Day 2 of hiking in Kyushu, Japan. Hidden trails, more trails, unexpected magical trails, and city food that dares you to forget about $25 cheeseburgers (maybe).
How many toes frozen until dawn?
Chills shake my body in a desperate attempt to warm myself, I pull the damp quilt closer around my body. I stayed there, curled up with my hands between my thighs for warmth. Questioning my choices. It’s a long, dark, muddy descent to get to a lower elevation, but I don’t know if I can (or should) spend the night here. I have never – ever – in my entire camping life, packed up in the middle of the night because I was too cold. Because of the rain, yes. By an annoying porcupine, yes. Because of the ants, yes. For a guy who’s sneaking around, yes. But never because I wasn’t prepared enough for the cold.
But tonight the cold comes from all angles. My feet are numb, my shoulders are tense, and my hands are too stiff to zip properly.
After an eternity debating my options, fatigue finally wins out and drags me into a dreamless sleep. When I wake up, the sky is still pitch black but, to my surprise, I am now comfortable and warm. I rub my legs like a happy cricket and roll over to continue sleeping.
Suffer for the dawn
«Arghhh no!» It’s already daylight when I wake up again. Behind me, the sky glows pink and orange. I almost missed the sunrise! I quickly put on my wet shoes and stumble to the ridge line.
“Wow,” I say out loud. “Wowwww,” I cry, hot little tears rolling down my cheeks. 360 degree views from the top of Waita. Below, sulfur vapor rises from the Ryokan (traditional Japanese guesthouse for travelers, usually including on-site hot springs) in the valley, and clusters of mountains stretch into the misty blue in all directions.
It’s worth being cold, that’s for sure. For a while, I simply submit to the beauty. The mountains always catch me. No matter how many times I watch the sunrise or sunset, how many times I let my eyes caress the peaks on the horizon, I never get tired of it. Speaking of tired, I screw my little stove onto a new gas can. Because the only thing better than sunrise on a summit is coffee during sunrise on a summit.
Through hiking or creating DIY routes
There usually isn’t much time at camp. As much as walking sounds relaxing, it’s not on a 30-mile day itinerary, which was standard on the PCT and CDT. But this time there is no schedule. It is 07:30 when I begin to descend towards the valley along an overgrown path, back to the roads and villages before entering one of the mountain ranges that I have seen from above. this morning: the Kuju Mountains.
On the Pacific Crest Trail, Continental Divide Trail (mostly), or Arizona Trail, there was always a marked route, even a trail, to follow, but on this hike I decided to go rogue. There isn’t even a planned direction: instead, I’ll see where the day takes me and climb whatever mountain is nearby. The goal is to abandon the comfort of a well-traveled dotted line across the map and instead choose my own adventure. Build my own route, day by day, wherever my feet and the wind take me.
It may surprise you, as it surprised me, that hiking in Japan is a little wild. The areas are not as delimited by a well-structured (and signposted) trail network as the Alps. The paths that exist on the maps either do not exist there or disappear after a few misleading kilometers and end at gates or fences. On the other hand, while walking through the spring undergrowth, which is still bare in April, one may find an overgrown forest road or a trail that at least goes somewhere for some time. Or you come to a door and need to back up.
Magical hiking route!
There’s nothing like the smell of freshly baked goods. The smell comes from a small building hidden among the pine trees next to the road. The paint is peeling from the exterior walls, but the small showroom is pristine white and small packages of cellophane are arranged in antique wooden cabinets. A woman in a baseball cap peeks out from behind one of them and smiles broadly.
“Where are you from?” he wants to know. «Are you walking? Where are you going?»
He points to the pieces of cake he has been preparing. «Apple, everyone likes apples. Do you want apple pie?» she says, questions pouring out of her like an open faucet. «You know my daughters are traveling right now, too. How old are you? Are you in your twenties?» I nod, flattered (I’m 29). «They’re in Okinawa for a concert. I’m very worried. But I don’t need to worry, right?» She pauses and falls silent for the first time, looking at me with big, dark eyes. As if this stranger who walked into your bakery today had the answer.
«I’m sure they’re okay. I was just in Okinawa, very sweet people,» I try to sound as reassuring as possible.
«Oh yeah? Where else have you been? Are you going to the Kuju Mountains?» the questioning resumes, obviously distracting her from her daughters. “How long have you been baking…” I ask, I have time to offer distraction in exchange for carbs. As I leave, he hands me an extra slice of orange Earl Gray cake. “As a gift, I hope that one day you will stop by again,” he walks me to the door. «I’m still here while my youngest daughter is at school. But I also want to travel like you. Hokkaido and maybe even Europe,» he says, staring into the distance. I hope you do. I hope your daughters do too. I hope this is the era of women walking around.
Business hours? What business hours?
Japan is known for its hustle culture: extremely long work hours and the infamous “salarymen” who pass out on the streets of Tokyo when the after-work beer becomes too much.
On the contrary, it is not uncommon for business owners to adjust business hours without prior notice, and they will find themselves faced with “closed on Mondays and other days”, “open between 2 and __”, or simply: a locked door. From time to time it is frustrating. Especially when you’ve rushed to get there on time, only to find out that luck was not on your side.
Over time, a) I learned not to rely on any stated business hours in Japan and b) I started to find it quite attractive. Shouldn’t it make sense that running your own business allows you to open and close said business as you wish? I’m told that for many, especially outside of big cities, running a business is not about maximizing profits, but I haven’t really understood what drives them.
Of course, the detour to a noodle place, which may or may not be open, was uphill. Some foreign cyclists pass me and we exchange a few sentences before they disappear around the next hairpin.
The noodle shop was open. $7 for a large bowl of Udon noodles, with thin slices of beef, pickled vegetables and, guess what, rice. I plug in my phone to charge while I eat, with the Kuju Mountains looming just ahead. That’s where I’ll do the next hike. So close.
Burnt grass and empty fields
“So close” was not so close. The climb winds through the forest, where spring has not yet arrived. The absence of leaves makes it appear bare and bare. I’m sure the waterfall would be a wonderful place to swim after a hot day of hiking, but the blue sky has disappeared and the dark clouds promise rain. Kokonoe, the town where I had noodles, is at 2,549 feet, while Bogatsuru Campground, my destination for tonight, is at 4,045 feet right in Kuju National Park.
Coming out of the trees into the wetland basin, it looked nothing like what I had seen in the photographs. Not only has spring not arrived here, but the meadow has also been burned. The blackened earth and charred sky make the camp seem more desolate and empty.
The wetlands are home to 74 species of ferns and 493 species of seed plants, including rare plants. Prescribed burning provides healthy, nutrient-rich soil for plants and ensures that the forest does not spread into the wetland. Good for nature. Bad for early season hikers.
If you missed day 1 of my Kyushu hike, you can find it here.
