I've Been to the Mountain Top...

...and let me tell you, it's harder getting down. That's what I am feeling today as I struggle to straighten my legs to their full extent, or more importantly, walk down stairs. But it's that good kind of pain, the kind you can brag about, the muscle aches that remind you of your accomplishment. Let me explain further:

A few weeks after I arrived in Japan, my friends Corri and Erin mentioned their plans to go mountain hiking in Nagano. Me being the ever so down adventurer (especially when it seems that there is minimal planning on my part. I am a terrible planner) and one who likes to think of themself as an outdoorsie, camper type of person (my mother has since disputed this impression), I immediately expressed my interest with few questions asked. Sure I'll climb a mountain, why not, just point me in the right direction (or rather, lead the way). 2000 meters up, light headed and tired, I was pretty sure that had I known then, what I knew as I grudgingly forced one foot in front of the other, I may not have been so eager to join the trip.

But alas, I surprised myself and my mother even more and can confidently say that I conquered Mt. Yarigatake, Japan's fifth largest mountain. And while it does not reach the heights of Fuji-san, the hike up to Mt. Yari's summit is actually longer, since the long haul begins at the bottom, rather than at the fifth stage, as is the case for Mt. Fuji. In no way am I trying to take away from the Fuji experience, I plan on trekking up to her peak as well, but I feel the need to introduce the setting for this weekends vertical excursion in the best light possible, being that "fifth" does not sound too spectacular, whereas Mt. Yari is most definitely so.

Mt. Yarigataki is located among the Japanese Alps in Nagano prefecture, familiar to you possibly as a fairly recent Winter Olympic site. Nagano is about a seven hour drive from my peninsula prefecture, but being that this weekend was again a three-dayer, we left on Thursday evening after work and took the expensive yet efficient expressways the whole way there. Arriving too late to get a camp site at the base of the range in a town called Hirayu (in Gifu-ken, which is right next to Nagano-ken. Park of Yurigatake is in Nagano and part in Gifu, not sure which is when and which is which, but the peak is in Nagano. I think), we pitched our tent in a parking lot for a short sleep. We awoke in darkness, happy to have not been discovered and chewed out in Japanese for sleeping in a lot, and started to gear up before driving to where we would catch the bus to the starting point. While parked near the bus depot, a wild fox, that had apparently become very accustomed to tourists' handouts, circled our car as we scarfed down some much needed energy food. At first he was cute, as any fox is, until the little pest swooped in and grabbed a bag that I had lying near my backpack. Not containing any food he quickly left it alone after dragging it into the bushes and shaking it around a bit. But some nine hours later, in need of a head lamp to climb to the summit, it dawned on me that the fox had stolen my flashlight. That is a first. I got it back later, post climb.

The bus, packed with well-equipped and well-costumed (as my friend Ben would put it) hikers drove us through the twists and turns leading to the base of Yari, where no private cars are allowed, and dropped us at a lodge where last minute bathroom breaks and walking stick purchases could be made. The three of us were some of the few foreigners about to embark on the journey into the alps, and among the youngest. After stretching and taking some "before" pics, we were on our way. Not everyone setting out when and where we did were climbing Yari. There are many trail options among the Japanese alps, some are day hikes, others take a few days and cover a few peaks and some people that climb Yari do it in two or three days. So, you can imagine the reaction three foreign women got when people asked where we were headed that day. "Oh, very far," said with a worried/wary tone and expression. Annoying yes, but we used the doubts as fuel.

The first four hours of the trip were fairly tame, pretty flat and shaded nicely. In true Japanese style, we were met with the occasional and much appreciated rest-stop complete with vending machine (some had noodles), drinkable water and bathroom (somehow these were spaced out perfectly for my bladder, leave it to the Japanese). It was easy sailing for the most part. We rested occasionally, munching on nuts and trail mix, gulping down the water to stay hydrated and chatting with people we had passed before along the trail and who would probably pass us later. When the trail is narrow, the switching off of leader is constant, which is nice, since it not only allows for some camaraderie among your fellow travelers, but puts at ease those thoughts that you are the only one having a difficult time once things really get going. Over the occasional bridge (aka, well-placed rocks or logs) and through the valley, we pressed on in search of Yari. At this point in the day we were still not positioned to view our end destination.

I suppose this is all sounding like I am leading up to some drastic accident, or some incredible obstacle that I had to overcome to get to the top. A twisted ankle or broken backpack or something. For this I apologize, nothing of the sort happened. But the climb did get damn tougher and at times I was wondering how I had gotten in to this situation; four hours from the beginning (no turning back) and four hours up hill to go. The air getting thinner, breaks became more frequent and man-made rest stops disappeared and were replaced with huge boulders perfect for stretching out on to take a breather, or to do your business behind.

About five or six hours into the climb, we saw her peak...way out in the distance. And it seemed days away. It was about then that I though maybe I would not make it. Or rather, I could not imagine getting there. But looking around and seeing all the hikers that were twice my age inspired me to get into gear and press on. So press on we did, up, up and further up. Four hours of zigzagging over rocks, uphill. One foot, then the other, feeling a little light headed, can't really think about anything but maintaining a pace, because stopping to sit down, though wonderful, makes starting up that much harder. So I trekked on, glancing just enough at the finish line to stay motivated, but not too much to cause self-doubt. And although there is a tempting lodge about an hour down from the one that sits on the peak, there was no point in my mind on getting that far and not going all the way. Fortunately this closer lodge sits a bit out of the way as well.

The day was getting later and the final haul was upon me. The weather became overcast, so the sun no longer threatened to burn and naturally the air was cooler. We could not have asked for a better day, it was perfect.

The final 45 minutes of the climb is pretty much straight up. The red-roofed lodge is in clear site, hikers that have already reached the top can be seen waving and you know in your head that it is almost over. Hallelujah. So, at last, at around 4:30, I reached the top. And was immediately greeted by an Aussie, who asked where we had come from. Bladder full, I could only get out "the bottom." "Ha ha ha," he chuckled "no really where did you start?" "The bottom, Kamikocho." Look of disbelief at a few women making the trek in a day was the only response. "Where is the bathroom?"

The lodge at Yari's peak is incredible. For not much money, you get a nice futon to sleep in, a warm room, meals if you want and the company of other Yari conquerors. And a souvenir stand. What would Japan be without the souvenir.

That night, legs aching, we passed out early. Lights in the lodge come on at 4:30am and the place is a buzz. Knowing that the sun sets around 5:30, we downed some breakfast and geared up for climbing. The morning on the mountain was beautiful, with the summit silhouetted against the still dark, but bright blue sky. And we gazed in wonder at those already ascending the tip. We had been told that this last bit only takes around twenty minutes to climb, but it is unlike the other parts of the hike. It is pretty much vertical climbing. As close as you can get to needing gear without needing it. Let me put it this way, there are ladders and chains, white arrows painted on the rocks to guide the way and the danger of being hit in the head by falling rocks (note: yelling "rock" in English is not too helpful when in the company of non-english speakers. Yes the yelling itself is noticed, but the necessary reaction is not as prompt, since it is delayed by the "why is that gaijin yelling?" look). Luckily no one was hurt. But getting to the summit was a bit scary. I resisted temptation to look down to often, but could not help assessing the result of a fall and I came to the conclusion that had I slipped off of the rock, there was nothing sturdy enough to break my fall and I would rather easily take more colorfully-clad clad mountain-goers down with me. But as I said, no one was hurt.

The final ladder was exciting. The top is amazing. My first summit, my first real climb, the first time I have felt above my surrounding land masses. The third highest peak is also in the Japanese alps, but is too far to seem below. We arrived just as the sun was peaking through the clouds. Again, as the day before, perfect weather.

After taking it all in, and taking too many pictures, we descended the ladders and gripped the chains back down to the lodge to get packed up for the long climb down.

We decided to take a different route down the mountain, down the backside and through the valley, to get a new view of the area and on the map it looked a bit shorter than going back the way we came. Should have listened harder to the hiker from Chicago we ran into, who had changed her plans to go down the valley route because of the hike the day before (she took the same 1 day trip up to Yari). She and her boyfriend decided instead to take it easy and go back the way they had come up (the way we had come up). Well, the warning lights failed to go off and we headed down the new route. It started off rocky, straight down and rocky. The impact on the knees began to take its toll (13 years of gymnastics will do that to you) and thus, my mood took a turn for the worse as well.

Basically, the straight down, stepping on rocks, concentrating on not twisting your ankle or slipping, never ended...for 6 hours. My silence indicated my mood to my climbing mates and I unhappily trudged on. The environment on this side of the mountain was much different than the day before. Less dry, more like a jungle, mostly covered by trees. The path was narrow the entire time and the rock valleys were far too frequent for me. It was beautiful no doubt, but I was looking down the entire time so that my jello legs and aching knee wouldn't fail me and slip off a rock. Okay, so I exaggerate. But this is definitely how the last three hours were. Me silent, not entirely happy, ready to get off of the damn mountain, Erin in back of me, knees failing her as well, Corri way ahead, jaunting along happily, occasionally yelling and clapping to scare away any possible bears.

Finally we reached a road...after passing a farm, climbing over many bridges, hearing monkeys in the trees (but seeing none :() and me silently pouting in the best way I know how. And although the road lasted for another hour and we saw a rock that we swore was a baby bear (add 30 minutes to the journey) I made it to the bus stop with both legs still in tact and feeling very very accomplished.

That night, we feasted in one of the many treats of Japan, the Onsen. Onsens are mineral baths and are EVERYWHERE. Some are nicer than others, some outside, some inside, all have showers (so when camping and in need...) and all are considerably cheap. That night we soaked our aching, tired bodies in about ten different outside mineral baths at an Onsen near our campsite costing only 500 yen (~$5). It was what we had been looking forward too, it is what got me down Yari.

The rest of the weekend was filled with food and Onsen, thatched roofs, waterfalls and driving. My first time up north since arriving in Japan, it was nice to get out of Wakayama and it was amazing to make the climb. Next on the docket, Fuji.
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And to think that as a kid I would throw a tantrum at the mere sound of the word "walk". Tis true, ask my mom.

**this event actually took place a couple of weeks ago, I just lag.