Trivial Disappointments

There aren't many things disappointing about a trip to the woods except for the fact that ya gotta return. Sometimes the thought of that disappointment and let down almost makes me not want to go, especially when I consider the unpleasant necessity of enduring the subway system in Tokyo in order to get away. Even "early" in the morning on weekends trains seem to be becoming more crowded. It will get even worse when autumn leaves come into full color which will mean I ain't gonna be seeing them. I ave resisted buying another car and paying all the associated costs for the last 10 years, but my resistance is beginning to fade. God, I hate crowded trains!
In late September, I took another trip to the Nikko area, but unfortunately those few days were not enough to even begin to slow down and I found myself racing to get to the top of a mountain for absolutely no logical reason.

When I go back home to the States, it usually takes me a week to slow down to a rural (human?) pace and then I can only hold it for a day or two before the tension starts to rise because I know I have to prepare for a hellish flight back to Tokyo. It's even harder to make a transition from a rushing robot to a human in a day or two for a trip to the hills here---especially when it either begins or ends on public transportation---but I have to try in order to preserve what little is left of the person I was when I came here.

That Saturday morning started out poorly. I got up at 5am, but still hadn't decided whether to go to Nikko or to Hakone. The packed 0605 train to Yokohama helped me decide that Nikko was the best choice. Since I had not already purchase a ticket, I decided to go to Kitasenju station instead of departing from Shinjuku. That was my first mistake as for some reason folks leaving that station on the Kegon Express have extreme difficulty in understanding what a reserved seat is. Last year, a young gal was sitting in my seat in the fully booked green car and when I asked her about it, she nonsensically replied, "But it's a window seat!" I didn't really know what to say for a few seconds. Was I supposed to say, "Oh, you're right. And since you are so damned cute and stuck on yourself, I'll go back to the other car and stand while you ride in my seat on my ticket?" If so, I did wrong and made her un-ass my seat anyway. Her friend was apparently pissed by my rudeness, and sulked beside me for the rest of the trip.

My luck was slightly better this time as the train was not full and I was able to sit in the aisle seat next to the guy sitting in my reserved window seat. I decided not to make an issue of it and let the a-hole be himself.

As soon as I exited Nikko station, I realized that I had made another mistake: I had checked the weather forecast for Nikko on AccuWeather and it had predicted 16-18 degree temperatures. Unfortunately, it was at least 22 and very humid. By the time I had got to my starting point, I was already sweating heavily.


I finally got in the woods at the head of the trail at about 0945. Didn't even notice the change in the air---the smell of cedar---like I usually do because some fellow was following me and I wanted to get away from him so that he would not scare any wildlife before I saw it. This was self-defeating foolishness because in order to escape him, I was moving too fast and being too noisy to be able to see any wildlife other than by accident.

I quickly lost the fellow though---I think he discovered that I was heading up the mountain and not leading him to some secret tourist spot. About an hour into the climb, I began to realize that I was racing something and tried to force myself to slow down. I failed in that effort until I was on my way back down when the thought of returning to Tokyo slowed me.

I didn't meet many folks on the trail, but those whom I did see were racing faster than me. People tend to be more friendly outside of Tokyo though, and like the small, tough lady in the photo have no problems with greeting or chatting with another person.

After I re-entered the woods after a clearing about halfway up the hill, I was slowed somewhat by more spider webs---or some sort of insect webs---than I have ever encountered in my life. It was impossible to avoid them, and soon began to feel my arms and hair covered with them. I found a branch to hold in front of me as I walked, but it wasn't very effective.

I paused to decide if it was worth continuing---sorta wimping out because of bugs?---when I heard something crashing through the brush. I soon saw red up the trail and soon a guy coming down the trail at near run (think of someone who has just found an empty seat on the subway and wants it) while batting away the webs by flailing his arms in a swimming motion above his head. OK....if it works...

I decided to continue on since I thought his mad dash might clear the trails of the webs. I was wrong, it only decreased them a little.

At about 1300 meters, I began to find more signs of autumn. Full colors were still a few weeks ways, but at least I had a chance to enjoy them a month or so in advance of when they began in my area of Tokyo.

The trip ended all too soon, and I really, truly dreaded the return.

The train ride back fulfilled my expectations as eight loud, obnoxious drunks shared the car back. Nobody complained and the conductor assumed the three monkeys' philosophy of "hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil."

Still, despite the trouble, I almost always think it was worth it, not only for the fact that I can get out of the crowds, but the fact that most of the people I do meet are much more relaxed, open, and friendly---especially in Nikko---and have little of the faux-politeness and self absorption so common in Tokyo.

*My not-so-trivial disappointment is that I somehow deleted 134 photos from the trip. First the first time in years, I had failed to back them up too.

In the Long Grass on the Tamagawa

A bit of an oasis in Tokyo---at least the more urbanized part. If ya can't get out, the river is as good a place to go as any. On weekdays it isn't especially crowded, but on weekends and holidays things change quickly. Look for weather---cold, rain, very hot and humid days, snow, high winds all drive a lot of the more dainty indoors. Nights are nice too...

Sounds of Japan

For those times when one can't get out of the city, or for one of those long, humid, rainy season nights when sleep is impossible without the AC running full blast, you might try Andrew Roth's Sounds of Japan available here. ¥1500 at Apple Store at around $15 for over an hour of listening at amazon.com. Unfortunately, I could not find it at amazon.jp yet.

Although Apple lists it as "new wave" it ain't what I'd call new wave---is nature new wave? It consists of nature sounds you can here in the outdoors in Japan. Well, let's say in the outdoors in certain less developed areas. There is not "soothing music" with a few nature sounds in the background like you often find on some nature recordings. (Generally, one does not hear pianos in the woods...) Instead you can hear birds, wind, thunder, insects, water, creaking sea ice and so on with an occasional "tonal interlude" which although not entirely natural, fits right in with the rest of the recording. You can hear a sample on his site above.

It was well worth the money for me. It isn't the same as being there, but sometimes it and a little imagination (and memories) has to do.

A few examples of the locations and sounds
Nagano: Alpine Summer
Kushiro: Cranes and Deer
Anami Oshima: Tropical Dusk
Jigoku: The Hells

And no, I don't have any monetary interest in this, I just enjoy it and like-minded folks just might too.

It isn't always necessary to leave the city to get some time away from the noise and crowds. In order to live, sometimes it is necessary to reduce what we consider nature.

Back in the States, I would never have been able to enjoy such small, isolated, and in reality somewhat synthetic nature. I would have thought it too fake. (I thought farms and wheat fields were too urbanized.) But this is one of the biggest cities in the world, and I can't hold it to the same standards as say Great Falls Montana. It is like enjoying bonsai. You know that the dwarfed tree is not natural, but it still can provide relaxation and a sense of pleasure just looking at it.

I have heard that Tokyo (which is not really a city, but more like a state) has a very low ratio of parks compared to other large cities. That may be true, but there are still plenty of areas to enjoy. Just avoid the "popular" tourist-type areas. And forget cherry blossoms.

This was taken on the Tama River between Tokyo and Kanagawa. After dark, there are very few people around, except for the homeless on the other side. I like to come here when there is weather--rain, wind, cold---as most people won't be out. Only the occasional fellow nut and fishermen/women will be wandering around in the cold on foot.

Utsukushikunai

One of the "problems" of going to the mountains in April or even early May is that unlike the lower, warmer climate of places like Tokyo, the trees have not started coming out, and few flowers have bloomed. The snow, however, is mostly gone. Utsukushigahara in Nagano is an example---very beautiful in winter, but in spring it has been called Utsukushikunaihara because it's so drab.

Sort of varied shades of brown. But still, the air is clean, you can smell trees instead of smog, and it ain't filled with tourists yet.







The second one gets into the woods, he can begin to relax. Only begin, for it would take a week to get rid of the urge to rush everywhere.

Another trip to Nikko this weekend

It'll have to be a one-day trip again, the last until after the insane rush out of Tokyo for Golden Week...Most likely do more hiking around Nyohosan area, as I doubt I will have time to climb it. Am more interested in wildlife this trip.

One day to Nyohosan, March 27 2009

Leaving Tokyo late in the morning (730) and hoping to climb anything other than Nakimushiyama before dark is a fool's errand. Despite being a fool, I knew that I would not be able to get all the way to the top. That wasn't a problem though, as I had more important goals; find a less well traveled trail, avoid noisy crowds---on this day I considered anyone other than me a crowd---and observe signs of wildlife. The fact that Nyohosan is not one of the more popular mountains there was one of the main reasons that I was headed for her.

At about 0940 nearly as soon as I stepped into the woods in the area where I hoped to find the trail, the sound of an unidentified bird cry melted away tension from the rushing, the shoving and pushing, the noise and general icy-cold rudeness of the early morning commute through the Tokyo subway system. The chance to get away into what is real civilization to me made it all worthwhile.

The day was relatively cold---it spat snow for most of the day. Cold, snow, and even the sight of ice was a special thrill after wintering in a city where an ice-covered fountain can draw gawkers.



I wasn't certain I was in the right area. I had been through this spot nearly a year earlier and could not find the trail, especially with the absurd 1:50,000 scale "map" I was using. The one I was looking for was not on the map anyway.



It took me until about 1100 to finally find it. On first glance it was not well-marked at all, but once I got started, I found that it was marked in the standard way for trails in the area. Wouldn't wanna depend on these markers too much though. Night and fog and weather can make 'em disappear just about the time you need them. Oh sure, use your compass in fog. That'll work.



About 20 minutes after starting up the trail, I heard a sudden drumming followed by what always seems to be an explosion as a pheasant decided that he wanted nothing to do with some noisy fool from Tokyo either. I continued up slowly, as since I knew I could not reach the top, I was in no hurry and more interested in going slowly and quietly enough to see any wildlife around---I had seen deer droppings and tracks below, as well as monkeys near the area a year earlier.

Never saw a thing, although I did hear a squirrel barking and stopped to listen in an attempt to locate it and maybe photograph it...how far I had come since my squirrel hunting days when I was growing up? A few yards further up the trail and I ran into the only other person I was to see that day. He was listening to the squirrel too and trying to locate it. We passed with a nod and no words---we understood each other.



I didn't get much further than the spot to the left which you can see is on a very moderate grade. The climb, had not yet really begun. I had to turn around, though as I had mistakenly reserved a seat for just after 6 on a train for Kitasenju in Tokyo. Mistaken because my brain was still stuck on the February sunset time and there would still be navigable light in March at until after 6.

It's always a bit depressing to begin a return to the noise, crowds, and icy-cold pretend -politeness of urban Tokyo. This day, it was more so than usual since I still had 2 days off. Why didn't I just stay overnight or even camp? I always ask myself that on one-day trips.





At least the way back is better marked in some places.

And on a Friday or Saturday before Golden Week, I'll be back. Reaching the top will likely once again be a secondary goal, but I'll have more time. Or, I may even carry my camping gear...Whatever I do, just being out and smelling the pines (mostly sugi---cedar) and enjoying the silence makes the trouble of getting there worth it.