I feel my ‘job’ as a human is to do what I can to help make the world a bit of a better and more positive place.
If you remember from my previous story introducing our exploration walk of the Katsuo Trail, where it rained so hard we were soaked to the skin. I can say after a beautiful September with days upon beautiful days of perfect hiking weather; it rained again. It seems there are higher forces at work.
For this story, I journey back to Yaizu to walk, talk, laugh and sit in silent mediative awe with Lucas B.B. as we learn more about Shizuoka, our companions and ourselves.
Yes, it rained, but this time more prepared so it was the mystical forests not us which were soaked. Through the trees surrounded in the mists of high humidity slowly making our way up, occasionally stopping to listen to our senses: woodpeckers; pecking, bear-bells; tinkling & raindrops dripping on leaves like notes of a song. If you listened carefully with eyes in soft focus you could catch the forest music.
Murasame no
tsuyu mo mada hinu
maki no ha ni
kiri tachinoboru
aki no yugure
The sudden shower
has not yet dried.
From the leaves of black pines,
wisps of fog rise
in the autumn dusk. (1)
It was good to be outside on cooler days, in the rain, in the forest, walking the long trail which brought us together. Six of us from as far away as San Francisco, Auckland, “Sherwood & Bangkok” and of course Shizuoka. We started back in the small Postal Town of Okabe walking the gentle curves of the Kyu-Tokaido.
As always Lucas our inexcusable guide explained the simple but effective trick of Edo long highway design. “If you design the road in gentle curves —instead of a straight line— it has the magical effect of keeping you walking.” I hadn’t consciously noticed this before, but it was true.
It’s not only the history still visible in many of the buildings and the atmosphere of the Kyu-Tokaido which holds your interest but the anticipation of what’s just around the corner. Before we knew it we were Trail Learning once again.
We were here for a three day hike ironing out some of the obstacles found on our previous exploration. Some 60 km in total; sections 2, 3 and 8 had been rerouted and needed hiking again.
With onigiri bought we headed deeper into the Shizuoka mountains, sometimes on roads, sometimes on pathways and trails; sometimes bushwhacking our way through neglected sections between fields of tea. Taking photos and making notes as we went. This section in need of clearing, here some maintenance, here a good location for a sign and this a great place to rest, etcetera, etcetera.
In-between taking notes, we entertained ourselves by attempting to write Tanka poems. Lucas had recently walked sections of the Ohenro (Buddhist pilgrimage to 88 temples around the island of Shikoku) with a renowned poet Kon Ito. Kon’s Tanka poems inspired us to attempt our own. I might add with little success, but the 5,7,5,7,7, cinquain kept us busy and highly entertained, laughing as we walked, inventing poems of Japanglish.
Kumo Kumo oh!
Cloud spider… rain
drops… something something… nihonshu
rice… onigiri…
…kamoshika!
It was time to eat our onigiri after following the 88 Stone Hiking Course to the top of Ishitani Mountain. Was it the newly harvested rice or the effort which made them taste so good, perhaps both. I think they were the best onigiri I had ever eaten. The mountains along the trail weren’t so high, but the humidity made the going heavy and we were happy for the rest. From this spot and many others throughout Shizuoka, I’m told, there are spectacular views of Fuji-San. Each usually marked with a sign, even a bench or two. However this time, like last time; I was denied the chance for such a pleasurable view. So much so I started to believe the nonexistent of such a thing, discounting the disproportioned volcano on hand painted signs as a slip of the brush; for no such mount was ever visible.
Okuyama ni
momiji fumiwake
naku shika no
koe kiku toki zo
aki wa kanashiki
In the deep mountains
making a path
through the fallen leaves,
the plaintive belling of the stag –
how forlorn the autumn feels. (2)
These three days were an opportunity for me to slow down and simply accept the positivity and kindness offered. Following Lucas’s lead and leaving my digital distraction behind taking only my 35mm Nikonos-V camera.
A heavy brick of a delightful camera and with only 72 frames I attempted to shoot only meaningful moments. What do I mean by meaningful? You can feel it, a tingling or something indescribable; more than our limited lexicon explains —magic? If you can listen to your inner self you know when you’re in one and you attempt to take the shot —snap.
Sometimes failing and sometimes succeeding with the limitations in mind & hand. Limitations yes, but limited no, working with the physical constraints of equipment, light and time. When these fail by the standards of an enhanced automated augmented normality —the results are often surprisingly good.
Surprise being the key to the whole experience. For me this is the creative joy of design. Trust in the process and hold an openness to the unexpectedness of nature unimaginable. The perfect execution of a creative idea is called craft, art —and good design— is something different.
An exploration of thoughts and feelings where the reward is learning along the process. You experience time and process unrestrained, discovering results unseen.
Design learning, self learning… Trail Learning.
For two days we walked like this along quiet trails and forgotten forest roads; past deep mountain shrines and delightful hand painted signs. Occasionally joining the Kawane and Tokai Nature Trails. Those who prefer to cycle will stay on the roads —sometimes gravel— while hikers cut across old mountain passes.
Our third day, after taking the Oigawa Railway steam train from the wonderful Leyama Station, was spent walking the Post Town of Shimada. The October sun beat down on us as we navigated the cobblestones of the Kyu-Tokaido past seemingly endless fields of tea until reaching the Horai-bashi Bridge and cups of ice matcha and cones of matcha ice.
The first day seemed the longest, the second sped by without notice and I could’ve walked forever on the third… but it was time to finish, not before retiring to the Katsuo Trail start for one last attempt to view fuji-san —and here she was.
Tago no ura ni
uchüdete mireba
shirotae no
fuji no takane ni
yuki wa furitsutsu
Coming out on the Bay of Tago,
there before me,
Mount Fuji –
snow still falling on her peak,
a splendid cloak of white. (3)
And so it goes…
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Notes:
- Priest Jakuren, One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each, Peter Macmillan, 2018 (Penguin Classics)
- Sarumaru Taifu, One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each, Peter Macmillan, 2018 (Penguin Classics)
- Yamabe no Akahito, One Hundred Poets, One Poem Each, Peter Macmillan, 2018 (Penguin Classics)
