Golden Week in Tohoku: Day 1
She got out of the car wearing a half-way done up lime-green cardigan, the white of her t-shirt seen underneath. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what her face looked like until she stepped out of the car, took off her massively round sunglasses, kicked up one of her feet in a gangly figure-skater pose and gave me a hug. Just seeing how her body moved in these elongated actions—which called to the mind the unconscious movements of a twelve year-old girl combined with the grace of a professional model—made me want to freeze the moment, frame it, and gawk like a schoolboy. For some reason, a lime green cardigan on this woman made absolute sense. But, the flow of doesn’t stop for such observations, and we had places to go. So, I did my best to keep in step with the ceremonial small talk, stumbling along to the best of my ability in my own naïve and boyish way. As I grabbed my backpack and camera bag, tossed them into the back of her car and got in, I thought I was doing pretty well so far; my new traveling companion was smiling, the sky was a shade of baby blue on par with a Simpson’s episode, I had just arrived to a previously unvisited destination, and I was about to hit the road once again.
鳴子温泉 Naruko Hot springs
After transferring twice and riding the local train for about two hours from Sendai, I was definitely in the mood for travel—to hit the streets and see where I ended up. In Japan, every May yields three days off, where one gets to not only loosen but take off their tie, roll up their pants and venture anywhere they want. It comes in the name of Golden Week and it is one of three times in the country where the government and thus the companies not only let its overworked masses spend some free time with their family, but nearly goes so far as to force them out on holiday; the banks shut down, the post office closes, almost everything deemed necessary for “daily life” gets put on hiatus and the populace hits the streets in some sort of mad economy-supporting frenzy. Cars line-up on freeways, campsites turn into metropolises, the metropolises like Tokyo, in turn, empty, hotels are booked, ferries are full to the last foot passenger, and the entire country has a buzz of movement. After putting in countless hours of overtime, the Japanese salary man finally is given the chance to dirty his traveling shoes. And so, at this time every year, you can’t help but throw yourself into the momentum of it all and see where the traveling masses spit you out by the time the work week rolls back in.
I left work the day before—a foreign language college—by 5:30. I had changed out of my shirt and tie into my casual clothes in the bathroom, ran into a student who needed some help with the difference between “I have -ed” vs. “I have been -ing” tenses in the English language, helped her as well as I could with a limited time frame, got on my bike, caught the 5:50 train and ended up in Naruko by 8:00ish PM. It was dark and I had no clue as to where a possible camp site may be. I ended up pitching my tent under the nearest bridge. Nothing but rocks, water, dirt and “this is not the way the locals would be doing it” written all over the location. Ah well, I needed my sleep, and hitchhiking dictates no premeditated beginnings and endings. You simply need to make do with whatever you get. And under some bridge with traffic above it, by some paved waterway, opposite of some gravel grinding mill was what I had. Who knows what I would get the next day.
That’s when I got the e-mail from Kayako. All huddled up inside my one-and-a-half-man tent, my cell phone lit up as the e-mail came. She wondered if I had something “interesting” to do during for holidays. After debating whether hitchhiking up north, living like a quasi-bum/hobo, pitching tents anywhere I could, and going about it in a half-hazard way qualified as interesting, I told her what I was doing and said she could come soon she was welcome to join me. And within a moment’s time, she said she’d do just that. To be honest, it kind of took me off guard. I don’t think, in all of the three years of living here, I met a single female who simply got up, packed her gear together, got into her car and drove off to meet some random guy in the process of making his way up north to camp outside in still rather frosty weather with undisclosed destinations along the way. It’s not that my Japanese friends were unadventurous; it was just that there was always a correct and incorrect way to do something, and my method of traveling was definitely the foreigner’s way. And so, after she said she’d be there in two hours, I raised my eyebrow, made a slight shrug of the shoulders in a manner that said “wow, that’s pretty cool”. Well, that was what I thought as I stepped out of the tent, stretched and welcomed the sun. I then packed my tent, climbed the hill, crossed the highway, and hiked my way back into the centre of the village. The sun was out, the wind felt fresh, and I could tell this trip was about to begin. Not with my thumb, as was the plan, but with the addition of a car and a girl who I met briefly the week before, at night, when I was rather tipsy from sake. I hoped she was cool.
So here we are, in her car, headed north. Sitting in the passenger seat, I feel like I was just given a big wad of cash in a confectionery store and told to buy whatever I could within five minutes; I didn’t know where to start, what I wanted, or where to go from here. Everywhere around me was stimulating—I could hear the dancy house music beat coming from the speakers as we started to get to know one another; I had the map on my lap as we talked about where we would be making camp; I could see new sites passing us by through the window of the car, I noticed CDs scattered on the back seat and those in-car scents that come to you like wafts of personal stories once read but lost in time. Our conversation dipped in and out of personal subjects to light banter, just as it moved from Japanese into English and back and forth. She told me how this was her very first time—in her entire life—that she was going camping. I nodded, not really registering what that really meant, noticing how she drove with her car seat back, her arms outstretched as she held the steering wheel while driving no more than 40km—a speed which called out anything but being in a rush. Our next destination was Onikoube Onsen and the neighbouring mountain.
鬼首温泉 Onikoube Hot springs
Location: Twenty minutes north of Naruko, two and half hours north of Sendai with campgrounds, heaps of onsen, lakes and small mountains nearby; it’s ideal for a weekend getaway or stopover on your way somewhere else.
How to get there: Car/Hitchiking: Route 4 north from Sendai to Furukawa. Route 47 North-West to Naruko. Regular Train: Take JR Rikuu-Tosen line from Sendai and transfer at 小牛田 (Kogota) to 鳴子温泉 (Naruko Onsen). Hitchike or drive north on Route 108 for about twenty minutes; around two hours and a half traveling time. Shinkansen: From Sendai Station, transfer at 古川 (Furukawa) to 鳴子温泉 (Naruko Onsen). Hitchike or drive north on Route 108; around 2 hours and 40 minutes traveling time.
Contact numbers: 吹き高原キャンプ場 Fukiage Kougen Campsite: 0229-86-2493
On the map, Onikoube lies about three hours from Sendai station, but it can’t be reached by train, giving it a more-than-average off-the-beaten-path feeling. Looking at it on the map, it is distinguished by many of the hot springs symbols as well as the black topographical curves that mark the presence of a mountains—my two favourite combinations while hitchhiking in Japan—hot springs and mountains, which means campsites and pockets of nature. Onikoube is not particularly famous but is known well by the locals. It sits next to the neighbouring mountain, Araodake, which has an elevation of 984 metres. When we drove up to the campground and found dozens and dozens of people already set up, and had to wait in a bit of a line to register Kaori’s car and grab a site, I realized we hit a pretty popular destination spot for campers in the region. By nightfall, hundreds of people had arrived and the campsite resembled more of a concert’s reserve parking lot (the pavement being grass) than some pristine outdoor getaway. But, that in itself lent the campsite a special atmosphere; we met people from the get go (whom we ended up having dinner with) and I suppose that’s what hitchhiking is all about—the encounter (even though I wasn’t hitchhiking anymore).
In Japanese there is a word, deai （出会い）、which is the noun form of the verb deau, which means “to encounter, to chance upon, to meet”. It is made of the kanji "to go out" and "to meet." This one word encompasses entire sentences used in English to describe how you met someone. The word is fundamentally different from the verb “to meet”, carrying nuances of unexpectedness and chance, but which speaks of an encounter that leads to a blossoming friendship. If, for example, you met someone along the way somewhere, on route, or on some mountain in a hut as you prepare dinner for example (like how one of my closest friends and I met), instead of explaining the circumstances of how you met coincidentally and it all started from there, you can simply use this word and the nuance is understood. It is a word that speaks novels for a country that has more than four times the population of Canada in a space that is about 25 times smaller—where brushing up against someone is something that can’t be avoided, that not necessarily liked, but often leads to some of the most bonding friendships. Deai. My Japanese friend once told me that it is these friendships that create the strongest bond—the ones where a chance encounter had the upper hand due to respective—but unknown at the time—interests. And it was something that happened to Kaori and I the week before at a park in downtown Sendai, and now had us now making a road tip up north together. The nuance of this word is probably the main reason why I venture off into the unknown during holidays like this, probably why I hitchhike, and to be honest, is probably the fundamental reason why I’m still living overseas.
Onikoube’s campsite feels like sitting on someone’s front lawn with a panoramic snow-capped mountain fresco being held up as the view. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sight was indeed picturesque. Looking up from your tent and having to tilt your head that little bit extra to find where the sky hits the mountain tops makes you feel just that much smaller—just that bit further from the city. The grass was also a bonus (it’s something to be appreciated when found in this land of concrete and gravel-ridden parks and school grounds). Just a bit north of the campsite lies Araodake mountain. As it’s under 1000 metres it can be hiked within four hours at a leisurely pace. You leave the main exit of the campsite, walk for about twenty metres to the right and take your left up a road and follow that for a good hour. Soon you’ll see a sign on your right-hand side, pointing to your left with an arrow marking the trail head. It’s an easy hour and half or so to the top. I do have to admit that the sight from the top wasn’t the most breathtaking one I’ve ever seen, but it was a nice day for a small hike—especially if you have company. It also made the onsen (at the campsite, although they charge you another 570 yen for that as well) that much better.
That night Kayako and I had dinner with the elderly couple camping beside us, drank some red wine, chatted about local foods, and enjoyed being out among it all. Sooner than later though, we felt the cold fingers of the mountain air creep up from our toes, which was the signal to call it a night. I slept fully-clothed in the tent while Kaori did her best in the back of her car. Tohoku in the Spring on a fine weather day brings a chill with a temperature that is still playing on old man winter’s team.
鳴子温泉 Naruko Hot springs
- Location: Just under two hours north of Sendai in Miyagi Prefecture by car (and train); one of the most famous hotsprings in the Tohoku Region, with more 旅館 (ryokan, or traditional Japanese style inn) than you can ask for. Located between a river and a mountainside, it's not only a recommended onsen town, but a good launch off point for other day hikes, waterfall-viewings and small road trips if you have the time. Oh, it's also highly recommended during the Autumn season for 紅葉 (Kouyou, or Autumn color-watching).
- How to get there: Regular Train: Take JR Rikuu-Tosen line from Sendai and transfer at 小牛田 (Kogota) to 鳴子温泉 (Naruko Onsen); around two hours traveling time. Shinkansen: From Sendai Station, transfer at 古川 (Furukawa) to 鳴子温泉 (Naruko Onsen); around 1 hour and 15 minutes travelling time.
- Contact numbers: Takinoyu (the most famous spa found in Naruko and over 1000 years-old); open every day from 7 a.m.to 10 pm. Phone: (0229) 83-3403.
After transferring twice and riding the local train for about two hours from Sendai, I was definitely in the mood for travel—to hit the streets and see where I ended up. In Japan, every May yields three days off, where one gets to not only loosen but take off their tie, roll up their pants and venture anywhere they want. It comes in the name of Golden Week and it is one of three times in the country where the government and thus the companies not only let its overworked masses spend some free time with their family, but nearly goes so far as to force them out on holiday; the banks shut down, the post office closes, almost everything deemed necessary for “daily life” gets put on hiatus and the populace hits the streets in some sort of mad economy-supporting frenzy. Cars line-up on freeways, campsites turn into metropolises, the metropolises like Tokyo, in turn, empty, hotels are booked, ferries are full to the last foot passenger, and the entire country has a buzz of movement. After putting in countless hours of overtime, the Japanese salary man finally is given the chance to dirty his traveling shoes. And so, at this time every year, you can’t help but throw yourself into the momentum of it all and see where the traveling masses spit you out by the time the work week rolls back in.
I left work the day before—a foreign language college—by 5:30. I had changed out of my shirt and tie into my casual clothes in the bathroom, ran into a student who needed some help with the difference between “I have -ed” vs. “I have been -ing” tenses in the English language, helped her as well as I could with a limited time frame, got on my bike, caught the 5:50 train and ended up in Naruko by 8:00ish PM. It was dark and I had no clue as to where a possible camp site may be. I ended up pitching my tent under the nearest bridge. Nothing but rocks, water, dirt and “this is not the way the locals would be doing it” written all over the location. Ah well, I needed my sleep, and hitchhiking dictates no premeditated beginnings and endings. You simply need to make do with whatever you get. And under some bridge with traffic above it, by some paved waterway, opposite of some gravel grinding mill was what I had. Who knows what I would get the next day.
That’s when I got the e-mail from Kayako. All huddled up inside my one-and-a-half-man tent, my cell phone lit up as the e-mail came. She wondered if I had something “interesting” to do during for holidays. After debating whether hitchhiking up north, living like a quasi-bum/hobo, pitching tents anywhere I could, and going about it in a half-hazard way qualified as interesting, I told her what I was doing and said she could come soon she was welcome to join me. And within a moment’s time, she said she’d do just that. To be honest, it kind of took me off guard. I don’t think, in all of the three years of living here, I met a single female who simply got up, packed her gear together, got into her car and drove off to meet some random guy in the process of making his way up north to camp outside in still rather frosty weather with undisclosed destinations along the way. It’s not that my Japanese friends were unadventurous; it was just that there was always a correct and incorrect way to do something, and my method of traveling was definitely the foreigner’s way. And so, after she said she’d be there in two hours, I raised my eyebrow, made a slight shrug of the shoulders in a manner that said “wow, that’s pretty cool”. Well, that was what I thought as I stepped out of the tent, stretched and welcomed the sun. I then packed my tent, climbed the hill, crossed the highway, and hiked my way back into the centre of the village. The sun was out, the wind felt fresh, and I could tell this trip was about to begin. Not with my thumb, as was the plan, but with the addition of a car and a girl who I met briefly the week before, at night, when I was rather tipsy from sake. I hoped she was cool.
So here we are, in her car, headed north. Sitting in the passenger seat, I feel like I was just given a big wad of cash in a confectionery store and told to buy whatever I could within five minutes; I didn’t know where to start, what I wanted, or where to go from here. Everywhere around me was stimulating—I could hear the dancy house music beat coming from the speakers as we started to get to know one another; I had the map on my lap as we talked about where we would be making camp; I could see new sites passing us by through the window of the car, I noticed CDs scattered on the back seat and those in-car scents that come to you like wafts of personal stories once read but lost in time. Our conversation dipped in and out of personal subjects to light banter, just as it moved from Japanese into English and back and forth. She told me how this was her very first time—in her entire life—that she was going camping. I nodded, not really registering what that really meant, noticing how she drove with her car seat back, her arms outstretched as she held the steering wheel while driving no more than 40km—a speed which called out anything but being in a rush. Our next destination was Onikoube Onsen and the neighbouring mountain.
鬼首温泉 Onikoube Hot springs
Location: Twenty minutes north of Naruko, two and half hours north of Sendai with campgrounds, heaps of onsen, lakes and small mountains nearby; it’s ideal for a weekend getaway or stopover on your way somewhere else.
How to get there: Car/Hitchiking: Route 4 north from Sendai to Furukawa. Route 47 North-West to Naruko. Regular Train: Take JR Rikuu-Tosen line from Sendai and transfer at 小牛田 (Kogota) to 鳴子温泉 (Naruko Onsen). Hitchike or drive north on Route 108 for about twenty minutes; around two hours and a half traveling time. Shinkansen: From Sendai Station, transfer at 古川 (Furukawa) to 鳴子温泉 (Naruko Onsen). Hitchike or drive north on Route 108; around 2 hours and 40 minutes traveling time.
Contact numbers: 吹き高原キャンプ場 Fukiage Kougen Campsite: 0229-86-2493
On the map, Onikoube lies about three hours from Sendai station, but it can’t be reached by train, giving it a more-than-average off-the-beaten-path feeling. Looking at it on the map, it is distinguished by many of the hot springs symbols as well as the black topographical curves that mark the presence of a mountains—my two favourite combinations while hitchhiking in Japan—hot springs and mountains, which means campsites and pockets of nature. Onikoube is not particularly famous but is known well by the locals. It sits next to the neighbouring mountain, Araodake, which has an elevation of 984 metres. When we drove up to the campground and found dozens and dozens of people already set up, and had to wait in a bit of a line to register Kaori’s car and grab a site, I realized we hit a pretty popular destination spot for campers in the region. By nightfall, hundreds of people had arrived and the campsite resembled more of a concert’s reserve parking lot (the pavement being grass) than some pristine outdoor getaway. But, that in itself lent the campsite a special atmosphere; we met people from the get go (whom we ended up having dinner with) and I suppose that’s what hitchhiking is all about—the encounter (even though I wasn’t hitchhiking anymore).
In Japanese there is a word, deai （出会い）、which is the noun form of the verb deau, which means “to encounter, to chance upon, to meet”. It is made of the kanji "to go out" and "to meet." This one word encompasses entire sentences used in English to describe how you met someone. The word is fundamentally different from the verb “to meet”, carrying nuances of unexpectedness and chance, but which speaks of an encounter that leads to a blossoming friendship. If, for example, you met someone along the way somewhere, on route, or on some mountain in a hut as you prepare dinner for example (like how one of my closest friends and I met), instead of explaining the circumstances of how you met coincidentally and it all started from there, you can simply use this word and the nuance is understood. It is a word that speaks novels for a country that has more than four times the population of Canada in a space that is about 25 times smaller—where brushing up against someone is something that can’t be avoided, that not necessarily liked, but often leads to some of the most bonding friendships. Deai. My Japanese friend once told me that it is these friendships that create the strongest bond—the ones where a chance encounter had the upper hand due to respective—but unknown at the time—interests. And it was something that happened to Kaori and I the week before at a park in downtown Sendai, and now had us now making a road tip up north together. The nuance of this word is probably the main reason why I venture off into the unknown during holidays like this, probably why I hitchhike, and to be honest, is probably the fundamental reason why I’m still living overseas.
Onikoube’s campsite feels like sitting on someone’s front lawn with a panoramic snow-capped mountain fresco being held up as the view. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sight was indeed picturesque. Looking up from your tent and having to tilt your head that little bit extra to find where the sky hits the mountain tops makes you feel just that much smaller—just that bit further from the city. The grass was also a bonus (it’s something to be appreciated when found in this land of concrete and gravel-ridden parks and school grounds). Just a bit north of the campsite lies Araodake mountain. As it’s under 1000 metres it can be hiked within four hours at a leisurely pace. You leave the main exit of the campsite, walk for about twenty metres to the right and take your left up a road and follow that for a good hour. Soon you’ll see a sign on your right-hand side, pointing to your left with an arrow marking the trail head. It’s an easy hour and half or so to the top. I do have to admit that the sight from the top wasn’t the most breathtaking one I’ve ever seen, but it was a nice day for a small hike—especially if you have company. It also made the onsen (at the campsite, although they charge you another 570 yen for that as well) that much better.
That night Kayako and I had dinner with the elderly couple camping beside us, drank some red wine, chatted about local foods, and enjoyed being out among it all. Sooner than later though, we felt the cold fingers of the mountain air creep up from our toes, which was the signal to call it a night. I slept fully-clothed in the tent while Kaori did her best in the back of her car. Tohoku in the Spring on a fine weather day brings a chill with a temperature that is still playing on old man winter’s team.
posted by Jamiesan at 11:55 PM
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