Musashino Musings

It's probably true to say that most gaijin Tokyo-ites' first experience of mountain hiking in Japan is a trip to Takao san. Located about an hour away by train, it's readily accessible and extremely popular for family outings and afternoon strolls in the woods. There are a number of generally well-signed trails up the mountain and around the summit that present varying degrees of challenge to the visitor. Along with the trails there is a cable car and chair lift that feeds a steady stream of visitors to the the summit; that stream becomes a torrent in nice weather. So much so that Takao san can become unpleasantly crowded and is therefore avoided like the plague by many hikers seeking a bit of intimate quality time with nature.

Thankfully, however, the Japanese built-in herding instinct also means that the average recreational walker tends to shun even well-maintained trails such as Takao san when the weather is not ideal. Being British, we are of course not deterred by a bit of weather, so I've often found Takao san to be a convenient destination for a quick couple of hours in the fresh air during week days when the weather is a bit inclement.

Tokyo got hit by a very heavy snowfall this year - the heaviest for 30 years apparently. Outside of the urban areas, the snow was up to a metre deep in many places, with many of the mountain trails and roads closed and avalanche warnings in place on even some of the closer peaks. Naturally this is all very frustrating to those looking for a couple of hours escape. Especially those who had taken the opportunity of a recent trip to Europe to pick up some new hiking kit, and was itching to get out there and start playing.

So it was that I hatched the (in hindsight, perhaps not the wisest) plan to take a quick run up Takao san. I was concerned that I would miss out on seeing the woods bedecked with snow. I needn't have worried on that score!

Armed with cooker, tarp and emergency gear I set off from Takao san guchi station at about 10am for what I thought would be a gentle schleppe up Route 2 / 3 to the summit. Pretty soon after starting my ascent, it became apparent that this was going to be a lot harder slog than anticipated.

The snow was deep. When I say deep, I mean it had completely covered the path to a depth of 50-100cm or more. Traffic on the path had packed it down in places, but in many places it was quite treacherous. As I ascended, I found I was getting stuck more and more where the hardened surface of the snow wasn't enough to hold my weight and my feet kept suddenly disappearing into the depths, pitching me over on numerous occasions.  what made it worse was the fact that the path is very narrow at best, but the snow had pretty much obscured the edge of the path, so that what looked like solid ground was actually merely a fluffy overhang above a steep, wooden gully strewn with rocks and very unforgiving branches. This really was a job for snow-shoes and crampons - and I had neither with me! Big mistake.

After a couple of hours of wading through thick snow, I made it to the top. A digger had cleared some of the roadway on the top section so it was possible to see just how much snow was there. My hiking poles are about 120cm in length.

I had arrived very much later at the top than I'd planned, and I was mindful that I still needed to get down before nightfall, so I decided to head straight off down Route 6. I could have chosen Route 1, which is paved all the way. But in all honesty I would have viewed this as a bit of a cop-out after working so hard to get up by a more challenging route. So turning myself around, I headed off for Route 6. There was lots more fun to follow?

Route 6 starts down the mountain with a couple of long step sections. Although there was snow, it wasn't too deep and the steps themselves were fairly clear. I passed a couple of people coming up the path dressed in fairly inappropriate clothing for the conditions - i.e. trainers, so I surmised that if they had made it thus far the conditions further down were probably OK. How wrong I was!

After a fairly benign start, Route 6 drops into a stream bed gully, strewn with rocks and potentially ankle-twisting traps. Here the snow had really drifted heavily so the stream was completely and totally buried about a metre down. But it was still there, running under the show! Every so often, I could see massive potholes where some unfortunate had dropped through the crust into the stream below, which was happily burbling away under it's icy blanket. Clearly, with very few people around, twisting an ankle (or worse) and getting trapped in these conditions would be a serious problem, so I moved as cautiously as possible given the fact that I only had a couple of hours to negotiate my way down.

Here again, the path had been completely buried so in many cases is was just not  possible to determine what was stable ground and what was just wind-blown snow. What made it worse was that pine twigs had blown down onto the surface, making it look like a muddy path - but it wasn't! The real path lay 30-50cm below it. At one point my foot sank unexpectedly into a pothole and I pitched over backwards, just managing to stop myself from rolling over the edge and into a rocky gully below.

A bit further down the path, you come across a famous spot called the Biwa Waterfall. It is here that monks undergo their rigorous Misogi training - sitting under an icy-cold mountain waterfall while reciting Buddhist mantras. To protect the monks from the prying eyes of tourists, a screen has been erected along the top of the cliff edge. Normally, I can comfortably walk under the screen supports without having to duck too much. On this occasion, I was forced to climb over them.

I eventually made it down OK with plenty of time to spare. It certainly turned out to be a considerably more eventful trip than anticipated. And a valuable one: The big takeaway from this little adventure is that the Japanese backcountry is not to be taken lightly. Even on well-travelled routes like Takao san, conditions can be treacherous and you really, really need to be well-equipped and well armed with information on the weather conditions. Most popular mountains have websites where it's possible to get day-to-day updates on weather. I also learned that crampons and snowshoes are pretty much essential items here. They will be on my Xmas list for this year!

Well, here we are, a mere 3 years and 6 months after my last meaningful post! I am somewhat at a loss to try and recap everything that's happened over the intervening period. Suffice to say there have been many highs - Y's marriage and our family trip to Hawaii probably stands out as the biggest and best; the Tohoku Dai Shinsai in March 2011 was one of the worst. It's true to say there have been many difficult times; not only disasters and economic travails, but also some big domestic and health problems as well. I don't want to dwell on the negative but I think it's true to say I have experienced some pretty miserable periods over the last few years. But, hey, I'm still here and still more-or-less happy with life here in the Land of the Rising Sun.

So what of the now? Well it's been an interesting 18 months or so. Late 2012 I began to experience some real health issues. I was really starting to feel dreadfully tired and my cholesterol levels had shot through the roof. Earlier that year, I'd made the mistake of going to a Japanese dentist for a routine filling (NEVER go to a Japanese dentist - they are all idiots!). He botched it so badly that I ended up in total agony for nearly 3 weeks and with a full-blown systemic infection that required a serious course of antibiotics and a trip back to the UK to finally get on top of. The whole experience left me clinically depressed and at a pretty low ebb. Upon returning to Japan, I had some blood tests done for thyroid function (depression and high cholesterol are both symptoms of hypothyroidism), and low and behold there did seem to be a problem. I started on treatment, but I have never felt comfortable with the idea of long-term medication so I decided to try and find another way to sort myself out. It turns out, that this was the best course of action.

In a nutshell, I had become fixated on the negative aspects of my life. Somewhere along the line I had lost sight of the fact that I am fortunate enough to be living in one of the most fascinating places on Earth, and for the most part I was comfortable and not facing any major health barriers. I decided that I needed to start making the most of this opportunity that been placed in my hands. So, I started doing stuff: exercising in the park every morning, going on walking trips to the mountains, getting back to Iaido which I had shamefully let slip, and even returning to Aikido training. The net result has been a big improvement in health, both physically and mentally, and a much brighter outlook.

I say all this by way of an introduction to some of the topics I intend to be writing about a lot more from now on. In particular, I have re-discovered my love of the outdoors and especially hiking in the mountains. Everyone thinks of Japan, and especially Tokyo, as a hyper-modern environment. And of course it is. But it's also much closer to wilderness areas than you might suppose. Less than an hour by train, I can be in thickly forested valleys or clambering over peaks with incredible views of distant mountain ranges, including the iconic Mt Fuji, of course. True, when the weather's good you do have to share the view with about 6 billion other people on the more popular routes. But even in the peak periods, it's still possible to find solitude off the beaten track.

So - without further ado, welcome back to my world.

This is a test post to see whether I have negotiated Google's incredibly stupid sign-in procedure correctly

I really must try and write something on my blog...

This Summer has been really great. But it’s not all been lounging around on beaches and having impromptu barbeques in our car parking port here at Beerhound Mansions. There was also the small matter of my iaido third dan examination that took place in September. Regular readers will know that I failed the first attempt earlier this year. No surprise, as I had really not had enough practice in the run-up to the test. If I’m honest, I’d also seriously underestimated the standard required. Having never failed a martial arts grading before, I thought I’d be able to swing in on the day. I was wrong. So this time, and with the honour of the dojo at stake (this is actually quite a serious point) I was determined not to make the same mistake again.

I had been practicing regularly throughout the Spring and early Summer, but my plan was to start accelerating the training in the run-up to September. As well as iaido practice, I also wanted to build up a reasonable level of base fitness. Even though the examination is not a full-on aerobic challenge like the gradings we used to do in aikido, it is still necessary to have a reasonable amount of core strength to be able to carry out the moves properly and with the required poise. So to help with this, I started running in June. As a devout Fat Bastard, this didn’t come easy at first but within a few weeks I was running a 5km circuit quite happily.

The next milestone was attending the dojo’s Summer Gasshiku, or Summer Camp. This is a tradition in many dojos – a kind of retreat where you just focus entirely on practice. As there is also an element of shared endeavour about the whole thing, this has the additional benefit of helping to strengthen the social ties within the dojo. So it was that I found myself trudging to the station at 4.30am on a bright and hot August morning for the long train journey to Katsuura on the Boso Peninsula.

My destination was the Japan Budo Centre; a purpose-built complex for visiting dojos and school clubs. Set high on a hill, the centre overlooks Katsuura and the Pacific coast of Chiba. It’s basically a hotel with dojo facilities. When I say hotel, perhaps the word hostel would be more appropriate as we were all expected to share 4 or so to a room and the facilities were somewhat, er, Spartan. But comfortable nonetheless, and the dojo was blessed with AIR CONDITIONING! a rare luxury.

The weather was, to use the correct terminology, Bleedin ‘ot. So the air con in the dojo was a blessed relief indeed as the training sessions ran from 9am until 6pm with an hour for lunch. Over the two days, we ran through a lot of stuff; Seitei no gata, lots of koryu (old style) and some of the paired kata from our school where you get to practice with a real opponent using a wooden sword for safety.

On the Saturday night after practice, I walked down the very steep hill from the Budo Centre to the town below. After purchasing some liquid refreshments from the local Family Mart, I made my way to the little fishing harbour for a little drink and some contemplation time. When I say ‘fishing harbour’…think more ‘Grimsby’ than ‘The Algarve’. But the fact that it was dark and warm, and I had a plentiful supply of various alcoholic beverages to hand, lent it a subtle charm. I spent a while watching the local yahoos let off fireworks on the beach (fireworks are a Summer thing here –quite sensibly, in my opinion) and quietly quaffing my Nodo Goshi and Chu-hi. As I sat gazing out across the calm Pacific waters, I really had a sense of wonder about how my life has turned out. I wouldn’t say utterly brilliantly – there’s plenty of things I’d change given the chance. But it certainly has been a remarkable journey; and I think I can take a little bit of pride in the experiences I’ve had and achievements I’ve attained along the way.

After the gasshiku, I had a couple of weeks to refine techniques ready for the grading and I took full advantage of the training opportunities to make sure I was as  prepared as I could be. I was still struggling with niggling doubts. Things can always go wrong in an iaido embu (demonstration). The cords that are used to tie the sword scabbard onto the belt have to be expertly handled and can easily get tangled; the scabbard can jump out of the belt; your foot can easily get caught under the hakama – the long pleated trousers we wear. These are all apart from any technical errors in the handling of the sword itself, and any of these will result in an instant fail. Bear in mind that this perfection has to be demonstrated under the baleful glare of a panel of 8th dan masters, looking at you from several different angles, and you can begin to appreciate some of the pressure. Oh and the entire embu has to be completed in 6 minutes, otherwise that’s an instant fail too. I’d had some real problems with the opening and closing Reiho (bowing and sword etiquette) during the gasshiku. During one practice grading, I just couldn’t get the sageo (cords) tied on correctly and I went over-time. These things were really playing on my mind: If it went wrong in the practice, it could also easily go wrong during the exam. But iaido is just as  much about mental training as it is physical. Having practiced as hard as possible – including hours spent at home just practicing tying and untying the cords and performing the bows correctly – I felt I had done my best and now it was really out of my hands. With that realisation came a degree of calmness.

The grading itself was held at the Tokyo Budokan in Ayase – scene of both my biggest failure (first 3rd dan test) and my biggest success (winning my 2nd dan class at the Tokyo area championships). There are just two gradings each year. The Summer one was a good deal less busy than the March one, which made it feel a little less stressful. As always, I got there very early so I had a lot of hanging around to do before hand. But soon enough, it was my turn to march out onto the court and do my demonstration. You are given five techniques from the seitei no gata to perform within 6 minutes, including all the opening and closing formalities. These are announced on the day, so there’s no chance to practice these specifically in advance – so you have to know all twelve kata from the set equally well.

I don’t really remember much from the test itself, apart from the fact that it felt a whole lot better than last time. The techniques we’d been given were not my worst ones and I felt quite strong, smooth and in control, compared to last time’s desperate thrashings. It was all over pretty quick, and then I had the long wait to see what the result was.

Once everyone has completed the test, the judges retire for their deliberations. I think for 3rd dan, a minimum of 3 out of 5 judges have to award a pass. The techniques are judged purely on technical merit, so it’s quite unlike a competition where you need to imbue your demonstration with a bit of spirit. I watched another gaijin going for 2nd dan – alas, with a bit too much gusto. He was obviously trying hard but it looked far too aggressive and didn’t exhibit the calm spirit required to advance up the grades. He didn’t make it that time.

After what seemed an eternity, the official emerged with the sheet of paper containing the numbers of those who had passed. If your number’s not on the list, you didn’t make it. I remember the disappointment of last time as I scanned the list in vain for my number. But this time, it was there. Ureshi! I’d done it! My sensei and fellow students were as delighted as I was (and perhaps a little relieved that I hadn’t disgraced them with another failure).

So, another milestone passed. I’ve passed a dan grade exam in Japan and I am now a fully-fledged sandan. Not that this means very much in the great scheme of things: I’m still one of the most junior members of the dojo. However the significance for me is that I have now passed the rank of the guy that wrote my first iaido manual, that I bought maybe 20 years ago when I was studying aikido. The book, “Iaido – The Way of the Sword” by Michael Finn, told the story of the author’s travel to Japan to study iaido and was just as much a personal adventure story as it was a description of the art itself. I was fascinated by his tales of harsh training sessions, stern discipline and his fear of losing face with his teacher. I remember thinking that, while it sounded exciting, it sounded pretty scary too and I wondered if I would be able to cope in such a demanding environment. The author finished his particular journey as a 2nd dan. I can now understand much more about his experiences. Whereas at the time I thought him the ultimate expert, now I can see that maybe he wasn’t quite so adept at negotiating the subtleties of iaido and Japanese culture. But that’s not a criticism – at no stage does the author try to elevate his own status or claim any special knowledge or skills, even though at the time the book was published he could have so easily done both. I have the greatest respect for someone who can maintain such dignified humility. And I still enjoy reading his book – I have it with me here in Japan.

Having an experience like this really brings life’s long journey into perspective. Like looking down from a high mountain pass at the road you’ve travelled along. I am very pleased to have had the opportunity to travel the same road as an author and commentator I respect, and to have perhaps even passed a little way beyond his vantage point.

Well done Chile on a successful outcome to the trapped miner saga.

I am looking forward to re-enacting the dramatic rescue later with the Mrs. I shall be playing the role of the Phoenix 2 capsule. Hopefully managing a few more than 33 return trips.