In the Pines

While most of the archipelago is enjoying spring, with summer lurking just around the bend, Ontake-san still suggests winter. Well, at least in form. I'm in Hawai`i, so I have no tactile sense of the mountain, but surely its snows are heavy with water. The sun, in its increasingly long arc across the sky working to slowly dismantle the labors of winter. Winter does not give in so easily however, rearing its head and gnashing its teeth now and again (particularly this year, where there was a snow storm well into April). Nights too, on the mighty mountain, still belong to winter. But, soon the summer sun will prevail, at least for a few months, as it has for so many years. Its lovely, this child-like wrestling match. *photo courtesy of the blog 水と緑のふるさと王滝村

During a walk in Otaki's backcountry today I was greeted with the wonderful sight of Otake-san donning its robe of white for the first time this season. Rain yesterday in the village had translated to a light blanket of snow down to about 2,500 meters. As I gazed upon the mountain cool breezes rolled down the canyon and whispered in my ears. . ."winter is on its way". I walked back to town through shafts of soft light that filtered through tree tops at the canyon's rim while papery leaves whirled clumsily about me like a team of drunkards. My last Otaki autumn for a while. The snows will be coming soon. Goodnight Ontake-san.

After a turbulent summer of rainy weather the skies over Otaki have stabilized, bringing to the heavens blues as deep as lapis lazuli. Temperatures, on the other hand, have de-stabilized, a pattern I recognize from last year's fall and this year's spring--a battling of the seasons that we humans get caught in the middle of. Although I know the ultimate winner of the scrimmage now under way--fall and then winter--the bright rays of the noon sun pelt down and fool me into thinking the outcome might, just this one year, be different. Warm days cool nights farmers worry, survey, adjust, re-adjust, worry; like crossing a river upon slick stones. Simple greetings: "how's the weather?" take on weight and bend like stalks of rice in the flat light that crawls down the Otaki valley.

On Friday July 10th I climbed Ontake-san for the first time this season. July 10th is the date of the annual "mountain opening ceremony", known as kaizan-shiki 開山式 in Japanese. This year was my second time to climb Ontake-san for this ceremony (you can read my post about last year's ceremony here ). The weather was not agreeable to the ceremony this year. My friend R-san, a Belgian philosopher currently living in the village, and I began our ascent at a little after six in the morn ing. The weather at the ta-no-hara 田の原 parking lot was rainy with a bit of wind--most of Ontake-san was cloaked in dark swaths of cloud. But, we had both been prepared to meet bad weather. So, we slid our packs on and passed through the immense stone torii that marks the entrance to the mountain. The rain wasn't too fierce, and we only encountered a bit of heavy wind towards the first (Otaki) summit (王滝頂上). In hindsight it would have been best to push to the true ( ken-ga-mine 剣ヶ...

It comes every year to Japan. It's both a nuisance and a pleasure. The rainy season. Any excursion includes a clunky umbrella, uncomfortable rain boots, and a jacket that is too much in the hot, muggy air. At the same time the rainy season landscape is undeniably beautiful. It's a mystical landscape where the lines between sky and earth become blurred and clouds haunt the hillsides like wandering spirits. When the rain lifts the earth swells, as if breathing sighs of gratitude for the few precious months of warmth and moisture afforded it each year. When the rains come I am always reminded of what a wonderful season this is.

I've been busy of late with preparations for the American Anthropological Association meeting in San Francisco next month, and a series of discussions about "resilience" here in the village this month. However, a visit by friends from Miyako-jima in Okinawa gave me a good excuse to get out and enjoy fall in Otaki. Days here in Otaki are warm--hot, when the sun is hitting directly--but the mornings and evenings are accompanied by a stern cold that nips at one's bare parts. Our Okinawa friends brought with them blue skies; heavy morning rain clouds cleared as we drove from Kiso-Fukushima station to Takigoshi, Otaki's smallest and most isolated hamlet. We started with a walk in the forest where we stopped to gather kuri (chestnuts). At midori-no-buchi we took time to warm ourselves in the sun and to marvel at the strokes of red and orange painted on the trees above us. I-san, who runs the soba restaurant in Takigoshi, is in the middle of harvesting soba for the fi...

Walking yesterday evening I looked to the hillsides above the village. The fading light of the day lay on the tree tops at a low angle--not the sun of summer. The mountains had a crispness that is not present in the damp heat of July and early August. Each tree stood out clearly from it's neighbor, sharp shadows defined the spaces between. Clouds billowed into the sky like the tops of souffles cresting the ridgelines surrounding Otaki. As dark descended a layer of moisture blanketed the trees and plants, cooling the air. I pulled a jacket from my pack and zipped myself into it. A full moon rose and took it's place in southeastern corner of the sky. The landscape glowed silver and I spotted Mt. Ontake crouching shyly in the back of a canyon, a veil of clouds at it's crown. I felt drawn by the mountain. Soon I was in my car speeding up the eas tern slope past the large stone monuments that denote the returned spirits of the dead. I stopped in the middle of one of the s...

Late summer in Japan is a time of very unstable weather, as typhoons and other monsoonal storms move up from the south. These rapid changes in the weather seem particularly pronounced here in Otaki. Because the Kiso Region is located at the southern tip of the Japanese Alps the area gets the first smack of all the storms rolling in from both the Japan Sea and Pacific Ocean. An amazing thunderstorm passed through Otaki today. There had been fair weather in the morning; fair enough to get my laundry done. But clouds began gathering just after noon. It was a monsoonal storm, and it flowed in quickly across the mountains from the southwest. The sky was filled with electricity, and my body anticipated the strikes of lightening that soon began ripping through the sky. Thunder rolled out in thick blankets that rumbled down out of the clouds and across the mountains. I stood mesmerized watching the sky as it continued to flash and rumble; rain began to fall in torrents from the sky. I h...