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Along a knifes edge

Leave the buzzing neon city far behind and enter a world of mist-shrouded precipices where the only sounds are your own adrenalised breathing and the occasional tumbling rock
By Matthew Crompton

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russia

sea of japan Kamikochi

JAPAN Tokyo

in my ears, I look up at the chains and ladders leading higher still, and begin to climb once more. * * *

waypoints to the sky Day one: Signpost near Kamikochi (facing page, top); hikers along the Asuza-gawa River (facing page, below); ladders and chains on Yarigatake (above).

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Perched sweating on an unsettlingly narrow ledge a thousand metres above the valley floor, my clammy fingers gripped to a length of rusty steel chain bolted into the near-vertical rock, the words from an internet message board that drew me here come echoing loudly back: The goal of hiking the Daikiretto is very simple, they say to me, clouds swirling far beneath my feet. Do not die. The Daikiretto, after all, really would be an easy place for it, a high and wandering knife-edge ridge complete with unroped hundred-metre scrambles, and bent and rusting ladders installed more than thirty years ago. But carefully clutching the chain as I skirt a sharp prominence in the rock, I understand that it is not the what of the Daikiretto that surprises me most, but the where. This could easily be Nepal, I think, the high mountains of Alaska or the Peruvian Andes. But I am in Japan, a land better known for karaoke and cosplay than vertiginous drops and moments of extreme personal peril. I pause, looking out to the vast, empty spaces all around me, thrilled at the vividness of the moment. Isolated and exposed with a sharp wind cutting through my sweat-soaked shirt, this moment seems antithetical to everything I thought I knew about this country of megamalls and manga. With the blood thudding
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Fu n ny t h i ng ab out t h is t rek : for something that kills an average of a dozen people a year, its awfully easy to get here. The North Japanese Alps, the setting for this three-day circuit topping Japans third- and fifth-highest mountains, drew over 250,000 people in 2007 alone, a testament to Japans fantastically efficient bus and rail system, which can shuttle a visitor from Tokyo to the base of the mountains in little more than five hours. And it is here, from the tiny town of Kamikochi in Nagano Prefecture, that I head off at sunrise on a morning in August, deep into a conifer forest flanked by the gorgeous Asuza-gawa river a blade of silver and mist running alongside the trail as it winds its way east and then north. The climbing starts in earnest a few kilometres north of Yoko, the days halfway point, and when it does I can hear as much as feel it the heavy thunder of the Asuza-gawa churned into blue-white rapids as it roars down out of the Yari-sawa cirque. I ascend for hours through this dramatic glacial amphitheatre, mounting endless switchbacks towards the ridgeline, the valley still clinging, in August, to the last of the previous winter's snow. Eventually, I reach the base of Mt Yarigatake, 3,180 metres tall, 22 kilometers distant from Kamikochi, and nearly 1,600 meters above it. First climbed by the Buddhist priest and mountain ascetic Banryu in 1828, Yarigatake was introduced to the world in the late 19th century by an English metallurgist named William Gowland, who coined the term Japanese Alps to refer to Yarigatake and its sister peaks. Both Gowland and Banryu would doubtless be astonished by the lodge that stands in Yaris spear-shaped
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As I begin my way up, following the white maru (circles) spraypainted on the rock, it becomes immediately apparent that this is what the Californian in me would call a really gnarly climb. The pitch is steep for a scramble, and disconcertingly crumbly. To add to the fun, its often foolishly exposed and falls are unprotected; any slip, I think, would prove extremely messy. Still, theres good news: the cliff face is blessed with lots of solid natural holds the kind climbers call jugs and the chains really do make negotiating the trickiest sections less suicidal. By a few minutes in, and even with the skin on my neck prickling as I look down at the world beneath my feet, I have to admit this climb is an incredible amount of fun. I flatten my body and keep my weight close against the rock, letting my legs do most of the work as I ascend. Scrambling and stopping for breath, mounting ladders and sidestepping along narrow ledges, two hours disappear in a kind of Zen-like flow, my intense concentration broken only at moments when the mist swirls aside to reveal the toothy rocks below. When at last I find myself on the opposite peak, looking back on the Daikiretto sharp and high in the noontime sun, all I can do is smile and wonder in amazement that 36 hours ago I was standing in the chaos of a Tokyo subway. Its a moment that encapsulates the real magic of this trek, how close and yet how far away you are from everything Japan is normally conceived to be. That contrast stays with me as I climb my way through the col, an equally thrilling but less famous traverse that follows the Daikiretto. By the time I descend three hours later from the days final peak, my hands are raw and my knees a little shaky. Luckily the splendid Hotaka-dake-sanso lodge, a

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shadow today a miniature city with futons, clean water and hot meals, all supplied by helicopter. Ive zipped by dozens of hikers on t he way up t he cirque, tot ing hundred-litre packs full of camping and cooking gear. They straggle in all afternoon, setting up camp on the wind-ripped rocks downslope from the lodge. I am, meanwhile, drinking an Asahi beer, abundantly thankful to be hauling nothing more burdensome than a daypack. True, I pay a premium of Y9,000 for the luxury of having to carry neither food nor shelter up onto the roof of Japan, but with the notorious crossing of the Daikiretto looming before me tomorrow, it seems a completely reasonable price to pay. After dinner (grilled salmon, rice, broccoli, miso yum!) I scramble the last 100 metres up the steep, chainand-ladder-covered slope of Yari and watch the sun set over the ridgeline running away to the south, my body tingling with fear and anticipation. Seijin Shimoto is outside the lodge the next morning at half-past five, lacing up his boots in the sunrise. I begin climbing when I am 27, the wiry septuagenarian tells me, his ancient thermal tights patched at the knees with tape; I climb all over Japan Tsurugi-dake, Fuji-san but here is number
snakes and ladders Clockwise from above: Surveying the Daikiretto from near Mt Minamidake; chain descending into the Daikiretto; tents on the helipad at Hotaka-dake-sanso Lodge.

From far above on the precipitous south wall there comes a sickening crash something heavy falling and striking.

one. He sweeps a hand around at the horizon. Nowhere in Japan like this! And the Daikiretto? Daikiretto? he laughs. Very exciting! REAL mountain climbing. The Japanese word for trekking is tozan literally, climb mountain and three hours later, finally standing on the knife-edge in the pit of the Daikiretto (the Big Cut, a deep saddle between the peaks of Minami-dake and Kita-Hotaka-dake), it becomes apparent that Shimoto-san was not kidding. From far above on the precipitous south wall there comes a sickening crash something heavy falling and striking. A moment later the calls come echoing down Daijobu!, Daijobu! as everyone signals that theyre okay. I stare up at the jagged, crumbling slope. It looks treacherous a broken scramble of some 300 metres, tamed only by a few rusting chains; internet sources cheerfully label it as a frequent accident zone.

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Rain and wind are dangerous people falling or getting too cold. This year, ten hikers have died here. She shakes her head. To hike Mt Hotaka, you must be prepared.
getting too cold. This year, ten hikers have died here. She shakes her head. To hike Mt Hotaka, you must be prepared. That evening, in the chill air outside the lodge with the suns last rays warming my shoulders, I reflect on how precious this place really is. In an age in which true adventure seems to belong only to professionals, or to some time in the distant past, this trek is a rare thing. It lives up to its billing a majestic, exciting, and sometimes frightening discovery, an adventure made accessible without being emasculated; and one which, for me, now stands beside the temples of Kyoto and the glitz of Tokyo as one of Japans great experiences. What drew me here is the knowledge that you can die on the Daikiretto. But with proper planning and care, here in the unsuspected wilds of the worlds most outrageously modern nation, it is certain that you will also rarely have felt more alive. AA

beautiful building of tatami and polished blonde wood nestled in the shadow of 3,190-metre Oku-Hotaka-dake, is there to receive me. At the front desk sits Megumi Imada in her puffy white coat and pink beanie. Twenty-five years old, she is the granddaughter of pioneering climber Jutaro Imada, and is fiercely and vocally devoted to mountain safety. Too often Western people come here only in shorts and summer clothes, she tells me when I ask about international visitors, to the high mountains, unprepared. People hear that it is beautiful, or exciting, but they dont think about the danger, dont know the weather conditions and timeless challenge have no plan of where to stop or turn Hikers young and old come to back. Especially in the Alps, rain and measure themselves against the challenges of the Daikiretto. wind are dangerous people falling or

When to go

Practicalities

Alpico Group runs seasonal buses from near Tokyos Shinjuku Station direct to the access town of Kamikochi, departing at 11pm nightly and arriving to Kamikochi at 5-6am the following morning. From the Kansai region, daily overnight buses leave Osaka at 10pm, and Kyoto at 11pm. You will probably need help from a Japanese speaker to navigate the bus system. Coming by train, there are fewer language issues. The railhead is Matsumoto, which is two hours by bus from Kamikochi. You may need to change trains in Nagoya.

What to take
At a minimum, sunglasses, good shoes, cold weather gear and rain gear in case of sudden storms, which can be extremely dangerous. A good map (the Shobunsha Map #37: Yama-to-Kogen, 1:50,000 is recommended, and can be bought at major bookshops in Tokyo or Osaka). If camping, youll need cooking gear and a good sleeping bag. If staying in the mountain huts, bring abundant cash and some snacks. Light gloves are worth bringing to protect your hands from the chains.

Where to stay and eat

The mountain huts at Yarigatake and Hotaka-Dake-sanso have warm, comfortable tatami dorms, though at peak times you may end up sleeping two to a futon. Campsites are available at both places (Y500 per person), as are excellent Japanese meals, beer and purified water (Y200 per litre). A night in the lodge with dinner and breakfast is around Y9,000.

Contacts and further info

The three-day trek is quite easy to do independently, and Englishspeaking operators running trips into the Japanese Alps are thin on the ground, but if you want company, you can try Mountain Hiking Holidays, www.mountainhikingholidays.com/japanhiking.php

March/April 2013

March/April 2013