Golden Week

Vacation Time

Golden week this year was good. Then again, it's always good. I first stayed at a cabin in Nara prefecture with friends where we had a BBQ. The next day we went hiking in the mountains. After that I was thinking I'd spend the remaining two days of the holiday in the area on my own. But on second thought I returned home. I was stepping off the train when it occurred to me to drive south. So the next morning I got in my car and I was off.

Cabin We Stayed At 

BBQ Time

The local highways ran from my town of Toba into adjacent Shima. Then it was on to Minami Ise. I stopped the car whenever something caught my eye to take pictures. At some points I also veered off the main highway onto roads that went to the small port villages. Again it was about taking pictures and getting a feel for the area.

Things did not get interesting until I reached the town of Kihoku. And by town I mean a large expanse of land with a few villages scattered along the main roads. All else was rugged coastline and hills. The sun had now begun to set and I was not at all interested in returning home. In the back of my car sat a thirty dollar tent I 'd got the summer before at a Wal-Mart in America. I did not know where I would be camping that night, and I was not too worried about it. The matter would sort itself out in good time.

Town in Minami Ise 

Flying Carp

Pulling Poles

At yet another port town, I passed by a hot spring facility. I would definitely be going for a soak, but not before seeing the beach that road signs indicated was another kilometer away. This beach it turned out was nothing impressive. I was about to get back in my car and drive away when I saw a local tourism board with a map. The large, colorful board showed all the nearby places of interest. One was an observation deck. According to its description the deck offered exceptional views of the sunrise. I made up my mind to camp there and wake up in time to see my first sunrise of the year.

The hot spring facility I had passed by early was rather crowded with holiday travelers. Still I went in and soaked. As always I had to do so in intervals. The water was much too hot to tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time. To cool off I needed to get up on the edge of the bath and because I was the only foreigner present I drew some stares. But I did not care. After eight years in Japan I am used to it, even when sitting naked surrounded by a bunch of other naked guys.

For me the best part of visiting a hot spring is at the end. Once I am dried off and feeling refreshed I'll sit in a coin operated massage chair. The facility had one in the lobby. 100 yen bought me a 10-minute full body massage. I sat with my eyes closed while the mechanical fingers of the chair dug into my neck, back and calves, humming and clicking with every movement. When time was up the chair fell silent. I got up, cricked my neck and strolled over to a vending machine. A bottle of cold, whole fat milk was exactly what I needed, and that is exactly what I got.

Rice Seedlings

Hot Spring

Starry Night

Night greeted me outside. I now wanted to get to Tatsukayama Observation Deck. I sat in my car trying to remember the roads on the tourist board map. Was the turn off after the next tunnel on the highway, or the second? I don't use a smart phone or navigation system of any type when I drive, and this often makes it hard to find places. It’s both good and bad. I sometimes lose my way but the effort makes the journey more memorable, and I might discover a little something interesting I'd otherwise not have chanced upon. In the case of the observation deck I missed the sign that indicated where to turn off the highway. It was by then pitch black and the flow of traffic on the highway had been pushing me along faster than I wanted to drive. I finally stopped at a gas station and asked an old attendant in an orange uniform for help. He explained that I had gone to far and thanks to his directions I was able to backtrack to the right location.

The night was moonless, and in the rural town of Kihoku, little to no light polluted the sky. I stepped out of the car at the observation deck's parking lot and gasped at the sight of the stars overhead. To the left a path zigzagged up the hillside. It had no lighting and a canopy of trees and thick foliage casted endless shadows. I made my way up through the darkness. Being there alone did not make it any easier yet I was resolved to scout out the observation deck above. After ten minutes I emerged into a hilltop clearing. There stood the deck, shaped oddly like a UFO. A grass lawn surrounded it and I knew that was where I'd set up my tent. However, I first wanted to take pictures of the night sky. Without my tripod this was no easy matter. I placed my camera on the ground and angled it upward with my wallet. But because it was so dark I did not realize I still had a circular polarizer filter on the lens. The filter works like a pair sunglasses. It blocks out light but provides better highlights and deeper colors. The problem was that less light reaching the camera sensor made it more difficult to photograph the stars. Still, in spite of my slip up, I managed some shots, albeit noisy ones due to the high ISO setting I used.

Observation Deck

Next, I pitched the tent and got in with my sleeping bag. Wind beat at the nylon sides and the leaves of nearby trees rustled. At times I also thought I heard an animal growl or footsteps in the distance, but I knew better than to become frightened. Experience has taught me that all manner of strange sounds fill the night air. They are perfectly normal. I've also learned it is best to use a mat when camping. More than providing comfort as a soft surface, a mat acts as a thermal buffer between the body and the ground. Unfortunately, I did not have one. I soon realized I was not going to get any sleep lying on the cold ground, so back to the car I went and in the driver's seat I slept.

At 4:30AM my alarm sounded. I journeyed back up the hill. In the blue haze of predawn the zigzag of a path no longer appeared sinister as it had the night before. At the observation deck I faced west and sized up the bay. Islands big and small carved black chunks from the pink, glossy surface below. A blood red sun came up within minutes. It slowly climbed above the water and the color becoming more of an orange the higher it went. Small boats moved in the distance. They were dragging nets along the water and their wakes created v-shaped ripples. The scene was spectacular to behold and joy to photograph.

Before Sunrise 

Around 5AM 

Tent

Last Shot

Sacred Route

Many pictures later, I returned to the car and continued south still not knowing how far I would go. The highway was empty at such an early hour. It continued on through small villages and water logged rice fields toward the next city of Owase. I thought I might stop off there. With only 10km I spotted a sign on the highway that marked a trailhead for the part of the Old Kumano Road. I pulled over, and examined the map beside the sign. It showed that the trail led into Owase. The Kumano Road was also labeled one of the Sacred Pilgrimage Routes of the Kii Peninsula and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I opted to leave the car behind and make my way through the forest and hills.

Unlike other hiking trails in Japan, large flat stones cover the Old Kumano Road. For centuries, before modern transportation, people walked the path between the towns of the south and the sacred shrine of Ise Jingu to the north. As I went along the stones underfoot appeared smooth and worn from heavy use. A few other hikers came the opposite way, all of them Japanese people over the age of 50. They politely greeted me with a "Good morning." A few kilometers into the forest the trail peaked and dropped in elevation. A second dirt trail branched off in this spot and led to the top of a mountain. Why not go check it out I thought. This new trail had no stones, and it ascended at a sharp incline. I was sweaty and heavily panting by the time I reached the summit. A large, rocky ledge offered a clear view to the west and southwest. The port city of Owase shone pale yellow in the morning sun. Its myriad of rooftops and grid like roads cut a swath inland between verdant mountains. I took my obligatory photos and then it was back down the mountain. 

Map Post

Way Up

Owase City

Roots

On the way I came upon a man I had overtaken earlier. He was taking a rest. I smiled and said something to the effect of, "Nice morning for a hike eh?"

He agreed. The man was probably in his mid 50s. He said he had come from Owase. That was his hometown, but for the past decade he had been going around the world on a fishing boat.

"The boat's currently docked in Brazil for repairs," he said. "So I thought I'd take the opportunity to visit home. It's been over two years."

From what he told me he was content to hike the Old Kumano Road every morning during his stay, much as he had when he was a boy. Life on a boat afforded no such opportunities, and in spite of visiting ports across all the continents he was seldom granted shore leave.

I shook my head. "What a shame."

"The company I work for is based in Tokyo," he added, as if that explained why it had such a lame, strict policy towards its employees.

As we talked more I asked him what there was to see in Owase.

"Nothing. It's just a fishing port."

That did not discourage me from wanting to see it. Since we were both headed that way I suggested that we walk together.

"I think it best you go ahead alone," he smiled. "I move at a slow pace."

I thought I might take a picture of the man. I asked if that would be okay. He declined with a sideways wave of the hand across the face. "Alright then," I said and hiked on.

The trail descended and the forest eventually cleared. Houses and roads marked the north side of Owase. The Old Kumano Road continued on through the city and into the mountains to the south. I did not care to follow it much further. My plan was to take some photos and then return to my car. I had also wanted to eat at a restaurant. Owase is renowned for the local seafood. It is one of the few places in Japan where they serve grilled sunfish. A friend had once told me the fish is delicious and has the texture of pork. Unfortunately, it was still too early in the day. None of the restaurants were yet open for lunch. Rather than wait I went back into the forest and hills.  The Old Kumano Road was now inundated with hikers and when I reached my car the dirt lot brimmed with vehicles. A local tourism society had also set up an information table nearby.

"You want me to take your picture?" asked one of the staff.

"Yeah, sure."

He handed me an old straw hat. I place it on my head, stood beside the sign that marked the trail, and posed.

I took back my camera. "Here have this too," said the man, giving me a guide pamphlet. Back in my car I flipped through it and discovered that there was a narrow river ravine only a half hour away. Since it was only noon I started up the engine and drove inland.

Port

Beer Vending Machine

Going Back

Done

Under the Water

Spring this year in Japan has been unusually cold. But on this final day of Golden Week, as I went along the river, the warm weather signified a definitive turn for the better. I was so pleased with the change I stripped down to my underwear and slipped into a pool of swirling water. The water was ice cold though. I endured by moving my limbs to generate warmth. On the rocks near the water surface I noticed black tadpoles. They were taking refuge from the currents and basking in the bright midday sun. At the opposite end of the pool two small waterfalls dropped down from a rocky overhang. I swam over and sat lotus style beneath the larger of the two. I was determined to take 100 deep, focused breaths while the frigid water pummeled my head and shoulders. But the attempt ended in failure. I became so light headed that I gave up halfway for fear of fainting.

Tadpoles

Glorious Falls

I don't know what it is with me and waterfalls. Every time I come across one I am tempted to sit or stand beneath it. Perhaps the experience makes me feel like a samurai of old, when they trained in a similar manner.

Whatever the reason I came out of the water at last content with the trip. I sat on the whitewashed rocks and slowly dried off, all the while thinking of nature and its grand majesty. And so ended my excursion south. Once I returned to my car, I drove straight home.

Spring in Japan at Last