Dear Mt. Ho-ou, I wanna be on you.

For two years I have lived beneath the great aka-ishi peaks.  My very first night in Nagano’s countryside was nestled in a steep river valley, where the room in my ryokan named after one of the peaks looming over where I slept.  One of the first Japanese words taught to me, ‘yama, yama‘ I repeated over and over under my breath during the long car ride into the village.  Even now, displaced only slightly from that original setting, I still look out in the morning to the rays creeping over Mt. Senjogatake‘s great presence.  Those alps, Kitadake, Senjogatake, Akaishi, and Mt. Ho-ou among others have steadily crawled into my consciousness.  Dusted white in the winter, peeking over low clouds in summer, I have embraced an intimate relationship with these impressive rocks.

Last weekend, a chance arose to venture up Mt. Ho-ou once again.  Ho-ou was one of the first real mountains I ever truly explored on this continent.  In 2009, crossing over her three peaks, I struggled from the trail head in Minami Alps city to the steep descent in the aoki-ko-sen route, completing a full 2-day, one-way trek.   It led across places where only my feet could take me.  With three companions, a view of Fuji, one unbearably cold night, and the grueling waterfall-littered descent, I wouldn’t miss the chance to revisit this little chunk of nostalgia.

This time, with one less day for travel, we didn’t go the same route.  We would ascend, hit the three peaks, and return to the same trail head.  A slightly different group, we still had four bodies to get up the mountain and down again.  We chose to go up the steep aoki-ko-sen this time and descend in a loop through a milder forest trail we hadn’t yet taken.

With conbini coffee and quick microwaved breakfast in our systems, we arrived to the trail and set-off at about 9.

The heat and sweat hit us immediately, even at the higher altitude.  As we climbed higher and into the forest it cooled slightly, but I still found myself breathing hard and sucking down energy gels to keep my sugars straight.  This route is steep, but worth it.

Fortunate for this ascent, there was always another waterfall to cool and refuel excitement when it seemed our limits were maxed.

Even so, we stumbled into camp – a stone’s throw from the peak – and barely had the energy to set up tent and eat before falling asleep in the late afternoon.  One 600yen mountaintop-bought can of Asahi super dry goes straight to the head.  The time had to be somewhere between 4 and 5pm that I last remember before my alarm went off in the morning.

3am, the tent, stove, and bags were rolled up and on our backs again.  Only a little over an hour until we’d reach “the obelisk”, a structure like a giant cairn.  Too early, and too steep, the race of the sun and the beauty of her spilling rays kept us going.

The four of us and the sun reached the climax at the same moment.

The obelisk, with giant stone steps at the base, gradually steepens into rock-climb.  The view was more than worth it.

The rest of the morning was one of the best parts of Mt. Ho-ou.  Spanning three peaks, this route is called san-zan, or three-mountain.  Above the tree line is the most beautiful place the earth can offer, and scattered with Buddhist statues the impression stands.

Finally, we said goodbye to the sacred place above the clouds, and stepped downwards into the forest.  Mid-way back to the base lodge, we stopped in a grassy area for lunch.  The forest was less thick here, and the ground completely hidden by short plants.

A genki trekker with nothing but a small pack and specialized off-trail gear passed us as we ate.  Matsutake mushrooms, he told us he was looking for them. To our amazement, he quickly disappeared, off-trail, over a seemingly impossible slope.   In August (off-season), we were told that some buyers in Tokyo will spend up to 50,000 yen for one mushroom.  Insanity.

Finally, after it all – the early-morning race to the top, crossing three peaks, and a steady descent – we were ready for the icy water from the river near the trail head.  Nearly finished, we couldn’t help relaxing for awhile.  It was just the relief we had sought.