During the summer of 1989, I used my summer vacation (I was teaching at a private girls' school at the time) to see just what it must have been like for Matuso Basho, the founder of the haiku form of poetry, on his travels to the
northern part of Japan, who used his journey in 1689 as the basis for "The Narrow Road to the Deep North". My trek just happened to coincide with the 300th anniversary of
Basho's journey, or so the posters in the train stations claimed. I
was unaware of that fact when I set out, but it really didn’t matter. My intention was to make the same journey (as much as I could, anyway) that Basho and Sora, his travel companion and fellow poet, did. I
did not make any hotel reservations in advance, for example, and relied on finding a place to lay my head when I got to wherever I was. I also decided I would try to walk as much of the trip
as possible, starting with a short trip to Kurobane, a city northwest of Tokyo. (I figured I would get out of Tokyo by train, as it was
far too crowded and noisy to offer much in terms of quiet meditative moods.)
So, I hopped off the Shinkansen (“bullet train”) at the station closest to Kurobane and started walking. (The trek to Kurobane would take about an hour on foot.)
On the way there, a couple of public buses stopped and the drivers asked if I wanted a ride. I declined both times. I eventually stopped for a breather at a roadside
rest. It was a small place, more of a convenience store for those
driving by. I was about to pick up my bags and set out when the woman proprietor came out and
waved me down. “Please sit,” she said, and quickly brought out some freshly cut
watermelon. She hastily explained that her son, who was due back from college "at any moment" would be very happy to see me. So I waited, and sure enough, a few minutes later, a young
Japanese man pulled up to the stand in his car. I got involved with singing Beatles songs
while he played the guitar. I know beer was involved. I am still amazed to this day that some Japanese won't speak a lick of English in conversation, but can recite every lyric of their favorite songs without hesitation. They asked me what
I was doing in that part of Japan, and had a hard time believing that I was going to try to walk all
the way to Kurobane, much less northern Japan. The mother mentioned a temple in the area that was 'worth visiting'. She said her son could take me to the temple in his car. No,
I wanted to walk, I replied. The son agreed to accompany me to the
temple. (See photo below.)
I asked the family about a place to stay. They called
the local pension, which is a
word the Japanese borrowed from the English and applied to something totally
different. It’s basically an inn, and that is where I ended up for the night. I arrived later than normal, just as they were about to empty
the bath water, but I was able to convince them to let me use it first. (Many
people can use the same bath water in Japan; one must thoroughly
wash and rinse oneself BEFORE climbing into the tub so as to not dirty the
water. It’s OK to use the hot bath water during this process, but the
cleaning is done OUTSIDE the tub, and great care is taken so that the soapy
suds do not get into the tub.) I gingerly took off my socks and quickly
examined the blisters that had formed on my first day of travel. The fact
that I had already developed fairly large blisters did not bode well for the
rest of my trip. On a good note, to my surprise, there was a small stone in the inn's garden inscribed with one of Matsuo Basho's poems.
The next morning I “cheated”, and took a bus back to the
city of Utsunomiya, a major stop on the "Shinkansen", and then from there I took the train
to the town of Nikko.
Nikko is
a very famous resort community famous for several things, one of which is its proximity to the Toshogu Shrine, which was built by the Tokugawa
dynasty. The shrine is most famous for its intricate carvings of various
wildlife, including three monkeys who “hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no
evil.” I could have easily spent a few hours at this shrine and its environs, as I’m
sure the Emperors of the past have done, as this resort was originally built
for the royal family.
Some distance from the Toshogu Shrine is the Kegon waterfalls
that originate as the water spills from the lip of Lake
Chuzenji, which formed in
the basin created by the mountains near Nikko, to the gorge below. It’s not that often that one can view
the falls: many times the weather is dismal and the clouds droop too low and block the view. At other times, the spray from the falls obscures one’s
vision. Sometimes, during periods of drought, there is not enough water
flowing from the lip of Lake
Chuzenji to create the
falls. The falls are over 3.5 hours away from Nikko Station on foot, so I had a lofty goal set for me.
Sticking with my plan to walk the trail of Basho, I set out
from Nikko
station, went to the Toshogu Shrine, and confirmed that the monkeys were still
there. My feet were already protesting about the pain, but I pressed on. After
thoroughly examining the nooks and crannies of the shrine, I trudged on toward
the i-ro-ha-zaka, the “alphabet slope” that led up to Lake
Chuzenji and the entry to the Kegon Falls.
The slope is given that name because there is a hairpin curve for every
one of the letters of the Japanese phonetic alphabet. The Japanese version
of our “ABC” song waxes much more poetic, but I still can’t sing if it you
wanted me to. Anyway, I trudged on... and on... and further on while
people in cars and buses stared at the sweaty foreigner walking funnily on the
sides of his feet, probably wondering what I was doing. I was even
offered a ride by someone who told me I can’t walk to the falls, but adamant in my desire to walk like Basho walked, I turned them
down. I would prove to them and my feet that I could do what I set out to
do!
When I got to the base of the curvaceous mountain
slope, I came upon a gigantic sign that listed prohibitions of various kinds, mainly this
one: “Due to the dangerous nature of the hairpin curves ahead, ABSOLUTELY NO
PEDESTRIANS ARE ALLOWED beyond this point!” Muttering a few choice words, I begrudgingly bought a bus
ticket to the mountaintop and climbed on the bus. In mere minutes, we
were on our way, and as we went through the curves, I looked out the window. I
could not see the ground underneath us—just the fir-covered ravine stretching
down, down, and down. After a few more curves, I had to look away because it was getting a
little nauseating. Instead, I kept my eyes out for the little monkeys
that appeared from time to time next to the signs warning passengers not to
feed them. Judging by the items left on the ground at the monkeys’ feet,
I would have to guess the signs weren’t very effective.
On the way to the top, the bus driver announced that the falls would not be visible due to the cloud coverage. At the top, I alit from the bus and began wandering
around. With wincing steps, I followed the path leading down to the trail that went to the
falls. I followed it, paid my fee to get in, walked down the narrow steps as
others came up, grumbling about not being able to see anything. I took the elevator down and emerged into the mist-filled
chambers, and when I walked outside, the clouds parted and revealed the Kegon Falls in all its glory,
as the recent rains had been sufficient to make them quite magnificent.
And that is when I created the following haiku:
And that is when I created the following haiku:
The journey is long / But the fatigue forgotten / Rumbling waterfalls
As a side note, after seeing the Kegon Falls, I sat on the shores of Lake Chuzenji for a while to consider my options about the rest of my trip. I knew it was no longer possible to walk to every stop, especially since my feet were aching terribly, so I decided to take public transportation to the strategic spots, and then walk when I could. I took a bus back to Nikko Station, then the train to Utsunomiya, where I found a hotel for the night. I checked in and headed straight for the bath tub. I pulled off my shoes to find my white socks had turned red because my feet were bleeding. As I soaked my feet in the tub (and drained the water and cleaned the tub after), I reviewed and revised my plans, but had no idea of the various thrills and challenges waiting for me in northern Japan.
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