danieru in tokyo: The Outdoor Weekend

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

The Outdoor Weekend

Jumped onto a train heading North. At least I think it was North. Jump out, wander the platform attempting to change train, and by luck alone, manage to get spotted by Ricky who herded me into the right train. Get to Kinugawakoen and have to pay a further 1200 Yen for the journey. Trains in Japan aren't cheap, unless you can pull off the Ricky stunt of saying "siumasen, i have lost my ticket" and then just get let through the gate free of charge because the guard can't be bothered communicating with you. A stunt I will consider for longer trips. Head up the road to get the guide, a wet suit, and a lifejacket. The guide turned out to be a Peruvian, with a half Brazilian half Japanese sidekick, whose actions - not looks - reminded me of a donkey.

All the girls fell in love with him. Got the gear on, and started climbing waterfalls. This is a fantastic activity which I cannot recommend highly enough, if the terrain is good. You start out wandering upstream along a river fueled by ice cold mountain water, which has a series of waterfalls. Some can be small at a mere 1m high, some can be tall, at 10m, and some can be broad, with the water running down a smoothed rock surface a 10 metres in length. The latter made good slides. The scenery upstream was breathtaking. I never imagined Japan in it's countryside form, instead, I envisaged neon lights and tall buildings. The weather was perfect. 25 degrees, clear blue skies. As it hit 3pm, and the Sun began to lower and pierced through the trees. Far from the average, polluted British stream, the river was pure and the setting so serene. As I wandered along, I realised how much I was seeing only now, which kids in the country took for granted. The sad fact is, living in the city should never have restrained me from doing any of this. When you take your annual holiday, money loses significance, and experiences come first. I never want to spend money on cars, watches or overpriced furniture when I could have this. And I can have it back home, as long as I put experiences before consumer goods.

When we'd had enough of heading upstream, we turned and went back. This is where the fun really began. It involved jumping, rather than climbing back down. Jumping into ice cold pools of freshwater from a height, and swimming to the bank, and continuing to the next. The jumps appeared to get larger and larger, until the final one, which panicked one of the girls so much, she refused to do it. Eventually, she was coaxed into it by the alternative of having to climb through a leech ridden embankment.

Shivering, tired, and hungry, we headed back on to a campsite, and then chilled, with beer, at the local onsen. Then barbecue, with plates of suspiciously illprepared fodder served in poor lighting. Tasty. Sit around, telling stories over a campfire. One of the guys admits to sleepwalking, and tells a story about taking a number 2 in a cupboard. He woke up half way through. Eventually, pass out in a tent. I haven't camped since I was a kid, so it was all a rather novel experience. I must admit that I will, in future, lack the motivation to sleep in the bush, and the shadow of a moderately priced hotel. The campfire is fantastic, and the barbecues even better, but I am now old enough to want a soft bed.

7.30 am wake up and get geared up for white water rafting. These weren't hardcore rapids - perhaps grade 1 and 2, so you really have to be doing something crazy to get a buzz from it. I paddled like a man possessed, and tore by triceps to shreds. Instead of toppling the boat, we tried spinning it, and ramming it. This was all good, but it was far better just picking fights, and throwing people out into the cold water. The donkey guy was fantastic. He screamed orders from the back of the boat in Portuguese, without any handsignalling. Nobody had any idea what he was trying to say, until he stood up and started systematically throwing people out of the raft. I swam ashore, and climbed up to the top of the embankment. The idea was simple - jump from a 15m+ height, into the river, and swim ashore. The fear grips you as you look down, but you know you're going anyway. Afterall, people are watching. Your whole body tenses as you start to fall, and a noticeable period elapses before you hit the water, watching the scenery fly by, and go deep deep down. Ice cold water drowns your sinuses. I had to do it twice.

Back on the road, and head out towards Fukushima for a full moon party, and (what i am told) is Japan's most awesome Onsen. The drive was superb, yet like any drive, it becomes tedious after a while. So we stopped off enroute at a restaurant and onsen combined. Bathe, chill out, shower, check receding hairline, change into fresh clothes and head upstairs for food. That wonderful feeling, as a drop dead gorgeous girl saunters up to me, and says - "Err". I beam back, flattered, yet wondering what she has to say to me. "Errr - you're zipper is undone". "thanks". Cough. Splutter. Die.

Dinner allowed me to discover a Japanese tradition in chopstick placing. I wanted to rest my chopsticks to take a sip of the soup. Being clumsy, I needed to place the chopsticks in the most stable position - jam them in the sticky rice, and they wont go anywhere. *GASP*. Whoever was talking, stopped, all looked round, and stared. You can never, ever do this. It's all to do with death - if i recall correctly, you do something similar with cremations. So sticking your chopsticks into a bowl of rice is the signal of death to the food, and therefore the chef and the restaurant.

Back on the road, arrive at some small town, take the back roads to the forest. Full Moon Party, lots of techno and a latin tent, pass out on some Tatami mat in a hut, and end the day as the sun was coming up.

Sunday was Onsen day. I am quite sure that the guy who designed this Onsen had a vision of paradise in his mind, and the licence to publish it. There are several pools separated by a river, scattered with boulders, and connected by a traditional walkway. As you sit in the steaming hot stone pool of natural spring water, outdoors, looking upstream you can notice a old japanese house gently placing itself in the scenery, in front of a green forested hill. Nothing here is obtrusive. The pools themselves blended into the background, with a few casts of warriors and buddhas sprinkled to taste. After seeing this, I was left wondering how anyone who lived here could ever find the time to play Nintendo. It felt like Eden. It sounded like Eden. And if I was allowed to take pictures, it would have looked like Eden. The weekend was over.

Instead of taking the train back, Ricky kindly gave us a lift in the minibus. However, behind the steering wheel was an deranged 30something kiwi who drove like a teenager. He sought it necessary to remind everyone in the bus that he was once a driver for the NZ consulate in the US. i didn't feel it necessary to ask him why he no longer held that post. after a while, people on the bus asked me to drive instead, thus serving the dual purpose of getting me to shut up and getting a modicum of safety. Although, I did manage to get panicked when someone screamed "MY GOD! GO GO GO" because they saw a tram approaching. "Jesus Christo, they do have brakes" was all i could retort.

- posted by Daniel @ Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Comments:

Again I am sitting somewhere between being jealous and feeling pity. I think my hobby radar rejects anything thats either uncomfortable, overly energetic or dangerous. I did play 5-a-side football on Sunday, I was rubbish.

# posted by

Al : 9:41 PM

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