This morning the bed was exceptionally warm and comfortable – I was certain gravity was tenfold stronger than usual. I struggled off the bed, unveiled the window and saw white skies with patches of blue! Is this it? Questioning no further, I packed my bag, stuffed my gear on, and headed down. After munching down on my half boiled barleys, I dashed out of the house and got onto a bike.
I breezed through the wind to the train station and got on the train just fine. I was going to Kiyosatocho and from there, find a way to get to the trailhead. The trailhead was supposedly 4 hours walk from the station but walking that amount prior an ascend was last on my list. I was hoping someone will let me hitch a ride!
To prepare for that, I jotted down essential japanese hitching jargon the night before. “Doko made?”
“Sharidake!”
Fortunately, I did not even have to hitch. I chanced upon a man sporting hiking gear on the train. Moreover, he also alighting at Kiyosatocho! Before he could walk away any further, I approached him
“Sumimase! Sharidake?”
He replied in Japanese that I could not unserstand, but I understood that he nodded in agreement.
“Driving?” I continued, while putting my palms up pantomiming a steering wheel.
“Taxi! Sharidake #%€?”
He was drawing an imaginary circle around us and then pointing his finger away. I took it as him asking if I wanted to tag along.
I gave my biggest and most enthusiastic “Hai!”
He then flipped out his phone to summon a taxi over.
As we waited for the taxi, we engaged in awkward verbal non-verbal conversations. I think he understood some english words, but he couldnt speak a sentence. So when he asked a question in Japanese, I just think up what would a stranger asks, and then I answer accordingly! If he gives a positive expression upon my answer, means I guessed right. Surprisingly I got at least 3 out of 4 correct. After that one I got wrong we just stopped trying.
We got on the taxi and I instantly went to sleep. I woke up just as we reach the trailhead, and instinctively took out my wallet to pay half the fare. However my new Japanese companion refused to let me. I was guessing he would let me pay the return trip.
The climb started in the fog. Must be the same fog that’s been all over the place since I got here.
The route came in 4 parts, the stream, the waterfall, the hill, and the peak. After the stream section, the path branches to either the hill or the waterfall, with both paths converging at the peak. We were going to ascend by the waterfall, and descend over the hill.
The stream was tough to traverse. We had to hop over crimson rocks across the stream several times. Sometimes the path meanders over cliffsides and we had to navigate over huge rocks to advance.
The difficulty for me was that the raging stream appears to be very menacing with its rapid-like flows gushing over the bedrocks. When going across, one had to commit to the steps because there are no space to stop mid-stream and rethink your hops. You have to pull through like it was a rehearsed dance. I was a little afraid at first because the rocks might not be stable. I’m not a fan of slipping on wet stone surfaces either. One misstep was all I need to find out if wet rocks are as hard as the dry ones.
The waterfall was worse. We were climbing the rockface just beside the waterfall, and sometimes on the waterfall itself. On some parts we had to do some bouldering. If I had my climbing shoes and zero packs on my back, it would have been a walk in the park. With my heavy pack and fat hiking shoes? I scored some bruises on my limbs and my ego.
The last stretch up the peak was quite a breeze compared to the stream and waterfall. It was more like a last test of endurance, moderately steep slope that does not require you to go on your all fours.
At the peak, we were met with the sea of clouds and an azure blue sky which I havent seen for quite awhile. I was hoping for clear skies so that I can look at the vast swathe of farm fields from above. Nevertheless, the seemingly endless swathe of clouds with minor peaks peeking out was quite a view as well.
After posing for our peak photos, we found ourselves a spot to squat. I then took out my cooking gear and food supply.
I saw his eyes lit up when I told him I was going to make him a meal. He had been very expressive of his excitement. Whenever I pull out my selfie stick to take a photo together with him and the picturesque background he would whoa and whao, exclaiming “sugoi ne!”
He was also a very curious man. Whenever I took out something from my pack, he would pick up whatever article I put down, glaze his eyes over it, then ask me what it was. Whenever I said what it is, he would follow with “where from?”
When I took out my pack of Raymonds, he did not ask what it was because I suppose he knows what almonds and raisins look like, but he asked “Singapore?” And I said “yes!” Now he thinks that we grow almonds and raisins in Singapore.
I made garlic quinoa chili topped with jack’s beef jerky. It’s basically steamed quinoa in MacDonald’s garlic chili, topped with beef jerky as protein. My new friend was pretty impressed. Sugoi ne!
After that long lunch break we headed back down over the hills shrouded in mists. We were now at the cloud level. As I walk through the thick alpine bushes, cold fingers of mist visibly roll and creep over the still bushes.
At one point, I noticed that the bushes bore little red berries. I tapped the shoulder of my companion, pointed to the bush and enquired “berries! Taberu ok?”
He shrugged, picked 2 reddest juiciest berry, handing one to me. He then exclaimed,
“We try!”
From mildly asking whether the berry would be edible or not, now we were on to finding that out firsthand – The Hunger Games style. He looked at me in the eyes and began counting down.
3
2
1
We both tossed the berries into our mouths, oblivious to any possible danger.
My molars took an easy bite and pulverised the berry to its juices. An acrid sour taste instantly swept over my tastebuds. Looking at my friend’s constipated look and his now manifold face, I felt a silent agreement about not having another portion of those sour berries.
After hopping over bedrocks and climbing over boulders, we had once again passed the stream. It was then I realised, I did not know my new friend’s name after spending 7 hours with him. I quickly checked my dictionary to revise my japanese.
“Anatano namaewa nandesuka?”
“Kajima!”
“Watashiwa Tomy!”
Then we began chatting again on the way back to the trailhead. I told him that it was the beautiful mountains and pristine nature that brought me to Hokkaido, and that I could not hike much back in Singapore. I shared that the highest “mountain” in Singapore, Bukit Timah HILL, is only 163 metres high.
I learned that while I am fascinated by magnificent mountains of Japan, Kajima was as fascinated by Singapore’s city skyline that I managed to show him pictures of. Classic craving of what one doesn’t see too often.
Nearer to the trailhead, Kajima went and call another taxi to bring us back to Kiyosatocho.
Along the 40 minutes cab back, we saw one man with a huge pack walking in the opposite direction we were heading. Someone actually decided to walk that 4 hours from Kiyosatocho! At the station, he once again refused payment for the cab from me. That gave me a 8000 yen of savings, which is a lot. I was thinking how could I thank him enough?
Next, we took the train together to Shari. As our train ride across the glistening wheat fields, we were pointing at different peaks, identifying them as we see them. Kajima shared that he was on a quest to ascend Mt Rausu, the peak that I missed due to unpleasant weather. He was going to continue on a bus to Utoro from Shari.
As our train brakes to a full stop, I put my hand on his shoulder and said
“Kajima, watashiwa ga tomodachi.”
I also offered my remaining pack of Raymonds, and my compass to him adding on “Utoro, kita! Sayonara”
He replied with a huge smile, accepting my gift of Singapore grown almonds and raisins, and a compass that will hopefully lead him true.
Dashing Heights 