Nasushiobara: Oku-Nikko.
Jul. 30th, 2008 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sechan19Five a.m. came, as it always does, quite early. On this particular morning, however, it had the added sting that a late night inevitably brings an early start. I had an engagement to keep, however, and rallied myself for the day ahead.
Takako appeared very surprised to see me come down the stairs, dressed and packed with fifteen minutes still remaining before our scheduled departure time.
“Oh, you’re up?” she cried. “I guess we’re going after all. I’ll let Paul know.”
And off she went. Later I teased her a bit, noting that she hadn’t thought I’d get up as I’d said I would after a rather late night, but she dismissed this and instead informed me that it was Paul who concerned her. He was looking like death.
As it turned out, it was Paul--not I--who won the too-much-fun award for Saturday. You’d think that after all the hanging out I’ve done with my Dad I would have learned that us small fry rarely carry off that honor if there’s a member of the previous generation to compete for it, but I was still a little surprised myself. Paul was royally hung over, but hardly an outward sign of it did he show. He carried on through the long hours of the day with a fortitude that was nothing short of majestic.
Yoko arrived promptly at six, as she had said we would, and after Paul cleared the cobwebs with a quick shower, we were off in the family car. The family car had built in navigation and one of those handy automatic toll cards, and the interplay between driver and spouse was never dull, no matter who was at the helm.
We had breakfast at a little rest stop before we turned off for the Irohazaka, the road leading up into the Oku-Nikko National Forrest. The Irohazaka is a road with so many hairpin turns that each has been named for one of the forty-eight original Japanese syllables, which begin with i, ro, and ha. As you ascend, and later descend, you work your way from curve one, i, to curve forty-eight, n.
That is my idea of a road.
The Nikko National Forrest, which rings the highest mountain in Tochigi Prefecture, Mount Nantai, is superlatively lovely. We were parked by nine and hiking shortly thereafter through gorgeous marshlands and plains fairly exploded with the blooms of wildflowers (among them thistles, burnets, rose bays, and the last sprays of wild iris). We hiked through the Senjugohara Plateau to the Yudaki Falls and over the falls to Lake Yuno, the source of a hot spring. There we ate lunch, chatting idly and listening to the amusing conversations of others.
(Everyone’s favorite overheard conversation of the day took place between a father and his small son. The father exclaimed to his child, “Look! A bird!” To which the boy replied, with the utmost disgust, “That’s not a bird! That’s a pigeon!” We kept our expressions neutral until a bit of path was between us and the family, but after that it was over and the phrase was repeated more than once to everyone’s mutual fit of the giggles.)
After our circuit of the lake we resolved to make for home. It was edging on two o’clock and some of us had other engagements to attend to (like Yoko). (And some of us were still really hung over, but I name no names.) We decided to take the local bus back down to the parking lot rather than walk back, but we hit a snag. Traffic held the buses at the trail head, and after an hour we hailed a taxi. The cost of the ride was about what four bus tickets would have been anyway.
On the ride home, Paul drove--bless him. Yoko and I napped. (Ah, youth…) Arriving back at the house, Yoko departed with thanks and plenty of see-you-next-weeks. The rest of us took the opportunity to relax a bit before dinner, which was pizza. (And very respectable pizza at that.) We watched the rest of the day’s sumo championships and then started a movie. Paul decamped mid-way through it to go to bed, but Takako and I finished it. Then we both headed to bed to be up again early the next morning for our farewells.
Takako appeared very surprised to see me come down the stairs, dressed and packed with fifteen minutes still remaining before our scheduled departure time.
“Oh, you’re up?” she cried. “I guess we’re going after all. I’ll let Paul know.”
And off she went. Later I teased her a bit, noting that she hadn’t thought I’d get up as I’d said I would after a rather late night, but she dismissed this and instead informed me that it was Paul who concerned her. He was looking like death.
As it turned out, it was Paul--not I--who won the too-much-fun award for Saturday. You’d think that after all the hanging out I’ve done with my Dad I would have learned that us small fry rarely carry off that honor if there’s a member of the previous generation to compete for it, but I was still a little surprised myself. Paul was royally hung over, but hardly an outward sign of it did he show. He carried on through the long hours of the day with a fortitude that was nothing short of majestic.
Yoko arrived promptly at six, as she had said we would, and after Paul cleared the cobwebs with a quick shower, we were off in the family car. The family car had built in navigation and one of those handy automatic toll cards, and the interplay between driver and spouse was never dull, no matter who was at the helm.
We had breakfast at a little rest stop before we turned off for the Irohazaka, the road leading up into the Oku-Nikko National Forrest. The Irohazaka is a road with so many hairpin turns that each has been named for one of the forty-eight original Japanese syllables, which begin with i, ro, and ha. As you ascend, and later descend, you work your way from curve one, i, to curve forty-eight, n.
That is my idea of a road.
The Nikko National Forrest, which rings the highest mountain in Tochigi Prefecture, Mount Nantai, is superlatively lovely. We were parked by nine and hiking shortly thereafter through gorgeous marshlands and plains fairly exploded with the blooms of wildflowers (among them thistles, burnets, rose bays, and the last sprays of wild iris). We hiked through the Senjugohara Plateau to the Yudaki Falls and over the falls to Lake Yuno, the source of a hot spring. There we ate lunch, chatting idly and listening to the amusing conversations of others.
(Everyone’s favorite overheard conversation of the day took place between a father and his small son. The father exclaimed to his child, “Look! A bird!” To which the boy replied, with the utmost disgust, “That’s not a bird! That’s a pigeon!” We kept our expressions neutral until a bit of path was between us and the family, but after that it was over and the phrase was repeated more than once to everyone’s mutual fit of the giggles.)
After our circuit of the lake we resolved to make for home. It was edging on two o’clock and some of us had other engagements to attend to (like Yoko). (And some of us were still really hung over, but I name no names.) We decided to take the local bus back down to the parking lot rather than walk back, but we hit a snag. Traffic held the buses at the trail head, and after an hour we hailed a taxi. The cost of the ride was about what four bus tickets would have been anyway.
On the ride home, Paul drove--bless him. Yoko and I napped. (Ah, youth…) Arriving back at the house, Yoko departed with thanks and plenty of see-you-next-weeks. The rest of us took the opportunity to relax a bit before dinner, which was pizza. (And very respectable pizza at that.) We watched the rest of the day’s sumo championships and then started a movie. Paul decamped mid-way through it to go to bed, but Takako and I finished it. Then we both headed to bed to be up again early the next morning for our farewells.
