Geysers bursting, thick plumes of sulfur billowing into the air,
Booming mountains reverberated in my heart under the shadow of Fujisan.
I headed west towards the beloved Japanese icon of Mt Fuji. Azalea lined train tracks brought me into a world of romantic natural beauty just 40 minutes from my home in the volcanic crater of Hakone. A funicular cable car carried me over the smoking sulfur pits of the Owakudani crater and to the top of a ridge of mountains that surround this remarkable diverse region. Black eggs, boiled in the sulfuric water pools that bubble and churn with geothermal gasses, are a delicacy here and prescribed for health and longevity. They taste pretty good too…not quite salty and not quite poison; a pretty good balance. After catching my breath at the first glimpse of Fuji on the horizon it was up the mountain.
The first trek was to Kamiyama, or “god-mountain”. The first leg was by far the most unique mountain path I have ever traveled due to its eruptive nature. Gasses and thick white waters flowed and hissed from sores in the burnt earth. Under the rickety wooden bridges toxic marshes and landslides were the norm. The soil was brittle and scorched. All around this acidic wasteland was hellish place with the power and beauty of an armored horse.
The route soon turned green and lush as I ascended out of the active pit. The trail, quite vertical at times, swiftly placed me atop a bulbous peak with a startling view of the snow-capped giant in the distance. Atop mount-god was (surprise) a shrine with stone markers and other weathered statues and icons. The descent was through a tunnel of subtropical biomass and a slick slide down reddening mud on the wet side of the mountain.
As the incline flattened out I came upon a stark blue lake. Mount Fuji, ever present, loomed over this oasis for fishermen and holiday seekers. Sailboats and men wearing rubber pants churned the otherwise perfectly placid lake Ashinoko. Along the shaded lakeside a path of mossy stones laid at the base of 300 year old cedar trees. These botanical gargantuan, whose girth was humbling to even the most confident twenty-something, had the worn smell of misty generations in their gnarled bark. Off to one side a huge red torii gate stood solid in the shallow mirror of water like the entrance to some long sunken water temple that, if I chanted the right words, would arise from the depths in a violent rumble.
Further down the road were set the remnants of feudal Japan’s most oft’ tread highway, the Tokaido (East Sea Road) which once served as the artery between Edo (modern Tokyo) and Kyoto. Once a major thoroughfare for all types of travelers, this historic route served as inspiration for countless poems and anecdotes from Japan’s Shogunate era. Its crooked stones, original and broken, made for much more difficult passage than most of my earlier terrain. As it must have been way back then, the traditional sake, tea and food station, Amezake Chaya, served unbelievable (and previously unheard of) bowls of hot, sweet rice-liquor-pudding. Invigorated to continue, the last three hours were fueled mostly by the desire to reach the final destination.
Arriving after a long days travel, the Japanese onsen, or geothermal hot-spring, was a heavenly reminder of the primary joy of hard work: the release from it. First all clothes are removed in an outer chamber. The body is thoroughly washed and scrubbed with a bucket and soap at a satellite location from the main tubs. Getting any soap into the actual hot-spring is a horrible taboo so the body must be completely clean and rinsed before entering. Everyone used so much soap that we all looked like a bunch of sudsy titans newly risen from some frothy hell. After a good 30 minutes of concentrated exfoliation and washing I entered the piping hot pool. The steaming waters were on a rocky outcrop overlooking a ravine with a flowing river below. I let my tired muscles melt into the subtle consistency of my surroundings: the trickle of the spring, the tweet of the day’s last sparrow. The trees whispered and hissed like fine rice paper in the wind as the sun set over the foggy hills.
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I added one new album (“Tokyo 2”) and updated the “Hiking Japan” album (Sooooo many more pictures) on Picasa.
Hope to update again soon.
T
