Kuwannai River, Daisetsuzan National Park, Hokkaido, Japan

It's been a while since I've gone to the mountains.  Back in Japan, just about every weekend I'd get above treeline.  I miss the mountains and the clarity of mind and body they bestow.

The following notes from the road are culled from a notebook that was in my vest pocket for one of the last, and best, hikes I ever took in Japan.  

The hike wasn't on a trail, you can't find it on maps, and it would be extremely dangerous to attempt it without a guide.  

I was fortunate to hike with my mountain-teacher and friend, Watanabe-san, a 60 year old descendant of Hokkaido pioneers with a deep sense of honor and unparalleled knowledge of the peaks of northernmost Japan.

Also on the hike were the photographers Ryan Libre and Mark Hochstetler, both of whom are Matador members.

The hike followed a river deep into the wilderness of Daisetsuzan National Park.  Dai-setsu-zan translates as Big Snowy Mountains, but we hiked at the end of July, when the snow had retreated to the high peaks.  

The name of the river we followed is "Kuwannai," an Ainu name.  The Ainu are the indigenous bear-worshippers of Hokkaido, a mysterious race known as the hairy people, few of whom survived Japanese and Russian colonialism.

The Ainu called Daisetsuzan Kamui Mintara, "Playground of the Gods."  The Kuwannai river is like a clear, shimmering waterfall of pure light that leads above treeline.

Here are my notes:

July 27, 2006
6 am

Walking up Kuwannai river in split-toed shoes, felt on the soles to keep from slipping on the river rocks, water fast and cold, morning light touching the rim of the gorge.  

Waterfalls and deep pools, small trout in clear water.

10 am

Sun up high now, bright on the gravel bars, no clouds first snow patches up high on the slopes.

Stream is narrow, boulders, thick moss in the shade: we leave the river and tromp through mud thick smell of ferns.

Snickers bar and banana, handfulls of water straight from the stream.  

Glad I played hooky - something about being in the mountains that just makes me glad, singing songs and looking at things and swinging my arms.

Lunchtime

Cold somen noodles scooped out of the pot with bamboo chopsticks, just carved on smooth rocks by a pool between waterfalls, sun hot on my neck, vest open.  Met two old men with wispy gray beards who are catching river trout.  

6 pm

Camp.  Still in the gorge, more river climbing tomorrow, but man is it beautiful.  3 tents, one last crusty slab of last winter's snow.  All I want to do is eat and sleep.  And that's just fine.

7:30 pm

Watanabe-san cooked up a great dinner - Chinese food from a packet and half a cabbage, mix it with rice and ate it all sitting on rocks by the river, swatting flies and feeding them to baby trout.  Wild rhubarb stalks, candy, Ryan's spaghetti too - belly empty after a long day, carb-loaded now and ready to sleep but still light to write by, so wait a half hour.

A big waterfall round the bend, something beautiful beyond says Watanabe-san, twinkle in his eye.

Watanabe-san is singing in his deep voice:

Though we may go our separate ways
We have this memory
And someday we will meet again
Again, someday, somewhere

July 28th, 2006
9 am

Break time, handfuls of raisins and peanuts, more stream water.  

We're hiking up a waterfall - one long stretch of smooth rock and worn channels of white-water curving up the mountainside for kilometer after kilometer, deep pools like bathtubs, too deep to see the bottom at the base of pounding falls.  

Another beautiful day and I barely slip with these shoes on, yellow flowers on the banks, dew drying green.

"Who would have thought that walking up a waterfall would be the easiest part of a hike!"  Ryan laughs.

noon

From a river of light

bright water morning sun / gardens and grottoes of arching falls / silver deep and blue sky

feet resting in the stream

"A 100 ring circus of a river," says Watanabe-san.

River seems to flow out of the sky.

1 pm

Above treeline now, twisty little trails and meadows of wildflowers, the stream still there.

Views of rocky peaks up above, gray-bellied clouds moving North over hazy Asahikawa City.

3 pm

Pasta in a meadow snow-fields melting into blue water ponds.  Where to put up the tent?

6 pm

Camp made in a flower-field, slight guilt about that, water boiling on two stoves now and sun going down way back where we came from.

Dropped the packs and walked with Mark up boulder fields and open meadows, views out to Mt. Asahidake and the big marsh, where I camped with Rika last year.  Almost made it up Mt. Tomauraushi  but Mark's blood sugar was a bit low so turned back short of the peak, stopping to chat with a slightly crazed man with rotten teeth who was upset hat someone had pitched a tent right next to his, on the shore of a snowmelt wind-ruffled pond.  Saw a pika.

7 pm

I'm lying on a thick bed of moss, watching the sun go down and the city lights start to twinkle, talking about the trip with Ryan and Mark, making plans to come back someday.

July 29th
5:30 am

Morning sun coming up over the ridge, warm first rays on my neck, lose the fleece, switch hats.  Other hikers stirring, sound of bear bells, Mark and I short on food.  Strap on the pack and head down.

8 am

Morning hike through rock gardens past Hisago marsh, up to the outcrop peak of Kaun-dake (Cloud Mountain), heart of Daisetsuzan, boulder up top and do zazen looking out over Chubetsu river and the snow streaked flank of Mt. Asahidake.

2 pm

Long walk down, sitting on a bench over the Tenninkyo falls, sweat soaked through and glad we stopped to filter water.  

Mark way ahead, as usual.  

Ryan got a text message, his Dad died.  But mostly we're talking about photography and the sushi restaurant in Furano.