Dewa Sanzan, Pt. 2

After a long, 10-hr sleep at the Japanese inn, we woke to a dreary, drizzly morning. It took us awhile to shake off our slumber, but after a bath and a large buffet breakfast, we finally got going. Once again in the car, we drove up the winding mountain road to the 8th station of Gas-san, or Moon Mountain. By the time we reached the trail head the rain had mostly stopped, but the fog/mist had become quite dense. Visibility was about 5 meters max, but we were all feeling genki, and decided to make the climb anyway.




The first couple km of the trail had been "improved", with wooden-plank walkways and round concrete stones guiding the way. Something I've yet to understand about Japanese culture, with it acute sense and appreciation of nature and seasons, is why there are so often, seemingly unnecessary (to me anyway), man-made elements present in nature. In fact I have read I bit about the matter, the importance of clean "negative space" (for example in Japanese gardens or Japanese calligraphy), for it serves to provide contrast with the other features of the space. From my gaijin perspective, it makes sense in a garden, but not so much on a mountain. Pardon this tangent, I'll get back to the hike...



We ascended through the thick white fog, stopping only to admire the mountain wildflowers, for the views were non-existent. There were quite a few Japanese hikers on the mountain, most well-equipped with brightly colored, expensive rain gear, though a fair number were clad in all-white, the traditional garb of the Dewa pilgrims. Most had summited already and were descending as we climbed, all offering "Konnichiwas", but few with smiles.



After about an hour of hiking, we began to encounter shallow patches of snow, though enough to wet our shoes and cause some near-spills. I hiked ahead of Aaron and Michelle several times, lost the in fog and my own daydreams, but they always caught up quickly when I stopped for a breather. Nearing the top, we came upon a small resthouse with hot drinks and a toilet. Outside of the house were several grave markers and small stone statues. I noticed the pilgrims bowed and said "Arigatou" as they passed by.



I raced up the last km or so, scrambling over the rocks and even jogging a bit in the dwindling snow. At the top was another shrine, and many more stone markers, though what they symbolized I have no idea. I started to pass through a small gate, not knowing what lay beyond, but a stern voice called my attention. I turned to see a priest? seated behind a small window, the kind where money and tickets are exchanged. He rather rudely told me I'd have to pay 500 yen to pass through the gate, so I offered a couple "sumimasens" and turned around and went to find a place out of the wind. Once seated, I pulled out my rice balls and chocolate, and ate until it was gone. Not thoroughly satisfied, I silently watched in envy as three elderly Japanese seated not far from me pulled out a campstove and cooked Cup Noodles and hot drinks.



After Aaron and Michelle arrived, we chatted briefly with the noodle-eaters. One lady, very excitedly told me to follow her--explaining she had something to show me. I did as instructed, though following her footsteps much easier than her Japanese. But, she led me just about 100 meters to a small clearing behind a stone wall, and point out several rare dark-colored lilies, which if I understood correctly, only grow in that exact spot on Moon Mountain, and only bloom for just a few weeks in early summer. I was more impressed by this fact than the actual flower, which hardly looked like a lily at all.

We took a short rest inside a hut before heading back down the mountain. With no views to enjoy, there wasn't much reason to remain at the top (except of course, encounters with Japanese ladies who point out wildflowers). So, we descended through the fog and snow the way we came, eager to be out of the cool, damp weather. Along the way we leap-frogged several times with the three noodle-eaters. I chatted again with the one who had shown me the lilies--she pointed out some more flowers and we talked about the other mountains we had climbed in northern Japan. She highly recommended I return to Gas-san later in the summer when the weather would be fine and the more beautiful wildflowers would be in bloom.




At one point I noticed a faint brightening and turned around to see the only sunshine of the day, and a beautiful bald below. However the cloud closed just as quickly as it had opened, and the brief glimpse of the mountain was gone.