The night on the mountain
Wednesday, January 3rd, 2007I woke up to the sound of voices. I had figured that my location choice for camping would be a popular place for early risers to walk in the morning, but I didn’t care. When the voices trailed off I quickly got up and packed away my sleeping bag and bivy. I slept perched on a level clearing on the side of a small mountain near Sakaide station. My plan to charge my phone last night failed when I realized that my charger was broken. Must have fried it in Korea.
While Japan is full of small city parks suitable for sleeping out, the chances of getting hastled by the police are higher and the traffic and lights can make for a sleepless night. I’ve learned to head for the mountains and recommend Google Earth to figure out good towns with mountains within walking distance of the station.
This spot was perfect. The view of Sakaide, the surrounding hills, inland sea, and Seto Ohashi on the horizon were welcome sights this morning. My hunger had subsided as well, and as I begin day two of my fast I simply feel weak and tired with hunger pain coming in less frequent waves.
Soon an old man and his dog came up the hill. He took one look at my backpack and said in Japanese:
“Are you camping in the winter?”
Trying to make an excuse for myself I tripped over my words until finally conceding that I was. He looked at me, then up the trail and said, “Well, shall we climb the mountain?”
“Sure.” We chatted along the way about Shikoku, it’s famous udon noodles, the 88 shrine pilgrimage that many in Japan try to complete, and the mountain. The old guy climbs it twice a day; once at 6am and again at 4pm. What a nice ritual. When we arrived at the top the sun was about 20 minutes from peeking up over the mountains across the clearing where Sakaide is nestled among the hills. I had a magical experience on that mountain.
Last night I arrived in Sakaide with no way of reaching my friend, and from the station exit I could see the lights leading up to the summit, calling me over for the night. When I arrived at my little clearing, two owls swooped down and perched on a light pole, watching me set up my bed before flying away. I guess I checked out alright with them.
After watching the sunrise I had to formulate a plan. I would catch the train back to Okayama, the biggest city in the area, and hope for a cell phone shop to be open to call Mayumi. I can wait out the hunger until tomorrow, but would rather not. I bid the old man and his dog farewell and headed back the the station.
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