In hindsight, it wasn’t a good idea to use the computer last night. I had the opportunity to get a good night’s sleep, but instead achieved very little and stayed up late. I got up at four a.m. after only four hours asleep. By 4.20 I was on the road with not a soul in sight. In spite of the perfect weather forecast, it was cloudy. “Maybe it will clear by the time I get to the top,” I thought. Mostly I walked, but from time to time I ran for about twenty paces or so. I had been told it would take two hours to get to the top from the youth hostel, and sun-up was due at 6.05.
By 5.50 I was getting desperate. One car came, but didn’t stop. I broke into a run, but I hadn’t eaten anything and was lacking in energy. Fortunately, the second car was kinder. They gave me a lift to a viewpoint on the west of the mountain, where they were going to take a photograph themselves. The other photographer was already set up, but, not surprisingly, didn’t say a word.
I rushed round looking for the sunrise position. The high mountains meant that the actual sunrise would be later. I ran over to a lake from where I could get a mountain reflected perfectly in the still waters. When I returned, I realised why the photographers had waited. The morning sun caught the mountains that surround the central volcanic peak, tingeing them with a beautiful warm glow. I wasn’t able to get back quick enough to catch the effect - the sun soon clouded over. Maybe I should have waited, or asked what they were looking for.
There was an outside socket at some nearby shops, where I brewed up my coffee, and started to use my computer. However, soon some cars drove up and I figured that the shops would soon open. They had all been closed yesterday in the poor weather. I was invited in and supplied with hot tea. I didn’t ask about milk, but put some of my all-bran into a half cup of hot coffee. It instantly went mushy, and was quite disgusting to eat - but I finished it all. I need the energy and fibre.
Rather than go back to the top, I made my way down the south side. It was a long trek, and nobody stopped. I figured my sign was wrong, but chose to continue that way. There were so many beautiful places. I peered into dark woods, thinking “Can’t you see the beauty?” Surely there is something beautiful here, if only I could see it. Someday I may unlock the secret of the unfocused photograph. I began to think about all the things I like to photograph - I love the mountains and the snow. Maybe someday I will write a song like this - and try to get the photos to accompany it.
From the bottom of the mountain, a gentleman gave me a lift to a roadway on the way to Takachiho gorge. It was a steep incline, and I wasn’t at first sure where to stand. However, within a few minutes a lady stopped. She asked if it would be O.K. to wait for some boys on bicycles, and as we did so, another lady pulled in. She had seen my sign, and done two U-turns to come and collect me. I said thanks to the first lady, and jumped into the next car.
The lady stopped on all the bridges, giving me time to jump out and take photos. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking for, but felt I ought to take a snap, just in case she asked to see it. We went a little further on, and I got the impression I had gone past my destination. A map of the area confirmed my suspicions, but I saw a photo of the beautiful gorge. I travel with the wind, and sometimes it blows in strange directions. It would be better not to upset the lady, by saying she had made a mistake and causing her to take me back to my chosen destination. I went on with her all the way to the coast town of Nobioka.
From there, a couple took me on to Aoshima, which was only a little out of their way. They picked up their son. The lady, on learning that I was from Scotland, said - as all Japanese do - “Isn’t it cold there?” I was about to agree, as I always do, when the son pointed out that the warm wind and sea curren ts actually mean that Scotland doesn’t usually g et so very cold, and Hokkaido is colder. Wow! At last the truth is being taught in Japanese textbooks - but I think that several generations will need to pass away before it is common belief that Scotland is often warmer than Hokkaido in winter.
There were no sockets in the toilets, so I walked round the whole island (it’s quite small), and then settled down on the rocks, halfway round. It seemed the most romantic place to kip out. By midnight, though, a slight wind was blowing, and I packed up and went back to the toilets.