山は逃げない物
Yama wa nigenai mono
The mountain will not run away
-From a hiker at Mount Chokai
Mount Chokai is a real hikers’ mountain. Standing at 2, 236 metres it has permanent patches of snow, and in winter many Japanese enjoy a bit of skiing on the accessible parts of the slopes. It is fondly referred to as ‘Dewa Fuji’ due to its resemblance to the more famous mountain as it has a near symmetrical conical shape when viewed from the Sea of Japan.
There are usually buses going to the trailheads, but they operate only during the high season until the end of August after which they only run on weekends and national holidays, and even then, on a limited schedule. As we planned to do the hike on a weekday in September, we had to hire a car to get to the starting points. Toyota rent-a-car opens at 8am, and surprisingly in Yuri Honjo, the shop closes at 7pm. This only allows for an 11 hour rental period despite the charge being based on a 12 hour period. This point is well worth noting for anyone wishing to hire a car in Japan, as shop hours vary considerably from town to town, with longer opening hours in the bigger towns.
Mount Chokai has many trails leading to the summit. The Fukura () trail is the oldest and easiest trail but the two most popular trails with hikers are the Kisakata (象潟) and the Yashima (矢島) trail.
In general, guide books such as “Hiking in Japan” suggest allocating two days to complete the hike with an overnight stay at one of the mountain huts. Most Japanese people we came across tended to climb to the half way point and spend the night there at the tea house with accommodation rates starting at about 3,500 yen. It’s another 1 ½ to 2 hour walk to the summit from the tea house. The view at sunrise is well celebrated, as the shadow of the mountain stretches into the sea for about 4 kilometres into the Sea of Japan on a clear day, casting a deep azure hue on the sea surface. The name of the mountain in Kanji (鳥海山) suggests that the shadow looks like a giant bird in the ocean, something that is said to be wonderful to behold.
However, it was considerably more convenient to try and complete the trail in a day for us as we had to return the rental car at the end of the day.
We had to choose between the Kisakata and the Yashima trails for the day hike. The Yashima trail takes less time (190 mins) but is more difficult, with steeper gradients that offer little in the way of flat areas. This trail is great for those with a high level of fitness and a desire for a challenge.
The Kisakata trail offers a more undulating path, up over a very high peak, down the side of a valley, then up over the continuing peaks to the summit with a part of the trail going over a permanent section of snow. While it is have a slightly easier to hike, the challenge lies in the distance. The Kisakata trail is approximately 16 kms return, compared to the circa 12kms of the Yashima trail.
We intended to take the Yashima trail as we were limited for time, however the shop assistants at the Toyota shop could not locate it on their GPS navigation system that came with the car. It turned out that the GPS system was actually broken, a fact that we only realized when we attempted to use the navigation system to find our way from the hike back to Ugo Honjo. Luckily we were able to use the road signs to find our way back. As always with travel, it pays to be flexible with the plans you make. We quickly decided to change our plans and take the Kisakata route up the mountain, as the shop assistants could locate that trailhead that is accessed via the Chokai Blue Line which is open until early November.
Again, this is an important point to note – equip yourself with as much information as you can when setting out to the hiking trailheads, ideally with a local map in a language you understand, as GPS systems can be unreliable, even in technologically advanced Japan.
The Hike
The start of the hike is actually the most difficult part of the journey. A winding set of steep steps with a gradient of more than 30% takes you up to a viewing platform from where there are wonderful 360 degrees views on clear days.
On one side you have the Sea of Japan and the beautiful coastline with the various coastal hamlets dotting the shoreline. On the other side are the valleys with beautiful waterfalls, thick vegetation and sheer rock precipices that make for a very ethereal view.
At the viewing platform, we met an older man who had started the descent at 6 a.m and was finishing at 10 when we met him at the trailhead. He kindly informed us of the hike ahead, and was of the opinion that with a 10am start we were unlikely to make it to the summit. This theme would be repeated along the path, with older Japanese always erring on the side of caution when it came to hiking time allowances.
For us, there was no choice. Hire cars and accommodation conspired to give us a 10am start and a 2pm deadline from which we had turn back from hiking in order to make it back to the car while there was still light, and return the vehicle back to Ugo Honjo Toyota without incurring any fines.
From the first uphill battle, it was obvious that Charles and I would be running on different hiking schedules. At the end of the first climb, we separated our lunch bentos and vitamin drinks. Charles handed me the phone equipped with a pre set alarm for 2pm – the time to head back to the car.
I waved farewell to Charles with the sun in my eyes. He strode forwards like a man with a purpose. I could hear the old man’s words ringing in his ears “も無理かも知らない、時間足りない” “Well, I just don’t think you’ll make it to the top, there’s just no time…”
I resigned myself to the fact that I probably wouldn’t make it to the summit. With the pacemaker well ahead, I took my time and soaked in the wonderful environment of the mountain through the cloudy haze.
The path was challenging but beautiful. Every time I stopped I enjoyed the pervasive silence. For the first part of the hike I concentrated hard on keeping a reasonable pace and challenged myself constantly. “Just get up to that ledge over there” I said to myself, from which vantage I would set the next goal.
After the first climb, the path veered over an upward ridge before finally reaching a plateau. Further respite arrived in the form of a sweet valley which channelled down the path. Filled with bright yellow flowers and a smattering of small ponds holding pockets of cool water, the valley gave me a welcome drop in temperature.
I came across two shrines there, seemingly Shinto in origin, similar to those I had seen atop Gassan, dedicated to children. In the time it took to take the side path for a few minutes to see the small shrines, the clouds came in thick and cool, fogging the path ahead.
Steps led up the path, constructed loosely of large boulders with the more square boulders on the perimeter. I boulder hopped along, and I could see a lady dressed in pink making her way down. She had a small and high pitched bell on her day pack, which a lot of Japanese hikers wear to scare away bears. I made my way slowly up to her, and she made her way slowly down to me, the bell tinkling with every step.
Before she could reach me, she was overtaken by a couple. He was a foreigner and she was Japanese. I said “Hello” and when I realised that they were moving quite quickly, I asked if they had seen Charles ahead on the path.
“Oh yes, I think so” he said with a smile. “Was he virtually running?” he added, checking he had the right person.
“Yes, that would be him” I said.
“Do you think that at the pace he was going he will make it to the summit before 2pm?” I asked, wondering if he was going to complete the hike.
“At that pace, he will be there within the hour” said the foreign man, continuing on his downhill trek.
I felt great thinking about Charles making it to the summit. I only wished we had some of that hiker’s tape so I could see that he had been on the path before me. It would be good to know what time he was keeping. Later, Charles and I discussed the two way walkie talkies we had seen advertised on the plane from Australia to Japan. A great idea we decided, especially on mountain slopes where there is no mobile phone reception.
I upped the pace a little, and came across the pink clad lady. She stopped, and gently pulled me off the path to allow a group of 5 young men past who appeared full of energy and bounce to walk past. In my mind, I could almost hear them whistling as they skipped along. What a different experience we were all having!
The pinky lady walked with a limp, and spoke slowly. She asked the usual questions – where are you from, what are you doing in Japan? Before telling me that despite her leg ailment, she loved to climb mountains, at her own pace. “At your own pace is best because the mountain will never run away”.
I felt totally affirmed. I was going at my own pace, and despite the fact that this mountain was challenging me, I was facing the challenge in exactly the same way I face other challenges in life – breaking it down to manageable pieces and giving it a go.
I continued along the path, bidding the lady farewell. After another 15 or 20 minutes, I arrived at a large temple gate and a tea house. I consulted the map, but the kanji on the tea house and that on the map didn’t correlate.
I walked around the side of the tea house, and in the intense cloud, couldn’t make out where the path led. Forms emerged from the fog which I recognised as the genki (full of life energy) boy club, sitting on rocks.
I sat, and had a little drink of water. I consulted the genki boys regarding the map. They laughed at each other – none of them had the faintest idea. I sat back down, and drank my vitamin drink. The boys looked like they were waiting for me. “Please, go ahead” I said. Japanese people are so very polite!
They bounced up and headed off. I now knew which way was the way forwards. As I walked up over the steep ridge of rocky shale, the sun peeped out and cleared a space in the clouds. Below, a beautiful lake sparkled in a steep gorge. I drank in the view.
Clouds enclosed me, and I came to a sign on a very worn piece of wood. I couldn’t read it at all. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best. Steps led down and the air snapped frozen. I zipped up my jacket and put my hands in my jacket pockets. Was I going the right way? I wondered. Why am I going down? Maybe this isn’t the right path? Oh dear what did that sign say? My mind ran in circles. I’m so alone here…who can I ask? I walked back up the stairs for a few minutes. Oh this is stupid. Look at these stairs. It’s obvious this infrastructure supports the correct path! I headed back down. A few more steps and I could hear a bell in the distance through the cold clouds. Phew…affirmation at last.
About 5 minutes later, a couple appeared from the fog. We passed each other with only a hello, not a sign from me of the concern I’d experienced only a short while ago. I hit the bottom of the downhill with a long stride, and started another climb.
The climb continued upward, along a rocky ledge that opened up out to a clearway covered in small shrines. From here, the cliff fell away into thick clouds, and it was difficult to tell which way the path led. I then realised that it was right next the edge of the cliff.
I put my head down and carried on, not before placing a rock on top of one of the small shrines for good luck!
From here the path was a combination of large boulders, muddy patches combined with shale and of course, the ever pervasive cliff edge. I took it carefully, and before long I came to a deep challis that drove its way through the cliff top flora.
Further on, I came to a small wooden sign that made no sense to me at all. Thankfully, I’d done my research and knew that the left hand side path was easier than the right hand side. As I stood and looked out, catching my breath, a sweat soaked couple in their late 30’s appeared from the right hand side path.
“ If you’re trying to make it to the summit, definitely take the left hand side path!” The lady said. “I’ve just done both, and I’d sooner take the left than the right!”
“You’d better hurry, most people are already there” added the man.
“Ok” I said, and again scurried along.
As I climbed the steel pole ladder, and scampered across the floating wooden planks, then tried not to slip down the steel ladder placed at a precarious angle, I thought a lot about his words.
What did he mean – “Most people are already there”.
“How does he know that?” I wondered.
The path forced me to clamber down boulders on all fours. I knew I was quite high now, my ears were popping and it was really cold. I came across some berries, and for a moment, when I found one ripe berry in the middle of the path, I thought perhaps Charles had left it there for me to see.
I continued along, and in front of me, a large drift of packed snow/ice stood before me and the other side of the rocky path. The genki boys club sat enjoying some water. I stopped, puzzled.
How do I get across this snow?
Is it ok to walk across?
Should I go around?
Could I possibly fall in?
Could it break and I could fall in and get trapped in a snow precipice?
The stories I read in an old “Outdoors” magazine at Rashaad’s place in Tsurouka echoed in my mind. I stood on the edge, and eventually yelled out “ How do I get across?”
They yelled back “You walk across!”
So simple. I went forwards, and to my surprise, I just walked across. It was a bit slippery, and I was scared, but it didn’t stop me from looking up the valley at the various snow patches. I thanked the boys, but didn’t stop. My time was running out.
I saw lots of wild berries but only ate one. My legs were tiring, and I wanted to make the most of the small amount of time I had left. I could see that I’d reached the 3rd mark, only two to go to the top.
I turned the corner, and there was Charles, ahead up on the path walking down from the summit. He sat on a rock once he saw me, and waited for me to arrive.
“I’ve been walking half an hour from the summit” he said. The phone alarm in my pocket sounded. I was out of time. I wasn’t going to make it to the top in time to hike down in the daylight and to return the car. We sat down to eat onigiri. It was then I realised that I’d taken out my onigiri back at the tea house and left them on the rocks. Charles shared one of his with me, and we both had something to look forward to on the way down.
The path cleared and the sun came out for the descent. We went at a quick pace but enjoyed seeing many things we’d not been able to see on the way up. We made quite a few stops to pick the very juicy wild berries that were to be found along the trail.
We arrived back at the tea house and found the onigiri pack sitting on the rocks, exactly as I had left it. We had some food, taped up my big toe which was getting sore and after a bit of a rest, continued on our downward descent.
We arrived at the bottom in time to watch the sun go down over the sea. I felt so happy for what I’d achieved.
We crowned our experience with a trip to the Tsurumai onsen (鶴舞温泉) at Ugo Honjo after returning the rental car with just minutes to spare. The onsen was a simple but elegant affair nestled onto a lake about a 15 minute walk from where we were staying.
For only 400 yen, we relaxed our tired muscles in a lovely hot spring which had both indoor baths and the outdoor rotenburo. We also decided to have dinner at the attached cafeteria (食堂) which served very delicious and healthy food at a good price.
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