Tokyo - Hiking

West, Into the Mountains
We hopped on a train bound for Chichibu, a small town renowned for hiking and onsen (thermal springs.)  It's an interesting train, it heads west for a short spell, stops at a station and then reverses out, heading northwest.  So, you're facing the direction of travel and then you're not.  This being Japan, there's a small lever at the end of your seat that you can press to spin it around 180 degrees if you like.  Most, like us, stayed seated and happily rode backwards into the mountains.

It was only when I looked at the map that I realized how close we live to the end of the urban sprawl.  We're not too far from the start of the wilderness.  This was borne out by the ride.  Within twenty minutes we were in a different ecosystem, headed past 6,000 foot peaks.  We passed small farm after small farm, each squeezed improbably between river and a steep slab of mountainside.  It's hard to believe that 80% of Japan is mountainous while surrounded by the cement in Tokyo.  Out here you begin to see it the other way around.

We arrived in Chichibu after an hour and got out to gander at mount Buko.  Its diamond shaped peak sits on long broad shoulders.  It's unnatural somehow - as if it's been carved with a knife.  We weren't so ambitious to plan a hike to the top.  We had a more reasonable goal of hiking through its forested foothills, eating some food and perhaps taking a soak in an onsen.

We arrived in town at 11am and decided to fuel up before hiking.  We picked a small restaurant famed for their barbecued pork rice bowl.  It was already full and there were a handful of people waiting.  Dodo wrote her name down in the reservation book in Katakana, the Japanese alphabet used to write foreign words. It looks like this:  ジーン.

It's a pork-centric place as you can see by the pig-shaped shrub.

I ordered something called the roast bowl, which I was happy to see meant what I'd hoped - tender slices of fatty pork, slathered in miso and grilled over charcoal.

Dodo got something similar.  It was ridiculously delicious and filling.

We plotted our hike as we ate.  We picked a path that looked to be about 5 miles long and began just across the street from the restaurant.

The first 100 yards of hiking tilted upwards at a devastating angle.  I was out of breath right away, my lungs pushing down on an all too full stomach.  I was caught off guard - nothing in the map or description of the hike hinted at this in any way.

It leveled off quickly and we made our way onto a flat road that was headed directly for Buko.  I was looking down at my feet when a rumble of thunder struck from the clear blue sky.  I looked around confused, trying to figure out what was going on.  I then noticed a cloud of smoke on Buko's collar.  "Hey they're dynamiting today" she said.  I just stared at the mountain without moving a muscle.  "You didn't read what I sent you, did you?  This is where the cement for Tokyo is created."  It all started to make sense.  They have, after all, carved Buko into this shape, blasting more than 500 million tons of rock from it since the 1920s. 

We kept on, turning into a small dirt road we hoped was the right way.

A small sign post confirmed we were on track.  From top to bottom, there are two kanji followed by Katakana.  The Katakana says "hiking course."

Whether you can read Japanese or not, you know this is a problem.  I just hoped the bears were well fed and totally uninterested in us.

We were to spend most of the hike in the forest.

A forest that unfortunately spreads itself across sharp peaks and valleys.

Whereas you have churches and Jesus on South American hikes, here you have small wooden temples, stone statues and Buddha.

Dodo was in the lead all day.  She was looking strong and I was feeling the opposite.  I was happy to linger in the rear, head on swivel, looking for imaginary bears.

She later admitted that it was a tougher hike than she was expecting too.  She jumped for joy when she hit what she thought was the top of the hike.

I didn't think we'd reached the top yet - they'd mark it was something more spectacular than a small stone statue.

We kept on for another mile of up and down.  To add insult to injury, they added a couple of flights of stairs.  I guess it's better than having to scramble up the rock face.

Then we started to see some real statues.  The peak was near.

We paused at a large wooden temple temple which clung to the side of the mountain.

Many small statues guarded the entrance to a nearby cave.  Neither of us had the moxie to crawl in.  I was feeling happy that we were getting towards the end.  I was ready to sit somewhere and sip coffee.

The end was not marked by Buddha, surprisingly. 

The trail slowly lowered itself next to a large cemetery that was surrounded by sakura.  We really did luck out coming to Japan when we did.

Back in town I voted for an old school "kissaten", which is what the old coffee shops are called.  They're usually quaint, loaded with bric-a-brac and manned by a single proprietor.

This was a particularly good example.  It could seat perhaps 7 people max and looked like someone's disheveled office.  Classical music was playing and a sharply dressed older gentlemen was taking care of everything - making coffee, cutting slices of cake, taking money and giving back change.  We lingered for an hour and then headed back towards the train station.  Dodo opted to soak in an onsen before leaving.  I waited for her in a nearby restaurant, practicing writing Japanese.  It was an excellent way to spend a Saturday,.