The Chuo Alps Pt. II: The Summit

When we last left our three intrepid mountain-climbers, myself, Shawn and Joe had just taken a respite after climbing a set of mountainside stairs rivaling those Frodo climbed to Cirith Ungol in the Two Towers. We were rather close to the summit and so the surrounding pass was wreathed in a blanket comprised of fog and clouds alike. It reminded me of a scene from 2005's "The Fog," but I don't think there were any ghost pirates/lepers hidden in the mist. (A reference to both the greatest fantasy movie series of all time and one of the worst b-movie horror films in one paragraph? Check.)

After a few hundred yards, we came upon a small hot spring resort of sorts. Naturally occurring hot springs were fairly common in Japan, however I'm not sure if this one was man-made or not, but it offered hikers and climbers a chance to soak in a warm tub as well as food and drinks. Unfortunately all this cost money, of which we had little. So we decided to continue on.

Shortly after passing the hot spring, the path leading along the mountain ridge diverged, one way leading north, further along the ridge, and the other with a sign directing us to the summit. Time being short we opted for the summit path over exploration, though not for lack of interest. After turning south, some of the fog cleared and we got a better idea of where we were to go to finish our climb.

The southern ridge leading to the summit was significantly narrower
than the ridge where we rested, with one snow-covered valley splitting off on the windward side and another covered in boulders and rock to the east. What rose before us was a chain of massive boulders we deduced led to the summit based on a few arrows painted on the rock face.

The way forward was questionable to say the least. The way quickly transformed from a wide, flat pass to a rock trail along the side of the rock which you certainly couldn't fit more than one person across. Even then one was forced to shuffle at a slight angle along the path, made ever more awkward by our cumbersome packs. Fortunately, the powers-that-be had seen fit to affix the side of the cliff with several hooks and a strong steal chain for climbers to anchor themselves to for the rest of the hike.

After shimmying along for a good 100 yards or more, the chain and goat pass ended at a pile of rocks heading up a short hill. Thanks again to our friends, the painted arrows, we worked our way through the rocks on a barely discernible path and finally arrived at a small clearing with a squat sign marking we had finished our journey to the top of the 2,931 meter climb. I'll admit we were disappointed at first. There was not much to see due to the fog and the summit was little more than craggy rock and boulder. Luckily, that quickly changed.

Just before we made to turn back down for our descent, we had a moment as close to transcendence as I imagine I'll ever feel. As we looked over the foggy valley, the sky split and the sun shone through, cutting a swath through the mist and laying bare the valley below. I wish I could share a picture with you but we were all so awestruck by the view, no one thought to click their shutter. Even when someone brought it up, we decided against a photo. For one reason, a picture could never hope to do the scene justice on our cheap cameras and for another, a small part of each of us wanted to be selfish and keep the grandeur for only our own memories. It was truly breathtaking.

The fog all but instantly evaporated and we saw the snowy face give way to green as our view moved down the mountainside to the town that sat nestled in the foothills of the mountain below. We joked that some buildings off in the distance was our home of Iida and despite our jests, at that height, a part of me believed we really could see our city as dots, five miles off on the horizon. That view recharged us more than any energy drink or adrenaline shot ever could and after drinking it all in for awhile, we readied our bags and made to head back to where we had left our host father.