the other to Karasawa Hyutte (also hut), both separated by a boulder-strewn camping area in between.  He guessed correctly that we were in the Hyutte.  We completed the hike up to Karasawa in the 5 to 5-1/2 hour range against a "map time" of 6 hours and 10 minutes. I had beaten the map time by a good hour despite our detour to the (closed) Panorama Route trailhead. If it wasn't for that detour I probably could have made the hike in about 4 and a half hours. Not carrying camping gear certainly helped. The size of some of the packs I saw on the trail looked truly agonizing. We had no intention of lugging camping gear and supplies on this climb; I think those days might be behind me. I'm sure there are people who carry a tent, stove, climbing gear and everything else with them, and climb the north ridge of Maehotakadake with all of that weight strapped to their backs, but I didn't intend to be one of them.

Karasawa Hyutte

Iain arriving at Karasawa Hyutte

It turns out that when we had not shown up by 4pm the hut called the number on file, which reached my wife in Himeji. A couple of hours previously we had been at Tokusawa eating soft ice cream, and I had sent her a picture of myself since the lodge conveniently provided a hotspot of cellular data access. My wife told the hut people we had been at Tokusawa earlier that afternoon and were on our way, to which they replied we must be close and they would wait for us. Incidentally, for my trip in Japan I used an eSim to get affordable local cellular data access, which is extremely affordable compared to the exorbitant data-roaming charges my Canadian cellular provider wants to charge. In fact, I disabled my Canadian cellular data line on my phone after getting one or two $15 roaming charges when a few kilobytes of data somehow, despite me disabling roaming settings, leaked out onto the roaming network instead of over the new eSim connection I had installed. Incidentally the eSim provider I used is Ubigi, and I have nothing but good things to say about them. It's been a lifesaver here and so much more convenient than carrying around a portable wifi hotspot.

We were at the "hyutte" well in time for dinner, which turned out to be a very nice meal considering our remote location. An Italian guy was working at the hut, and gave us a bit of information about our intended route. At dinner we had some great views across the valley, and Iain, peak-spotter extraordinaire, was able to identify some of them, which I think duly impressed our table mates. However, I think we may have not impressed them by jumping into the front of the queue when the second seating of dinner was called for. This was partly due to the fact that Iain had sat down at the top of the stairs leading into the dining room and we hadn't really noticed a well-defined queue, and partly because when they called for dinner "number 2" I thought they were referring to our hut booking reservation number, which also happened to be "number 2".  I also didn't incur too many favours by needing to get up in the middle of dinner to go talk to the hut staff about our bento-box breakfasts, which we had decided we didn't want as much as a proper sit-down morning breakfast in the morning. But Japanese people are gracious, and at such times I like to think that I can play the "ignorant foreigner" card. The folks sitting next to us did engage in a bit of conversation, asking if I had climbed many other mountains in Japan. Getting a bit over-zealous I chuckled and said its been 25 years since I first climbed in these mountains, musing about how long its been and waxing on about climbing "all" of the 3000er's in Japan -- which I realize in hindsight is not true; between the two of us we've done many if not most, but not all of them -- and I probably sounded boastful.  I'll try to do better next time.

Dinner at the Hyutte

After dinner there was not much to do, so after a bit of a wander outside to do some stretching, and brushing of teeth, I hung out in the foyer for a little bit checking out the weather forecast, which seemed to indicate similar conditions the following day (cloud cover, potential for rain or thunderstorms). Not ideal. At the front desk I inquired once again about the Panorama Course and got some vague response about it being closed due to danger. Overhearing the conversation, a Japanese man interjected that it was frozen, and we definitely could not pass it unless we had ice axes and crampons. I found this assertion annoying and ridiculous. Japan doesn't have any glaciers, and the few permanent snowfields it has, like the one higher up in Karasawa cirque, are small and easily bypassed in the hot summer. With temperatures at our elevation well above freezing at night, there was no possible way that snow or ice could be the reason for the closure. I assumed it must be because of bear sightings or a landslide, but the Japanese bloke's assertion that it was frozen and required crampons and ice axes somehow really irritated me. It seems to happen more frequently in Japan than elsewhere that you get these know-it-all types who don't really know what they're talking about but loudly pronounce the impossibility of doing something without having all sorts of unnecessary equipment.

The Hotaka ridge seen from Karasawa Hyutte

The accommodation at the hut was better than expected. I thought it would be one large room with a bunch of futons laid out but in fact it was essentially a warren of little bunkies separated by walls with curtains for privacy from the main hallway.  It was a quirky little place that had obviously seen a lot of climbers through it. All the the walls, hallways, and floors were slightly askew, and yet polished with age and the passing of many stockinged feet. It had the appearance of a building that had been there for a very, very long time and was gracefully aging and settling into the contours of the mountain. I loved the vibe.

Sleeping quarters in Karasawa Hytte

Sleeping quarters in Karasawa Hyutte

Boot room at Karasawa Hyutte

Unfortunately, although the night was peaceful, neither Iain or I were able to sleep. For Iain, it was probably jet lag, still being on London time. But for me, I guess my mind was just too active. Excited to be back in the North Alps of Japan, in a mountain hut. Concerned about what the morning would bring and how we would do on the route. With the small window in our sleeping cubicle open, a breeze wafted from somewhere within the hut, flapping the curtain separating our room from the hallway, and blowing past my face before escaping out our window. A few days later I came down with Covid and wondered if it was because of staying in the hut.

As dawn approached I may have dozed off for short stretches, only to grow uncomfortable and turn over in my futon, which was cozy although the thinly carpeted wooden floor was hard. Eventually traces of dawn leaked in through the window, a blueish grey faint light and the quiet sound of moving expanses of air punctuated with the occasional sound of activity from the earliest risers getting off to an alpine start. 

That was not for us. We got up for the second sitting of breakfast, which was still early enough. Iain seemed to be of the opinion that our route was easily climbable in a few hours with only 700M of elevation gain, albeit quite a few ups and downs along the way. Essentially a low-grade scramble with one or two pitches of easy rock climbing. I think under ideal conditions that might be the case. Stepping outside and seeing cloud and mist engulfing the entire route, I had my doubts. When a light rain began to fall I felt that it probably wasn't a good idea.  We talked again to the Italian staff member at breakfast, and asked for his thoughts about attempting the route. Obviously he didn't want to tell us wether we should or shouldn't do it, he just said he thought it was possible, but would likely be windy and cold, and the rock wet, and that a few days earlier, a party had gone up in similar weather, one of them had fallen, and staff from the hut had to form a rescue party to go up.  He offered that as an alternative, since we were planning to stay at the Hotaka-dake Sanso hut that night anyway, maybe we could just hike up there, drop off any unnecessary gear, and make a foray along the ridge to the Gendarme, which he said was one of his favourites.  Honestly, I did not like the sound of doing exposed scrambling and climbing on wet rock in cold and windy conditions, and this alternative plan seemed ok as a fallback plan, but after agonizing over the decision, Iain said he preferred to go down, which was also fine with me.  If we climbed up into the clouds there would be no views to enjoy anyway. The scheduling worked out well for me to, if I could make it all the way back to Himeji that day, which I did.

Ironically as we stood viewing the approach to the cloudy north ridge we saw a couple of climbers crossing the scree field and making their way up to the 5-6 Col.  They were going for it… But we had made up our minds.

On the way back, I sped down the trail, almost trail-running in some sections, passing numerous parties. They invariably would pause to let me pass when they heard my footsteps approaching. I said "excuse me", "thank you" and carried on, sometimes picking up bits of commentary about what long legs the foreigner had. I didn't want to appear to be showing off, but honestly I was just having a lot of fun coming down. My knees seemed to be tolerating it well, and I wanted to see if I could beat the map time by a good amount. Probably because of the running I'd been doing, my legs didn't get tired, it was more of a cardio workout. In the end, after blasting down the trail, I think I shaved only about 40 minutes off the 5hr10m map time, and ended up taking a 1.5 hour break at Tokusawa anyway, where I had an ice cream cone, waited for Iain, and then had another ice cream cone.

Back in Kamikochi that afternoon I met the old genteman from the Technical Information desk again and asked him about the Panorama Course, which he had said would be an excellent way to go. I explained that we had found both the start of the route, and the top up in Karasawa, barricaded with signs, and that someone had told me its because there was snow and ice on the route. He said he really did not believe it was closed due to snow and ice, but that it might be due to rockfall, a statement which made me feel a lot better and justified in taking a dim view of the loud-mouthed Japanese guy in the hut.

Of course I was disappointed at not being able to climb our route, and the disappointment hung onto me like the clouds that hung around the high peaks. I remained in a somber mood for several days after. But I loved being able to do this trip. I loved going back to Kamikochi, the magnificent views on bus journey there, the sorting of gear in the plaza at the Kamikochi bus terminal, the fresh mountain water and cool air, the hike in to Karasawa, the Hyutte, the mountain views, and the planning and preparation and anticipation that preceded it all.  It's all kind of bittersweet. The questionable nature of our decision not to go for it made me doubt myself and feel a bit guilty. If another party climbed it that day, we probably could have, too (but whether we would have enjoyed it or not is another question). Cancelling our planned stay at the Hotaka Sanso hut on the second night, and wondering what conditions might've been like if we'd scrambled out to the Gendarme weighed on my mind al well. And certainly mixed with these thoughts was the realization that such opportunities are rare, when members of the Toyohashi Alpine Club manage to get together and climb something, especially in Japan, wondering if and when the next opportunity will be. And realizing that now, nearly thirty years after my first visit, it's actually a good question to wonder if its the last time I'll see the view of Kappabashi… this question also joined the melancholic train of thoughts running through my mind.  It was some consolation to see on the mountain web-cams that the ridge up on Hotaka never did clear up that day, and the weather forecast for the rest of the week was even worse. At least our timing was not to blame.

Near Kappabashi bridge in Kamikochi

It was fun to hear Iain reminisce about his activities over the past years. He's an experienced traveller and a seasoned travelling companion, highly motivated to get out and do things.  Since our first years of living in the Nagoya / Toyohashi area, he's been back to Japan more times than I, and on each visit he made a point of "doing something in the mountains".  The fact that his daughters are older than mine and he was making yearly summer trips to Japan during their childhood years probably has something to do with maintaining his connection and familiarity with the mountains here. He remembered a lot of historical, cultural and geographic details which, to me, seemed like distant memories slowly re-awakening. I definitely must not wait another 10 years to go back to the Japan Alps, and I vow not to let that happen. This trip truly reminded me how wonderful it is to climb mountains in Japan, and it re-ignited my desire to do more. The seeds of planning the next trip have already been planted, so I hope that the next time I write about the North Alps, I can report that we finally climbed our route.

Mt. Fuji (3776m) & Yatsugatake (2988m), Japan

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Japan

Yatsu ga Take (2988m)
Fuji San (3776m)

Nagano/Yamanashi, Japan
December 1999 / January 2000
Report by: Iain Williams
Party: Iain Williams, Malcolm Field

This trip was centred around climbing Fuji for the millennium. The schedule planned for three days in and around Yatsu ga Take, an ascent of Fuji, a few days skiing and an ascent of Yari ga Take in the North Alps.

It all started at Chino station, just to the west of Yatsu where Mal, trusty climbing partner of old, picked me up on a fresh Monday evening. We spent that night in a very comfortable pension. The following day we drove up to the trailhead and prepared ourselves, and packs, for the next three days. The last time I'd been there was almost four years ago with Darren when we had completed a one day ascent of Aka Dake after a 2 hr kip in his car. This year we had plenty of time and were under no pressure to beat the clock.

We set off from the car park and slowly plodded up the remainder of the road onto the trail. We had the remainder of the day to get up to the campsite. I remembered the trail as being fairly flat and friendly. It wasn't so flat and we moved leisurely up through the trees. The higher we got the more snow we saw. We reached the campsite after just over 2 hours and set about pitching the tent on the snow. The campsite was next to a hut (can't remember the name) at the base of the main Yatsu ridge. The spot was very picturesque and sheltered from both wind and sun. We soon had the tent up and with the rest of the afternoon to kill, we decided to hike over to another hut about 30 mins away. Again the walk was pleasant under all the snow covered pine trees. At the next hut was a large map board where we could check out our route for the next day. By the time we got back to the tent the light was fading and the air becoming colder. Up above us the mountains were bathing in the evening alpenglow. In the other direction, looking through the haze I could see the North Alps with the Daikiretto clearly splitting Yari from the Hodaka massif. The view brought back many memories of my first trip across those mountains way back in 1993 when we got caught in the wind and rain on the top of Yari and then experienced a miserable (?) time getting across to the Kita Hodaka hut.

We cooked up some food and then retired for the night. Although it was early, I was jet lagged and ready for a good sleep. It was the first time we had both camped out in the snow and I for one was a little apprehensive about the night as my sleeping bag was only 3 season. In the end I was warm all night, thanks to my gore tex bivvy bag, but I felt that I never really slept. I also learnt the importance of having a decent sized P155 bottle at the ready. The next morning the inside of the tent was covered in icy condensation fur. Once up, hot soup and coffee went down well together with the usual muesli bars and dried apricots.

Our objective for the day was to do a circular route, going across to the other hut , then up onto the ridge taking in several peaks including Aka Dake, from where we would descend back down to the tent. The whole route would take a good six hours. We set off just after 9, the weather was fine, plenty of sun with the odd bit of cloud and not too much wind. Once at the other hut the trail wasted no time in getting steep and we were soon switch backing up through the trees. It was hard work and a bit of a shock for my body that was more accustomed to dealing with the large quantities of alcohol and food that it had had to deal with over Christmas. My thoughts were on how miserable the slog up Fuji was going to be.

The route broke out of the trees and we found ourselves near the top of a large rocky ridge. We took a quick water break. It was then a pleasant walk up the rocky ridge on the summit of the first of our peaks, Iwo Dake (2742m). The summit was large and flat with a few cairns dotted around the place. Photos and a quick breather followed. The views were pretty good but a little hazy. The one mountain I really wanted to see could be seen sitting proudly on its own off to the south west.

The next section of the route started very easily with a sweeping drop and rise across a large section of the ridge. The wind was rather fresh and the snow not that deep or even plentiful. As we started ascending again we got some shelter from the wind. The route also got more interesting. The ridge became a succession of pinnacles. Unfortunately they were covered with chains and ladders, otherwise it really would have been fun.

All too soon we reached the next summit, Yoko Dake (2825m). Also on the top were a party of students all roped up and taking it all very seriously. I asked one of them if I would need crampons for the next section, he gave a little laugh and said 'oh yes.' I put my crampons on and we continued across a few more pinnacles before descending down more rock, chains and ladders to a hut. We took a breather in the hut and I took my crampons off, after being more a hindrance than a help. The hut was warm and had the pleasant smell of burnt kerosene. We had a coffee and then went back outside into the cold.

The next section involved a very steep hike up to the summit of Aka Dake. There was plenty of snow and lava. We steadily kicked steps up to the top. At the top of the slope we passed a boarded up hut and plodded over to the summit with its small shrine. Out came the cameras and summit photos followed. The views were all familiar. Down below I could just pick out the tent in the corner of the campsite. More impressive though was Fuji. The South Alps were also in view but not much else. I took a good long break and sat down to enjoy the view of Fuji. It really is one of my all time favourite views and due to living in London I really wanted to make the most of the moment. It was still on the hazy side but the almost symmetrical conical shape was very prominent.

Eventually I got up and started my descent. It was steep but the rock was generously covered with chains. Once out of the rocky section I turned right and headed down the steep snow slope towards the direction of the tent. Again it was way steeper than I had remembered. I passed a couple of folk having a hard time on the way up. Back in the campsite the population had grown with the arrival of a group of students. I dumped my pack by the tent and wandered into the hut for a coffee and a sit down away from the cold outside air. The route had been enjoyable and the views memorable.

That night we cooked dinner in the sheltered foyer of the hut together with others and had a similar night to the previous one, warm and comfortable but not much sleep. I would have been interested to have known what the night time temperature fell to?

Next morning we were slow to get going. We eventually left the campsite around 9. It was another sunny but cold morning. I set off listening to the Stones on my MD player. It was the perfect hike out with good music, snow covered trees, blue sky and all the time in the world. Back at the car we quickly threw everything in the back and slowly drove away passing loads of folk heading in. We were gobsmacked at the number of people we saw, presumably all with the intention of seeing the sunrise from the top of Aka Dake.

Our next stop was the onsen (hot spring) down by the Yatsu ski ground. It was pure heaven getting cleaned up and bathing in the hot water. I think I managed to set a new 'pb' for staying in the water. I wish all countries had onsen in the mountains, they really are the perfect way to end a climb. From there we drove over to Fujiyoshida, a small town on the north side of Fuji. We wanted to stay in the local Youth Hostel but it was closed for the holiday so we ended up staying in a comfortable hotel in the centre of town. A good night's sleep on a warm comfortable bed was the priority. That evening we watched the weather forecast a million times over. The forecast couldn't have been better, a big high was sitting over Japan and there was a comforting distance between the isobars.

I had a great sleep and awoke the next day feeling slightly edgy about how the day was going to unfold. The morning weather forecast was still good. After a quick breakfast we headed for the Fuji skyline road. Driving up to it the mountain was covered in thick white cloud, then it partly cleared giving us glimpses of the white, snowy upper slopes. It all looked very dreamlike and big. At the toll gate we got stung but were happy that the road was at least open. We then slowly climbed up through lower slopes forest counting off all the levels. Fuji is split into ten levels with the various roads ending at the fifth level and the top being the tenth level. The higher we got the more excited I became. Everything was going according to plan and a successful ascent looked very promising.

The end of the road came too soon. There was the usual collection of eateries and souvenir shops together with car parks with tour buses. We parked and threw the gear out onto the ground and got ourselves kitted up. There was also another group of lads getting themselves ready which was in a way comforting to see. The view from the car park was rather grand. There was a thin layer of broken cloud below us stretching across to the South Alps and Yatsu ga Take. Up above us were the dark shadowed lava slopes of Fuji and then bright blue sky. It was cold and fresh. As usual my pack was bigger and heavier than I wanted but only contained the bare essentials, plus a small bottle of champagne. [Note: the Fuji Skyline road from Fujinomiya on Fuji's south side is closed from December to April. On the north side, the Fuji Skyline road remained open to the fifth stage of the Kawaguchi-co trail. - Ed.]

We set off from the car (2300m) at just before midday and followed the Kawaguchi Ko trail around the mountain away from all the tourists. The plan was to climb to the top where we would pitch the tent in a sheltered spot, celebrate at midnight and then get up to watch the sunrise. On the trail we were joined by another bloke who had done the climb on the previous New Year's eve. He was camping at the fifth stage and would set off early in the morning to see the sun rise. He explained that this was what most people did. The trail, then to my horror, started descending. Down we went and then plodded up again. The view from the trail was good. We were walking along just above the cloud, which stretched away from us, as far as we could see. A cool breeze kept us refreshed and focused. Up to our left I observed some huts and a gate. We headed up onto a concrete platform, the sixth stage, and had a quick breather. The sixth stage had come very quickly and easily. We met an older couple there who were planning to camp at the fifth stage and climb to the top at night. That afternoon they were going to the seventh stage for a hike. I thought they were mad. Plodding on Fuji is not much fun and to just go to the seventh level for an afternoon walk is something I don't understand. They warned us that it was icy above the eighth stage. We followed them up the wide lava trail/road switch backing up and past large barriers positioned to prevent landslides. The seventh stage took a long time in coming. We passed many huts on the way but none were marked as level 7.

Not far past the seventh stage we met an American (Jeremy) descending. He had started at the first stage (not the fifth, like 99% of all Fuji climbers). He had been to within a few hundred metres of the top but as he didn't have crampons had had to turn tail. We chatted until we got cold and then headed on and up. Coincidentally, we met up with Jeremy a few days later on the streets of Matsumoto. He was an interesting bloke hailing from Skagway, Alaska and in the summer months guided people on the goldrush trail.

The route was steep. I don't understand why it gets so steep as whenever you see a picture of Fuji the slopes never look that bad. The trail was now largely snow with a line of lava at the side. I had refrained from getting cramponed up and steadily plodded and kicked steps in the snow. Unlike the last time we climbed Fuji I was finding it much easier and moved at a steady pace. Mal, meanwhile, was slowly dropping back. Not far past the eighth stage I veered off the trail line and traversed out between some large lava retainers covered in wire. The slope was steep and the snow hard and icy. All of a sudden I was in a position I didn't want to be in without my crampons on. Cursing myself for being so stupid I carefully climbed up to the wire bound lava rocks, kicked out a small ledge, took off my pack and clipped it into the wire, then quickly and carefully put my crampons on. In the mean time Mal had caught up with me and was keen to stop and camp for the night. Looking up I could see a hut so suggested we climb up to it and discuss stopping in more detail once there. I was hoping by then he would have settled back into a pace and would want to continue.

Not so, at the hut he was quite adamant about halting. Surprisingly, he was really feeling it and wanted a good rest. Being a two man team I had no option but to stop. I was a little disappointed but Mal also reckoned we wouldn't get to the top before nightfall; it was already 4:30 and light was beginning to fade. There were a few huts around us, perched on the snowy slope. We hunted around for a flat sheltered spot to pitch the tent but could find nothing that satisfied both requirements. We chose a site on the flat snow covered roof of a hut, positioning the tent so that it would be as aerodynamic as possible. As we finished securing it another American, Rob, climbed up on to the roof. It was a nice surprise and I thought a bit of a coincidence that the only gaijin (probably) on the mountain were camping in the same spot. A few minutes later his partner, David, arrived and they set about making camp. They were both students who had travelled up from Kitakyushu with the same intention as us. Before settling into our tent I suggested to them we head for the top together the next morning. Before getting into the tent I made two small piles of snow in the tent entrance and took some photos. We really were in a very special place. Way down below there was a huge sea of cloud stretching off to the horizon. On top of the cloud was the ever lengthening shadow of the mountain. To our left and right, huge snow slopes with rocky ridges of dark lava swept away and down to the cloud. It was getting dark and the wind, coming from the west, was cold. So too were my feet.

In the tent I took my boots off , quickly put on some fleece socks and wriggled into my sleeping bag. Amazingly my feet heated up instantly. We were both warm so got the stove going and melted some snow. Dinner was excellent, a fresh pasta pack of four cheese tortellini covered in a mushroom and lava cupa soup followed by a mars another cup of soup and a finger of fudge. After dinner we spent the next half hour melting more snow to refill our water bottles. It was then lights out with the intention of getting up to see in the new millennium.

As the evening progressed the wind got stronger. To start with I wasn't too concerned as I still had strong memories of the tent bending and getting bashed about in the Wind Rivers during the summer. After about 10 o'clock it had got way too strong for my liking. I spent the next two hours feeling very scared and concerned. As midnight drew closer I thought of everyone down on the ground in Japan and the rest of the far east partying, drinking and having a whale of a time. I would have given anything to be off the mountain. We were at a height of around 3,400m and there was nothing as high as us to break the wind for thousands of miles. I could picture exactly where we were and felt very exposed and totally at the mercy of the wind. I knew that at that height the wind could do whatever it wanted and had thought of us literally getting blown away or the tent (not 4 season) getting shredded.

Just after midnight I timidly wished Mal a happy New Year. We weren't in the mood for celebrating so the champagne remained inside my sleeping bag. I started to relax thinking that whatever was going to happen was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it. After dozing for a couple of hours Mal shook me and said we'd lost our anchor on the front of the tent and if we didn't sort it we'd lose the rest of tent. Not the best start to the New Year. Luckily Mal had a spare bungy chord so we attached it to the tent and then to an ice axe that was poorly planted in the sugary snow. Leaning over the axe I started to push a large piece of lava against the axe when it popped out and up thumping me in the forehead (carry on camping!). It hurt but fortunately it missed my eyes and didn't cut me. Mal decided to get the other axe and hammer it in to the snow and refix everything. It was holding so we zipped the tent back up and tried to relax. My thoughts turned to what we'd do if we did lose the tent. The first option was to go into the other tent next to us or pick up the axes and hack our way into one of the heavily boarded up huts. For the rest of the night the moon shone brightly and I could see the shadow of our anchor axe holding firmly. The wind also started to slowly move round to the west again, fortunately that end of the tent was securely anchored into icy compact snow.

At around 4:30 the other two were up and getting ready to go to the top. They came over to the front of our tent to tell us they were going to go for it. I said they were mad and that if the wind picked up again they really would be in a dangerous predicament. They went away and came back 15 mins later saying they would now descend. We wished them luck and off they went. I suggested to Mal that we too get up and get down as quickly as we could. He preferred to wait for daylight thinking there would be a lull with the wind around dawn. Feeling tired and groggy I didn't argue.

At around 5:30 I asked Mal if he wanted to go up. The wind had dropped and we had heard a couple of people slowly trudge past the tent. Mal wasn't up for it, he'd been to the top three times before and wasn't quite as fired up as I was. Feeling lousy I got my boots on and unzipped the tent. The view was mind blowing. Light was slowly seeping over the horizon. There was a bright smiley moon, venus was shining brightly and many other stars were twinkling. The colour of the sky ranged from a rich dark blue to black. Down below the lights of Fujiyoshida and other small towns twinkled. I was really moved by it. I think it looked doubly impressive after the adrenaline filled night in the tent. I quickly got my crampons on and slowly plodded upwards. Up and below me I could see the odd head torch. The wind was not too bad and only occasionally would blow so hard that I had to stop and keep my balance.

I realised that I was not going to make the top before sunrise so constantly looked over to my left for the first sign of the sun. The snow was hard and icy. I caught up with a bloke who was standing on his own waiting for the sun. I waited with him for a few minutes and watched it slowly creep into the new day. This was the second time I had watched the sun rise on Fuji and this time it did feel special. The first time was in the summer with all the hoards, and to me it was just like watching from an aircraft window. We took a few photos and then I continued on. The sun slowly started to light up the icy slopes casting a warming alpenglow across the crisp snow. More impressive, though, was the colour of the rock. It was a vibrant rusty red hue and mixed with the rich blueness of the dawn sky and the white snow made an unforgettable sight. I remembered the same scene from the last time we had climbed Fuji. All the colours were so rich and simple. I was incredibly happy with my position and knowing I was going to top out. The views now had made the night all the worthwhile.

The route continued to zig zag slowly upwards. Way off to my right I watched a helicopter coming in. The passengers would have had an incredible view of the mountain. I think it landed on the top, flew around a few times and then flew away. Above me was one final steep snow slope separating me from the top. Looking down at the snow, small ice crystals and pieces of lava skipped across the icy surface in the fresh wind towards the ever brightening horizon. I slowly ascended the last section picking out my own route. It was the steepest section but didn't last too long. Two lions and a new gate marked the end of the trail and the crater rim.

On top at last and mighty happy to be there. The last section had taken about an hour and a quarter and I had arrived on top just after seven. I wandered around the boarded up huts. There were a few tents pitched up against the walls and a few other folk outside. The scene was the opposite to the summer one when there are hundreds of people resting and walking around. I considered walking right around the top but quickly changed my mind. I got someone to take a couple of photos of me and then started my descent.

I passed several people slowly plodding up including a Canadian bloke. I stopped and chatted with him. He was being guided but his guide was way off on front. His guide also had a key to a hut at the seventh stage and he had spent the night there with a group of others. I continued down. The views were still impressive. All of the much lower surrounding hills were covered in hazy mist, otherwise the visability was good and the sky cloudless.

Back at the tent Mal was still resting. He got up quickly and with cold induced speed we packed up, stuffing the tent into my pack doing our best to make sure nothing got blown away. Dave and Rob had also done a swift job of packing and had left quite a few tent pegs lying around. We didn't bother with breakfast and started the never-ending descent. It was a relief to be plodding down. Back in the night I had visions of us having to crawl down. We moved slowly and stopped a few times to lose layers and crampons and drink our crunchy Fuji lava water. I was slow and Mal pushed on out in front. Once past the seventh stage we got back on the wide lava trail/road and then had to slowly plod back up to get to the fifth stage. The nearer to the end we got the more tourist day trippers we saw. We also got some strange looks being gaijin and fully kitted out.

The weather was excellent. The sky was still cloudless and the whole of the mountain on display. Back at the car I quickly fished out my champers and swigged it down. I had a reason to celebrate. The climb was finally over and we were back down safe and sound. It had been a great start to the new millennium, with possibly a touch too much wind.

Driving down and off the mountain in search of an onsen I vowed never to climb Fuji again or at least until my hundredth birthday. Two winter and one summer ascent has been more than enough. From now on all my admiration for Fuji will be done well away from it.

Nishi Hodaka (2908m), Kita Alps, Japan

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Japan

Nishi Hodaka (2908m)

North (Kita) Alps, Japan
1st/ 2nd January, 1998
Report by Iain Williams
Party: Iain Williams, Malcolm Field

Photo: wikimedia commons

The first mtn of 1998 and an unexpected one. After nearly two years I made it back to Japan through work and was lucky enough to be in Tokyo over the New Year period so had five days to make good use of. Naturally I teamed up with Mal and the Toyohashi Alpine Club was back in action for the first time since the summer. We spent the last day of 1997 skiing at Shiga Kogen and put aside the next two days for climbing. Mal's original suggestion was to do this mtn but I have to admit I wasn't too keen on the idea mainly because of the cable car involved. As time wasn't really on our side and I wanted to get as high as possible as fast as possible so Mal's idea quickly took concrete form.

The first day started in Nagano city with a late start due to a few beers too many the night before. We had to get ourselves to the small village of Shin Hodaka by at least 3pm if all was to go to plan. Mal got us there in time. The drive was interesting. We took the Kamikochi road that I hadn't been on since my first outing with Brendan, Wayne and Cam way back in 1993 passing the small carpark where I had my first of many car park bivvies. At the Kamikochi tunnel turn off we went straight and soon entered a large new and brightly lit tunnel that took us right through the Hodaka massif, very different to the other local tunnels that the Korean slave labourers built in the war. As we drove into Shin Hodaka the snow was falling quite heavily and our destination, the car park, was not exactly jam packed with cars. We quickly got ourselves sorted and headed off to the cable car station, where we got whisked up to Nishi Hodaka Guchi passing over the steep ski ground below.

We were told back in Nagano that it would take us two hours to get from the top cable car station to the Nishi Hodaka hut where we would spend the night. We set off at around 3:30 so thought that we'd have to motor. We moved at a steady pace through the trees on a path where the snow was rapidly deepening. The gradient was very pleasant and only occasionally did it get steep. Despite all the snow and the odd gusts of wind I soon built up quite a sweat and had to stop to lose a layer. Continuing on we passed a few folk who had bigger packs than ourselves as well as some folk heading back down. After only 45 mins the hut appeared through the snow and mist. So much for the apparent 2hr hike in. The hut had a generous covering of snow and after a short search we found the entrance. Once inside we checked in, lost some layers and had a coffee.

There isn't much to do in mtn huts so after twenty mins or so I suggested going back out into the snow and heading up the ridge towards the top. It was still snowing heavily as we set off again. Right outside the hut there were many people camping. We trudged past the tents and headed onto the ridge. We were now above the tree line and there was plenty of creeping pine under and over the snow. It was good fun scrambling up the wide and gentle ridge. As we got higher the wind got stronger and the light weaker so we stopped, took a few photos and then headed back down. It wasn't really a very sensible place to be but for me it was great after all my dull days in London.

Back in the hut we got changed and waited for our 6:30 dinner seating. The hut was quite large and modern and in the lobby area there was a good selection of Japanese mtn books plus plenty of people milling around. I got chatting to one bloke from Osaka and ended up chatting to him for 20 mins or so, talking about mountains all in Japanese which was a bit of a strain. Mal meanwhile was back in our room relaxing and chatting with someone else. Dinner wasn't bad, lashings of rice and miso soup plus other savoury tidbits. I was impressed with the quality and all the different bits on my plate. To be honest though I didn't have a huge appetite which I put down to the altitude and the cable car ride. Over the meal we also got talking to two Japanese blokes, Takehara san and his mate whose name I can't remember. They were planning to go to the top as well and were quite entertaining. Takehara san made a point of advising us not to follow him as the winter before he had fallen 150m down Koma ga ta ke, unhurt. He was also confident that the next day's weather would be good. We weren't so sure. Outside, the wind was still blowing and the snow falling heavily. I had resigned myself that we'd have a crack and turn around as soon as common sense prevailed. I was very happy just to be back in a Japanese mtn hut in the North Alps. After the meal we headed in to the lobby area with everyone else and watched the weather forecast for the next day. It was a good forecast but I still wasn't convinced. After the forecast we sat in the dining area and talked some more with Takehara san and mate.

Retiring to our room we realised how fortunate we were in that there were only two others sharing it with us. It was a good room with the whole floor covered in newish and clean futons and bedding (not quite Switzerland!). The windows were boarded up but the snow had found a way in behind the boards. The metal panes were covered with frozen condensation. It wasn't too warm. Once the light went out I lay there listening to the wind and a flapping board getting blown around outside. I was looking forward to the next day but also felt slightly altitudey, even though we weren't that high. I didn't sleep well but I did sleep better than Mal who spent most of the night on the point of retching. In the early hours of the morning one of the other blokes started snoring and from that point onwards sleep was impossible. I would occasionally tug his duvet, which would briefly disturb him but was careful not to overdo it as I'd done in the Glen Nevis hostel the previous summer. However, when he got up he stormed out the room sliding the door closed extra hard. I stayed under my duvet as long as possible listening to the hustle and bustle that was going on around the hut, trying to stay rested. Inside though my heart was racing with excitement over what the day would produce. Once up I made straight for the latrines. As much as I like Japanese mtn huts I'm afraid the toilets are the same as anywhere else. I took a deep breath, slid the door open and tried to slip my feet into some small green plastic sandals then got my business over as fast as possible before dashing back to the sliding door, sticking my head out and getting a lungfull of semi fresh air.

Breakfast was the usual, rice, miso soup, egg, bit of fish and tea. I ate well, certainly better than I had done at the Kita Hodaka hut back in 1993. After breaky we got sorted and headed outside. It was still cloudy but it wasn't snowing and the wind had disappeared. We passed the campers and then moved steeply up onto the ridge. There was a lot of snow around but the path was well defined, one of the advantages of a 7:15 start. The route was initially very gentle and gave me the warm up I wanted. We soon stopped. Mal's crampons were doing their usual. On the go again the route got steeper and turned into a bit of a slog. The wind was also picking up a little and not far above us we got the odd break in the cloud. It wasn't long before we broke through the cloud and then it gradually disappeared altogether. Naturally the views of the Hodaka massif were spectacular. We plodded up and scrambled up onto the top of the first of a set of pinnacles. On top were several folk milling around.

We didn't hang around and moved on with a descent down the other side of the pinnacle. We quickly realised that things were now getting a bit more serious and we were out of the hiking zone. This was more of a concern for Mal who didn't have an ice axe, just a polished wooden stick. We carefully proceeded up onto another smaller pinnacle. Descending this one got my adrenaline flowing but we got down safely. Moving on we started to ascend again. The terrain was a lot of fun, we scrambled across snow and rock both on top and to the side of the ridge. It never got scary, it just stayed fun. Up in front of us we could see a false summit. Towards the top we had a bit of a scramble and then topped out. Again there were a few folk resting including Takehara san and mate. We stopped to take some photos and have a drink. It was bitterly cold and it wasn't much fun taking my glove off to take photos. The views of Hodaka were super. The west side had sweeping snow faces with protruding rock that occasionally disappeared into wispy cloud. Further over to the east were the South Alps and protruding proudly behind them was Fuji. To the south was the snowy saddle of Norikura dake with Ontake poking its head up just behind. Across from them lay the Central Alps. It really was a treat and a half seeing all these mountains again and the views alone made me very happy.

At this point Mal decided to call it quits which surprised me as the route to the top was clearly visible and didn't look particularly worrying. Takehara san and mate had also decided to turn round so Mal headed back with them while I pushed on. The route followed the ridge and finished with a short steep section which took me to the top. All along the way the wind was strong and cold. I did my best to hide my face behind my hood whilst plodding steadily along. Once on top I had the usual feeling of satisfaction and a slight one of relief. On the top were a couple of other parties taking photos and milling around. I took my shots and spent a few minutes taking in all the views again. It really wasn't the place to stop and savour a Mars and I quickly got going on the descent. Again no problems were encountered and I moved quickly along the ridge to the last pinnacle where I decided to take a break.

There were still people clustered there and a few had tripod mounted cameras to capture all the views. I found myself a spot, sat down and opened my pack. I had a very cold maki sushi which I carefully prepared and then wolfed down with a few swigs of ice cold water. A hot coffee would have been ideal. I finished off with a very cold and hard Mars which I have to admit I didn't particularly enjoy. From my cold snowy and rocky seat I could stare down at Kamikochi and the road in. I clearly remembered walking up there very four and half years before and remarking to Brendan how the tops didn't look that high and were about three or four Ishimakis high. Sitting looking down I was right. I was however sitting about 400m below the Hodaka summit, which we couldn't see from the valley. I didn't hang about for long and was soon on the descent. I ran/walked down the flattish snowy ridge back towards the hut. The wind wasn't as strong anymore and the sun was shining brightly. Before I knew it I was back at the hut and the views of Fuji and the other ranges were hidden again. Through the trees we could still see Norikura though. The others had got back half an hour or so before me and were relaxing inside eating and drinking. I joined them and had a coffee. After our snack we headed outside for a few photos and a seat in the sun. The weather really was superb.

We decided to hike together back down to the cable car station. The walk back down through the snowy fir trees was very picturesque. The path was a narrow channel through the snow. We passed the odd group who were heading up. Back at the cable car station we stopped to look back up at the mountain and take a few photos. It looked good and far bigger than it actually was. The wind was still blowing up there and was blowing wispy cloud off the ridge. It was nice and satisfying to look up with the knowledge that I'd been up there on the top a few hours before. It had been a very enjoyable climb and I said to myself that I must return and do some more winter climbing in Japan. It really is far superior to the summer, which isn't that bad either.

The cable car quickly got us all the way back down. Takehara san and mate invited us to join them for a bathe in a public hot spring next to the river just down the road. We were more than keen and headed down there and had a good hour in the hot water chatting and larking around. It was an excellent open air onsen and free to boot. After our bath we said farewell and Mal and I headed back to Nagano.

Our two days were excellent and were the perfect start to 1998. I just hope that the next time I return to Japan, and I'm certain there will be a next time, I won't be on my own and I'll be able to climb with another TAC companion. Right now I'm toying with the idea of being on the top of Fuji to see in the new millenium.

Yari-ga-take (3180m), North Alps, Japan

Toyohashi Alpine Club
Mountaineering in Japan

Yari-ga-take (3180m)

North Alps, Japan
October 1996
Report by Malcolm Field
Party: solo climb

The alarm had been set to sing its electronic whine for 2 a.m. sharp. There was no need, however, as I had woken at 1:45 willing and ready to go. I was packed. I felt awake. I needed only to make some coffee for the journey, indulge in one in the comfort of my chair whilst watching the final round of some gold tournament in the States (very exciting stuff - but it sure beats baseball), and cart the eternally heavy pack to the car and head off on the well traversed Route 41 to the Kita Alps.

Yari had been one of the mountains that seemed to be a prerequisite to being an official member of the Club. It was, after all, probably the first big mountain in Japan that had been climbed by the original members of the Club - if my history is correct. I alone seemed to be the one who had yet to grace its summit - not that that was the motivating factor but it was a point to be considered. Actually, Darren (Canadian Chapter) and I had set off to climb it a few months back but due to some fancy footwork by none other than myself, it had to be canceled.

This second attempt had been on my calendar for about three months. It was the only long weekend that I could get away on. Moreover, I hoped it would be late enough in the Autumn season to ensure visitation (to see the colours at Takayama and Shin Hodaka Ropeway) would be at its lowest. This however, created a new problem in itself - one that I wasn't too pleased about either. The Huts were all closing on the Sunday (it didn't matter that Monday was a public holiday and closing in the middle of a long weekend made perfectly good sense to everybody but me). That meant that I was going to have to cart up my `car only' tent and `car only' emergency trusty sleeping bag up the mountain. I had succumbed to this as this was the chance to do Yari. Fortune smiled on me and there was one hut to remain open on the Sunday night but it was 40 minutes from Yari toward Kamikochi. I was in it.

The weather was wicked on Thursday. Friday was worse. The forecast wasn't looking positive but I remained so. Saturday night and the weather began to clear and so did the forecast. However, I had developed some kind of gum infection that had left me like a wounded bobcat as I growled at everybody and everything because of the pain. My right upper gum had swollen up and it was nigh on impossible to eat anything other than Weetabix. Furthermore, my old war wound on the left knee flared up because of the running I had been doing. But, I was determined that these were all little obstacles to test my resolve and keep my from achieving this personal goal - to get the monkey off my back so to speak.

Route 41 at 3:45 a.m. is always a joy to be on. The traffic lights are all amber flashing and the corners are just wonderful to keep you on your toes as you double the speed limit through them (not that that is such a difficult feat to do in Japan - actually it is - during the daytime when there is always somebody obeying the 40kph speed limit). I did meet a few cars (and dreaded sightseeing buses traveling in packs - but no demon tucks) but they quickly dispensed with at the frequent overtaking lanes. I was through Takayama by six, and at the Shin Hodaka Ropeway - well a little beyond - by 6:45.

The path up to Yari started at the Ropeway (area) and followed the west side of Alps up to the Yari Sanso. The start was less than 1200 metres and so in all I had nearly a 2000 metre elevation climb. The map times suggested more than eight hours so I figured I could do it in five (ha ha silly Mal).

The first section just followed the access road up for about an hour or so until it abruptly stopped at a river crossing and the path began in earnest. For the next hour and half the path meandered through the Alpine Forest over lots of slippery rocks due to the previous wet days and the falling leaves. The conditions reminded me a lot of hiking in winter in the highlands near Brisbane.

This forest section ceased at YariDaira (Hut) the halfway point of the route - in distance not elevation). From here, the route began to get steeper. To deviate a little, I met a couple of chaps who were marking out a new route to Yari which they were going to do in winter. I examined it carefully as I continued on my way and found that some spots would be a little more than polar plodding in two metres of snow. Good luck to them. They actually wanted me to join them on their days hike but I declined as I had my own goals to achieve first.

At first the route got a little steeper. I pondered that I would surely be on top in five hours if this was all it was going to be. Then it got steeper and I encouraged myself to do the hour before breaking. I achieved that and reached the next checkpoint on the map well ahead of the scheduled time. I was really enjoying the day our and stopped to try and take a few self portraits. (Luckily I borrowed Katsuko's instamatic camera as mine did it's usual trick and packed it in under the cold weather - though it has been more than six months since I changed the batteries - and I knew it was time so it is really my mistake). The first was a bit of a disaster and the second none better but it was good practice for later.

Before setting off I looked up and ahead to see the path to be traveled. It looked a little steep - a bit steeper than Yatsu - but nothing to get too excited about. I set off as bold as Punch. Fifteen minutes later I was beginning to talk myself on and up. "C'mon Mal. On and up. One hour. Polar Plod. You can do it. He's slowed down!" and the rest of the chit chats. After about one hour of this, I needed to break. I was really feeling the climb. The altitude was affecting my speed...at only about 2700+ metres too. A drink of water, a few plans about the report (since forgotten) and off again. A few downward travelers bounded past saying their polite "ohayo gozaimasu's" and probably thinking `poor bugger... he's only just beginning the hike up there'. I pressed on.

Some thirty minutes later I hit the wall. I was rooted. I was plain and simple rooted. I then made the unenviable mistake to look up and see how far it was to go. It was a bloody mile and I was not impressed. The nearer my destination the more I was slip sliding away. A few expletives and I plodded on vowing never to look up again. (What a joke that was). On one of my `brief' glances upward, I caught sight of a few people near the ridge and was definitely encouraged to press on. Upon reaching that point (some fifteen minutes - grueling fifteen minutes mind you) I was shocked to find I had yet another rocky knoll to get over before I reached to Yari Sanso. I sucked in a few deep breaths, bit my tongue and plodded on.

Upon arrival at the Sanso, I was surprised to see about twenty or so people either coming from another direction or already with tent and brew established. I looked to the Yari climb and figured relaxing (indeed required) and putting a brew on to warm up (indeed definitely required as it was a little nippy). My legs immediately tried to cramp up but I caught them before they seized and did some very painful stretching. I then gulped down two cups of coffee, half an instant ramen, quarter of a Mars, a muesli bar, and some Energy Jelly, as I watched some people climb up and down (some very gingerly) Yari. I was satiated and I was motivated and full of energy again.

The final 150 metres is the infamous Nippon Matterhorn. If only they knew that the real thing is 10x as high doing the same with no chains or ladders. It was all very fun though and I was on top in about ten minutes - passing a few straggles on the way. In fact it was over so quickly I tried to figure what all the fuss was bout. Later, when I saw some pictures of Yari in winter, I began to appreciate what they have to do in winter conditions. It would be a nice challenge if I had somebody who was experienced or I could trust and know. Another story. On top were a few other climbers and they were too happy to oblige with the photography - luckily as my self portraits were not a big success.

I didn't hang around long on top - about fifteen minutes only - as I had to press on to the hut. I could see it way down the slope and it was a good warm up for the muscles for the downward journey the next day. The Hut was a little expensive but I figured it would be worth it to get a good nights sleep.

At first, when I could steal some extra futons, my nights' sleep looked like it would be wonderful and comfortable. After a really good meal, I returned to my self made bed and dropped off quickly. At about nine, I was startled awake by some others clambering up into the same area. Alas, there was going to be five in with me - the result being that I had to pull apart my very warm and comfortable bed. Thereafter, I could have been sleeping in a tent on the hard ground freezing my butt off. It was f#$%&@g cold and ridiculously so. I had all but my thermals and ski jacket on (i.e. Polar 200 Fleece pants, jacket and socks) and still I was freezing. Some of the other guests even had their North Face Down Jackets on and still they were cold. It was cold. I guess about minus five to ten as the ground had turned to ice.

Once awake - again not hard to do with alarms going off at five a.m. (but no-one venturing into the cold) and the lights going on at about half after. I changed into some thermals, and my hiking clothes and went outside. The view was spectacular as the sun rose over Fuji. The whole valley below was clear with a few covered in a morning mist and Fuji peered over and around the top end of the Southern Alps. It looked so great on its own and so big. I regretted not having my camera working as it might have done some justice to the scene. The little camera just didn't do it justice. I was impressed and quickly went back inside to get my gear and head back up to Yari for a better look. It was great - as was the new route I took going back up there.

I boiled the billy and made a brew in the minus temperature and admired the morning. I was truly blessed to have two such superb days of weather (the day after returning the rain came again). I considered traversing across the Northern Alps through to Kita Ho but as no Huts were open, I figured it best to head back down and enjoy the day.

It was a relaxing walk back (all five hours - and half less than going up to the top). I met a gaijin couple who were on their way up who live near Anjo. As I had no meusli I gave them my name and workplace and asked them to call me for future climbs. They, the poor buggers, had camped at about 2700m and were still thawing out. They were from Canada so I joked that they should feel at home to which they gave me a wicked stare. We chewed the fat a bit and I left them to hike their heavy packs (with crampons and picks they had brought on recommendation from a Japanese person. For the record, I had instep crampons but as I had seen a picture of the Alps a few days before, I didn't think I would need them).

Back at the car I made another brew and relaxed and considered the last 36 hours. Thereafter I headed home, getting caught in the bloody traffic between Takayama and Gero (2.5 hours) and after getting our o that between Nakatsugawa and Tajimi on the Chuo (1 hour). The return trip home took six hours and I was lucky. The news said the jam on 41 got worse.

It was a safe and blessed trip on all fronts. No accidents, no mishaps, great weather, my gum infection disappeared, my knee behaved until I got home, and even though it was cold and hard at night - like a tent - it saved me some weight. Thanks.