Hiking Mt. Kumayama

Saturday, February 27th, 2010 in: News, Travel

“When I lived here, I did this hike every day” Ryan proclaimed as we wound our way up the mountain trail. There was pride in his voice, but not because of his accomplishment, but because of the privilege he felt for being able to make this hike on a daily basis. He was glad to have someone to share it with who would appreciate just how lucky he  was to have the opportunity to do this on a daily basis. His wife grew up here, and as we often are about things we grow up with, the novelty has worn off for her. We have to constantly forget in order to retain that sense of wonder, to see the world with fresh eyes. At least, that’s my excuse for having a poor memory. That aside, she doesn’t really care for hiking.

We  reached the first summit relatively quickly, thanks to the steep stairs on the more direct route. This was the only the first mini-mountain we’d be hiking today, but I was already stripping off layers to get more comfortable, and struggling to relax my breathing pace. I’m definitely out of shape. If I had any breath the view would have stolen it from me. What an amazing place to call home. I know there will be many more hikes and many more mountains to come, but this one felt so comfortable to be on, I forgot where I was and just breathed it all in for a moment.

Descending back to the ridge that connected us to the next peak, we stood under the massive electrical tower waiting for Keiko (Ryan’s mother-in-law) and Koyuki (her Maltese) to come up from the less-direct path. The rolling hills were slathered with green, a sharp contrast to the cold grey of the power lines stretching from ridge to ridge. These cables must be more than a kilometer long; a marvelous feat of engineering, though they’re kind of spoiling the view. I wondered what it would be like to walk across them, to be suspended in the air, far above the business of the ground-dwellers, but standing on the veins that carry its lifeblood. I’ll bet the view is even more spectacular between the mountains than on top of them.

I shook off the thought as Koyuki came bounding up the trail. We rejoined Keiko and trudged up to the next summit, a few hundred meters away with a sharp elevation gain. The small city of Imbe was shrinking from sight, disappearing behind mountains and the spider web of power lines draped across the landscape. Did we want to head back yet, or continue on to Kumayama? It was a question that need not be asked.

Keiko and I discussed a variety of things, mostly revolving around the topics of language and culture, and the differences between Japan and America. I don’t know what it is, but older Japanese women and I really get along. I feel so relaxed that I don’t feel so self-conscious about my Japanese, which seems to loosen my tongue and give me a real chance to stretch my abilities. I feel like I can actually express myself , and our conversations almost always seem to end in a greater mutual understanding of each other and our cultures. Hanging out with my friends and coworkers who are mostly guys my age, I feel stuck and trip over my tongue. I can never find the right words, and I feel lost in their conversations. I don’t know what it is, but I sometimes have a better time talking to my friends’ moms than people my age.

If he grew quiet for too long, I would periodically recap for Ryan to keep him in the conversation. It’s hard to know the proper etiquette when speaking Japanese in the presence of other non-native speakers; am I being condescending or helpful? How much should I assume they understood? It depends on the person; I think some people wave off a helping hand even if they need it. Ryan seemed happy to be a part of the conversation, and I’m hoping that it’s encouraged him to redouble his efforts to study the language. He’s already put a lot more work into it than some of the other expats I’ve met; I must commend him for being so bold and picking up Japanese from scratch in order to communicate with his extended family.

We reached the summit of Kumayama and were greeted with a strong gust of wind and a view of more powerlines connecting the dots of towns spattered across the landscape. An ancient ruin not unlike the Mayan pyramids remained as a reminder of a past long forgotten; an information board laid out the suspected timeline and purpose of the structure, but in the end it was pretty clear that nothing was known for sure about its purpose. A man from Kobe who was in the area on business started up a conversation with me and remarked that seeing a foreigner in a place like this was in a way more of a rare sight than the ruins he came to see. We shared a laugh about it, but my laughter was derived from the irony that I’ve never thought of myself a rarity, but if I was alone and ran into another gaijin on the trail, I would probably have the same reaction.

We walked back wishing we had planned better and brought some food with us; it was already 3 in the afternoon and we hadn’t eaten since our light breakfast. Koyuki was also visibly ready to get back, but never straying out of our sight. A surprisingly good hiking companion for a creature with such short legs. By the time we got to the final descent into the valley, I was literally running down the stairs, barreling towards lunch. Koyuki got the message, and started bounding down after me. I was reminded of a story I read in Einstein’s Dreams, where the faster you move, the slower time goes (although by immeasurably miniscule amounts), so people are either frantically trying to move as fast as possible so they can live longer, or they just go about their business as usual. The people who try to squeeze every last millisecond out of life end up running past it and forgetting to savor the moments that make it up.

I felt a little guilty for not taking a slower pace and enjoying the descent, but I had a meal and a nap waiting for me at the bottom of the hill that I was more interested in savoring.

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