Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 1 & 2)

8/12/08-8/13/08

The trip began on a Monday evening, when I took a train to Tokyo and stayed at Rabbi Binyamin's house. The next morning, I prayed, ate and took a set of trains west to Kofu. At 2:00pm, I took a bus along with 20 other backpackers to a trail head in Hirokawara. The road was thin and winded around mountain edges and alongside waterfalls. Upon arriving in Hirokawara, I made best use of my maps and the Japanese signs and took a steep path up the spine of the mountain. I arrived at the campsite with just enough time to set up the tent before dark. With the darkness came the pouring rain, which continued for the majority of the night. My tent was soaked and leaking, but dry enough on the inside to allow a full night of sleep.

When the sun arose, the rains stopped. I took down the tent and let it dry with my sleeping bag in the sun for about an hour and a half. At 9:30, I began to hike a steep path up a grassy mountain. As I ascended, the weather changed very quickly and often: from cloudy skies to sunny skies or to a thick and engulfing mist that obscured vision.

Eventually, I reached a clearing and saw the surrounding ranges under blue skies. As I ascended, I met many Japanese and they all greeted me with a cheerful countenance and "conichiwa." I continued up and made it to Kita Dake (3193m), the second highest peak in Japan. There I prayed with tefillin and ate.

As I gazed upon the valley, I saw a bird still in the air. It wasn’t flapping its wings, just balancing stationary in the wind.

I headed down and arrived at a mountain hut station by 2:30pm. There I rested and pondered whether to set up camp or continue to the next hut (which was three hours away). There were dark clouds over the valley and hovering over the peaks and I considered staying. I looked into the distance, saw that there was no precipitation coming out of any of the clouds and judged that it would be safe to move on.

As I went, the trail became steep, misty and lonesome. I went fast, but with great caution, always leaning and stepping uphill. The atmosphere was heavenly and I often gazed into the clouds. I reached the second peak, Aino Dake (3189m), dry and safe. As I descended, the sun peered through the clouds with Grace. Soon, I made it up to the next mountain hut, set up the tent and headed to the western edge of the campsite. The Beauty of the view and Glory of the day brought me to sing verses of praise into the valley. As I sung, the sun peaked through the clouds again and shined rays of yellow into the valley mist. After, with a cold and tired body, I returned to the tent for sleep.

Adventure 7: Shikine Shima

8/8/08-8/10/08

The group left the port and I was left alone on Shikine Shima. I had no hotel reservations and about four hours to find a place to stay (before Shabbat). The island had a small village in the center with small guest houses and convenient stores. I walked inland, carrying a map, compass, sleeping bag, change of clothes, and some wine and bread. I asked a clerk at a convenient store and several people on the street where I could find a hotel. They pointed in several directions, but I could not read the signs on the buildings nor find a room to stay. After circumventing for two hours under the hot afternoon sun, I consulted the map and headed north to a campsite.

The campsite was just above a cove with a white sandy beach, steep rock cliffs covered with greenery, turquoise waters and a large tree-covered stone arch. It had a barbecue area, bathrooms and an unobstructed sunset view. I quickly checked in, hid my bags up the hill and ran to a convenient store to get supplies. The day after Shabbat was Tishba B'av, a fast day, so I bought plenty of food. I returned, took a nice swim, a shower and lit the candles for Shabbat. The wind was strong, so I built a fortress around the candles with the bags and kept close until the wax expired. I watched them flicker and glow and covered the top with my hands when strong winds came.

When the lights went out, a new trial emerged. I had no tent or insect repellent and clouds were hovering above. I covered my entire body (except me face) in the sleeping bag, prayed that no rain would come and closed my eyes. Throughout the night, the mosquitoes continuously harassed me, but no rain came. I was able to get a few hours of restless sleep.

The next morning I prayed, ate a big breakfast of cold noodles and jam, bread and salt and biscuits and nuts, hid my bags and took a morning hike along the eastern and southern edges of the island. I explored secluded coves, walking over big white rocks and gazing upon the turquoise water. I made it to a set of natural hot springs, that were right on the water’s edge. I read a sign that said the spring had healing powers and was discovered when someone came upon an injured sea lion bathing in its pools. I put my hands in, and the hot salt water burned in the cuts on my fingers. I headed back to the campsite for lunch and prayer, hid my bags and headed out to the western edge for the afternoon. I traversed through a trail along thick green vegetation and up a hill to the highest points on the island. There were great views of the tall and steep mountain cliffs that met the turquoise waters and the green trees that covered the island. That night I tried to sleep in an unused shower room, but the mosquitoes found me there. I got out, set up my sleeping bag on a plot of sand near the water’s edge and covered my face with a pair of sweatpants. Thankfully, there was no rain again and I got a few hours of good sleep.

The next morning I awoke, took a boat back to the mainland and spent the afternoon fasting at the Tokyo Chabad House. That night I ate a big dinner and returned home. I spent the next day resting and preparing for a four day camping trip in the Southern Japanese Alps.

Adventure 6: Sailing to Shikine Shima

8/5/08 - 8/8/08

The trip began on a Tuesday, when I rested from the Fujisan climb and made the preparations for the long distance sailing trip. Along with my clothes and sleeping bag, I brought wine, bread and candles for Shabbat. In the afternoon, I met Takesan and his girlfriend, Nanamisan, at the dock and emptied the water out of the small entry boat. That night we slept on the boat together and prepared for an early take off.

We woke to a sunrise that illuminated the sky with gold and dark blue. Mrs. Kyokuta met us at the dock, wished us a good trip, pointed at the sunrise, and remarked that it was a good omen. We motored out of the port and into Tokyo Bay at about 5:00am, as the sun brightened the sky and the water. As is common over the summer, there was no wind, so we relied on the motor for the majority of the day. As we headed south, I took my prayer book and tefillin out and did my best to pray on the deck. I hugged the sail’s support beam and gazed upon the colors and motion of the water, as the ship bumped me in all directions. The skies were clear overhead and graced with white cloud puffs in the distance and the waters were sparkling in the sun. We all took time to take in the beauty.

As we moved out of Tokyo bay the waters changed from sea blue to a deep turquoise. Mr. Kyokuta told me it was called “black current” and flowed throughout the area. The “black current” was stunningly beautiful under the clear sky and housed flying fish that jumped out of the sea and flapped their wings in the air for a distance.　At one point, the fishing line tightened and Nanamisan reeled in a huge golden scaled fish named ｓhira, or mahi mahi by the Hawaiians. As it took its last breaths, the fish’s scales turned silver. Quickly, Takesan cut off the meat on the deck and stored it in the icebox.

In the afternoon, we slowly approached O Shima, a large green volcanic island. After some uncertainty with parking, a kind 82 year-old man in a white bucket hat waved us into a docking slot. Soon after, we were driven to an Onsen, or public bath. When we arrived, we removed our sweaty clothes, squatted down under a low showerhead, cleaned our bodies and descended into the warm waters. As we sat, Mr. Kyokuta recounted that traditionally Japanese men and women would share the same public bath and that such was the practice in his youth. We left the bath rejuvenated, bought some ice cream and hiked back to the boat. That night we ate the shira and slept well.

The next morning we awoke and tarried for some time in the port in search of fuel and water. As we motored out to sea, Nanamisan set the breakfast table and we ate under clear skies. Mid-morning we passed To Shima, an uninhabited volcanic island. I was praying at the time and as I looked up, I was overcome with awe. The island’ｓ steep slopes were smoking and its greenery was glowing in the sun. Glorious Speech!

After lunch we put up the jib sail, turned off the motor and moved with the sounds of the waves in our ears. We caught several fish and stored them in ice. In the late afternoon we arrived at Shikine Shima and set anchor in a cove with light turquoise waters. As fast as I could, I jumped into the cool refreshing waters and explored the area. There were caves, beaches and rock islands covered in coral. The water was so clear that I could see the fish and coral without goggles. I found a secluded spot, with an open view over the western waters and sky, and sat for sunset. It was wondrous, complete with multiple colors in the sky, glowing clouds and a view of Fujisan to the north. That night Takesan took out fish, sliced off the meat and put them on the table raw, as sashimi. They were soft in texture and delicious.

The next morning we awoke, cleared the barnacles off the bottom of the boat and went snorkeling. I saw many species of multicolored tropical fish, an eel, octopus and much coral. After, I sat on the deck, gazing upon the sun-illuminated turquoise waters, grey rocks, blue skies and green trees. It was all very pretty and brought serenity. As the moment passed, I let go of the intensity of the past months of adjusting to Japanese life, and reset my heart for the coming Fall. Soon after, Mr Kyokuta motored us back to the port. I took out my bags and said goodbye to the others. I was to spend Shabbat on the island and the group was to sail back to Tokyo Bay.

Adventure 5: Mt. Fuji Climb

Fujisan 8/3 & 4/08

The climb to Mt. Fuji (respectfully referred to as Fujisan by the Japanese) began on a Saturday night, as I checked the tent and packed. I awoke late Sunday morning, ate a huge breakfast of all the leftover food in the house, prayed, picked up some food and a poncho and headed to Oppama Station. I proceeded to take five trains and arrived in Gotemba around 3:00pm.

Without a concrete plan or knowledge of how to get to the mountain, I walked toward the bus station. There I saw a group of young Americans get on a bus. They said they were going to the Gotemba 5th Station of Fujisan’s western slope and climbing the mountain overnight. I was not planning on climbing from that station or on the first night, but after a moment of fast thinking, I jumped on the bus.

We arrived at the 5th Station at 4:30pm, and I began to ascend alone. As I climbed, the colors of the grey rocks, green plants, and blue sky glowed clear through the thin mountain air. There were yellow sunrays breaking through the clouds above me and a lake of thick white clouds covering the valley below me. At one point the valley clouds ascended the mountain and blew a fresh breath of mist onto my skin. It was the first time I felt the consistency of a cloud.

As the sun was setting, I met a nice lone hiker from Kyoto and proceeded to climb most of the night with him. We did not speak much of each other’s language, but we communicated the emotions of climbing well and understood each other.

After the sunset the overhead clouds thinned and the stars came out. They shined clear, filled the sky with great beauty and served as inspiration when I took breaks from climbing.

Such was needed, for the ten hours of climbing pained my body and challenged my will. Along with being steep and completely uphill, the trail was made of small rocks and sunk my feet 2-5 inches on every step. Also, because I was not planning on climbing the first day, I had a large external-frame army pack filled with a tent, sleeping bag, food, clothes and water on my back and a backpack filled with books over my stomach.

At times I struggled and considered going to sleep. On breaks, I saw 5-10 shooting stars and each time I asked for the strength to go on and for protection from a bad fall. From midnight to 3:00am I became progressively slower and took more breaks, but I finished with a charge to the summit and arrived on the eastern edge just as light began to show on the horizon.

Soon after, I watched the sun slowly rise. The show started with a rainbow in the sky, then golden clouds were added to the horizon and climaxed as the sun rose a perfect yellow sphere, unmarred by the clouds. (Note: I have watched four suns rise in Japan. Twice it rose red and twice yellow. I think the presentation depends on the location of the watcher and thickness of the eastern clouds. If I find more information about this, I will write of it.) There were white clouds in the valleys, covering everything but the black mountain peaks. Glorious Speech!

After the rise, I hiked around the crater of Fujisan’s crown, gazing upon the adjacent valleys in the morning sun and mist. My mind was tired and my body exhausted, and after some confusion I chose the path down the northern slope and headed down. It was wide, steep and slippery and I fell backward many times. Along the way I stopped to pray, strength was returned and I began to march down. The last legs were highlighted by more climbing clouds and views of the bright green forests of Fujisan’s ankle.

Although I planned to spend two nights in the Fuji area, I decided to head home that day. I had ten days of physically taxing ventures ahead of me and took the following day for rest.

Festival 3

Odawara 7/27/08


The day began with prayer, a big breakfast and a hike down to Oppama Station. From there I traveled to Kamakura, where I spent a couple of hours at its beach. Its water was clear and warm and filled with swimmers. The waves were small, but they broke far away from the shore and I could body surf short distances.

At about 1pm I headed to the train station, and traveled about 22 miles east to Odawara. When I arrived, I stepped outside to a view of the high-seated castle amidst distant cloudy and blue mountains. The castle was elevated above the city and had a moat, a cage of Japanese Macaques and gardens within its foregrounds. There were also many bizarre shaped and seemingly ancient trees within the castle park. As I approached the castle, I could hear drumming coming from the festival grounds and took flight towards the sounds. I arrived to a set of carnival booths, paper lantern decorations, a stage with medium to massive sized drums and a group of about 100 onlookers sitting on benches.

I went straight to the benches and sat down for an intense two-hour ride of radiant music. Over this time period, there were four sets of drummer teams with matching uniforms and between six to twenty members each. The first two performances included flute players and were paced by slow to moderate drumming. The music was sweet and the drummers were very serious. They were deeply focused on their timing and produced a seemingly flawless performance. The next two groups came with large drums and thunderous fast-paced drumming. They chanted and swung their wooden drumming sticks in all directions with beautiful synchronicity. The performances were well prepared and one could see the emotion and joy in the faces of the drummers as they pounded away. I nodded back and forth on the bench and took it in.

After the drumming, the mikoshi ceremony began. (Mikoshi are portable shrines, most shaped like minature shrine buildings, with pillars, a roof and a golden phoenix on top. They are believed to house local nature spirits and give good fortune to towns that carry them in festival parades. Odawara, which is a well populated city, had 25 in its festival.)
After a set of speeches, teams of 10-30 men and women started carrying the mikoshi out of the castle park, over the moat bridge and into the streets. Each team, which were dressed in matching uniforms and head towels, had a man that lead the chants and their movement and a set of flag and paper-lantern holders that marched in the front. Some ran the mikoshi at top speed for as long a fifty feet, before coming to an immediate stop, others tipped it over from side to side, but all marched it out, chanting loudly and popping it up and down on their shoulders.

After they all left the castle park, I followed them to the street. They were still popping up and down and chanting. The energy of all the motion and sound was intense and the setting sun turned the sky into a gorgeous collage of gold, grey and blue. I started pacing and jumping alongside a team that was popping up and down faster and chanting louder than the others. A man in the front waved at me to join the team and I accepted the offer.

Wow. I entered the eye of the hurricane. Sandwiched in a tight group of 30 men, I chanted and screamed “Washoi,” “Yokoi sorah,” and “Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi” and popped up and down with all my might. Exhilarating. I do not know what the others were yelling for, but I was yelling for Life, and for Youth and for The Creator who puts it all together. Exhilarating.

Eventually, we carried the mikoshi back into the castle park and joined the others. There the community leaders were singing beautiful folk melodies, to which we responded with more “Washoi,” “Yokoi Sorah,” and “Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi.” We bopped and screamed as loud as we could. When it ended, I thanked the men for letting me join and headed back to Odawara station. The next morning I awoke with a sore shoulder and a brilliant memory.

Festival 1

Asakusa, Tokyo 7/10/08

The rainy season ended and the summer has arrived. In Japan this means it is a time for festivals, gatherings with various means to celebrate the season. Most are a combination of carnival booths, special food, music and dancing and are usually held at a shrine or in paper lantern decorated streets.

My first festival trip was to Asakusa Sensoji in Tokyo on a Wednesday night. It began, as I took the train from class in Nokendai, and arrived to a gathering of thousands around the Sensoji shrine. There were hundreds of booths on all sides of the shrines, selling whistles, wind chimes (These were made out of small glass bowls. I was told that their chiming sounds make Japanese feel cool in the summer heat.), plants, noodles, fish on a stick, cotton candy and kinds of strange foods. Many woman and young girls dressed in yukata (a traditional summer gown), and many made incense or money offerings at the shrines.

The atmosphere was lively, with the air of a county fair or carnival in America. Vendors were yelling, children were eating candy and all were in high spirits.


A special element of this festival was the mass selling of a plant called houzukiichi, or ground cherry. The plant’s fruit is used to make a whistle. (First one peels off the shell, and carefully pricks off the seed in the center. Then one softly pushed at the seed and softens the insides. Finally one pulls out the insides of the seed and uses its shell as a whistle. The process takes at least an hour to do correctly, and is widely enjoyed by children.) I bought a set of three for the nice lady who told me about the festival and walked on.

One moment, I stop and watched a fish booth. There one could fish for gold fish and small black fish with puffy cheeks. Using a tool that appeared as a magnifying glass with a piece of thin material instead of glass, one would scoop as many fish into a small bowl as possible (until the material broke). Then he or she would take their prizes home in a small plastic bag. It reminded me of my youth and brought nostalgia of happy times.

Another moment I watched a cook fry up a multilayered pancake meal. He slapped about twenty circles of batter onto the fryer, added some noodles, an egg, a large variety of multicolored spices, a handful of very thinly sliced meat and folded it over. Then a young woman would quickly stick it in a plastic container, add soy sauce and mayonnaise and hand it to customers with a set of chopsticks.

It eventually grew late and I headed home. I hope to go to more festivals in the future.

Gentle Misfortune

7/14/08

On a Monday, near dusk, I was sitting at a traffic light, twenty feet from a major intersection. I noticed that the lights in the car had turned off, and thought the car needed to be restarted. This was a mistake, for the engine refused to start up again. (Note: If you have car trouble don’t take the key out of the ignition until you are safely home or off road.) There, I sat in a dead Matty’s mobile, a 14 year old white Suzuki Alto with Matty’s insignia and telephone number posted on the side doors and trunk. I did not have a phone or much knowledge of the Japanese language and there were cars backed far behind and zipping by on both sides.

Quickly, I moved. I put on the parking lights, got out, kindly motioned to the man behind me to pass and ran about fifty yards to a payphone. I called Mr. Kyokuta and he told me he would meet me in twenty minutes. In the mean time, I flagged down a kind Japanese gentleman and he turned the wheel, as I pushed the car to the side of the road.

Mr. Kyokuta arrived, restarted the battery and led me home. About forty feet in front of Oppama Station’s major intersection, the car died again. I got out of the car and motioned to Mr. Kyokuta. Without batting an eye, he jumped out of the car with his five foot and 77 year old body and thick white beard. He pulled out a ten foot metal chain, hooked his mini white SUV to the Matty’s mobile and began towing.

As he towed I sat in the driver’s seat with my hands on the wheel and my foot near the brake. Such was not easy because the cars needed to traverse thin roads a well trafficked highway and a 360 degree turn up the steep foot of Takatori Mountain. I needed intense concentration to keep from crashing into Mr. Kyokuta’s back or hitting something off road.

We safely arrived at the office and parked the car in the lot. I thanked Mr. Kyokuta and told him I would buy him a beer sometime. He laughed and we parted for the evening.

(The next day the newer and larger Suzuki Alto was again available for driving.)