August 2005 Archives

Yesterday, Andrew and I climbed Mt. Nantai in Nikko, north of Tokyo. Nantai literally means, man-form. We got a bit of a late start at around 1:00 in the afternoon. The length of hike, according to my book, was 4-6 hours. I really suspected that it would be longer than even six hours, since past experience has proven that these estimates are a bit on the low side for me. Compound that with the fact that, for about the first hour and a half, it was raining pretty heavily. It felt like we were hiking way our way up a river bed, with the amount of water that was flowing beneath us. In some cases, we were clearly hiking through alluvial canyons. Fortunately it stopped raining before we embarked through these places.

It was thundering, very heavily at times, as well. We encountered many hikers coming down, fully-clad in professional rain gear and equipped with climbing poles and other hiking effects, who asked, with disbelief and worry, "are you going to climb all the way to the top?" They were worried because it seemed like, by the time we reached the top, there wouldn't be enough light for us to hike down safely. Andrew and I had also neglected to bring flashlights. We also must have looked extremely fooling to the climbers coming down, wearing only shorts and t-shirts, while they came down with ponchos and hats.

One of the climbers coming down asked us to be careful of the lightning, and that earlier someone had been struck on the mountain! I wasn't sure whether or not to believe him, but I came to believe him because of a very strange and scary event. We heard what appeared to be a helicopter coming up the side of the mountain. The noise! And, it was so misty that, despite hearing the helicopter, we couldn't see it. The noise got to be deafening, and then it appeared through the mist. The pilot adjusted its position so that the helicopter was directly over us. It couldn't have been any further than ten stories from us, possibly much closer.

We expected the helicopter to be on its way, but it just hovered where it was. And then it came - a huge, cold blast of wind from straight above. The force of the wind really was enough to knock a person down, if he or she was off his guard. We got down and clung to the side of the mountain, and looked up at the helicopter. There were several people looking down at us. I guess they were trying to determine if we were victims of a lightning strike. After a while, I guess they decided we were all right and were on their way. It was a scary and surreal experience.

After what seemed an eternity, we finally broke through the forest to near the top of the mountain. The difference in terrain was abrupt and stark. Up there, all sorts of jagged, red and black volcanic rocks were strewn everywhere. The stones were so loose that it made for a very treacherous ascent to the top. Andrew aptly described it as a Martian landscape.

We got to the top, and it was great. There was a little shrine there, of course, as well as the usual pile of rocks that people have built over the years. Unfortunately, as it was so misty, we were unable to see any of the great scenery around us, but the mountain itself was beautiful. It was about 5:00 PM when we started descending. By the time we got down - around 7:00 - the last vestiges of twilight were fading away. Just in time!

It was a great experience, but today - Monday - I'm sore as hell. It won't be for quite a long time that I climb another mountain like that. Andrew and I decided that our next hike this year will be much less demanding!

As of today (August 1, 2005), public smoking is illegal in Kabuki-cho. Particularly, many Japanese have a big beef with walking while smoking. There's also an ad campaign on the trains reminding passengers that a lit cigarette is held at the level of a child's face (not that smoking is tolerated on trains).

What's the big deal with public smoking? Where are the civil libertarians when you need them?