Guru-jee Rakesh

When staying for an extended time in Varanasi, what to do…. Observe Hindu cremation rights? Check. Wash in the Ganga? Check. Listen to the Dalai Lama lecture? Check.

Since it is India, if I were to turn to the Goddess of knowledge, music and the arts the answer would be in her hand. Sort of. The Goddess Saraswati holds and plays the veena, a plucked string instrument that looks very much like it’s more famous cousin, the sitar.

In fact, during my time here a Saraswati Festival was held over several days. On the first, she appears out of the Ganga River. The middle days, she dances about. And on the last day, she returns to the Ganga which the citizens represent by throwing 10+ feet tall statues of Saraswati into the river and chugging whiskey in the streets.

Considering up to 5 years ago my Facebook stated “I want to learn to play the sitar” it seemed like a no-brainer though actually my interest started much earlier…. Like many others, my interest in the instrument was sparked by its inclusion in 60′s rock. Most famously, The Stones used it in “Paint It Black” and the Beatles in “Norwegian Wood.” Pandit Ravi Shankar rose to international fame as the teacher of George Harrison:

After searching the city, I found a nice, relaxing place about ten meters from the main burning ghat, Manikarnika. Sarcasm is a subtle mistress, so let me explain: I previously mentioned the heightened frenzy with which Varanasians interact with foreigners. Around the main washing and burning ghats you find some of the most relentless of these denizens. Combined with eye-watering smoke from the pyres and cattle using the steps as pasture, it may not seem the best local for a music school. Yet the owner, Arjun, is genuine bloke and the teacher he uses, Rakesh Mishra, has an approachable teaching style.

Sur Sarita Music School

Window view of pyre wood.

So lets play some sitar. First some mechanics. The full-size sitar is 42 inches high. Number of strings can very, mine has 7 main and chikari strings that are actually strummed or plucked. The remaining 12 lie recessed in the neck and are sympathetic strings. That means you don’t actually play them, but through the vibrations of the instrument they create a complex harmonic resonance that is further amplified by the toomba. The toomba is the bulbous end of the sitar made from gourd (also called the pumpkin). Another toomba can optionally be attached to the top of the neck, but this is often only decoration on lower model sitars and made of wood, not gourd.

Photo Courtesy Wikipedia

Toomba

Indian classical music is new to me and differs quite a bit from Western style. There is more emphasis on single instrumentalists with a percussion accompaniment, tabla in the case of sitar. There is a highly evolved methodology using scales with note names Sa, Ra, Pa, Ma, Dha, etc as opposed to Western Do, Re, Mi, Fa, etc.

You’ve probably heard the term rāga, which is a “series of five or more musical notes upon which a melody is made” (Wikipedia). Rāgas are associated with different times of the day in the Indian tradition and really should only be played during the correct time. The mood created by the rāga corresponds to the environment; slow building morning rāga, fast paced afternoon rāga, and middle of the night rāgas that are slow but can explode with activity.

The first thing I learned was alankar, which are basically exercises that move up and down the scales in patterns. These are the building blocks of Indian classical music and are inserted at certain points during a rāga. They vary in difficulty and are how a player shows of his skill. In fact, many serious students will only practice this for years and years before taking on the actual rāga.

Only one string is really plucked on the sitar, the bottom sting, but sometimes a second is used. With only one string, this means the music is quite linear going up and down the scales. The sympathetic strings create the unique sound of the sitar and the very top chikari stings are strummed at the correct places to create even more resonance.

Like the guitar, it takes sometime to build up a callous on your left index finger. The string you pluck is thick metal and really wears painful lines into your finger. A band aid was required for much of my practice time. But you develop a groove in your finger and are soon sliding up and down. In addition, a mizrab is used in the right index finger. Like a guitar pick, this wire apparatus also digs into your finger and is used to pluck the main string. This hurts too.

With little time, I bought a notebook, slapped a sticker of Saraswati on it, and filled it with lots of alankar exercises, notes on tuning and mechanics, and several easy rāgas. I hope to have enough that I can continue on my own for some time, with the help of internet instruction, to teach myself for the time being. I’m sure sitar lessons in the US will be much more expensive than India.

I’m more interested in fusion music with the sitar, that is taking Indian classical instruments and using them in a Western musical environment. This is how the early fusion players, like the amazing John McLaughlin, popularized the instrument in the West. Today, Prem Joshua is a very popular fusion player. I’ve loaded lots of Indian Classical and fusion onto my iPod so I look forward to exploring these styles of music more.

Sweet Child O’ Mine on the sitar

I also attended a couple Indian Classical concerts in Varanasi. One featured a very fine sitar player, who to the distaste of most kept a couple white guys on stage. Fine, but one only sat in front of is MacBook, eyes closed, monitoring the recording of the performance. Weird.

Another was held where I stayed at Munna House and was organized by many of the people staying there since so many are music students. Lucy and Israel had a cool jam session of flute and hang drum (one of the best instruments period), a table and harmonium set, and the final by a longtime English sitarist who played the immense surbahar. The surbahar is like a bass sitar; larger, heavier and deeper sound with intricate demon head carvings on the top of the neck. The devil’s sitar.

Varanasi provided me a great opportunity to become acquainted with the sitar and Indian classical music in general. I ended up purchasing a sitar and shipping it to the US, so I can’t wait to get my hands on it again!

You can also find my lists for 2007 and 2008. Most recently read first.

1. Trespassers on the Roof of the World: The Secret Exploration of Tibet by Peter Hopkirk (1982).
2. Nueromancer by William Gibson (1984).
3. A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (1980).
4. Passing By: Selected Essays by Jerzy Kosinski (1984).
5. Siddhartha by Herman Hesse (1922).
6. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho (1988). I’ve put off reading this for, oh, so long. My pre-reading impression was this book is utterly pedestrian. I generally avoid those works that enter the popular consciousness, whether via Oprah Book Club or otherwise. I can’t pinpoint it for sure, but when I overhear conversation from the next cubicle along the lines of, “This book is, like, so deep and stuff!” it makes me want to go to Walmart and buy a gun.

   Post-reading impression is that the book is pedestrian. But good. There is nothing new here, the author re-read Joseph Campbell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces and regurgitated some old Carlos Castaneda. Can I go home now?

7. Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut (1985). Can’t go wrong with Vonnegut.
8. Almost Transparent Blue by Ryū Murakami (1976). I really dig this author and filmmaker. An Amazon review by Zack Davisson sums it up succinctly:

   John Steinbeck’s “Tortilla Flat.” Henry Miller’s “Tropic of Cancer” William S. Burroughs’s “Junky.” The semi-autobiographical novel of disaffected youth and their abusive love-affairs with drink, drugs and sex is certainly not without literary precedence. Over the years, it has become a genre, one which shocks people with its honestly, and lures with its romanticism of the life of a fringe wastrel, who looks no further than the next drink or fix, living life in pursuit of pleasure.

   Joining their ranks is “Almost Transparent Blue,” the debut novel by Japanese virtuoso Ryu Murakami. This first novel, written while still in collage, won the prestigious Akutagawa award and skyrocketed Murakami to fame and financial independence. Telling the semi-connected tales of young junkies Ryu, Kazuo, Yoshiyama, Moko, Reiko, and Kei, the book is a decent into the underbelly of 1970′s Japan, fresh with Jimmy Hendrix music, exotic black men from the local military base, and the numbness of emotion that comes from living in a drug-haze.

9. Video Night in Kathmandu: And Other Reports from the Not-So-Far East by Pico Iyer (1988). Well written travel literature about the author’s search for American cultural colonialism in Asia. A bit dated, really I expected more considering he is praised as the best living writer of this genre. Each chapter is a different country; some bang on about the same details and other offer insightful observances. There has to be over 50 references to the song “We Are the World” in the Philippines chapter alone. This reminds the reader the book is over 20 years old with details no one really cares about.
10. Himalaya by Michael Palin (2005). I brought this one to attention in this post. I really only read the parts of where I have visited and skimmed the rest. The documentary is better as this is just like a journal of his journey.
11. A Separate Reality by Carlos Castaneda (1944). The supposedly non-fictional tale of Carlos and his mentor don Juan continues…. this time with Carlos returning from 68-71 to learn how to “see” (like everyone looks but not everyone sees). Via the “little smoke,” or hallucinogenic mushroom mixture, Carlos attempts to “perceiving energy directly as it flows through the universe”.” Castaneda continues his lucid story with another great book, can’t wait to read more.
12. The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham (1944). Having a strong interest in teh Beat Generation, this book was described to me as the first or proto-Beat book. I’ll consider it one of my favorites. The story revolves around Elliot, a snobbish upper-class elite, and young Larry, who turns his back to society to fulfill a life of spiritual development.
    
    For myself, and most readers I assume, Larry is the most interesting of the prominent characters. Yet, the book does not take great effort to expose too much of his travels (China, India, etc). While the message is great, Larry does pull a stunt curing a friend of headaches with a coin that I thought undermined the larger message of the book.
13. Shiva 3000 by Jan Lars Jensen (2001). Interesting concept taking ancient Hindu mythology and setting it in a science fiction future. The Gods again wander the earth with a host of other supernatural entities. It starts well and he definitely has interesting ides, but the writing is bland and he loses focus at the end. Hindus probably consider it a sacrilege.
14. Steps by Jerzy Kosinski (1968). A man relates graphic and dark tales to his lover about revenge and sexual encounters from his sordid life. Very intense with each short chapter being a different story, only being interrupted with bits of dialogue between the lovers. I will probably read all of his books based on this one.
15. Lonely Planet Indiasooo fun to carry around. The Kindle is looking better and better.
16. Omerta by Mario Puzo (2000). This Mafia tale is from the end of Puzo’s career. Read too soon after the Godfather. Average paperback fare here.
17. The Godfather by Mario Puzo (1969). Why not start the new year with a classic mafia tale? Haven’t seen the movie for several years and it’s just as good as I remembered it.

The New Year passed quietly and enjoyably this time around in Rishikesh. I have spent the last two year’s holidays in Goa, India and Sihanoukville, Cambodia respectively and this year I add another one in India.

My stay at the Raj Resort has been a stroke of luck for finding a cheap place with decent food and a nice staff. All the guests here are friendly and make a good crowd with several Japanese yoga students. Several others have come for shorter times during my stay, but most are perusing some Ayuverdic, yoga, or related education.

Alcohol is only sold in a special store 17 kilometers from my guesthouse, but we managed to get a bit of spirits for the evening. Around midnight we ventured to Luxman Jhula, one of the two bridges that span the Gangees a ways from the city center. After loitering a bit we started a small fire on one of the beaches and attracted some others before heading in for the night.

For the most part I am finished with what yoga I did here and will pick up a few more random classes before I depart. I did a little painting on some tables my guesthouse has added to their outside along with some large coverings made from and decorated with bamboo. I had to leave before they were finished so I hope they look nice.

Table Painting

I finished the year with a respectable 39 books on my reading list.

“A San Fermín pedimos, por ser nuestro patrón, nos guíe en el encierro, dándonos su bendición. Viva San Fermín. Gora San Fermín.”

“We ask San Fermín, because he is our Patron, to guide us through the Bull Run, giving us his blessing.”

A full grown, male bull weighs as much as 600 kilos, has two lethal horns protruding from the head and is behooved with equally hardened trampling devices. And I was going to outrun a marauding group of them at the annual Fiesta of San Fermín in Iruñea-Pamplona, Spain.

What I was about to undertake is, of course, the encierro, or “Running of the Bulls”. Every morning from July 7th to the 14th, a large group of mostly males brace to make the adrenaline dash some 800 meters to the finish line.

I awaited the sound of the first rocket, indicating the bulls had been let loose, a bit before Estafeta, where the running is a bit slower ahead of the start in the Santo Domingo area. Around me still half-drunk fiesta goers were clad in head-to-toe white, a bold red sash (faja) tied about the waist, red handkerchief (pañuelo) about the neck, and an occasional vomit stain flourish. Don’t forget 13 have died since 1924, the last being in 1995.

Photo by luistxo eta marije

Spanish gentlemen nonchalantly read the morning’s newspaper before they twisted it into a tight roll to batter the bulls. Another runner held is young daughter on top of his shoulders. A foreign visitor sat passed out with his head between his legs. How in the world had I come here?

I was studying during the 2001 summer in Grenoble, France and missed my intended train loitering too late at a party for an extra glass of wine. Not an auspicious beginning.

Luckily I was able to jump the next train and complete our journey to San Sebastián, a convenient base of operations on the north coast, blessed with the beautiful (and sometimes topless) La Concha Bay.

My party of three entered by taxi (about €100/1 hour from San Sebastián) since our preparation was nil and buses, of which there are extra, were full. Pamplona can also easily be reached by train from Madrid and Barcelona. Because the city is so inundated with tourists, commuting in can be an attractive alternative. Full transportation details can be found here.

On the way we made Nutella sandwiches and pondered out nonexistent sleeping arrangements, and as expected, we were without accommodation. In a city with under 3,000 hotels rooms and many more times that number in visitors, book well in advance and prepare to pay two or three times the usual rate. Hotels are often booked months in advance.

Or you can just show up like I did. My bed for the night was a public park a few hundred meters from bustling lines of vendors and boisterous tents with sangria and cerveza guzzling revelers.

Even a darkened, vacant corner is not the easiest thing to find during San Fermín. Young lovers and drunken sleepers vie for the best spots, but the three of us eventually found a nice quite tree to curl up near. To combat the chilly night air, I bought several woven blankets of Spanish design to stay warm under. I think one friend cried a little on the outside, and we all cried a little on the inside.

Photo by wili_hybrid

Pamplona descends into chaos during San Fermín. The sheer drunkenness of those around you can be appalling. The city is on 24-hour siesta and mounds of garbage pile up from the constant party. It can be the best time of your life, or the worst if you are not prepared.

These mounds are raked and hosed away from the running route of the encierro immediately before the day’s run. The resulting wet cobblestones provide a precarious sprinting surface for both bull and human.

When the first rocket sounded, I set off at a leisurely trot. Double layers of wooden barricades sealed off the narrow Spanish streets. Suddenly, there they were. Right behind me. Somehow the thick crowd had thinned out and my attention was on the spectators hanging off roofs and balconies. Snapping back to reality, I sped off as fast as possible. A shirtless, muscular foreigner and I elbowed each other for position frantically. The calm Spanish, rolled paper in hand, deftly sidestepped any threat and at the same time delivered an embarrassing blow to the bull’s nose. It was a blow to their dignity, and a young foreigner is the easiest target to exact revenge upon.

Photo by henribergius

I quickly ducked to the side hoping the pack behind me would pass. They sped up to the nearly 90-degree turn of Estafeta Street where the wet cobblestones felled several of the hulking beasts.

After dashing out again I quickly found myself in the same position with bulls bearing down on me. This time I made a dive under one of the double wooded barricades, smearing dirt on my white attire. The third time I had to scamper for cover I went over the barricade, foolishly displaying my backside as an easy target for any bull’s horn.

My hands were shaking with from the rush of adrenaline, like a needle full of it straight to the heart, and would continue to do so hours after the event. I had my fill and finished the last bit of the route mostly behind the bulls saying a blessing to San Fermín, thankful to be unharmed.

My friends rejoined me, jumping up and down in excitement of what they just witnessed: their friend nearly gored.

A successful run with the bulls takes three things. The first is respect; respect the prowess of the bulls and the runners around you. Don’t push and shove anymore than you have to and treat the situation seriously by not showing up after a sleepless night or with a hangover.

The next is confidence. Never lose faith in your legs or decision-making, a falter in either might give you a bottom-up view of a bull.

The final ingredient is fear. Fear keeps the other two things in line and, with a little luck, helps you pull off an event to remember.

Polaroid photo by flickr user photoreb.

A Facebook group for the even can be found here.

Following my 5 days hiking on Yakushima, I journeyed into Kumamoto Prefecture to soak in some tunes at the Niji no Misaki Matsuri, or End of the Rainbow Festival. It’s also called the Space Children Gathering.

Ad 2 Ad 3

Set high up in the mountains near Mt. Aso, we drove past horse farms and grazing cattle to the festival site.

Several hundred people came to the event and the first thing I noticed were the large tepees set about the grounds. The main stage was backdropped by the largest, an we set our tents stage right in an area we called the suburbs.

The following 4 days were spent relaxing with only one day of drizzle. We mingled with the festival goers and found nearly every conglomeration of tents had a variety of instruments, including guitars, (lots of) drums, didgeridoos, flutes, and whistles. Spontaneous jam sessions would break out with great frequency.

It was nice to see a category of Japanese people that is not often gathered in such numbers. Perhaps many were salarymen in their normal lives, but many formed a kind of counterculture in opposition to the high consumerism normally found in Japan.

We were camped near a large tepee belonging to Yousuke and his lovely wife and child. They own and live on a tea farm in Kumamoto open to woofers. He even suggested we quite our jobs and work for him at ¥1200/hour. Tempting.

The music was good with several “hippy bands,” standard J-rock offerings, some gaijin bands and the great Guitar Panda.

Guitar Panda starts his set in a full Panda Bear mascot uniform, rocking out on the guitar. Then, he strips off to normal clothes for a few more numbers before his final incarnation as Calpis Presley. (Calpis if the name of a popular drink in Japan, and it looks like cow piss.) He rocks through 50′s and 60′s surf and rockabilly, often singing his own dirty Japanese lyrics in place of the original.

Facilities were bare, but water was brought in and there was forest to relieve yourself in. Our camp lacked nice camping gear and open air tents to sit under, so we improvised and erected out own ghetto covers with tarps and cut down trees. I myself doubted the stability, as I’m sure our neighbors did, but it stood the test of wind and rain to our surprise and only required a few swift cuts to take down. In fact, everyday we improved upon the design as its good to accomplish something everyday.

I’m lucky I live a scant few hours drive from it. We had neighbors who journeyed from Hiroshima and even hitchhiked from Tokyo. This event was easily on of the best things I’ve done in Japan and I’d recommend anyone to attend.

You can find all the photos featured here and more in my Yakushima Flickr Set.

Yakushima, only 27 km in diameter, is an amazing hiking destination. My trip was filled with thousand year old giant cedar trees, waterfalls, and outside onsen. I had a few frustrating times but in the end accomplished all I wanted.

Matt and I arrived by ferry in the morning (~¥9000 return on the fast hydrofoil) and immediately set out hitchhiking from the port town of Miyanoura down to the Hirauchi Kaichu Onsen oceanside. We had our first ride in about 20 minutes from Yuko-san who drove us way out of her way to the foot of the onsen. She worked in one of the hotels on the island and spoke perfect English, telling us tales of the K1 fighters and pop singers who stay at her hotel.

The outside onsen was dramatically set in volcanic oceanside rock. The tide was in and the water could have been warmer but we jumped right in. I think some of the old ladies who wandered up to visit were taking more than just onsen pictures as it is mixed nude.

Volcanic Rock

Hirauchi Kaichu Onsen

We wandered looking for a campsite and found the very excellent Young Inn Minshuku, which is a Japanese style bed and breakfast. For ¥800 yen a person, we pitched our tent in their yard on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The inside had rooms to rent and we could use their new looking facilities, plus they gave us their gas stove to cook with and bikes to tool around on. It was such a nice place to start and in complete opposition to the last place we camped. They had a pool table inside as well and drove us to the start of the trail the next day at Onoaida Onsen just a few kilometers from their house. Highly recommended place to stay.

Young Inn Minshuku

And so began the hike. From Onoaida Onsen we walked 13 kilometers, mostly uphill, in a deceptively hard hike if Lonely Planet’s Hiking in Japan is to be believed. Which it’s not. There were no giant trees, like the other side of the hike, or any deer or monkeys. The only redeeming part of it was the 30 meter Jianokuchi-daki waterfall 1.5 hours into it.

Jianokuchi-daki Waterfall

My advice would be to skip this day entirely and only do the last two as outlined by LP. It was a bit frustrating to sludge over 11 hours (book says it takes 8 hours) to get to a point where a road drops all the other hikers off before a short walk to the sleeping hut. We saw no others the first day and arrived to the hut with everyone asleep. In fact, our hosts at Young Inn wondered why only foreigners do this portion and warned us of an over 11 hour hike.

The following day was another uphill battle, so I decided to give my legs, which were still quite tired at 6 a.m., a rest and hitchhike down to an onsen. Matt went on up and I dropped in from the topside of the island to continue after hiking around Yakusugi Land and spending a night on the beach. With names like Buddha-sugi, the immense tree trunks twisted up from the ground.

Buddha-sugi

The next two days of hiking were spectacular. I met Mike (replacing one Scottsman with another) and I hiked with him some of the time. The first day I weaved in and out of the yakusugi (giant cedar areas) and the famed greenery of the “Mononoke Forest”. The view from Tsuji Toge Pass was excellent.

Tsuji Toge Pass, view this one large

Mononoke Forest

Parts of the forest are referred to as the “Mononoke Forest” because it served as the inspiration for Hayao Miyazaki’s animated classic, Princess Mononoke. See the clip below, especially towards the end. These areas are moss covered and can adequately be described as just green. The tiny deer of the island, yaku-shika, can be spotted in many places.

The trail converges to the railroad track that in older times was used to facilitate the removal of the trees. The giants were felled for various reasons over the years including to make stylish shingles for rich people and build temples in Kyoto.

Photo by laungeville

After several hours of walking, eventually the big guy himself, Jomon Sugi, appeared. This monster of a tree is estimated to be as old as 7,200 years. It’s trunk is 28.8 meters in circumference. When I arrived, the crowds had all departed back towards their buses, and I stood alone gazing up into the branches of this ancient tree. We exchanged a few words and I continued on my way.

Jomon-sugi

Jomon-sugi Detail

The next night was spent in a another nice hut and was a short 2 hours from Mt. Miyanoura peak at 1935 meters. It claims the title of the Kyushu area’s highest mountain. I started at 5:30 in the morning and had some amazing views in the early light.

My luxury hut

Granite rocks speckle the mountain tops, which remain fairly flat once you reach a high elevation. Tough bamboo grass called sasa covers the ground and the wind blows with some ferocity. The few hours over Mt. Miyanoura and surrounding peaks is some of the best hiking I’ve done in Japan.

I quickly descended, passed the hut from the first night, and hitchhiked via two rides back to the campsite where I left the tent.

The site was Oceanview Camping Ground, which despite the appealing name turned out to be a gravel parking lot near a rocky ocean front. There was water spouts and portable toilets, so I set the tent in a relatively rock free spot where it stayed for two nights.

One the third night, Matt and I rejoining, the first rain clouds began to roll in. We had amazing luck thus far since it is not uncommon for it to rain everyday on Yakushima. After 6 pm, as the clouds rolled in, our hero Shimbara Shimpei rolls up in his white station wagon. He gets out and immediately goes into puffer-fish mode as little people in big roles tend to do.

His story changed a couple times when it became apparent Matt spoke fluent Japanese. At first the site wasn’t ready. I’m not sure what other preparations a gravel parking lot needs, especially since we are camping during the busiest time of the year (Golden Week time). Not good planning on their part. Then we didn’t have a reservation, which we did not know we needed and no phone number or other contact description posted. Then we hadn’t paid the scant ¥500 yen a night, which we offered to pay, of course. That offer was rejected because I think he just wanted to make us pack everything up and find a new place to stay as the rain was beginning to start because he could (or the police he warned were on speed dial). Shinbara ever of helpfully told us there was another site somewhere that way, though he could not give us a ride. “Impossible.” We were dumbstruck. Any further questions diminished into him yelling “Leave! Leave!” over and over in Japanese. Further more, we watched as he walked over to the other tent set up, and for lack of a better description, shake the shit out of it as the first thing he did.

This episode, despite really being a non-issue, shook me up quite a bit. This is Japan after all and I’ve rarely, if ever, come across such rude behavior especially in light of the circumstances (rain approaching, busiest tourist season). This island depends on the tourist industry and we took precautions not to make a mess.

Our camp after moving actually had grass.

In any event, we walked to another campsite, cooked a meal, and went to bed. It rained well into the morning and we hustled off to the ferry port and caught an early boat back to Kagoshima. We scored some of the best Indian curry I’ve had in Japan before making an early bus back to Oita, allowing for a night in my own bed before work the next day.

And that was only half of my Golden Week adventures….

The week after next is Golden Week here in Japan and constitutes a series of national holidays in close proximity to each other. For many, this is the longest vacation period of the year and a very popular time to travel.

Last year, I spent two weeks backpacking Vietnam from south to north solo. This year I am spending 5 days hiking and camping on Yakushima, an island off the southern coast of Kyushu. After that, I am going to a “hippy festival” called Niji no Misaki Matsuri on the side of Mt. Aso and camp out some more.

Yakushima was one of Japan’s first UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1993 and contains pristine sub-tropical giant cedar (yaku-sugi) tree forests. The oldest of these is Jomon-sugi with a girth of 28 meters (first pic below). It is estimated by some to be 7,200 years old. If you are a Creationist, that tree is older than the earth.

The weather is quite fickle and known for the constant rain. The high peaks are snow-capped and the coast is sub-tropical with some great outside onsen (rotemburo) that you can only use at certain times of the day when the tide is just right.

My hike will take three days and cross from south to north over the Kyushu region’s highest peak, Mt. Miyanoura at 1935 meters. The natural scenery, waterfalls, giant trees, and roaming monkeys make this one of the most beautiful places on earth and I am really excited to see it.

I am using my last paid time of the year for this trip! I’ll have to return home for one day of work on Friday, May 2nd, but then I’m right back out to Aso-san in Kumamoto for 5 days. Every year, the little known music festival is held that attracts the more eccentric of Japanese and their dogs.

This should be a relaxing and laid back few days mingling with the crowds and dancing like you just don’t care.

The above shots are courtesy of flickr users ippei + janine, Mil, and Pokeron Polaroid by ippei + janine too.

I’d also like to point out that in this picture of the festival there is a man without his pants acting nonchalant.

The weekend was action-packed as I traveled down to Miyazaki-ken for a taste of the beach and a two day hiking trip.

On Friday, Matteo and I drove down to one of the finer surfing spots in Japan near Hyuga. We brought the surf boards, but on Saturday morning the waves looked weak and it was a bit chilly, so instead decided to hit some scenic spots for a few photos.

Umegase

From there we drove over an hour up a windy mountain road to the start our Mt. Ōkue hike in the Sobo Range. The range is known to be sparsely inhabited with pristine surroundings.

We used Lonely Planet’s Hiking in Japan for our route and found it a bit lacking at times, but adequate overall. The book rates the hike as hard, and that it was.

Hike Loop

Around the start of the trial is Kami Hori, a quaint little mountain community that we were able avoid walking 6 km through since we drove.

Tozan-guchi: Start of the Hike

The book outlines a nice hut that can hold 35 for the first night. We were eager to test a borrowed tent out though, so went a further couple hours further to lessen the next day.

photo by Matteo

photo by Matteo

photo by Matteo

The second day was why the hike is rated hard and is estimated to be 8-9 hours walking steep terrain with nearly 1000 meters assent and descent.

The first half of the day was spent following river and stream in some amazing territory. The mountain ranges a built out of granit; huge boulders, table-like slabs, and inspiring spires. Waterfalls, the highest 25 meters, dotted the trail.

photo by Matteo

photo by Matteo

photo by Matteo

Once the trail turning away from the stream, we spent a couple hours scrambling up rocks to crest a ridge and continue a short ways to the great views off of Ōkue-san at 1643 meters.

The next landmarks were the towering granite spires, a rock climbers dream. They rose out of the forest majestically and beckoned to be climbed. We took the tallest on (actually the quickest too from the trail), though several others all looked inviting. With several hours yet back to the car, we smartly moved on.

photo by Matteo

The rocks, as well as other portions of the trail, are equipped with ropes and ladders as needed. This is great, but the wooden log bridges and ladders did not appear very safe. I have a few kilos on the average Japanese hiker, plus my pack, so imagine how happy I was to watch Matt snap a ladder rung ahead of me. The more dangerous places, thankfully, had metal support structures.

From there, we descended a tricky trail for about 3 hours back to the river. Another metal bridge led us across the river, then past the hut and back to the car. Even though we cut about 2 hours off the estimated time the previous day, we still spent a solid 9 hours hiking.

photo by Matteo

Needless to say, we were exhausted and took an refreshing onsen in Kami Hori before the long drive back home.

This picture is just too cool, its me doing my best Buzz Lightyear impersonation. Click on it to see bigger! My friend Matteo took this at the abandoned amusement park Utopia I mentioned before. Check out Matt’s photos on flickr, he has some really good shots and a nice Utopia set!

Yesterday’s holiday for Vernal Equinox Day found me traveling back to hike the mountain known as Kuju with my friends Matt and Mark for my second ascent. It’s located in Aso-Kuju National Park and is one of several tightly knit peaks including an active volcano that bellows a great deal of sulfur smoke. The surrounding terrain makes for some great views.

Kuju is often quoted as Kyushu’s tallest mountain at 1787 meters though this is not true. Mt. Miyanoura on Yakushima Island of the southern coast actually holds this title at 1935 meters.

The hike has to be one of the best on Kyushu since it is moderately hard at most, frequented by flat stretches, and very scenic. In all we did it in about 5 hours round trip.

The first section is paved path that gradually gives way to gravel and then rocky path. This is me least favorite part and coming down on this really seems to take a long time.

As the path gives way the rocks, a series of yellow dots have been spray painted all the way to the top. They are useful, but they went a little overboard on them with a dot at least every 3 meters.

Eventually to climb to a shelter the descends into a stunning valley of rocks and streams. The weather had been quite cloudy up to this point, but right when we had a good view of the valley the skies opened up and have us some great photography opportunities. Couldn’t have worked out better and we took our time enjoying the valley.

The next climb takes you to a level area before the last push to the summit. The wind is funneled through the valley, up these rocks, and into the level area with surprising force. When you lift one leg to move it often steers you off your intended path. In addition the chilling wind has frozen water all over the rocks in interesting formations due to its intensity. A liberal amount of snow tops off this uncomfortable portion.

When you reach the top of that, and into the level area, a shelter stands to your right and the summit path continues left. The wind really fierce here and you don’t hang around long.

The summit is about 15 minutes more and not incredibly windy so you can sit about and get all the pictures you need. Like all mountain peaks in Japan, a wood pole marks the highest point and is the defacto photo op when you climb a mountain.

We headed back to the shelter, had lunch, and then retraced our steps back to the car park. The weather stayed cloud covered for the most part, but did clear off at just the right times to get some photos.

It’s nice to have this park so near. We often met people coming from quite far away to climb. Last year we passed many Korean hikers and this year we met a couple from Gifu prefecture on central Honshu.

Most of these photos in this post are from the first time I climbed which was a much clearer day. Coincidentally, the first time I hiked this was exactly one year ago on the same holiday!