Week Six: Koyasan

Locations: Choishimichi Pilgrimage Trail, Koyasan Town, Okunoin Cemetery

After I spent a full week recovering (read: working long hours in lab) from my big trip to central Japan, I embarked once again on a journey into the mountains, although this time much closer to home.

Nestled in the coastal mountains of the Wakayama prefecture, about an hour's train ride south of Osaka, lies the Buddhist sanctuary known as Koyasan ("Mount Koya"). It's said to be the birthplace of Buddhism in Japan, and undoubtedly has most of the oldest and largest Buddhist temples in Japan. Although it's a more modern town now, complete with some residential areas and paved road access from the outside world, it's still very much isolated in a thickly forested mountain basin near the top of the mountains, at 800m (~2500 feet). More importantly, the majority of the town is still composed primarily of old temples and shrines, so the spiritual atmosphere of the place has been well preserved.

To properly experience the spirituality of the place, I decided to do an overnight temple stay in the town. Most of the lodgings available are in the form of temples, which run a very ryokan-like system, with a few more guidelines on noise and curfews (and of course, strictly vegetarian cuisine). I chose one of the more authentic, older temples (at a price), which also offered its visitors a chance to participate in a Buddhist meditation ceremony in the morning.

To warm up for this experience, I chose to hike the Choishimichi pilgrimage trail, which is the traditional route monks would take to reach Koyasan, before trains and cable cars came along. It's a 25km hike from the bottom of Wakayama valley and takes about 6-7 hours on average. I left early enough in the morning to accommodate for this, although in the end I definitely underestimated the difficulty of the trail.

The beginning of the trail climbed steeply up from the valley floor, weaving in and out of persimmon orchards. I had actually purchased a bag of persimmons from a farmer's market before setting out, so I easily resisted the urge to grab a few more that were hanging right over the trail. After a grueling 600m ascent, the trail leveled out in a cedar forest, and continued to follow the ridgeline for several hours. Some spots along the trail seemed like they were logged some time in the past, but the majority of the trail was beautifully preserved. Through its many ups and downs, the trail frequently switched between dark evergreen groves and brilliantly colored deciduous patches.

Once I was sufficiently far from the urban valley, the forest became very quiet and truly started to gain the spiritual quality that these mountains are rumored to possess. Every few hundred feet along the trail, I would pass an ancient stone pillar marking the trail (some are originals from hundreds of years ago, while others were recently restored). To really clear my mind and feel more spiritual, I paused at every pillar and listened to the stillness of the forest, sometimes silently paying my respects to whatever spirits resided in these mountains. After a while, I realized that I got too relaxed while enjoying the scenery, and had to rush through the last 2 hours of the hike (also aided by a brief rainstorm), climbing another steep slope to the gates of Koyasan. The forest rapidly became more ancient and overgrown as I neared the mountain basin, and by the time I emerged at the main entrance to the village, I felt like I had just passed through a rainforest. It was just past sunset, and my check-in time, when I finally arrived exhausted at my temple.

 Shrine and steps marking the beginning of the Choishimichi Pilgrimage Trail

 Climbing up out of Wakayama valley

 Into the woods...

Passing by hundreds of ancient stone pillars marking the trail

 Early autumn foliage frames some picturesque views of the nearby mountain countryside!

 Higher in the mountains, fog starts to cascade down the densely pine-covered slopes

 At the end of the day, fog from the surrounding valleys dissipates into the fading sunlight

The enormous Daimon Gate, main entrance to Koyasan (with bystander for size comparison)

 This high in the mountains, the trees are just as red as the torii gates!

 Extraordinarily bright fall colors decorate the streets of this temple town!

Finally arrived safely at my temple, Fudo-in!

After an unexpectedly filling vegetarian diner, I slept very soundly, with the help of the excellent space heater in my room. Outside, the temperature dropped to freezing overnight! It wasn't easy going from building to building in the morning, but fortunately both their old dining hall and ceremonial buildings were equally well heated on the inside. For the ceremony, all of the participating guests (including me) were guided to a dimly lit entrance hall with several rows of wooden benches. At the other end of the hall, there were several gaps in the wall which allowed us to see inside the main chamber, where numerous monks sat with large books and other items I couldn't quite identify. At the center between the two rooms was a station for burning incense, which had already sufficiently aromatized the room by the time we entered and were seated.

The ceremony began with a lone voice melodically chanting, accompanied by the occasional ringing of a large bell. As several minutes went by, more voices would join in, often seamlessly covering each other when one needed to pause for breath. At one point, we all took turns kneeling in the center of the room, making a prayer, and adding several pinches of incense to the pot. The scent of incense grew dizzyingly strong as the monks' voices continued to reverberate through the hall and melt together into one smooth stream of sound. I wasn't sure how much time went by like this; I kept my eyes closed and my mind clear as possible, and just let the feeling of the ceremony permeate every part of my body. Near the end, a monk walked over and motioned us to follow the handout we were given when we entered the building. It was the Heart Sutra, and we did our best to mumble along as the monks recited it in unison. Finally, after the chanting slowly receded back to silence and the bells stopped echoing, we were all quietly guided back into the brisk morning air.

Overall, I had an incredibly enlightening stay at the temple. The accommodations were very much like a ryokan, except a bit more spacious, and guests ate their meals at the same time in the traditional dining hall (supposedly several hundred years old; the oldest of its kind in Koyasan!). The vegetarian cuisine was, without exception, very delicious and surprisingly filling. Since I didn't have to fear fish appearing on my plate, the meals were very easy to enjoy. The atmosphere was understandably more reserved and formal than a traditional ryokan, but the monks were still very friendly and even went out of their way to provide English explanations of the morning ceremony and the temple's history.

Since I intended to return to lab in the evening, I spent only half of the day walking around Koyasan and enjoying the sights. I didn't wander into any other temples or museums, but it was all quite beautiful from the outside as well. I devoted a full two hours to walk through the enormous Okunoin cemetery early in the morning. Shrouded in an ancient cedar forest, Okunoin holds the mausoleum of Kobo Daishi, the founder of Shingon Buddhism, and over hundreds of years many monks and feudal lords alike have had their tombstones erected here to be closer to Kobo Daishi. As a result, today Okunoin stretches for several kilometers through the cedar forest from Koyasan. It was bright and sunny during my visit, but apparently it's often shrouded in dense fog, which amplifies the sense of isolation and sacredness.

 Leaving the Fudo-in temple lodge in the early morning

 Beautiful autumn foliage forms a canopy over a canal

Walking through Okunoin 

 Many of the monuments and tombstones seem be regularly taken care of by the locals

It almost feels like the entire forest is one big cemetery...

Next to the cedar forest are more temples surrounded by colorful foliage

 Walking back along the streets of Koyasan

 Pond and garden by one of the main temples

Having completely worn out my legs over the course of two days, I took the first train out of Koyasan after lunch, and was home in Osaka by mid-afternoon. Overall, it was an absolutely fantastic trip, and I'm glad I did as much as I could to get the full spiritual experience. I did learn, however, that I'm not nearly as fit as the monks who regularly made the journey up the Choishimichi! Nonetheless, adventure survived, and successful!

Week Four: Central Japan Trip, Day Five (Matsumoto)

Locations: Matsumoto castle, Nawate shopping street

This is the fifth and final post describing my journeys through central Japan. Although I spent the last three days in Matsumoto, underlined on the right side of the map, two of them were effectively shut down due to typhoon rains. Fortunately, I was able to spend my last half-day somewhat dry, exploring the most noteworthy parts of the city before departing back to Osaka.

I spent my three nights in Matsumoto at Ryokan Seifu-so, a more modern building located on the riverfront in the suburbs about a 30 minute walk from the city center. Reviews had listed it as a comfortable home base for exploration, so I chose it with that in mind despite its distance from historical sights. Due to the typhoon rains, however, it ended up not making a difference at all. The only excursions I made out of the building for the first two days consisted of brisk walks to the ramen restaurant down the street for dinner. Otherwise, I spent my time resting from my previous mountain adventure, and sorting photos from the first leg of the trip.

On my final day in Matsumoto, the rain finally stopped (although the sky remained mostly overcast), and I had roughly 6 hours to utilize before I had to catch my bus back to Osaka. Thus, I decided to allocate the majority of my time to exploring Matsumoto castle, the primary point of interest in the city.

Matsumoto castle is one of the most famous castles in Japan due to the fact that it has survived centuries of military struggle and maintained its original wooden interior and stone exterior foundation. Most other castles in Japan have had to undergo extensive renovation and reconstruction, especially on the inside. Also, Matsumoto castle is located on a plain (thus typically more prone to battle), unlike most surviving Japanese castles which were built on hilltops. With these facts in mind, I entered through the main entrance to the castle grounds.

Immediately after I purchased my ticket, I passed by a tent of "volunteer English guides", and a very kind old man instantly approached me and offered to give me an extensive tour of the place completely free of charge. There turned out to be no catch at all; these were local people genuinely interested in explaining their culture and history to tourists! The man introduced himself as "Show", which was awkwardly English-friendly both because of its spelling (rather than the typical romanization of Shou) and because it was his first name. Despite my familiarity with basic Japanese customs and names, he insisted that I simply call him Show, so I obliged.

As we passed through the outer castle gates, we were greeted with an awesome view of the castle from the front. Since all other administrative structures around the castle were leveled in the past and never rebuilt, the surrounding emptiness added to the impressive exterior of the castle, whose wooden walls were painted black (unlike most white Japanese castles). The inside was very dark, despite the numerous windows and various openings in the walls, so I couldn't get any decent pictures. Since almost the entire framework of the castle was made out of wood, the interior felt like a maze of wooden pillars and beams. As we went, Show explained the history of the castle in broken, but understandable, English. By the end of his tour, we even started discussing classical music, and I learned that he is currently learning to play piano. Before I left, I gave him a few technique tips, and he thanked me with a pocket tissue holder made out of traditional Japanese cloth by his wife. To commemorate our meeting, we got our picture taken in front of the castle!

 View of Matsumoto castle from across the moat, looking dramatic even in cloudy skies

 In the castle grounds, which used to contain other administrative buildings

  After the tour with Show, my local guide!

Afterwards, I walked to a shopping alley on the riverfront to get a late lunch. The alley, called Nawate Dori, consisted of many small traditional cafes and stores selling various handcrafted goods. Presumably due to its proximity to the river, the mascot of the area was a frog, and many small frog statues, shrines, and frog-themed crafts were scattered all along the alley. Since I was pretty burned out from traditional Japanese cuisine by this point, and since there was an overwhelmingly delicious scent of garlic bread on the street, I succumbed to a French cafe for lunch. It wasn't amazing, but still enjoyable enough; it's tough to go wrong with pastrami and garlic bread.

 One of the cute frog statues along Nawate Dori

 A frog "shrine" along the riverfront

 Small shops and cafes line this riverside alleyway

At the exit, two samurai toads seem to be battling it out on top of a larger, clearly displeased toad

After my lunch, I made one final loop through Nawate Dori, looking out for any last interesting souvenirs or snacks I could snag, and then started my way towards the bus terminal. Cloudy skies once again limited any scenic views I may have had on my way back, since the bus route went along both the central and southern Japanese Alps. 6 hours later, I returned home to my apartment in Osaka, exhausted but extremely satisfied with the trip. Since I had enjoyed my time in Takayama (first part of the trip) so much, I immediately started planning for a return trip in the winter. In the meantime, however, labwork was calling me back, and so the next morning I returned to my alchemical journey in Osaka!

Week Four: Central Japan Trip, Day Four (Alpine Route)

Locations: Tateyama-Kurobe Alpine Route

Welcome to the dramatic mountain scenery episode of this week's "Michael Finally Updates His Blog"! This segment will cover the northern flank of my travels, cutting directly through the heart of the Northern Japanese Alps. Geographical refreshments are provided below.

The Tateyama-Kurobe Alpine Route is a series of cable cars, ropeways, buses, and trains that shuttle tourists and mountain climbers from the valley of Tateyama, on the western slopes of the alps, and past the Kurobe gorge, on the eastern side. There's a total of 8 different methods of transportation involved, but luckily most of the rides are less than 30 minutes long, transfers are well-coordinated, and it's easy to buy a general admission ticket for one-way travel across the entire route.

The route is popular since it takes visitors directly into the heart of the dramatic alpine scenery of the Northern Japanese Alps. Instead of hiking for miles up the incredibly steep slopes of the mountains, all it takes is a 1-hour train ride, a short cable car ride, and a 30-minute bus drive to climb over 8,000 feet (2400m) into the one of the highest bus terminals in Japan (second only to a station in the central Japanese alps, situated on a more broad and accommodating mountain plateau).

This day was predicted to be the arrival date of a typhoon in Japan, and forecasts consistently warned of heavy rain to hit the area around 1pm. In order to get the most out of my final sunny hours on the trip, I left Toyama city on the earliest train and arrived at the Murodo bus terminal by 11am, leaving me roughly 2 hours to explore the area. I didn't want to pass through this beautiful mountain range without climbing somewhere to get a good view, so I quickly fast-walked past the crowds of casual tourists and began my ascent of a hiking trail to a mountain hut on the crest of the ridge. The first snows of the season from the previous week hadn't fully melted yet, leaving the mountain slopes a beautiful stitchwork of faded fall colors and brilliant white snow.

At first, things were looking bright for me. The weather seemed stable, even revealing some blue sky in some places, and I set a brisk pace that rapidly put the bus terminal far in the distance behind me. However, the climb quickly became strenuously steep, and before long I was wheezing and stumbling my way up the trail. To make matters worse, the hut turned out to be higher than I expected, sitting neatly at 3000 meters, over 700 meters above the lowest point on the trail (a total climb of over 2000 feet). An hour and a half into the hike, I finally emerged on the ridge crest just as the typhoon clouds started climbing up the foothills of the mountains, already obscuring the city where I stayed the previous night. I was exhausted and nearly delirious, but the biting cold wind and approaching stormclouds didn't let me relish my conquest for long.

Carefully scrambling down a more direct trail was, of course, much easier than the climb up, but my legs were still pretty badly shaken by the time I descended to the valley floor. The bus terminal was located on the slopes of the opposite side of the valley, so I allowed myself a short rest before delicately resuming my climb at a painfully slow pace. Although the typhoon clouds were almost spilling over into the mountain basin, I wasn't in any hurry to outrun them anymore since I was within a mile of the terminal and no longer traversing dangerous mountain terrain. However, a new force of nature suddenly emerged to speed me along the way.

A short distance downhill from the trail was an active fumarole valley, spewing large clouds of volcanic gas into the air and filling the valley floor with the stench of sulfur. The trails closer to the valley were closed off due to the hazardous concentrations of gas, and generally the gas clouds didn't reach anywhere close to the trail, save for one short wind corridor specifically marked as a hazard zone. Just as I was inching forward through this zone on shaky and strengthless legs, a gust of typhoon wind blew up the mountain simultaneously as the fumaroles released an unusually large cloud of gases. It was almost as if I timed my arrival to the second; the gas cloud blew through the narrow wind corridor just as I was crossing the most exposed hundred yards or so, causing instant stinging in my eyes and lungs. I was absolutely exhausted, but I had no choice but to accelerate my stumbling pace up the trail, hiding my face in my jacket. It didn't smell much despite the acute stinging, which leads me to believe that there were high concentrations of H2S (hydrogen sulfude), but not SO2 (sulfur dioxide). This was good news, in a sense, since the latter is potentially carcinogenic, while the former only has acute effects (it's basically breathing in acidic air; damaging, but not usually in a way that's long-lasting or difficult to notice). I emerged back into fresh air within a minute or two and felt no aftereffects, and soon I was happily sprawled out in the waiting room of the bus terminal.

The rest of my trip passed relatively uneventfully. The scenery was fantastic, but I'll let my (mediocre quality) photos do the rest of the describing. Although it became overcast soon after I reached the bus terminal, it actually didn't start raining until a day later. I guess I didn't need to rush as much as I did. Oh well!

I arrived late that evening in Matsumoto, where I stayed in a more modern ryokan on the outskirts of the city. Not much else left to tell, since I was completely drained of energy for the rest of the day and immediately fell asleep once I settled into my room! Japanese mountain adventure, success!

 Getting my first taste of fall foliage in Japan as the bus climbs higher into the mountains

Passing above the treeline, into the alpine marshlands of the Midagahara plateau! 

 Stepping out of the bus terminal at Murodo, the highest point of the alpine route

Yellows, greens, and patches of white blanket this highland landscape above the clouds

One of the crater ponds along the trail, looking impossibly cold in this weather 

 Keeping a safe distance from the "hell valley" of fumaroles just downhill from the main trail

A better look at the greenish-gray fumarole valley, seeming disarmingly calm

 "Hey! We're not done with this bridge yet, but in the meantime, here's some plank and string to keep you from falling into frigid glacier runoff. Have fun!"

 Crossing wooden planks above marshy soil through a beautiful alpine landscape

 Looking back at the powdered north face of the mountain basin

Seeing more pillars of volcanic gas spring up every time I look back... 

 From the ridge's shoulder, greeted with views of narrow gorges awash with autumn colors at the bottom (where there is still some semblance of warmth)

A spiky, evergreen stairway to heaven 

Walking through a little patch of winter close to the summit of the ridge 

 Conqueror of mountains , defier of typhoons

 Approaching typhoon clouds create a dramatic backdrop for the surrounding mountain peaks

 Shingeki no stormclouds

Mother nature's chemical warfare! 

 One last look at the plateau around Murodo, just as the clouds start spilling into the basin

 Two cable car rides later, I find myself face to face with creeping clouds once again...

 Minas Tirith, except made out of concrete and holding back a lake

 Looking out at Kurobe reservoir

The jagged peaks of the alps, which stood eye level to me just hours ago, now loom far overhead 

Dramatic fall colors interspersed with evergreen thickets cover the walls of the Kurobe gorge

Thus concludes my adventure through the Nothern Japanese Alps!