View of the Shirane-Three Peaks, with Mt. Kitadake, the second highest mountain in Japan, off to the right side. Here Mt. Noutori rises above the clouds. The valleys hid in shadow below, while the world above basked in late summer sunlight.
Conversations heard along the trail.
“Where did that dog come from?”
“What dog?”
“The one standing there on the trail, looking down at us.”
“Wow. How’d he manage to get down those rock faces? We had to use chains!”
“And he’s just standing there, politely waiting for us to pass. A mountain dog with good manners!”
“Looks like he’s just out for an afternoon stroll. I wonder if he’s going or coming?”
“Coming, I guess. If you were from around here and knew this killer trail, would you be starting up right now?”
“He probably thinks we’re a little daft.”
“No doubt. Do you think that’s a smile on his face?”
“Look, I think he wants to pass now. I guess all this babbling has ruined his solitude.”
“Best let him pass then.”
“There he goes, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.”
Looking back over the ridge toward Mt. Kannon. The whole array of peaks in the Houou Three Peaks range pay tribute to Buddhist luminaries, like the bodhisattvas Kannon and Jizo. Everywhere you walk tiny shrines and offerings to statuettes concentrate the presence of walkers’ involvement with the place. One ridge, where numerous walkers have died, shelters a group of jizo statues in memory of the walkers’ spirits. An almost eerie sense of others watching pervades the whole mountain range.
“I did not say that I didn’t want to wait for you, or that…!”
“You always have to show how tough and manly you are! Why can’t you just slow down?”
“I am slowing down. I’m trying to match your pace…”
“What, so you think I can’t climb this trail? You think I’m too weak to handle it?”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t like falling behind and having to walk right behind some stranger in front of me.”
“Oh, so you think everyone here is too slow? FIne! I’ll just pick up my pace and make sure to be better than everyone else! See you later!”
“Hey, don’t do that. Come on. Where you going? Oh, come on. Don’t be silly…”
Like a dark queen Mt. Fuji rises to the southeast. Though the deity that lives in the volcano is considered male in Japan, Mt. Fuji has always seemed like a female monarch to me. In the over thirty five years I have seen her, including five years living right at her base, where she surveyed me below in my apartment window, she has never revealed herself the same way twice. Dark and fiery red on summer days, wreathed in clouds in autumn, even gliding ghostly white on moonlit nights, she sits aloof and alone in her vast throne between the surrounding, more timid mountains.
“Are you all right?”
“I feel sick. I think I pushed myself too hard.”
“Here. Try some water. It might make you feel a little better.”
“I wasn’t trying to slow you down.”
“I know.”
“I’ve only been in the mountains once this year.”
“I know.”
“I slept badly all night.”
“I know.”
“That climb was really hard !”
“You can say that again! It was so steep and slippery I couldn’t even stand still to take a break!”
“I still haven’t forgiven you yet.”
“I know.”
The last peak before Houou descends into the valley. Seemingly from the top of every creeping pine, windblown larch, and outcropping, nutcrackers called and winged amidst the drifting clouds. Called “hoshi-garasu” (star crow) in Japanese, their spangled breasts flashed white as they whisked by.
“Would you like another chicken dumpling?”
“No thanks. It’s too hot to eat chicken.”
“Really? It goes well with the pork broth rice balls. Follow it with some salt-pickled celery. Nice and crunchy!”
“I don’t see how you can stuff yourself like that in this heat. You’re like a drunk salaryman.”
“Better grab some while they’re still available. This walking does wonders for the appetite. Sure you don’t want some? They’re remarkably good. I thought they were your favorite?”
“You’re unbelievable. You’ve begun savoring convenience store food. All discrimination right out the window.”
“In the mountains everything tastes good. Sure you don’t want one? Last one!”
Stunted yellow birch hold on tight to the rocks to survive the relentless winds. The rock garden above Kannon Peak Mountain Hut seemed like something out of a surreal painting, the colors and forms so intense and twisted.”
“The woods smell nice.”
“Balsam fir. I got some of the sap on my fingers. Here, take a whiff.”
“I like just lying here under the trees. I could lie here all day.”
“Too bad we have to get back to work tomorrow.”
“My legs feel like rubber bands. Don’t think I can take another step.”
“We have some time. Let’s just close our eyes and forget about the time for a short while.”
“Shhh. Listen. The wind rustling the leaves.”
Larch woods appearing out of a lifting mist, along the steep trail out of Gozaishi Kousen.
“That sign said forty minutes till the end!”
“How many minutes has it been?”
“One hour and thirty minutes.”
“Perhaps the sign was meant for faster walkers.”
“This ice cream really hits the spot! I think it’s the best ice cream cone I’ve ever had!”
“Do you think we have time for a hot spring bath? I could really use a bath right now.”
“The bus comes in twenty minutes. I don’t think so.”
“Hope the other bus passengers will survive my influence! I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“Well, you might knock them all unconscious, so probably you don’t have to worry about their reactions… Ow! That hurt!”
“Serves you right! Hey, can I take a bite of your ice cream? I’m already finished with mine.”
Laughing Knees 