Daisetsuzan 2

My roommate left at the crack of dawn. Looks like he didn't tell the hostel because they set his breakfast. At dinner last night he told me that he was from Hiroshima, a long way down south. Before he retired he had tested cars for Mazda and had even done some driving in outback Australia.

The ropeway (cable car) whisks one halfway up the mountain.  In an ancient explosion, part of the flank of the mountain was blasted away, leaving a sort of shelf.  From there one can take a short walk, a medium walk, and if one is adventurous, ascend Daisetsuzan (Great Snowy Mountain).

I did the medium walk, which takes you past alpine pools, and fumaroles roaring like distant beaches and filling the air with the pungent odour of sulphur and hydrogen sulphide. Unfortunately the wildflowers were a few months ago.

Two reflecting pools called the Husband and Wife lakes.

Conventionally the bigger one would be the husband, but then again, maybe the wife has a large handbag with her.

Abandon all hope, all ye who, er, put your hands in here.

I decided to go up the mountain as far as I could. I would reach a local peak and then tell myself, just one more. It was tiring and upon reaching the 1930 metre marker I decided to turn back because the views were getting less and less rewarding.  Anyway as the famous rule goes, one should not climb higher than one's birth year.  Famous to me anyway, since I just made it up. It wasn't easy going down either, there was the constant danger of slipping on scree.

On the way I passed a woman with a hurt leg on a stretcher being tended to by a couple of emergency workers. I had encountered that woman going up. She must have slipped or something.  Later at at the ropeway station I saw the rescue helicopter hovering around. I realised that I should have taken my 3G mobile with me, in case. But there were lots of people on the trail.

After a lunch of rice balls in nori packed for me by the hostel, I descended. I decided to try one of the short walks starting near the base of the ropeway. In Hokkaido they are always telling you to beware of the brown Higuma bear. The trail map had a little silhouette cartoon of a bear saying: Konichi-wa and the surprised hiker exclaming: Oh noes!  Sorry, I mean Oh no! I've been reading too much Lolcat.


Last night, when one of the Singapore women was asking about walks, the hostel staff impressed upon us the importance of using bare belles when walking in the forest to let them know you are coming. Huh?  Oh, bear bells. I'm not convinced that they work better compared to just making noise as you walk. I think it's just souvenir shop propaganda. But then I suppose you don't have to consciously make noise if you wear a bell.

So I took to the "scenic" path, whistling as I went.  The path was rocky, uneven, narrow and overgrown with tree roots. I think a bear would be masochistic to hang around this area. The promised vantage point wasn't that impressive.  In my boredom I wondered what one says to a bear.  Does one use the polite or the familiar form of address? Should one use the subjunctive, as in, I wish you would leave me alone? Oh wait, I don't even know the imperative form, let alone the subjunctive.


It's kind of ironic that they make the bear sound so scary. In reality, human settlement has driven the brown bear into pockets in national parks.  One captive bear park shamelessly advertises the bear as the King of Hokkaido. The most dangerous predator in Hokkaido (and the world) is homo sapiens.

I was onto my 15th tuneless rendition of Baia when I saw a little wooden bridge across a stream.  Surely not bear made? A little further along the path opened onto a clearing and I was back on the main road. So that was my little frisson for the afternoon. The only animal I surprised was a wood dove or similar which took flight in a noisy flutter.  Then I trudged back to the hostel and relieved my muscular aches in the onsen.