Shinobu-san

Yesterday, my friend Cecilia came to visit me in Fukushima. Cecilia, my friend from Italy I ran into by chance in Harajuku, came from Tokyo on a weekend vacation to escape the busy streets and smog of Shibuya. A little rest and relaxation in Fukushima was just the ticket. We both wanted to get some fresh air and see something beautiful; a mountain climb was perfect to escape the endless vortex that is shopping in Japan. When she arrived, I asked “what do you want to do?” She shrugged, then thought and exclaimed “no shopping!” I couldn’t agree more.

We decided to climb Shinobu-san, the big mountain (read: hill) behind my house. (In Japanese, mountains are called –san. It basically means Mr. Shinobu. Very cute.) He looked quite peaceful sitting there covered in a layer of green fuzz, perfectly inviting. I only knew two things about this mountain: there are many ways to the top, and it houses the largest straw sandal in all of Japan. Wow! I couldn’t wait to see this massive shoe. Maybe it would actually fit my foot as oppose to every sandal and shoe I’ve seen in stores so far. I would have to steal it, wait for them to build a new one and then climb Mr. Shinobu again to have a pair. That was okay with me.

We started our climb the most natural way possible. We faced the mountain and began to walk. I had no idea where a trail was. We passed my favorite restaurant, CoCoichi on the way toward base camp and I made a promise that I would treat myself to a big plate of spicy curry if I made it to the top. We saw a little service road that branch off from the tunnel that runs under the mountain and began to walk up.

As if on cue, the clouds parted, the sun shone brighter than ever and the temperature and humidity increased by about 10 degrees. I was sweating, but not too bad. We were on a road and the breeze would occasionally cool my drenched shirt. We zigged and zagged up the switchback and came to a place where the road split 3 ways. We chose one and headed off. No luck, we came to an electrical box for a phone pole. We turned back, route 2, here we come. It looked promising but, eventually we came to a house with a locked gate. We turned back, this time route 3.

We came over a little bluff and lo and behold, a massive 4 story building about an eighth of a mile long, about 20 stairs leading down to a soccer field and an immaculate Olympic size swimming pool. The pool looked incredibly inviting. I wanted to jump in right there, but I stayed strong. The strange thing, though, was no matter how clean and inviting the pool looked, the building was a ghost town. We walked all around it, front to back and found nothing, no one. By the looks of the place, I guessed it as a school. There was one car parked out front, a nice Subaru, but it was covered in dust. My Apache tracking skills told me that the car hadn’t been used for quite some time. We were alone. The pool looked more tempting…but just as I was about to jump in, we found a tree covered trail up the mountain.

Up we went. When I say up, I mean like hands on the ground in front of you. This was steep. The trail was miniscule, and the ground squishy with thousands of years of dead leaves that never decay totally. Once we were deep in the forest, I became acutely aware of how impossible it would be to try to trek through without a trail. If we lost the trail, we would knee deep in moss, leaves, decaying tree matter and all sorts of spiders and bugs. The forest was anything but quiet. All around us, bugs and cicadas sounded off, strange sounding birds called and the trees rustled in the wind. I was sure I was going to see a monkey or a puma, or both. This was the closest I have ever come to being in a rainforest.

With that being said, I could not imagine walking through this pass in anything but board shorts. To imagine someone walking this path with a kimono and sandals on, or any type of traditional Japanese clothing was tear inducing. The heat was unbearable. Under the trees, the air was about 15 degrees hotter than the air out on the road. There was no breeze; the air was thick and hazy. I could feel the atmosphere as I walked through it. I was dying. The air was suffocating me, and all the while I was climbing up and up, slipping occasionally.

Every 2 minutes, we would come to a fork in the path. Me and Cecilia would look at each other, shrug and point to the one that looked like it headed more to the top. At first, I tried to make a mental image of the surrounding area as we turned and turned, but after about the 10^th or 11^th fork, I decided it a waste of time.

One of the most annoying things was all the spider webs. Every 10 feet I would walk through a spider web, usually about at face level. Cecilia learned quickly to let me lead and clear a spider free path, but she faced the wrath of mosquitoes that didn’t threaten me. I have a natural mosquito repellent: copious amounts of body hair act as mosquito barbed wire.

Up and up we climbed. I’ve never been more sweaty. I had sweat dripping off my chin, dripping of my elbows, dripping off my knees into my shoes. It was crazy. We finally came to a more level part of the trail; we caught our breath and continued on. We came to a sharp turn in the path and around the corner, waiting for us, was a parking lot and set of bathrooms. There were a few people that looked at us, very surprised, like we had just appeared out of the trees. I guess we had. I took a bath in the restroom sink and made sure to splash cool water over my entire body. The water from the tap was perfect, cold and delicious. I drank about a gallon, and soaked my hair. We reconvened the hiking party outside the bathroom and headed out on the next portion of the trail, this time a marked path. The climb was much the same as before, except instead of walking on tree matter, we had terra firma beneath our feet. The path was much wider. We had found our way.

Although the path had improved, the heat and grade of the trail was as bad as ever. I noticed the vegetation was changing, more conifer trees and evergreens. Something told me we were almost there. I started to notice more signs of people using the area, the occasional small shrine or statue, a candle, trash. We came to a big clearing with a map on a post. The map showed the lookout point about 80 meters ahead. We set off.

After about a minute, we came to the clearing, there was a little place to sit and enjoy the view also. It was incredible. Almost a 360 view of all of Fukushima, the river, the train lines and the surrounding mountains. The air was hazy and thick, the mountains all around the city seem to rise and fall into the haze endlessly.

After we had taken in the view and recuperated, we headed back down to the parking lot. We looked at each other, and with out saying anything, unanimously decided to take the road back down. Although the road was paved, the downhill really killed my calves. My legs began to shake and wobble. I started to hear someone playing the saxophone off in the distance. I listened for a while, then asked Cecilia if she heard the same sound. Yes, she said. I wasn’t crazy or dehydrated, there was someone playing sax nearby. We followed our ears and soon came to a picnic area with a guy rocking out on the saxophone. The sound reverberated off the trees and amplified as it bounced around through the trunks. It sounded beautiful, and I hate the saxophone. We listened for a while and then walked on. The man finally noticed us and looked up startled. I gave a short round of applause and he blushed. We continued down the mountain.

We came to a graveyard. We were on a road above a steep downhill that was entirely covered in grave shrines. Of course, we left the road and headed down the decrepit old stone staircase. The graveyard was peaceful and sunny. It was absolutely silent too. I took a lot of pictures, but felt kind of bad. I think they were just shrines, and not actually graves. Most of the dead are cremated in Japan. The family will then buy a small plot of land for the family and they will come pay the respects with flowers and incense, and other offerings. A lot of the graves had beer mugs. Some were covered in leaves and weeds dusty with neglect. Others were immaculately groomed. It was very interesting to see the variations. I was startled by a black cat laying in an alley, watching us. Black cat in a graveyard….it was time to leave.

We finally made it off the mountain, with a serious sense of accomplishment. We had battled our way up to the top of Mr. Shinobu. Through the forest, through the elements, to the summit and back down through the graveyard. We had met him and made friends. I was entitled, rightfully to my steamy hot plate of CoCoichi curry and, I decided, a much deserved beer. There was just one thing we missed…the giant straw sandal! Where was it? I figured, if it was that big, I would’ve came across it. Well, as I always say when I miss something, it just gives me an excuse to return soon.