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.
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