Ptarmigan Ptrails(Editor's note: I asked Chris Cook, our resident mountain climber, birding guide and ptarmigan expert, for permission to publish some of his voluminous writings on his montane adventures. Below are some representative tales. The photographs are his. Chris can be contacted at [email protected]). 25 December 2018 Hi Kantori birders — This week, with three days off, I had my last chance this year to check on my buddies. With just one mountain hut open, the only place I could go to was Enzan-so. Luckily, when I arrived at Hodaka Station at 0630 on Tuesday, two other people were also going there, so we split the cost of the taxi to Miyashiro Gate. It was exactly 0700 when I began hiking the 11.5 km along the forest road, and I arrived at Nakabusa Onsen in good time, at 0930. A single Alpine Accentor (Iwa-hibari) was the only bird of note seen, and just as I reached Nakabusa Onsen, three Japanese Macaques (Nihon-zaru) appeared. This year, the road was virtually snow- and ice-free, so I was able to make good progress, despite the fact that I was carrying a 20-kg backpack. At Nakabusa, I was welcomed by Spotted Nutcrackers (Hoshi-garasu), and in the end there were 10 birds on the ground or in the trees in and around the car park. I had a quick breakfast and filled my flask with hot water at the onsen, and then I began the challenging 5.5-km hike up to Enzan-so. The trail was under snow, and after Gassen-goya, the higher I climbed, the deeper it became. On the way I met Imura-san, who used to work at Enzan-so, but who now is in charge of Hutte O-yari, on the west side of Otensho. We had not met for over two years. I handed over half a dozen Kit-Kats from the bags of chocolate I was carrying for the staff at Enzan-so and continued on in an upward direction. I made it to Gassen-goya in 3.5 hours. At Gassen-goya I stopped to make a hot coffee and ate some lunch before beginning the final and very challenging section of the hike: the 2 km to the top. This is the hardest part, as there are two steep sections to climb. On a sunny, calm afternoon, it was just beautiful up there: snow-capped Fuji-san hugged the skyline ‘way to the southeast, and to the west the sharp spear of Yarigatake soared above the nearby Hotaka range. As it was clear and sunny, I didn't expect to see any Rock Ptarmigan (raicho), but I walked slowly, looking for any sign. Although I did not see or hear any, I did see some tracks in the snow on the steep side of the mountain below Enzan-so. After a long day and a 16-km hike, I was happy to finally arrive at the entrance of Enzan-so at 1630, over nine hours after starting. Instead of a flock of welcoming nutcrackers, Enzan-so's staff gave me a warm welcome, and I sat down to rest and have a hot coffee. Dinner was served at 1730, and the surprise — it being Christmas Day — was some fruit-covered "Christmas cake" for dessert. On a full stomach, I snuggled under some soft, warm blankets and slept for nine hours! Wednesday was the exact opposite of the previous day: the sun hardly showed at all, and thick fog and light flurries of snow hemmed in Tsubakuro-dake and the surrounding area all day long. The fog occasionally lifted a little, improving visibility just a fraction and allowing a weak sun to peep through. Although it was blowing a gale along the top of the ridge, in the more sheltered areas lower down on the east side there was little wind. The temperature was not so cold, around -8 C all day, but of course much colder in the wind. I was ready to go out as soon as it was light and headed down to the area where I had seen the tracks yesterday. At the bottom of the steep ridge just below Enzan-so, I found a fresh line of footprints in the snow. It wasn't very impressive — only about three metres long — but at least it told me a bird had been here very recently. Looking around, I found a male ptarmigan on the snow about 10 metres away, so I went straight over to where he was. When I got there, two all-white females appeared. For about 10 minutes I slowly followed them at a distance as they moved along the top of the ridge. At this time of the year, with food in very short supply, they do not stay in one place very long, and after about 20 minutes they flew off and out of sight. While I was watching them, another three birds flew over about 15 metres above me — I could only see the black outer tail feathers as they quickly flew through the fog and snow. Soon after, in a different place nearby, I saw another two females walking on the snow before they dropped down beyond the ridge and out of sight. The male and two females were cooperative and allowed me to get close to them, so I was able to take some nice photos. After returning to Enzan-so for a mid-morning coffee, warm-up, and then a siesta, I ate lunch and went out again. I followed the same route, but in over two hours the only bird I saw was a somewhat out-of-place Spotted Nutcracker. After another large dinner, I headed upstairs and enjoyed another nine hours of sleep! I kept to the same schedule Thursday, getting up at 0500 and going out at first light. I'd already packed my backpack, so after an early morning coffee I said goodbye to the staff of Enzan-so and began my descent to Nakabusa. The temperature today was nearly -13 C, so I was glad that I was well wrapped up in my winter gear. On the way down I stopped for 30 minutes and checked in several places for my buddies, but today I could only find fresh footprints in one place where a bird had fed earlier. Although I looked in many different places, there was no sign of the bird that made them. The only bird I saw was the Spotted Nutcracker flying high over the ridge and heading up towards Enzan-so. Being the first person out meant that I had to break the trail, which is always hard work, but luckily not too much fresh snow had fallen overnight, so I had it easy! Through knee-deep snow on the ridge, I arrived at Gassen-goya at 0930 and came out at the trail entrance at Nakabusa just before 1100. As I was ahead of schedule, I treated myself to a relaxed hot bath at the onsen. Although I have been to Nakabusa many times, I had never actually been to the onsen there, as I have always arrived just in time to catch the bus. The friendly and welcoming lady spent some time talking with me about my buddies, the raicho, and about bears in the area. I then went to the bath — and was surprised to find it was a mixed-bathing (konyoku) onsen. Today, though, I had the place to myself. It is only the second konyoku bath I have ever been to in Japan. The other was up in the mountains in Okayama Prefecture, although I've been to a couple of places — Kotan and Wakoto-hanto — at Kussharo-ko in Hokkaido, where only a large stone separates the two sides. At Nakabusa, the men's side and the women's side were "separated" by a large rock in the middle. The water from the hot spring spilled out of a hollowed-out tree trunk, and the water itself was very soft to the touch. By midday, I was all cleaned up and ready to hike back to Miyashiro Gate. At exactly 1200, as I was leaving Nakabusa, I telephoned the taxi company in Hodaka to order a taxi. By 1420 I was at the gate, and five minutes later the taxi arrived to pick me up. I made it back to Hodaka Station in time to get the 1443 train to Matsumoto. Another adventure in the mountains came to an end, and I was lucky that I could meet with my buddies and do one last check this year! Yoroshiku — Chris 26 July 2019 Hi Kantori birders — After a few weeks of having just one day off from the salt mine, I suddenly found myself with three days off this week. What to do? Stay home and do some cleaning? Hang out in a coffee shop? Go to the beach? In the end, the mountains called me, and I caught the bus to Matsumoto. Early on Tuesday I caught another bus from Hotaka Station to Nakafusa Onsen, where Sato-san, the attendant at the onsen car park, boiled water for my breakfast coffee, as he always does. It was just after 0800 when I began hiking up to Enzan-so — I actually timed my departure wrong, setting off five minutes after a crowd of 50 high school students heading up to the hut and Mount Tsubakuro — but once I had passed them, I basically went non-stop, arriving at Enzanso hut at 1130. It was another humid day, and I just couldn't find the energy to go any faster. Also, in my backpack I was carrying two bottles of wine for Jonen-goya, my destination the following day. But first I had to get up the 5.5 km to Enzan-so, then the 6 km to Daiten-so, and on Wednesday, the final 5 km to Jonen-goya — and no one was going to help me carry them! So I learned one lesson (as if I didn't know it already)—Don't carry the extra weight of wine bottles up steep mountainsides and for several kilometres along the ridge! At Enzan-so the staff welcomed me when I stuck my head in the door to say "Hi!" (the first time I'd seen them since I went up last Christmas), and Kawachi-san gave me the latest information about my buddies, the raicho. This season there are two females with chicks around the hut, but even though I went as far as Kita-Tsubakuro and back, a round trip of about 2.5 km, I could not find any sign other than one feather dropped beside the trail. After lunch in the hot sun, I packed everything back into my bag and set off along the trail towards Otensho peak. For most of the way it was sunny, but with some foggy patches. There were hardly any birds to see, so the highlight was definitely the single female Rock Ptarmigan near the top of Okudari. Halfway up the side of Otensho I scanned the trail below and saw an Asiatic Black Bear (tsukinowaguma) feeding quite close to where I — and four noisy girls from Hong Kong —had hiked past about 45 minutes before. It was about 1830 when I arrived at Daiten-so hut, where Sagaki-san, the manager, gave me a nice welcome, despite the fact that I was an hour late for dinner! He arranged for a meal, and as soon as I'd eaten I went to sleep. On Wednesday, another early morning: up at 0400 and outside well before 0500. First on the agenda was a pre-breakfast walk around the area to look for the raicho family that Sagaki-san had told me about. I spent an hour or so checking the summit, but drew a blank. Apart from the noise of flying insects, no birds were calling, and I didn't see any, either. Then I checked the area immediately around the hut. No birds! Next on the list was a walk along the trail to the south, towards Jonen. Eventually, after a lot of scanning, I saw the head of a female among rocks — but at least 50 metres from the trail. I watched from where I was, and from her behaviour, I thought she was keeping her chicks warm. After about 10 minutes, one chick popped out, followed by another and then another. From where I was standing, all I could see were three little balls of fluff running about between the stones. Satisfied with finding my buddies, I headed back towards Daiten-so. As it was still quite early — not yet 0700 — I decided to have another look around the summit. I walked slowly to the top, checking all the likely places. No luck! But as I was walking back down to the hut, I heard the soft "peu peu" call of a raicho chick. Looking around, I saw one chick among the rocks and its mother perched on a nearby boulder. A few seconds later, chick #2 emerged from under some leaves. The female was likely the same one that I saw last year in about the same spot, when she had five chicks. I sat quietly on a nearby rock for well over 30 minutes with the female just a couple of metres away. The chicks came even closer at times as they hunted insects among the leaves and rocks. It was nice to see one chick take a break less than a metre away from my boots, where it sat in a hollow between the rocks and enjoyed the already hot sunshine. One of the occasions I always feel privileged to be a part of is when, on the wide, open mountain peaks, it is just me and a female raicho and her chicks, and I can listen in on their ‘conversation’. The contact call of the chicks is "peu, peu", and the female's reassuring answer is a very soft "kru, kru, kru" or a faster "kru kru kru-kru-kru-kru". But you have to be close by to hear it. On Wednesday, it was one of those occasions. I left my babies in peace and returned to have some breakfast at the outside tables, enjoying the spectacular mountain views all around as I listened to the high-pitched buzz of the hoverflies coming to perch on my head. Sagaki-san kept my coffee mug filled up while I ate my two-day-old onigiri, and when I was ready, I thanked everyone and then hit the trail. Luckily, on Wednesday there were hardly any other hikers around, and I only met a couple of them over the next five hours. I hiked slowly along the trail to Jonen hut, admiring the show of alpine flowers that coloured the rocky terrain, and on the way, finding two more families of raicho. When I dropped down through the large area of haimatsu below Higashi-tenjo, I checked the side of the valley on the west side of Yokodoshi — the grassy east-facing slopes are favoured by feeding Asiatic Black Bears. At midday, in the middle of a hot hike, I found a comfortable stone to sit down on and began looking for any black shapes moving among the long vegetation. It didn't take me long to find one bear, and then close by I saw another. "This is good," I thought, and as I continued to look through my binoculars, I was surprised to find a third animal — and they were probably all within 100 metres of each other. Two were quite close and one a bit higher up the mountain. I looked again, in an area below the three, and was surprised to find another bear following the trail and heading up in their direction. Soon, all four bears were reasonably close together, and I saw one sit on its haunches and stare at its closest neighbour. There was no physical interaction — each kept its distance from the other bears — and they eventually wandered off in different directions, two still in the middle of the grassy area, one off to the left near some bushes, and one off to the right by a dry stream bed. I kept looking and checking where each one was, but it was hard work, as sometimes an animal would disappear from sight due to the height of the vegetation and reappear some metres away. Was that bear #2 or bear #4, or the one which was at the left side or one of the two which were close together? Then I had to try to relocate all of them to make sure which was which. But finally, after checking them for the nth time, I found another bear had joined them, meaning there were five bears in the same area! I've seen bears before, but never five together in the same place at the same time. They were not rubbing noses, but at their closest, three of them were only tens of metres apart. After such an exciting encounter, I got up and headed on, climbing to the top of Yokodoshi — which was a waste of an hour, as I could not find any raicho there — and down the other side until I arrived at Jonen-goya. There, another warm welcome awaited me, and after a quick lunch I began hiking to the summit. On the way, a couple of other hikers said they had seen a single female ptarmigan near the top, so there was some hope that my climb would not be in vain. Halfway up, I noticed a male sitting between rocks, but he did not move even when I got to within a couple of metres. Near the top, in the fog, I saw a shape which turned out to be a female — again, from her behaviour, I thought she was keeping her chicks warm, so I did not disturb her. I hiked to the top, but the only bird I saw was a Large-billed Crow — a species which bred in trees by the hut this summer: when I sat at the tables outside late in the afternoon and early on Thursday morning, I could hear what I assumed were young birds begging for food. After a coffee break, I began descending, but on the way decided to check the trail off to the east, going to Mitsumata. About 50 metres along the trail, a single female raicho was standing under a rock, and as I approached, she ran ahead and round the corner out of sight. A bit further down, I met the female and her three chicks right on the side of the trail. From the chicks' size, I guessed they were only about five days old. I sat a while on a rock, and they just walked close by as they searched for food, totally unconcerned about me. Likewise, the female came close — less than two metres away at one time. Back down at the hut I joined the staff for dinner, and at the start of the meal, I thanked everyone and also offered my congratulations to Jonen-goya, which this Saturday celebrates its 100th anniversary! Among the guests at Jonen-goya this week were two foreigners: Sarah from the UK, and Oscar from France. I'd heard about Oscar, as in the early 2000s I had seen an advertisement in a Tokyo English-language magazine, with a small photo, for bear-watching tours in Nagano-ken. This week, after several years away, Oscar was back for a visit, and our paths crossed at Jonen-goya. Oscar had taken part in monitoring and research programs around Matsumoto so had considerable knowledge about Asiatic Black Bears —which I was more than happy to hear about! Most of the Japanese hikers I meet have never seen a bear, let alone have any knowledge of their habits or movements. Suffice to say, it was an enlightening 15-minute conversation while I was eating my lunch and also during our 30-minute post-dinner talk in the dining room. As can be expected, Oscar was very interested in my sighting of the "bear herd", and he and Sarah were soon on their way up to the other side of Yokodoshi to see them. I had better, more important things to do: make sure my buddies at the top of Jonen-dake were OK. I left my big backpack inside the hut and, taking a flask of hot coffee, a Marmite sandwich and some sports drink, I began the steep climb to the summit. On the way up I met a few hikers coming down, and two of them reported a single raicho just below the peak. I was always on the lookout for any sign, and about halfway up I noticed a male hunkered down between some rocks. Very slowly, I moved closer, taking care not to stress him, and he let me sit on a rock just a metre away. He didn't move, and I did not need to get any closer. He sat there, and I sat here — we were just friends hanging out! I couldn't stay all day. It was a hot and humid afternoon, so my progress was slow, but within an hour or so from the start, I reached the fog-shrouded top. At the shrine, I thanked the raicho kami and the kuma kami — I guess they were close by, somewhere — and sat down to have coffee and eat a sandwich. A Large-billed Crow (hashibuto-garasu) flew in and landed on a boulder not far away. This year, a pair appear to have bred in the trees close to Jonen-goya, as I heard what sounded like the begging calls of nestlings when I was outside the hut. I wonder what their menu consists of? Baby raicho? Baby hares? There were no other birds to see, but it was nice to sit at the summit, with no one else around, and all I could hear was the noise of insects as they flew past my head. After 30 minutes I began to descend. At the junction of the Mitsumata trail, I turned right and walked for about 75 metres along the path. By a rock outcrop, I found the female raicho the other hikers had seen by the junction, but she didn't like my presence and quickly moved away and out of sight. A bit further down, the female that I had seen earlier was now at the side of the trail with her three small chicks. I could see that the chicks were following the narrow strip of vegetation between the trail and the edge of the mountain, so I sat on a rock and waited for them to come to me. Five minutes later the three chicks, which I estimated to be about five days old, were around me, and Mom was following closely behind and keeping an eye on things. Like earlier in the morning at Otensho, all I could hear in the stillness was the sound of the chicks calling and the contact call of the female as she walked with them. Soon it was time to go back down to Jonen-goya and get some dinner and sleep. I was invited to eat with the staff, and after a delicious meal, I joined Oscar and Sarah for half an hour to talk about bears and mountain hiking in the area. Before 2100, I was snug inside my sleeping bag and dreaming about bears and raicho! Thursday dawned clear and bright, and it was also a travel day: hiking the 15 or more kilometres back to Nakafusa Onsen in time for the 1515 bus back to Hotaka Station. I set out at 0455 and climbed to the top of Yokodoshi again, but apart from one small white feather, I could not find any raicho. From the top of Yokodoshi I could scan the ridges, and I saw one bear on a slope close to Nishi-dake hut, and also a black object in a different place, which I think was a bear lying in the sun. It was too far away to be certain, and it was not moving, but most black objects on green mountain slopes turn out to be bears! Down the other side, along the trail a bit, and then—bear-watching again! In the same place where I had seen five animals on Wednesday, I could only find two today. But in a nearby grassy gully, another bear was feeding. This one disappeared into the haimatsu bushes, and the two in the large grassy area were hard to see, as the vegetation was taller then they were, and they kept disappearing from view. So I moved on and found another three bears — a single and a mother and cub — feeding in a grassy area near the snowfield below Higashi-tenjo. Actually, there could have been four there, as the single animal was quite far up the slope, and when I looked for it again after watching the female and cub, I saw a bear near the bottom of the snow. It could have been the same one, but bears don't usually move very fast...but I could not locate the single one I had seen at near the top of the snowfield. From the trail I was on, these three were the closest, and I had great views of them as they slowly fed and moved through the grass. If only I had carried a telescope . . . and a camera and 500-mm lens! The female and cub eventually disappeared into the large area of haimatsu bushes, and the single one (like all the other single animals, it was presumably a male) did the same. On the way back to Daiten-so, I found a new family of five raicho, plus the female and six chicks and the female and three chicks that I had seen the previous day. I arrived at Daiten-so at 0830 and stopped for breakfast and another cup of Sagaki-san's coffee before starting the hike back to Enzan-so. On the way, I met some hikers who told me they had seen some ptarmigan in a couple of places, but I could not find any. But I did see a new bear in a grassy area just west of Enzan-so. It was just before midday when I arrived there, and I had about 90 minutes to rest and eat lunch before I had to drop down to Nakafusa Onsen. Unfortunately my arrival coincided with a film crew from Nagano SBS TV using a drone, so there were no ptarmigan to be found anywhere. Akanuma-san, the owner, told me that there are two families of ptarmigan around the lodge this year, but I could not find even one bird. At 1345 I thanked the staff at Enzan-so and began the hike back to the bus stop, arriving there at 1550. This hike was one of my best ever in the area: a total of 27 ptarmigan and a minimum of 10 / maximum of 11 Asiatic Black Bears. Those are going to be hard numbers to beat! Yoroshiku — Chris 20 August 2020
Hi Kantori birders, I should have learned the lesson a long time ago. Don't go to the mountains when there is an anticyclone hovering over the same peak you are planning to climb! Because (a) the heat is going to drain all the energy from your body and (b) your buddies might not even be around to step out and welcome you! At 0800 on Thursday I began hiking from Shin-Hodaka Onsen, in Gifu-ken, up to Sugoroku mountain hut, where I planned to stay in a tent for one night before moving on to Kurobegoro hut the following day. Things started off OK, and I made it to Wasabidaira hut in about an hour. After a 15-minute rest I hoisted the heavy backpack—weighing a couple of kilograms over 20—onto my shoulders and set off again. Just 5 minutes from the hut a bird ran across the track, and although I only saw it very briefly, I knew what it was due to its size and location. I hurried a few metres to the spot and then peered into the undergrowth. With the help of my binoculars I could see some movement between the leaves, and a female Copper Pheasant (ヤマドリ) was walking away from me, deeper into the trees. I set off again, and soon I came to the beginning of the long, hard slog up to Kagamidaira hut. It is hard under normal conditions, but with a heavy load on my back and in hot and humid conditions, this hike was twice as difficult. Slowly I climbed the rocky pathway, resting here and there in the shade, and wondering why I was doing such a thing on such a hot day! The higher I climbed the less energy I had, and eventually I gave up trying to hike as quickly as I could and just let things go. Over three hot and sweaty hours later, the benches at Shishiudegahara appeared, where I sat for 15 minutes and drank half a litre of sports drink. It took me another hour to reach Kagamidaira hut, where I needed to stop for another rest. That was at 1400, and I was well behind schedule, but I just couldn't go any faster. I needed food and drink and a rest, and before I knew it 45 minutes had gone by. Off again I went, climbing the final steep part up to Yumiori norikoshi (pass), which took me 45 minutes. I rested again for 10 minutes and then set off along the ridge for the campsite at Sugoroku hut. About 400 metres along the trail a strange thing happened: I found a dead mole at the side of the trail. Exactly what a mole was doing at that elevation I don't know, but I have seen evidence of them in the mountains before, though maybe not at such an altitude. As I walked along, some mid-afternoon fog began to drift over the ridge, so I kept my eyes open for my buddies, the Rock Ptarmigan (ライチョウ). But none came out to greet me! Over on the south flank of Sugoroku-dake, three Asiatic Black Bears (ツキノワグマ) were out feeding on the abundant grass in the upland meadow. Finally, what I had been waiting for appeared: Sugoroku hut and tent site came into view. At the same time, it began to spot with rain, and before I reached the hut a brief shower passed over. Better late than never: it was 1715 when I reached the entrance. The two girls at the reception desk remembered me from last year, and after filling in a form I went off to organise my tent. Luckily the rain eased off, and I soon had the tent up and my things stowed inside. I was too tired to think about making hot food, so I just ate a sandwich, drank more sports drink, climbed into my sleeping bag and went to sleep. Just before I fell asleep, I heard a single call of a male ptarmigan coming from the mountainside above the camp site. Friday dawned clear and bright, so I set about packing everything into my bag and set off with the intention of hiking over to Kurobegoro hut, which would take 3-4 hours, depending on how many times I stopped. From Sugoroku hut there is a steep 45-minute climb up to the plateau, and then a 20-minute hike to the summit. At the east end of the plateau I checked to see if there were any bears feeding in the meadow below. After scanning several open, grassy areas, I found two bears quite close together, and from their size I guessed they were a female and her half-grown cub. I went slowly, looking among the rocks and under the haimatsu bushes for raicho, but failed to see any. Under a blue, cloudless sky the temperature was rising, and by the time I arrived at the summit, I was ready for some breakfast, or at least a drink. I settled down in the shade of a large boulder and made some coffee—and at the same time considered my options. After some minutes I decided that in this hot weather I really did not need to carry everything over the mountains and down the other side—and then carry it all the way back the next day. Having decided, I left my backpack behind the boulder, carried some drink in a smaller bag, and set off in the direction of Mitsumata-dake. I'd hardly seen any birds and it didn't seem like it was going to get any better as the hottest part of the day neared. Whenever I asked passing hikers if they had seen any raicho, the answer was usually "No," or they had seen one bird some distance from Sugoroku—and I wasn't going to go chasing all over the mountains trying to find it. I ate a late lunch at the east end of the plateau, and while sitting there, scanned mountainsides near and far and found two more bears feeding. On the way back to Sugoroku hut, I passed by the Maki-michi junction, which heads in the direction of Mitsumata hut. There, two hikers told me they had seen a female ptarmigan with some chicks "about 20-30 minutes" along the trail. I dropped my bag at the junction and walked for 30 minutes, and although I did not find any ptarmigan, I did find a small, fresh feather in the middle of the trail. I gave up on the birds, as I couldn't see any, and descended to the hut. There, I paid another ¥1,000 and put up my tent. As it was still light, I decided to climb up to Momisawa-dake, about 1 km to the east of Sugoroku hut, in the direction of Yarigatake. It took about 30 minutes to reach that place, but there were no raicho to be seen, although on the way down I found a single white feather beside the trail. My timing was perfect, as when I looked across towards Mount Yarigatake and the Hotaka range, the setting sun was emphasising all the details along the western flanks. I returned to the tent, and as soon as I arrived, I noticed a bear feeding on the slope a couple of hundred metres above. No one else around the tents had seen it, as they were busy talking or drinking beer or eating their evening meal. I walked along the side of the small pond and sat down by a large rock. The bear continued to feed, and at the same time came lower until it was about 100 metres away. It didn't see me, but it changed course and headed off through the tall grass and plants into a nearby gully. At "close" range, I noticed two things about this animal. One was that it had a problem walking, and every few metres it would sit down on its haunches. Maybe it was in pain, and was suffering from something like arthritis. The second thing I saw was that around its head and neck it had a lot of brown fur—maybe a sign that it was an old animal? Dinner—rice and curry from the ¥100 shop—was warmed up on my gas stove and quickly eaten, and for the second night in a row I was in my sleeping bag before 2000. The weather the next day was a repeat of yesterday's, with a clear sky at dawn and a cloudless sky all morning. By 0500 I was up on the plateau searching for my buddies, but again without success. Two bears were feeding in the meadow below, but there was little to see otherwise. A Grey Wagtail (キセキレイ), a couple of Japanese Accentors (カヤクグリ), two Alpine Accentors (イワヒバリ) and a Eurasian Bullfinch (ウソ) were the best I could do. I hiked to the summit of Sugoroku, down to the north junction of Naka-michi, and then back to the tent by 0715. After eating a couple of stale sandwiches I found in the bottom of my backpack and drinking a hot coffee, I packed up my tent, crammed everything into my bag and began the hike back down to Shin-Hodaka Onsen at 0835. It was a different story on the way down! Despite the heat (on all three days the temperature was likely over 30°C) I managed to keep up a good pace, and I was back at the bus terminal at 1330—exactly 4 hours and 55 minutes. Despite not seeing a single raicho, I had some success with bears, and the final count was 10 sightings. However, the two I saw on Saturday morning could have been two of the three I saw on Thursday afternoon, as they were in the same general area (the southern slopes of Sugoroku-dake). I also saw single bears feeding on the south side of Maruyama and in a meadow on the east side of Mount Washiba. During this week's hike, in its abbreviated form, I covered 62 km, so I guess if I had not chickened out at the prospect of going to Kurobegoro peak and back, the total distance would have been a bit less than 100 km. But maybe that can wait for a cooler time! Yoroshiku -- Chris |
20 August 2020
Hi Kantori birders,
Following last week's failed attempt to meet my buddies the Rock Ptarmigan (ライチョウ) around Sugoroku-dake, in Gifu-ken, between last Friday and Sunday I decided to look for them on a different mountain.
After an overnight bus ride, I began hiking from Ogizawa, at the base of Tateyama, at exactly 0600 on Friday. As I walked to the entrance to the hiking trail, I came across a large stag beetle (ミヤマクワガタムシ) crossing the road. Several vehicles had already passed me, and I thought the poor creature would almost certainly get squashed by the wheels of a passing car or bus before reaching the other side. I found a stick, attached said beetle to it, and carried it to a safe place.
Without any birds to watch, the hike up to Tanega-ike hut was basically nonstop, and I arrived at 0910. As I had not eaten breakfast, I sat at the tables outside and ate a sandwich and drank a hot coffee. An hour later I was ready to begin the hike across to Tsumeta-ike hut along the ridge trail via Jiigatake. As I was early, I took my time, enjoying the scenery and of course, keeping my eyes open in case any of my buddies appeared.
Near the top of the steep climb up to Minami-mine I heard a male ptarmigan call not far from the trail. In the fog it was impossible to see where the bird was, so I played a recording on my phone through the speaker to try to call the bird in. Despite its being well after the breeding season, the bird cooperated, and a few seconds later it flew low over my head and settled on the ground about 25 metres away.
I spent about 30 minutes watching it, and then resumed climbing. Just to the right of the trail I saw a movement, and with my binoculars I could see a ptarmigan enjoying a sand bath. As the fog kept blowing in and out, I could not immediately see any other birds there, but after a while I counted a total of three females/juveniles and one male. In the late summer I do not usually see males with females/large chicks, so I don't know what was happening with that group. Was the male forming an early winter flock? Was it a male with three juveniles? Or with a female and two well-grown juveniles?
As I watched the male jumped up onto a rock and started uttering a series of soft popping noises in his throat. I'd never heard that call before, but it was easy to understand the meaning: the other three birds suddenly became alert, and after a few seconds the male took off, and all four birds disappeared into the whiteness covering the mountainside.
I continued hiking to Tsumeta-ike hut, but apart from a few Japanese Accentors (かやくぐり) there was little activity. I walked into the hut, but as I did not have a reservation to pitch a tent, the girl at the reception desk asked me to wait. After some discussion with the other person across the desk, she informed me that I could use the tent area for two nights—but that I should pay ¥3,000 as a "penalty"! I'd never heard of that before, but there wasn't much I could do. At the tent site I chose a suitable spot and put up my tent. When everything was ready and my sleeping bag, mat and other things stowed inside, I zipped up the entrance and began hiking up to Nunobiki-yama, about an hour away, in search of more ptarmigan.
I reached the top, but I'd seen no buddies en route! For half an hour I sat on a rock and scanned the far side of the col for bears. At least that was productive, and I soon located one feeding on the far side. On the way back to the tent, I found a feeding male ptarmigan very near the summit of Nunobiki, but could not locate any other birds.
On Saturday morning at 0400, some people were taking down tents and others leaving for the two-hour hike to the summit of Kashimayarigatake, and the tent site was virtually cleared by 0500! I spent until lunchtime looking for ptarmigan along the trail and eventually made it—without any sightings—to the summit soon after 1100. The best observation was a loose flock of eight Alpine Accentors (イワヒバリ) just north of Nunobiki-yama, but there was no sign of any raicho, although other hikers told me they had seen a family group, which I looked for but could not see.
Back at the tent, on a hot and humid afternoon, I ate a sandwich for lunch then had a brief siesta before heading out again at 1500. As I was getting ready, a flock of six Ashy Minivets (サンショウクイ) descended into the nearby trees. I made it to the top of Nunobiki-yama and found the same male raicho, but with so much fog covering the area, there was no way to see if any bears were out and about.
It was 1830 when I returned to the tent—at exactly the same time it began spotting with rain. And that was the beginning of my first camping adventure! Gradually the rain became heavier, and the storm brought thunder and lightning. I'd pitched my tent at the side of the campsite, where one side was sheltered by haimatsu bushes. It was at the bottom of a small incline, and guess what?—as more and more rain fell, it had to go somewhere, and where did it go? Down the slope and under my tent, where it could not drain away! Suddenly I noticed water was pooling under the floor of the tent at the entrance, and when I looked outside, the area around me was under like 1 cm of water!
Panic! Panic! What to do? Should I move the tent? Stay where I was? Outside, it was dark and raining hard. Loud rumbles of thunder crackled overhead, and every few seconds a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the area. I had to act fast before the water submerged everything inside. I found my cooking pot and for the next two hours bailed out the rainwater, scooping it up as it built up and throwing the dirty water over the haimatsu bushes. Eventually, thank goodness, the rain began to ease off, and less and less water drained down the slope. Finally, it seemed that I'd won the battle! Maybe at around 2300 or even a bit later, the storm had passed over, and I felt confident that there would be no more heavy rain and I could go to sleep without any worries. But what a challenge!
On Sunday morning, when I talked to other hikers who had been in nearby tents, none appeared to have had any rain-related problems. They had basically slept through the whole episode! I know the guy in the tent next to mine had snored all the way through it, as I had listened to him while scooping up the water!
Instead of going to the summit of Nunobiki-yama or Kashimayarigatake once again, I packed my wet tent and damp sleeping bag and at 0630 began the hike back to Tanega-ike hut. As I left, I heard a minivet calling but could not see any birds in the thick fog. Slowly I climbed the trail which took me back past the three peaks of Jiigatake—Kita-mine, Naka-mine and Minami-mine. At times the fog lifted, and in the sunshine I could see across to Nunobiki-yama and Kashimayarigatake, where I'd been the day before.
As I reached the north side of Minami-mine, I found a female raicho standing close to the side of the trail. Behind her, two well-grown chicks were busy chasing insects. I spent some time watching her (a bird with coloured rings on her legs: yellow right and green left) before they moved further away from me and out of sight.
Another 100 metres further on, at the bottom of the short trail to the summit of Minami-mine, there is a small "wall" of rocks where I usually sit and take a breather and on a clear day admire the scenery. On Sunday I was sitting there looking at the blue sky and the white banks of fog slowly drifting across the south slope of Kashimayarigatake when I noticed something moving about 15 metres below the trail. I looked through my binoculars and found a female ptarmigan and her chick huddled together and sunbathing! She stayed for about 15 minutes and then moved after the chick got up and resumed feeding.
From there I descended the steep slope down to Tanega-ike hut, where I arrived at 0915. After making hot noodles for breakfast, I put my legs in gear and took off down the trail and back to Ogizawa. I think this time was the fastest I'd ever covered that section: I left Tanega-ike at 1019 and I was at the ticket office asking the time of the next bus to Shinano-Omachi at 1215—1 hour 56 minutes!
No wonder people do not ask to join me on my hikes!
Yoroshiku -- Chris
Hi Kantori birders,
Following last week's failed attempt to meet my buddies the Rock Ptarmigan (ライチョウ) around Sugoroku-dake, in Gifu-ken, between last Friday and Sunday I decided to look for them on a different mountain.
After an overnight bus ride, I began hiking from Ogizawa, at the base of Tateyama, at exactly 0600 on Friday. As I walked to the entrance to the hiking trail, I came across a large stag beetle (ミヤマクワガタムシ) crossing the road. Several vehicles had already passed me, and I thought the poor creature would almost certainly get squashed by the wheels of a passing car or bus before reaching the other side. I found a stick, attached said beetle to it, and carried it to a safe place.
Without any birds to watch, the hike up to Tanega-ike hut was basically nonstop, and I arrived at 0910. As I had not eaten breakfast, I sat at the tables outside and ate a sandwich and drank a hot coffee. An hour later I was ready to begin the hike across to Tsumeta-ike hut along the ridge trail via Jiigatake. As I was early, I took my time, enjoying the scenery and of course, keeping my eyes open in case any of my buddies appeared.
Near the top of the steep climb up to Minami-mine I heard a male ptarmigan call not far from the trail. In the fog it was impossible to see where the bird was, so I played a recording on my phone through the speaker to try to call the bird in. Despite its being well after the breeding season, the bird cooperated, and a few seconds later it flew low over my head and settled on the ground about 25 metres away.
I spent about 30 minutes watching it, and then resumed climbing. Just to the right of the trail I saw a movement, and with my binoculars I could see a ptarmigan enjoying a sand bath. As the fog kept blowing in and out, I could not immediately see any other birds there, but after a while I counted a total of three females/juveniles and one male. In the late summer I do not usually see males with females/large chicks, so I don't know what was happening with that group. Was the male forming an early winter flock? Was it a male with three juveniles? Or with a female and two well-grown juveniles?
As I watched the male jumped up onto a rock and started uttering a series of soft popping noises in his throat. I'd never heard that call before, but it was easy to understand the meaning: the other three birds suddenly became alert, and after a few seconds the male took off, and all four birds disappeared into the whiteness covering the mountainside.
I continued hiking to Tsumeta-ike hut, but apart from a few Japanese Accentors (かやくぐり) there was little activity. I walked into the hut, but as I did not have a reservation to pitch a tent, the girl at the reception desk asked me to wait. After some discussion with the other person across the desk, she informed me that I could use the tent area for two nights—but that I should pay ¥3,000 as a "penalty"! I'd never heard of that before, but there wasn't much I could do. At the tent site I chose a suitable spot and put up my tent. When everything was ready and my sleeping bag, mat and other things stowed inside, I zipped up the entrance and began hiking up to Nunobiki-yama, about an hour away, in search of more ptarmigan.
I reached the top, but I'd seen no buddies en route! For half an hour I sat on a rock and scanned the far side of the col for bears. At least that was productive, and I soon located one feeding on the far side. On the way back to the tent, I found a feeding male ptarmigan very near the summit of Nunobiki, but could not locate any other birds.
On Saturday morning at 0400, some people were taking down tents and others leaving for the two-hour hike to the summit of Kashimayarigatake, and the tent site was virtually cleared by 0500! I spent until lunchtime looking for ptarmigan along the trail and eventually made it—without any sightings—to the summit soon after 1100. The best observation was a loose flock of eight Alpine Accentors (イワヒバリ) just north of Nunobiki-yama, but there was no sign of any raicho, although other hikers told me they had seen a family group, which I looked for but could not see.
Back at the tent, on a hot and humid afternoon, I ate a sandwich for lunch then had a brief siesta before heading out again at 1500. As I was getting ready, a flock of six Ashy Minivets (サンショウクイ) descended into the nearby trees. I made it to the top of Nunobiki-yama and found the same male raicho, but with so much fog covering the area, there was no way to see if any bears were out and about.
It was 1830 when I returned to the tent—at exactly the same time it began spotting with rain. And that was the beginning of my first camping adventure! Gradually the rain became heavier, and the storm brought thunder and lightning. I'd pitched my tent at the side of the campsite, where one side was sheltered by haimatsu bushes. It was at the bottom of a small incline, and guess what?—as more and more rain fell, it had to go somewhere, and where did it go? Down the slope and under my tent, where it could not drain away! Suddenly I noticed water was pooling under the floor of the tent at the entrance, and when I looked outside, the area around me was under like 1 cm of water!
Panic! Panic! What to do? Should I move the tent? Stay where I was? Outside, it was dark and raining hard. Loud rumbles of thunder crackled overhead, and every few seconds a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the area. I had to act fast before the water submerged everything inside. I found my cooking pot and for the next two hours bailed out the rainwater, scooping it up as it built up and throwing the dirty water over the haimatsu bushes. Eventually, thank goodness, the rain began to ease off, and less and less water drained down the slope. Finally, it seemed that I'd won the battle! Maybe at around 2300 or even a bit later, the storm had passed over, and I felt confident that there would be no more heavy rain and I could go to sleep without any worries. But what a challenge!
On Sunday morning, when I talked to other hikers who had been in nearby tents, none appeared to have had any rain-related problems. They had basically slept through the whole episode! I know the guy in the tent next to mine had snored all the way through it, as I had listened to him while scooping up the water!
Instead of going to the summit of Nunobiki-yama or Kashimayarigatake once again, I packed my wet tent and damp sleeping bag and at 0630 began the hike back to Tanega-ike hut. As I left, I heard a minivet calling but could not see any birds in the thick fog. Slowly I climbed the trail which took me back past the three peaks of Jiigatake—Kita-mine, Naka-mine and Minami-mine. At times the fog lifted, and in the sunshine I could see across to Nunobiki-yama and Kashimayarigatake, where I'd been the day before.
As I reached the north side of Minami-mine, I found a female raicho standing close to the side of the trail. Behind her, two well-grown chicks were busy chasing insects. I spent some time watching her (a bird with coloured rings on her legs: yellow right and green left) before they moved further away from me and out of sight.
Another 100 metres further on, at the bottom of the short trail to the summit of Minami-mine, there is a small "wall" of rocks where I usually sit and take a breather and on a clear day admire the scenery. On Sunday I was sitting there looking at the blue sky and the white banks of fog slowly drifting across the south slope of Kashimayarigatake when I noticed something moving about 15 metres below the trail. I looked through my binoculars and found a female ptarmigan and her chick huddled together and sunbathing! She stayed for about 15 minutes and then moved after the chick got up and resumed feeding.
From there I descended the steep slope down to Tanega-ike hut, where I arrived at 0915. After making hot noodles for breakfast, I put my legs in gear and took off down the trail and back to Ogizawa. I think this time was the fastest I'd ever covered that section: I left Tanega-ike at 1019 and I was at the ticket office asking the time of the next bus to Shinano-Omachi at 1215—1 hour 56 minutes!
No wonder people do not ask to join me on my hikes!
Yoroshiku -- Chris
10 September 2020
Hi Kantori birders,
The night bus service from central Tokyo to Hirayu Onsen has ended for another season, so to get there I took a late morning bus last Thursday. After arriving, I had a quick bath in the free onsen and then caught the bus to Shin-Hodaka Onsen. I was there before 1800, and my plan was to sleep overnight and leave for Sugoroku at first light on Friday morning. I found a quiet place to roll out my mat and sleeping bag and slept until just after 0300 on Friday.
Throughout the night, whenever I woke, I could hear the sound of water coming from three directions: warm water going into the ashiyu foot bath, cold spring water flowing from the pipe, and raindrops landing on the roof above. The first two were fine, but the rain I could do without! At about 0330, the rain turned to drizzle, and by 0430, by which time I had packed everything and was ready to begin my hike, it had finally stopped!
Off I went, up the track towards Wasabidaira lodge, by the light of the half moon. I hoped I would not meet any hungry bears along the way, and I made it to Wasabidaira lodge without any mishaps. No one was around at 0530, so I left a tin of cookies on the counter for Kabayama-san and set off again.
My next goal was Kagamidaira lodge, at least three hours away up a long and steep trail. At least in the early morning it was cool, and I kept going, only taking a very short rest here and there to down a few mouthfuls of sports drink and to drink cold water from the stream above Chichibu-sawa. I made good time, arriving at Kagamidaira just before 0900. There, I sat in the sun and ate some breakfast. Unfortunately, I spent too much time talking to the staff and to some other hikers—and found an hour had slipped by just like that.
From Kagamidaira it took me 55 minutes to reach the ridge at Yumiori-norikoshi. After a brief rest on the benches there, I was ready to tackle the next leg: to Sugoroku hut, 2 km away along the ridge. Just before I reached the ridge, a young hiker passed me on the way down. We stopped to chat, and then he said he could remember me from about 5 years ago when I stayed at Sugoroku hut, where he had been working at the time! Kazuki-san remembered me because of my interest in bears.
In the warm sun it was a pleasant hike, and I stopped several times to look across to the south slopes of Sugoroku-dake, as from the trail I can often see Asian Black Bears (ツキノワグマ) feeding. As I hiked along the ridge, I looked half a dozen times and eventually picked out one animal climbing up through a narrow valley.
At 1235 I arrived at Sugoroku hut, and as I was planning to go as far as Kurobegoro hut, I ordered curry rice, ate it quickly and set off again just 30 minutes later. It's a steep climb up from the hut, and 20 minutes later I was hiking along the Naka-michi trail, heading towards Mitsumata-renge peak. Halfway along the trail, the first spots of rain began to fall, and as it steadily got heavier, I stopped to put on my rain gear. Five minutes later I was hiking in a downpour, and heavy rain fell for the next hour or so.
About 100 metres to the east of the small junction with the main Mitsumata-Sugoroku trail, a male Rock Ptarmigan (ライチョウ) was feeding in an open area between some haimatsu bushes. He was not very close, and as it was raining hard, I did not even stop to get a better look. "Hi, my buddy. Thanks for coming out in such bad weather," I said as I carried on walking! I didn't even have my binoculars around my neck—they were inside my backpack, keeping dry.
A strong wind was blowing the rain horizontally across the slopes of Maruyama, and I climbed up as quickly as I could. As I walked in the rain and fog across the top, an indistinct shape caught my eye, and when I looked closer, I saw it was a raicho. When I went closer one bird turned out to be three—a female and two large chicks. Despite the rain and wind raking the summit, they didn't seem too worried and kept plucking at the plants before it got dark.
From the top of Mitsumata-renge, I took the trail down to Kurobegoro hut. Luckily, the rain eventually stopped, and at times the sun even broke through the clouds, but the final descent to the hut was in thick fog. It was 1700 when I arrived, and Ishii-san, the manager, remembered me from seasons past. I paid ¥1,000, walked the final 50 metres to the campsite, and put up my tent. After a long day, I was more interested in getting some sleep, but I managed to make some hot food and then went to sleep.
When I awoke at 0400 on Saturday, I was pleasantly surprised to find it was clear. I packed the necessary things to carry to the top of Kurobegoro, and at 0500 I set off. After walking through the boulder-strewn col, I climbed the steep trail to the shoulder. From there it was an easy 20-minute hike to the summit. From the campsite it took me 2 hours and 15 minutes to reach the top.
I'd barely sat down when I heard a familiar noise—a ptarmigan was calling nearby. Only 25 metres from me, at the edge of some haimatsu bushes, I found a female with her three large chicks. I spent about 30 minutes watching them feed and preen in the sunshine before I returned to my backpack and made my breakfast. The 360-degree view from the summit was spectacular but I could only put a name to a few of the dozens of peaks I could see.
I descended the west side and by 1030 I was back at the tent. By now, in the hot sun, the dew had evaporated and everything was dry. I set about stowing the tent and I finally finished packing my backpack with everything—either inside or tied onto the outside—at midday, when I went to eat lunch at the hut.
At 1230 I thanked the staff and said goodbye to Ishii-san before beginning the steep 30-minute climb to get back to the ridge and on to the summit of Mitsumata-renge. Along the trail I managed to call in two male raicho and then found another walking around right at the summit. On my way back to Sugoroku hut, I heard a male calling in the fog at the top of Maruyama, but I did not see him. For an hour I searched the plateau atop Sugoroku-dake but I could find no sign of my buddies. In the wind I was beginning to feel cold, so I gave up searching and went down to the hut.
I paid ¥1,000 and then went to set up my tent. By the time I'd finished, it was very nearly dark, but as I looked over to the nearby pool, I saw a bird swimming about in the middle. I don't very often see birds on mountain lakes, so this was a good end to the day. I guessed it was a duck, but it was too dark to even think about putting a name to it. Dinner was a pot of hot noodles and a sandwich, followed by coffee and then . . . sleep!
At 0300 Sunday morning, I woke to the by-now familiar sound of rain hitting the tent, but it was not too heavy, so I went back to sleep for a while. When I woke again at 0400, it was still raining, sometimes hard, but at other times it seemed as if it could be coming to an end. But it didn't, and after making some hot water for a cup of soup inside the tent, I was faced with the task of packing up the tent while it was raining and while a strong wind was blowing! After some time, I managed to get the wet tent folded and into a bag, squeeze the air mat into another bag and finally, with some pushing and pulling, cram everything else into the already-full backpack.
With that task complete, I decided to have a quick hike—despite the rain and wind—up towards Momisawayama. I'd only climbed about 100 metres before I found a pair of raicho feeding close to the trail. I decided I didn't need to go any higher, so after watching them for 10 minutes, I returned to the hut, thanked the staff, and went back to pick up my backpack. When I passed by the lake I saw the duck preening itself as it sat behind a rock. It was a female Eurasian Teal (コガモ).
Due to the forecast predicting more heavy rain with thunderstorms later in the morning, I decided to begin my descent a few hours earlier than originally planned. However, I was unable to avoid the rain, and for about three out of the five hours that it took me to hike from Sugoroku hut back to Shin-Hodaka Onsen, I passed through a rain belt, and the rain was sometimes heavy, sometimes torrential. Needless to say, by the time I arrived at the bus stop at 1140, I was completely soaked, and there's nothing I hate more than hiking in wet socks and boots!
I caught the 1155 bus back to Hirayu Onsen, and the first place I headed for was the onsen. After a nice long soak, I was more than happy to dump all my wet clothes into a bag and put on some dry ones. It had been a good hike—almost 65 km from beginning to end—and I'd managed to see a total of 16 of my buddies as well as hearing another two or three. But now, as autumn approaches, there are few birds to see in the high mountains, and apart from the ptarmigan and Spotted Nutcrackers (ホシガラス) the only other birds hanging on are Alpine Accentors (イワヒバリ) and Japanese Accentors (カヤクグリ). With blue skies during the morning on Friday and Saturday, I'd hoped to see some migrating hawks, but despite keeping my eyes open and looking for them, the only ones I saw were resident Eastern Buzzards (ノスリ) soaring over the peaks.
Yoroshiku — Chris
Hi Kantori birders,
The night bus service from central Tokyo to Hirayu Onsen has ended for another season, so to get there I took a late morning bus last Thursday. After arriving, I had a quick bath in the free onsen and then caught the bus to Shin-Hodaka Onsen. I was there before 1800, and my plan was to sleep overnight and leave for Sugoroku at first light on Friday morning. I found a quiet place to roll out my mat and sleeping bag and slept until just after 0300 on Friday.
Throughout the night, whenever I woke, I could hear the sound of water coming from three directions: warm water going into the ashiyu foot bath, cold spring water flowing from the pipe, and raindrops landing on the roof above. The first two were fine, but the rain I could do without! At about 0330, the rain turned to drizzle, and by 0430, by which time I had packed everything and was ready to begin my hike, it had finally stopped!
Off I went, up the track towards Wasabidaira lodge, by the light of the half moon. I hoped I would not meet any hungry bears along the way, and I made it to Wasabidaira lodge without any mishaps. No one was around at 0530, so I left a tin of cookies on the counter for Kabayama-san and set off again.
My next goal was Kagamidaira lodge, at least three hours away up a long and steep trail. At least in the early morning it was cool, and I kept going, only taking a very short rest here and there to down a few mouthfuls of sports drink and to drink cold water from the stream above Chichibu-sawa. I made good time, arriving at Kagamidaira just before 0900. There, I sat in the sun and ate some breakfast. Unfortunately, I spent too much time talking to the staff and to some other hikers—and found an hour had slipped by just like that.
From Kagamidaira it took me 55 minutes to reach the ridge at Yumiori-norikoshi. After a brief rest on the benches there, I was ready to tackle the next leg: to Sugoroku hut, 2 km away along the ridge. Just before I reached the ridge, a young hiker passed me on the way down. We stopped to chat, and then he said he could remember me from about 5 years ago when I stayed at Sugoroku hut, where he had been working at the time! Kazuki-san remembered me because of my interest in bears.
In the warm sun it was a pleasant hike, and I stopped several times to look across to the south slopes of Sugoroku-dake, as from the trail I can often see Asian Black Bears (ツキノワグマ) feeding. As I hiked along the ridge, I looked half a dozen times and eventually picked out one animal climbing up through a narrow valley.
At 1235 I arrived at Sugoroku hut, and as I was planning to go as far as Kurobegoro hut, I ordered curry rice, ate it quickly and set off again just 30 minutes later. It's a steep climb up from the hut, and 20 minutes later I was hiking along the Naka-michi trail, heading towards Mitsumata-renge peak. Halfway along the trail, the first spots of rain began to fall, and as it steadily got heavier, I stopped to put on my rain gear. Five minutes later I was hiking in a downpour, and heavy rain fell for the next hour or so.
About 100 metres to the east of the small junction with the main Mitsumata-Sugoroku trail, a male Rock Ptarmigan (ライチョウ) was feeding in an open area between some haimatsu bushes. He was not very close, and as it was raining hard, I did not even stop to get a better look. "Hi, my buddy. Thanks for coming out in such bad weather," I said as I carried on walking! I didn't even have my binoculars around my neck—they were inside my backpack, keeping dry.
A strong wind was blowing the rain horizontally across the slopes of Maruyama, and I climbed up as quickly as I could. As I walked in the rain and fog across the top, an indistinct shape caught my eye, and when I looked closer, I saw it was a raicho. When I went closer one bird turned out to be three—a female and two large chicks. Despite the rain and wind raking the summit, they didn't seem too worried and kept plucking at the plants before it got dark.
From the top of Mitsumata-renge, I took the trail down to Kurobegoro hut. Luckily, the rain eventually stopped, and at times the sun even broke through the clouds, but the final descent to the hut was in thick fog. It was 1700 when I arrived, and Ishii-san, the manager, remembered me from seasons past. I paid ¥1,000, walked the final 50 metres to the campsite, and put up my tent. After a long day, I was more interested in getting some sleep, but I managed to make some hot food and then went to sleep.
When I awoke at 0400 on Saturday, I was pleasantly surprised to find it was clear. I packed the necessary things to carry to the top of Kurobegoro, and at 0500 I set off. After walking through the boulder-strewn col, I climbed the steep trail to the shoulder. From there it was an easy 20-minute hike to the summit. From the campsite it took me 2 hours and 15 minutes to reach the top.
I'd barely sat down when I heard a familiar noise—a ptarmigan was calling nearby. Only 25 metres from me, at the edge of some haimatsu bushes, I found a female with her three large chicks. I spent about 30 minutes watching them feed and preen in the sunshine before I returned to my backpack and made my breakfast. The 360-degree view from the summit was spectacular but I could only put a name to a few of the dozens of peaks I could see.
I descended the west side and by 1030 I was back at the tent. By now, in the hot sun, the dew had evaporated and everything was dry. I set about stowing the tent and I finally finished packing my backpack with everything—either inside or tied onto the outside—at midday, when I went to eat lunch at the hut.
At 1230 I thanked the staff and said goodbye to Ishii-san before beginning the steep 30-minute climb to get back to the ridge and on to the summit of Mitsumata-renge. Along the trail I managed to call in two male raicho and then found another walking around right at the summit. On my way back to Sugoroku hut, I heard a male calling in the fog at the top of Maruyama, but I did not see him. For an hour I searched the plateau atop Sugoroku-dake but I could find no sign of my buddies. In the wind I was beginning to feel cold, so I gave up searching and went down to the hut.
I paid ¥1,000 and then went to set up my tent. By the time I'd finished, it was very nearly dark, but as I looked over to the nearby pool, I saw a bird swimming about in the middle. I don't very often see birds on mountain lakes, so this was a good end to the day. I guessed it was a duck, but it was too dark to even think about putting a name to it. Dinner was a pot of hot noodles and a sandwich, followed by coffee and then . . . sleep!
At 0300 Sunday morning, I woke to the by-now familiar sound of rain hitting the tent, but it was not too heavy, so I went back to sleep for a while. When I woke again at 0400, it was still raining, sometimes hard, but at other times it seemed as if it could be coming to an end. But it didn't, and after making some hot water for a cup of soup inside the tent, I was faced with the task of packing up the tent while it was raining and while a strong wind was blowing! After some time, I managed to get the wet tent folded and into a bag, squeeze the air mat into another bag and finally, with some pushing and pulling, cram everything else into the already-full backpack.
With that task complete, I decided to have a quick hike—despite the rain and wind—up towards Momisawayama. I'd only climbed about 100 metres before I found a pair of raicho feeding close to the trail. I decided I didn't need to go any higher, so after watching them for 10 minutes, I returned to the hut, thanked the staff, and went back to pick up my backpack. When I passed by the lake I saw the duck preening itself as it sat behind a rock. It was a female Eurasian Teal (コガモ).
Due to the forecast predicting more heavy rain with thunderstorms later in the morning, I decided to begin my descent a few hours earlier than originally planned. However, I was unable to avoid the rain, and for about three out of the five hours that it took me to hike from Sugoroku hut back to Shin-Hodaka Onsen, I passed through a rain belt, and the rain was sometimes heavy, sometimes torrential. Needless to say, by the time I arrived at the bus stop at 1140, I was completely soaked, and there's nothing I hate more than hiking in wet socks and boots!
I caught the 1155 bus back to Hirayu Onsen, and the first place I headed for was the onsen. After a nice long soak, I was more than happy to dump all my wet clothes into a bag and put on some dry ones. It had been a good hike—almost 65 km from beginning to end—and I'd managed to see a total of 16 of my buddies as well as hearing another two or three. But now, as autumn approaches, there are few birds to see in the high mountains, and apart from the ptarmigan and Spotted Nutcrackers (ホシガラス) the only other birds hanging on are Alpine Accentors (イワヒバリ) and Japanese Accentors (カヤクグリ). With blue skies during the morning on Friday and Saturday, I'd hoped to see some migrating hawks, but despite keeping my eyes open and looking for them, the only ones I saw were resident Eastern Buzzards (ノスリ) soaring over the peaks.
Yoroshiku — Chris
10 August 2021
Hi Kantori birders--
Ahead of next week's VIP tour to the mountains, in between typhoons I did a short hike from Nakabusa Onsen along the "Omote-Ginza trail" as far as Mount Jonen and then down to Ichinosawa. I had hoped to avoid the incoming typhoon, but late Thursday afternoon steady rain began to fall. Due to the weather, Friday's planned activities were scrapped and I descended in heavy rain to a waiting taxi at the trailhead.
It was not until 1415 on Tuesday that I started up the steep trail from Nakabusa Onsen. As there was no rush to get to the top, I hiked at a slower pace than usual. My progress was also affected by the heavy backpack—weighing the wrong side of 20 kg—that I was carrying. But I still managed to do the 5.5 km in less than 4 hours. The highlight of the ascent was finding a Japanese Serow (kamoshika, カモシカ) feeding in a gully halfway up. It was the first one I've seen in the high mountains this year.
Arriving at Enzan-so hut at about 1800, I decided to put up the tent before it got too dark rather than checking on my buddies, the Rock Ptarmigan (raichou, ライチョウ). At the reception desk, Inagaki-san and Kawachi-san welcomed me and told me the latest news about the ptarmigan family and Asian Black Bears (nihontsukinowaguma, ホンツキノワグマ). It was clear on Tuesday night in the mountains and inside the tent, just before dawn on Wednesday, the temperature had dropped to 6 C. A couple of hours earlier I'd poked my head outside and saw, far, far above, the Milky Way tracing a bright trail across the heavens.
Well before 0500 nearby campers were wandering around, and nearly everyone staying in the hut or in tents was waiting for the sun to rise.
As I began preparing to take down my tent, I heard a familiar 'kruk' call, and just behind me on the nearby bank, the female Rock Ptarmigan was leading her four chicks to the morning feeding area. To get there she had had to take them between several tents and the gawkers, most of whom were more interested in the sunrise than in what was happening almost under their feet. I followed them down the slope a short distance, and then she crossed the main hiking trail and stopped to let her chicks feed.
As I watched from below, just a few metres away, I saw a male ptarmigan standing among the vegetation, and then, on closer inspection, a female, too. Presumably it was the same pair that I saw on the west side of Enzan-so 10 days ago. By the time I'd watched them and packed up the tent, it was time for breakfast, so I moved everything to the tables on the east side of Enzan-so. It was pleasant sitting there in the early morning sunshine, and overhead a couple of Pacific Swifts (amatsubame, アマツバメ) whizzed through the sky at top speed.
When I'd finished eating and drinking, I hiked a few hundred metres to an overlook to see if there were any bears in the meadow below, but all was quiet except for the occasional fly-by Spotted Nutcracker (hoshigarasu, ホシガラス) and the singing Japanese Bush Warbler (uguisu, ウグイス) and Red-flanked Bluetail (ruribitaki, ルリビタキ). Back at the tables, I had a chance to talk with Yabe-san and Katakawa-san, two of this season's hardworking staff at the hut, who were enjoying a well-earned coffee break after working hard preparing food and serving it to the guests since probably 3 a.m.!
I set off soon after 0900—an hour behind schedule—for Otensho, the next peak, and reached Daiten-so hut just before 1300. Along the way, I kept my eyes open for my buddies, but today no ptarmigan waited to greet me. Actually, it was not a very "birdy" hike, with just a few Alpine Accentors (iwahibari, イワヒバリ), a few more swifts, and half a dozen Asian House Martins (iwatsubame, イワツバメ).
When I walked into the reception area at Daiten-so Sakaki-san, the manager beckoned me quickly and told me that the local raicho family had been near the entrance just half an hour ago. So I dumped my bags on the bench outside and headed around the back of the building. It didn't take me long to find the female and her four chicks, who were feeding along the edge of the haimatsu bushes. I stayed with them for half an hour before returning to check in and get my tent space. As always, Sakaki-san kindly kept my coffee cup full, and after claiming a space for my tent, I took a 30-minute lunch break, had another cup of coffee and then headed off to the south in search of more ptarmigan.
I hiked about 2 km but again failed to find any of my buddies. A couple of hikers I talked to told me they had seen two different females with chicks, and they told me where, but they were not on view when I got to the places. By early afternoon, the fog had started to cover the higher peaks, and although I was on the lookout for bears, it was hard to see some of the places where they could be feeding. From the pass just below Higashi-tenjo, I climbed for 10 minutes to the summit and from there, sitting on my usual rock, I saw a bear feeding in the meadow below.
Although it was quite far away I was able to take a few photos.
By late afternoon I was back at Daiten-so, where I filled the coffee cup again and then began preparing dinner—curry rice followed by ramen noodles! By 1930 I was asleep in my sleeping bag, and didn't wake until about 0200, when a 20-minute rain shower and strong winds hit the area.
On Thursday there was no sunrise for people to watch, but the beams of sunshine piercing the grey clouds and lighting up the valley below were impressive. Most of the hikers and campers had already left by the time I was ready to go, and after one final cup of coffee, I thanked Sakaki-san and headed off along the trail for the 3-hour hike to Jonen mountain hut.
The weather was overcast, and fog was already swirling obscuring some of the higher peaks. It looked perfect for finding ptarmigan, but almost four hours later, when I arrived at Jonen-goya, I'd not seen a single bird! Thick fog blanketed Yokodoshi peak, where I stopped for a hot coffee and a snack in the cold wind, and it rained lightly a couple of time along the trail, but my buddies remained out of sight. It was disappointing not to find any ptarmigan, and the only birds I saw were about a dozen Alpine Accentors, a couple of Spotted Nutcrackers, and three Japanese Accentors (kayakuguri, カヤクグリ).
From the trail which passes above the meadow in the valley below Higashi-tenjo, I spent about 15 minutes watching (presumably) the same bear that I'd seen the day before. Then the fog descended, and I moved on. Earlier, on a far ridge, I briefly saw another one passing through an open area among the trees. With nothing to see—other than a few metres of mountainside either side of the trail, and thick fog all around—I was surprised to find visibility vastly different when I arrived at Jonen hut. It is set in the pass directly below Mount Jonen (2,857 metres) and Mount Yokodoshi (2,767 metres), and when I arrived at around 1130 I could see all the way to Matsumoto City to the southeast and across to the Yarigatake/Hodaka range to the west.
It had been a couple of months since I was last there, and I was welcomed by Miyata-san and Yamasaki-san, the manager, and as rain was forecast for later, I decided to stay overnight in the hut rather than in the tent. Miyata-san told me a bear has become a fairly frequent visitor to the area over the last few weeks, even coming close to the hut at times. I was given Room 20, my usual sleeping place, and after lunch and coffee I began the hour-long hike up to the summit of Jonen-dake.
On the way up, I asked a few hikers coming down if they had seen any ptarmigan. A couple told me about a female and five chicks just below the summit, but others said they had not seen any in the thick fog. I climbed as far as the small junction just below the peak, as that is a favoured area for ptarmigan. In the fog it was hard to see anything more than about 15 metres away, and several stones looked like birds! By walking up and down about 300 metres of trail I eventually heard the "peeping" noise of chicks calling, but finding them in the fog was another story! After 30 minutes or so of sitting on a rock and scanning the landscape, I eventually saw a movement about 20 metres away. It was a raicho chick. With more scanning, I finally found the female. She was sitting motionless, keeping her four other chicks warm in the cold afternoon wind. Through the fog it was difficult to see her clearly, as she resembled a stone and was not moving at all. After about 15 minutes, one chick and then another popped out and they all began feeding among the rocks.
A few minutes later, I had one of the wildlife experiences I'll never forget. The female became agitated, moving around and warning her chicks. Then, I saw the reason! About 25 metres away, I saw a large bear appear out of the fog, and it was heading my way! It had no idea I was nearby, as the wind was blowing from it towards me, so it could not smell me. It was busy feeding, scraping the surface here and there, or just eating something on the ground from among the rocks. Slowly it walked closer, and I just sat there, watching it move like a ghost through the fog. At its closest, it was less than 30 metres away, and as it had not seen or smelled me, I did not need to move. Interestingly, I saw that it had a yellow tag in its right ear, which meant that it had been caught somewhere by researchers and then tagged and released.
That was one lucky bear as, most of the time here in Japan, any bears which are caught or even thought to be a danger are shot, no questions asked. It was my lucky day, watching a family of ptarmigan and a bear at the same time!
After the bear had disappeared into the fog, I began to descend back to the hut. On the way down, I met two other hikers coming up, and they told me they had seen the bear heading down the mountain. By the time I got back to the area of haimatsu bushes growing near the hut, I could see the bear feeding, and it was heading towards the entrance of the hut. I moved quickly and predicted the bear would come through the bushes, pass by the top of the steps at the entrance, and then go into the bushes and trees on the other side of the picnic tables next to the campsite.
As I stood quietly, I could see the branches moving as the bear pushed its way through, and when it was close to me, I could read the tag number (155) with my binoculars. It passed the top of the steps and then moved to the camp area, where it appeared out of the trees right next to the only tent. I guess the people inside never knew how close the visitor came to them!
I'd had a great afternoon and by now the rain had started to fall. I called it a day and went inside and rested for an hour before joining Yamasaki-san and the staff for dinner—a huge pot of delicious hot stew and rice! In my room after a long day, I soon fell asleep, and as it was raining hard when I woke early this morning, I did not bother to get up at 4 a.m.! Instead, I got up at 6 a.m., had a coffee and the last three-day-old sandwich that I found in the bottom of my backpack, and headed out soon after 0700. As I was not going to be doing any birdwatching in the heavy rain, I went straight down the 5.7-km-long trail to Ichinosawa in just over two hours. A pre-ordered taxi was waiting to take me back to Hotaka Station, where I had 20 minutes to pack and get ready for the 1005 train to Matsumoto. There, I went to the Everest Indian/Nepali restaurant near the station for lunch and afterwards caught the 1320 express bus back to Tokyo, ending another of my fun and productive hikes though part of Japan's Northern Alps!
Yoroshiku —Chris
2 November 2021
Hi Kantori birders,
With this year's hiking season in the high mountains about to come to an end, over the weekend—for the sixth time this year—I hiked the Omote-Ginza trail before Jonen and Daitenso huts closed for the winter. Last week several centimetres of snow fell, and most of it was still lying on the peaks when I passed by between Saturday and Monday.
It was just before 0800 on Saturday that I began hiking up the trail from Ichinosawa to the pass at Jonen mountain hut. On a beautiful sunny day, under a cloudless blue sky and with autumn colours in every direction, I had the trail to myself. Inside the forest it was quiet, but I did have good views of two Brown Dippers (kawagarasu) in the stream halfway up. I hiked slowly, stopping at Kasahara-sawa for a hot drink and a snack before tackling the steep final one km to the ridge. It took me just under 4 hours to hike the 5.7 km to the hut. On arrival, I received the customary warm welcome from the staff and then sat outside at the tables and ate lunch. From where I was, I could look up at the snow-covered north slope of Mount Jonen, across to Mount Yarigatake, and over the nearby forest.
After lunch, I stowed my backpack inside the entrance and began the climb to the top of Jonen-dake. The amount of snow increased the higher I went, and at the summit it was knee-deep in places. As I climbed, I searched for the female ptarmigan (raicho) and her five chicks that I saw in early September, but with no fresh footprints to give their location away, I failed to find them.
In the narrow valley below the summit I saw several lines of footprints, but none appeared to be fresh, and there were no raicho standing in the snow where the footprints ended! Just below the summit I sat on a large rock and scoured the landscape, but nothing moved. My search lasted until the light began to fade, when I gave up and returned to the hut for dinner with Yamasaki-san, the manager, and the staff. For dessert and as a mark of gratitude, I handed over a large tin of cookies and an assortment of chocolate bars that I had carried up.
After a long and very welcome sleep, I began Sunday with another hike to the summit. This time I was in luck, as a male Rock Ptarmigan flew in and settled on a steep, snow-covered slope not far from where I was. Very slowly I moved closer, hoping he would not see me in my red jacket and black ski pants. He allowed me to get within about 10 metres, but from his exposed perch he kept an eye on me. In the other direction, he could look at the view towards Matsumoto City, way down in the valley, and other mountains to the east. I stayed with him for about 20 minutes and watched him feed on some dry leaves and buds poking out of the snow before he disappeared out of sight.
Back at the hut I packed my backpack, filled a flask with hot water and, after a very early lunch, thanked Yamasaki-san for his help this year. This time I received some sad news, as I was told that at least three of the staff—including Miyata-san, who has diligently worked at Jonen-goya for several years—will be leaving. One of the aspects that I enjoy is meeting the staff year after year, and Miyata-san especially has been very helpful during the many times that I have stayed at Jonen hut. After a final farewell I headed off up the mountain and began hiking north in the direction of Mount Otensho and Daiten-so hut.
During the three hours that it took me to hike along the ridge to Otensho, I only met one not-so-friendly elderly Japanese hiker and a small group of young Chinese hikers from Tokyo. Otherwise, I had the mountains to myself, which was fine with me! Unlike the previous day, Sunday was cloudy, so I thought I would have a chance of finding a few ptarmigan along the way. But it was a quiet hike, and apart from a small flock of five Alpine Accentors (iwahibari), a few Spotted Nutcrackers (hoshigarasu) and a single ptarmigan feeding in a rowan bush, I didn't see much.
But when I neared Daiten-so hut, good things began to happen! I found a male ptarmigan just off the trail, heard one more calling as it flew (two ladies told me there were two birds, but as it was misty I was not able to see exactly where they were flying and missed them) and then, just before dark, I found two birds close to the hut.
At Daiten-so, Sakaki-san and his staff welcomed me and gave me a small room to sleep in. I was hungry after the hike, and just a few minutes after my arrival, dinner was served. Before sitting down, I gave some cookies and chocolates for Sakaki-san and the staff to enjoy, and I'm sure they didn't last very long! Part of the reason to go to Daiten-so on Sunday—the final day this year the hut was open—was because it was also my last chance to have delicious imoni, a filling vegetable soup from the Tohoku region that is served from October 1st at Daiten-so. An hour later, after two large bowls of soup as well as the main meal, my stomach was full and all I wanted to do was to lie down.
That I did, but only for about 30 minutes, as from 1845 a small party was held to mark the end of the season. As it was the last night this year that the hut was open, about 25 other guests had made the hike. During this lively social event, the room was filled with talk about hikes they had done this year and plans for next season. Wine, coffee and a selection of sweet and delicious homemade cakes were served! As I don't drink alcohol, I passed on the wine, but did treat myself to a slice of cheesecake and a cup of hot coffee before retiring for the night.
Among those staying were Imamura-san, the manager of Hutte Yari, and Hayashi-san, who was formerly at Enzan-so hut and who now works part-time at Ariake-so, the hot spring accommodation at Nakabusa Onsen, at the base of Mount Tsubakuro. It was nice to catch up with them both, as it was the first time since New Year’s that our paths had crossed.
On Monday, snug in my warm winter clothes though the temperature was about -5 C, I was on the trail well before sunrise. I hiked about 1 km to the south but after two hours returned empty-handed: No raicho! Another day, another beautiful sunrise, but I had to get moving. With Sakaki-san's kindness, I downed a hot coffee, hoisted my heavy backpack onto my back and thanked all the staff, who lined up and waved me off as they hung out the dining room windows. After negotiating the steep, snowy slope down the side of Mount Otensho with the aid of an ice pick, it took me just three hours to hike along the ridge to Enzan-so.
The weather was fine and sunny, and like Saturday, no raicho had ventured out. With no reason to stop and watch anything, it took me just three hours to hike along the ridge to Enzan-so. On the way I did see three hawks, probably Eurasian Sparrowhawks (haitaka), circling on a thermal high above Otensho, a couple of Spotted Nutcrackers and one rather late Japanese Accentor (kayakuguri). Normally these birds leave the high mountain ridges earlier (most have gone by early-/mid-October), and stay at lower elevations during the winter.
At Enzan-so, Inagaki-san and Kawachi-san, the reception desk staff, greeted me, and I sat outside in the warm sun for an hour and made hot coffee and a pot of hot noodles on my gas stove. For about 30 minutes I searched for the female ptarmigan and her chicks that live around the hut, but there was no sign of them anywhere. As I ate my noodles, a group of five Alpine Accentors arrived and hunted for food under the tables before flying off again.
I began my descent soon after 1300, and 2 hours and 5 minutes later I arrived at the trailhead at Nakabusa Onsen, 5.5 km down the mountain at the end of a 48-km-long hike. The last bus was not until 1620, which was an hour later. Luckily a couple of hikers from Fujisawa, who had met me before in the huts, came over and very kindly offered to drive me to Hotaka Station. I hopped out of the car at 1620, at exactly the time the last bus of the day was leaving Nakabusa Onsen, and I had to wait for only about 5 minutes on the platform for the train back to Matsumoto.
As I hiked the Omote-Ginza trail one more time last weekend, I looked across at the other peaks, and realised that this year I had not been anywhere other than between Jonen and Otensho and Tsubakuro. I saw Norikura, Kasagatake, Sugoroku, Tateyama and several others on the skyline, but had not gone near any of them. And it is now 5 years since I hiked from Kamikochi up to Minami-dake and Yarigatake.
Maybe next year, things will be different!
Yoroshiku—Chris
20 June 2022
Hi Kantori birders
A few times recently I've been training on the "kiddies' course" — 599-metre-high Mount Takao, just west of Tokyo — just in case I decided to go and hike on a real mountain. At the end of last week, I pushed work aside and escaped. On Thursday night I headed over to Matsumoto, in Nagano-ken. The expressway bus didn't arrive until just after midnight, so after rolling out my sleeping bag in a quiet corner of the station, I managed to get in a few hours of zzzzzzzz.
At 0556, the first train of the day to Shinano-Omachi left, and 25 minutes later I hopped off at Hotaka Station. My plan was to hike along part of the Omote-Ginza trail — named due to its popularity but definitely not as crowded as the glitzy and crowded Ginza shopping district in central Tokyo. From Hotaka there are two ways to get to two hiking trail entrances: via a ¥5,000 taxi ride to Ichinosawa, or by the more economical (¥1,500) local bus to Nakabusa Onsen. Occasionally I've been lucky and have managed to share a taxi and split the fare to Ichinosawa with some other hikers. But early Friday morning, there was just one taxi and no hikers heading to Ichinosawa.
At the bus stop, half a dozen people were lined up, and I caught the microbus to Nakabusa Onsen. Ishiguro-san, the driver, told me he had seen two Asian Black Bears ツキノワグマ along the route in recent days, but none popped out of the forest as we drove the winding mountain road. Everyone with their backpacks piled out when the bus arrived soon before 0730, and as I made last-minute adjustments to my 20+kg bag, Sawada-san, who works at the onsen, stopped by for a chat and the latest Nakabusa area bear information.
By 0815 I was ready to hit the trail and so began my steep slog up the side of the mountain to Gassengoya hut and at the top, Enzan-so. With a few brief stops en route and a longer 15-minute break at Gassengoya, I arrived at Enzan-so at 1300. I've climbed in much shorter time, but with a heavy backpack I just couldn't go any faster up the steeper parts of the trail, of which there were many.
On the way up through the trees ,I heard a few forest birds (Lesser Cuckoo ホトトグイス, Northern Hawk Cuckoo ジュイチ, Goldcrest キクイタダイ and Spotted Nutcracker ホシガラス) but only saw a male Siberian Blue Robin コルリ and a pair of Eurasian Bullfinches ウソ. Higher up, I heard Japanese Leaf Warblers メボソムシクイ and Red-flanked Bluetails ルリビタキ and just below the summit, a Japanese Accentor カヤクグリ sang from the top of a pine sapling.
At the hut, the staff welcomed me, and after Kawachi-san had told me the latest news about the pair of Rock Ptarmigan ライチョウ that live nearby, I spent 30 minutes wandering around looking for them. The female was probably sitting on a nest of eggs, so I didn't expect to see her, but the male, seen by several other people around the campsite in recent days, eluded me, so I gave up and concentrated on eating lunch at the outdoor tables.
Although 1420 was later than I would have liked, I decided to hike over to Mount Otensho. I expected to arrive at about 1800, when there was still enough light to put up the tent which Yann-san, a French birding friend in Japan/Hong Kong, very kindly let me borrow. As I slowly wandered along the trail, I admired the early flowering alpine flowers and also the scenery of nearby mountain ranges to the west and northwest. Below, from the forest, birdsong floated up on the breeze, and I enjoyed a relaxed hike in the warm, sunny early summer weather.
The whole purpose of the trip was to check on my buddies, the ptarmigan, and also to look for bears. But, with nice weather, ptarmigan are hard to find, as they are often sheltering under the Haimatsu bushes or among the rocks. I was lucky, as about an hour after I started, I found one male among the rocks just north of a steep slope called Okudari. It was just sitting there, watching the world and a few hikers go by, and I spent about half an hour nearby, taking photos and watching it.
Just before 1800 I arrived at the beginning of the steep path up to Otensho, where I stopped for a final rest and drank hot coffee. Step by step I slowly climbed up and at 1830 arrived at the entrance to Daiten-so mountain hut. The hut itself was not open for guests, but the next day, Saturday, it would open its doors for the 2022 hiking season. Sakaki-san and his staff welcomed me, and after a short chat, I left them to enjoy the last few hours of calmness before the first hikers arrived the next day.
At the tent site among the rocks in front of Daiten-so, I found a suitable place, flat and without any stones poking out of the ground, and began the process of putting up my tent. By the time I'd finished and put my bag and everything else inside, I was too tired to even think about making dinner, so I unzipped the sleeping bag, climbed inside, zipped it up and went to sleep. Due to a low-pressure area affecting central Japan, Saturday night turned out to be a windy one, and throughout I was often awakened as the tent shook with the force of the wind hitting it. And it was cold, too, so I was glad that I'd packed extra clothes and a down jacket, as I needed all to keep warm.
Early on Saturday, when I met Sakaki-san for coffee, he told me the temperature at dawn was just 5°C. Overnight I'd recharged my body with a long sleep, and my plan was to spend the day just enjoying being around Otensho. There were only three items on the agenda: eat, look for ptarmigan, and look for bears. Sakaki-san had given me the latest information, so I knew approximately where to look for my buddies.
He'd made coffee early, so soon after dawn, before I left the hut, I downed a couple of cups and filled my flask. And off I went along the trail, bag over shoulder, binoculars at the ready, in the direction of Jonen-dake. In the strong, cold northwest wind, few birds were in the mood to show themselves. Two Alpine Accentors イワヒバリ were feeding among the rocks close to the hut, but otherwise I didn't see anything for the next hour. My plan was to hike as far as the pass below Higashi-tenjo peak (about 2.5 km), check the area for ptarmigan and bears, then return to Daiten-so for coffee and for a late breakfast/early lunch.
There was no one else around, so I had the trail and the mountains to myself — just me and the birds, the alpine flowers and the openness of the mountain peaks near and far. In the distance, not far from Nishi-dake mountain hut, I saw a single bear feeding. At Higashi-tenjo Pass 東天井乗り越し I found a large area of snow that had not yet melted, so I sat down at the edge and began scanning the "forest" of Haimatsu bushes below. The open grassy areas between the bushes and the narrow valley below are magnets for bears during the summer, as the slopes are covered with tasty grass and fresh leaves of alpine plants.
No sooner had I sat down than I saw a large black shape pushing its way through the haimatsu bushes just 150 metres below me. One of my target species for the day, a bear! And, if that was not exciting enough, nearby was another! I assume that these bears are males which come up from the valleys to feed on the lush vegetation during the summer months. I have seen females and cubs there too, but invariably it is single animals. The two animals seemed to be on a collision course, and sure enough a few minutes later the nearer one charged the other, and both bears disappeared into the thick haimatsu bushes. After that I could occasionally see the head of one bear poking out of the bushes, but after an hour of waiting to see them come out, nothing else happened, so I assume they were both resting in a warm and sheltered spot deep inside the forest. I picked up my bag and began the hike back to Otensho.
On the way, just to the south of Naka-ten, the small peak 500 metres south of the hut, I found a male raicho on guard duty. At this time of the year, with the females sitting on the nest for long periods of time, males will often sit out in exposed places, like on top of a high rock, and watch over their territories. This particular male allowed me to get within a couple of metres, and we sat together of half an hour while I took some photos before I left it in peace.
It was lunchtime when I arrived back at the hut, and I was hungry. I dug a couple of two-day-old sandwiches out of the bottom of my backpack, drank some more coffee, and then intended to spend the afternoon looking for my buddies around the summit of Otensho and on the lower north slope. Just as I was finishing eating, I heard a ptarmigan calling nearby, and only 25 metres from where I was, I found two males fighting. One bird had obviously strayed into the territory of the resident male, and the two were chasing each other and calling. The intruder gave up and flew over the rooftop towards to summit of Otensho, while the other bird moved a short distance towards the east.
Later, I heard a male (presumably the intruder) calling halfway down the mountain but could not locate it. I climbed back up and began another search along the trail south of Otensho. This time I had more success, as I found two males: the male whose territory includes Daiten-so hut and the bird I'd photographed on the south side of Naka-ten before lunch.
Later on, I was able to take a short video of the Daiten-so male enjoying a dust bath, and the other male (the one I'd spent some time with before lunch) let me sit nearby for almost an hour while I took close-up photos as the sun was setting. Although I cannot say for certain, it seems there are four and possibly even five males in the Daiten-so area, as I heard another different male calling, too.
After curry rice and ramen noodles for dinner, I was ready to sleep, and I didn't wake up until I heard my buddy calling near the tent at 0330, while it was still dark. There were actually two birds near the hut, and as dawn broke I saw one atop a large rocky outcrop nearby.
Sunday dawned cloudy, but at least the wind had dropped. Today was moving day, so I packed my tent, and after thanking Sakaki-san I left Daiten-so at 0615. I was hoping to meet some of my buddies and maybe a bear or two along the way, but by the time I reached Jonen-goya at 1300, I'd seen almost nothing. I didn't know the two new and friendly summer staff at Jonen-goya reception, but they knew of me. "Are you Raicho Chris?" one of them asked. I paid for a place to put up the tent, ordered lunch, and then spent the rest of the afternoon climbing to the summit of Jonen-dake.
Almost at the top I began to hear thunder rumbling far away to the north, but I guessed that I still had enough time to look for ptarmigan. There were at least three males, maybe four, just below the summit junction, and I found another very confiding male about halfway down. And as I arrived back at the hut, two birds flew over the mountainside not far away. I was very lucky in that virtually the second I stepped inside the hut to get some hot water, a brief but very heavy rain shower began. I made dinner under the awning while waiting for the rain to stop, and as it was getting dark I heard the call of a male ptarmigan as it flew to its roosting spot not far away.
The plan for Sunday was to check the valley below Higashi-tenjo soon after dawn, return for a late breakfast, and then descend to the trailhead at Ichinosawa. I watched the sun rise as I hiked up towards Yokodoshi peak and carried on to my "bear-viewing rock"—a comfortable place to sit where I can look across to the opposite slope and look for feeding bears. It was sunny and calm, but in the shadow of the mountain, cold until the sun rose high enough.
At first I could see no furry black beasts, but after a while I spotted a bear emerging from among the bushes. It went to a birch tree that was growing horizontally and climbed onto the trunk, where it sat for a few minutes before resuming feeding. It then disappeared into the bushes again and although I waited and waited, it didn't reappear. An hour or more after I'd first seen it, I noticed a bear walking on the snow about 200 metres below me. As it slowly walked along, it was eating something off the surface, but I could not see what it was. Possibly fallen haimatsu cones? For about 40 minutes I watched the bear, presumably the same one that I'd seen earlier, through binoculars, and also took some poor-quality photos with my emergency crappy Canon camera. A couple of times it appeared to be eating snow.
While I was sitting and watching, a handful of hikers passed me en route to or from Otensho or Jonen, and none of them had any idea that a bear was nearby. Several had bear bells attached to their backpacks, and if I asked them if they had seen any bears, all responded that bears are dangerous and that they definitely didn't want to meet one.
Eventually the time came for me to return to Jonen-goya and prepare for my descent. Back at the hut I thanked the staff and at 1115 began hiking down to the trailhead entrance at Ichinosawa. On the way I saw or heard Japanese Robins コマドリ, Red-flanked Bluetails ルリビタキ, three Sakhalin Leaf Warblers エゾムシクイ Blue-and-white Flycatchers オオルリand another Lesser Cuckoo ホトトグイス.
As I had not made a reservation for a ¥5,000 taxi ride back to Hotaka Station, I continued from the trail entrance in the direction of Hotaka village. Fortunately, I did not have to hike all the way, as a very kind Japanese hiker whom I had briefly chatted with near my "bear chair" stopped his car and asked if he could take me to the nearest station.
I told him I was walking to Hotaka Station to catch the local train to Matsumoto. With this information, he told me he was going home to Ina City, about an hour's drive to the south of Matsumoto and that he would drop me off in front of Matsumoto Station. That sounded good to me, as after a lot of downhill hiking, my legs were beginning to get tired. It meant I did not have to hike the remaining 3 km to the station, and I'd be driven right to where I wanted to go. On the way we had an interesting conversation about hiking in Japan, and he also gave me some information about places where he'd seen ptarmigan while on his one-day hikes. But, unfortunately for him, he was forced to listen to my tales about my buddies and bears in the mountains.
I never made it all the way to Hotaka Station, but later while waiting for the expressway bus in Matsumoto, I checked the health app on my iPhone. Between early Friday morning and my arrival in Matsumoto on Monday afternoon, I'd hiked almost 63 km!
That's probably enough exercise for my legs for a day or two.
Yoroshiku, Chris
Hi Kantori birders--
Ahead of next week's VIP tour to the mountains, in between typhoons I did a short hike from Nakabusa Onsen along the "Omote-Ginza trail" as far as Mount Jonen and then down to Ichinosawa. I had hoped to avoid the incoming typhoon, but late Thursday afternoon steady rain began to fall. Due to the weather, Friday's planned activities were scrapped and I descended in heavy rain to a waiting taxi at the trailhead.
It was not until 1415 on Tuesday that I started up the steep trail from Nakabusa Onsen. As there was no rush to get to the top, I hiked at a slower pace than usual. My progress was also affected by the heavy backpack—weighing the wrong side of 20 kg—that I was carrying. But I still managed to do the 5.5 km in less than 4 hours. The highlight of the ascent was finding a Japanese Serow (kamoshika, カモシカ) feeding in a gully halfway up. It was the first one I've seen in the high mountains this year.
Arriving at Enzan-so hut at about 1800, I decided to put up the tent before it got too dark rather than checking on my buddies, the Rock Ptarmigan (raichou, ライチョウ). At the reception desk, Inagaki-san and Kawachi-san welcomed me and told me the latest news about the ptarmigan family and Asian Black Bears (nihontsukinowaguma, ホンツキノワグマ). It was clear on Tuesday night in the mountains and inside the tent, just before dawn on Wednesday, the temperature had dropped to 6 C. A couple of hours earlier I'd poked my head outside and saw, far, far above, the Milky Way tracing a bright trail across the heavens.
Well before 0500 nearby campers were wandering around, and nearly everyone staying in the hut or in tents was waiting for the sun to rise.
As I began preparing to take down my tent, I heard a familiar 'kruk' call, and just behind me on the nearby bank, the female Rock Ptarmigan was leading her four chicks to the morning feeding area. To get there she had had to take them between several tents and the gawkers, most of whom were more interested in the sunrise than in what was happening almost under their feet. I followed them down the slope a short distance, and then she crossed the main hiking trail and stopped to let her chicks feed.
As I watched from below, just a few metres away, I saw a male ptarmigan standing among the vegetation, and then, on closer inspection, a female, too. Presumably it was the same pair that I saw on the west side of Enzan-so 10 days ago. By the time I'd watched them and packed up the tent, it was time for breakfast, so I moved everything to the tables on the east side of Enzan-so. It was pleasant sitting there in the early morning sunshine, and overhead a couple of Pacific Swifts (amatsubame, アマツバメ) whizzed through the sky at top speed.
When I'd finished eating and drinking, I hiked a few hundred metres to an overlook to see if there were any bears in the meadow below, but all was quiet except for the occasional fly-by Spotted Nutcracker (hoshigarasu, ホシガラス) and the singing Japanese Bush Warbler (uguisu, ウグイス) and Red-flanked Bluetail (ruribitaki, ルリビタキ). Back at the tables, I had a chance to talk with Yabe-san and Katakawa-san, two of this season's hardworking staff at the hut, who were enjoying a well-earned coffee break after working hard preparing food and serving it to the guests since probably 3 a.m.!
I set off soon after 0900—an hour behind schedule—for Otensho, the next peak, and reached Daiten-so hut just before 1300. Along the way, I kept my eyes open for my buddies, but today no ptarmigan waited to greet me. Actually, it was not a very "birdy" hike, with just a few Alpine Accentors (iwahibari, イワヒバリ), a few more swifts, and half a dozen Asian House Martins (iwatsubame, イワツバメ).
When I walked into the reception area at Daiten-so Sakaki-san, the manager beckoned me quickly and told me that the local raicho family had been near the entrance just half an hour ago. So I dumped my bags on the bench outside and headed around the back of the building. It didn't take me long to find the female and her four chicks, who were feeding along the edge of the haimatsu bushes. I stayed with them for half an hour before returning to check in and get my tent space. As always, Sakaki-san kindly kept my coffee cup full, and after claiming a space for my tent, I took a 30-minute lunch break, had another cup of coffee and then headed off to the south in search of more ptarmigan.
I hiked about 2 km but again failed to find any of my buddies. A couple of hikers I talked to told me they had seen two different females with chicks, and they told me where, but they were not on view when I got to the places. By early afternoon, the fog had started to cover the higher peaks, and although I was on the lookout for bears, it was hard to see some of the places where they could be feeding. From the pass just below Higashi-tenjo, I climbed for 10 minutes to the summit and from there, sitting on my usual rock, I saw a bear feeding in the meadow below.
Although it was quite far away I was able to take a few photos.
By late afternoon I was back at Daiten-so, where I filled the coffee cup again and then began preparing dinner—curry rice followed by ramen noodles! By 1930 I was asleep in my sleeping bag, and didn't wake until about 0200, when a 20-minute rain shower and strong winds hit the area.
On Thursday there was no sunrise for people to watch, but the beams of sunshine piercing the grey clouds and lighting up the valley below were impressive. Most of the hikers and campers had already left by the time I was ready to go, and after one final cup of coffee, I thanked Sakaki-san and headed off along the trail for the 3-hour hike to Jonen mountain hut.
The weather was overcast, and fog was already swirling obscuring some of the higher peaks. It looked perfect for finding ptarmigan, but almost four hours later, when I arrived at Jonen-goya, I'd not seen a single bird! Thick fog blanketed Yokodoshi peak, where I stopped for a hot coffee and a snack in the cold wind, and it rained lightly a couple of time along the trail, but my buddies remained out of sight. It was disappointing not to find any ptarmigan, and the only birds I saw were about a dozen Alpine Accentors, a couple of Spotted Nutcrackers, and three Japanese Accentors (kayakuguri, カヤクグリ).
From the trail which passes above the meadow in the valley below Higashi-tenjo, I spent about 15 minutes watching (presumably) the same bear that I'd seen the day before. Then the fog descended, and I moved on. Earlier, on a far ridge, I briefly saw another one passing through an open area among the trees. With nothing to see—other than a few metres of mountainside either side of the trail, and thick fog all around—I was surprised to find visibility vastly different when I arrived at Jonen hut. It is set in the pass directly below Mount Jonen (2,857 metres) and Mount Yokodoshi (2,767 metres), and when I arrived at around 1130 I could see all the way to Matsumoto City to the southeast and across to the Yarigatake/Hodaka range to the west.
It had been a couple of months since I was last there, and I was welcomed by Miyata-san and Yamasaki-san, the manager, and as rain was forecast for later, I decided to stay overnight in the hut rather than in the tent. Miyata-san told me a bear has become a fairly frequent visitor to the area over the last few weeks, even coming close to the hut at times. I was given Room 20, my usual sleeping place, and after lunch and coffee I began the hour-long hike up to the summit of Jonen-dake.
On the way up, I asked a few hikers coming down if they had seen any ptarmigan. A couple told me about a female and five chicks just below the summit, but others said they had not seen any in the thick fog. I climbed as far as the small junction just below the peak, as that is a favoured area for ptarmigan. In the fog it was hard to see anything more than about 15 metres away, and several stones looked like birds! By walking up and down about 300 metres of trail I eventually heard the "peeping" noise of chicks calling, but finding them in the fog was another story! After 30 minutes or so of sitting on a rock and scanning the landscape, I eventually saw a movement about 20 metres away. It was a raicho chick. With more scanning, I finally found the female. She was sitting motionless, keeping her four other chicks warm in the cold afternoon wind. Through the fog it was difficult to see her clearly, as she resembled a stone and was not moving at all. After about 15 minutes, one chick and then another popped out and they all began feeding among the rocks.
A few minutes later, I had one of the wildlife experiences I'll never forget. The female became agitated, moving around and warning her chicks. Then, I saw the reason! About 25 metres away, I saw a large bear appear out of the fog, and it was heading my way! It had no idea I was nearby, as the wind was blowing from it towards me, so it could not smell me. It was busy feeding, scraping the surface here and there, or just eating something on the ground from among the rocks. Slowly it walked closer, and I just sat there, watching it move like a ghost through the fog. At its closest, it was less than 30 metres away, and as it had not seen or smelled me, I did not need to move. Interestingly, I saw that it had a yellow tag in its right ear, which meant that it had been caught somewhere by researchers and then tagged and released.
That was one lucky bear as, most of the time here in Japan, any bears which are caught or even thought to be a danger are shot, no questions asked. It was my lucky day, watching a family of ptarmigan and a bear at the same time!
After the bear had disappeared into the fog, I began to descend back to the hut. On the way down, I met two other hikers coming up, and they told me they had seen the bear heading down the mountain. By the time I got back to the area of haimatsu bushes growing near the hut, I could see the bear feeding, and it was heading towards the entrance of the hut. I moved quickly and predicted the bear would come through the bushes, pass by the top of the steps at the entrance, and then go into the bushes and trees on the other side of the picnic tables next to the campsite.
As I stood quietly, I could see the branches moving as the bear pushed its way through, and when it was close to me, I could read the tag number (155) with my binoculars. It passed the top of the steps and then moved to the camp area, where it appeared out of the trees right next to the only tent. I guess the people inside never knew how close the visitor came to them!
I'd had a great afternoon and by now the rain had started to fall. I called it a day and went inside and rested for an hour before joining Yamasaki-san and the staff for dinner—a huge pot of delicious hot stew and rice! In my room after a long day, I soon fell asleep, and as it was raining hard when I woke early this morning, I did not bother to get up at 4 a.m.! Instead, I got up at 6 a.m., had a coffee and the last three-day-old sandwich that I found in the bottom of my backpack, and headed out soon after 0700. As I was not going to be doing any birdwatching in the heavy rain, I went straight down the 5.7-km-long trail to Ichinosawa in just over two hours. A pre-ordered taxi was waiting to take me back to Hotaka Station, where I had 20 minutes to pack and get ready for the 1005 train to Matsumoto. There, I went to the Everest Indian/Nepali restaurant near the station for lunch and afterwards caught the 1320 express bus back to Tokyo, ending another of my fun and productive hikes though part of Japan's Northern Alps!
Yoroshiku —Chris
2 November 2021
Hi Kantori birders,
With this year's hiking season in the high mountains about to come to an end, over the weekend—for the sixth time this year—I hiked the Omote-Ginza trail before Jonen and Daitenso huts closed for the winter. Last week several centimetres of snow fell, and most of it was still lying on the peaks when I passed by between Saturday and Monday.
It was just before 0800 on Saturday that I began hiking up the trail from Ichinosawa to the pass at Jonen mountain hut. On a beautiful sunny day, under a cloudless blue sky and with autumn colours in every direction, I had the trail to myself. Inside the forest it was quiet, but I did have good views of two Brown Dippers (kawagarasu) in the stream halfway up. I hiked slowly, stopping at Kasahara-sawa for a hot drink and a snack before tackling the steep final one km to the ridge. It took me just under 4 hours to hike the 5.7 km to the hut. On arrival, I received the customary warm welcome from the staff and then sat outside at the tables and ate lunch. From where I was, I could look up at the snow-covered north slope of Mount Jonen, across to Mount Yarigatake, and over the nearby forest.
After lunch, I stowed my backpack inside the entrance and began the climb to the top of Jonen-dake. The amount of snow increased the higher I went, and at the summit it was knee-deep in places. As I climbed, I searched for the female ptarmigan (raicho) and her five chicks that I saw in early September, but with no fresh footprints to give their location away, I failed to find them.
In the narrow valley below the summit I saw several lines of footprints, but none appeared to be fresh, and there were no raicho standing in the snow where the footprints ended! Just below the summit I sat on a large rock and scoured the landscape, but nothing moved. My search lasted until the light began to fade, when I gave up and returned to the hut for dinner with Yamasaki-san, the manager, and the staff. For dessert and as a mark of gratitude, I handed over a large tin of cookies and an assortment of chocolate bars that I had carried up.
After a long and very welcome sleep, I began Sunday with another hike to the summit. This time I was in luck, as a male Rock Ptarmigan flew in and settled on a steep, snow-covered slope not far from where I was. Very slowly I moved closer, hoping he would not see me in my red jacket and black ski pants. He allowed me to get within about 10 metres, but from his exposed perch he kept an eye on me. In the other direction, he could look at the view towards Matsumoto City, way down in the valley, and other mountains to the east. I stayed with him for about 20 minutes and watched him feed on some dry leaves and buds poking out of the snow before he disappeared out of sight.
Back at the hut I packed my backpack, filled a flask with hot water and, after a very early lunch, thanked Yamasaki-san for his help this year. This time I received some sad news, as I was told that at least three of the staff—including Miyata-san, who has diligently worked at Jonen-goya for several years—will be leaving. One of the aspects that I enjoy is meeting the staff year after year, and Miyata-san especially has been very helpful during the many times that I have stayed at Jonen hut. After a final farewell I headed off up the mountain and began hiking north in the direction of Mount Otensho and Daiten-so hut.
During the three hours that it took me to hike along the ridge to Otensho, I only met one not-so-friendly elderly Japanese hiker and a small group of young Chinese hikers from Tokyo. Otherwise, I had the mountains to myself, which was fine with me! Unlike the previous day, Sunday was cloudy, so I thought I would have a chance of finding a few ptarmigan along the way. But it was a quiet hike, and apart from a small flock of five Alpine Accentors (iwahibari), a few Spotted Nutcrackers (hoshigarasu) and a single ptarmigan feeding in a rowan bush, I didn't see much.
But when I neared Daiten-so hut, good things began to happen! I found a male ptarmigan just off the trail, heard one more calling as it flew (two ladies told me there were two birds, but as it was misty I was not able to see exactly where they were flying and missed them) and then, just before dark, I found two birds close to the hut.
At Daiten-so, Sakaki-san and his staff welcomed me and gave me a small room to sleep in. I was hungry after the hike, and just a few minutes after my arrival, dinner was served. Before sitting down, I gave some cookies and chocolates for Sakaki-san and the staff to enjoy, and I'm sure they didn't last very long! Part of the reason to go to Daiten-so on Sunday—the final day this year the hut was open—was because it was also my last chance to have delicious imoni, a filling vegetable soup from the Tohoku region that is served from October 1st at Daiten-so. An hour later, after two large bowls of soup as well as the main meal, my stomach was full and all I wanted to do was to lie down.
That I did, but only for about 30 minutes, as from 1845 a small party was held to mark the end of the season. As it was the last night this year that the hut was open, about 25 other guests had made the hike. During this lively social event, the room was filled with talk about hikes they had done this year and plans for next season. Wine, coffee and a selection of sweet and delicious homemade cakes were served! As I don't drink alcohol, I passed on the wine, but did treat myself to a slice of cheesecake and a cup of hot coffee before retiring for the night.
Among those staying were Imamura-san, the manager of Hutte Yari, and Hayashi-san, who was formerly at Enzan-so hut and who now works part-time at Ariake-so, the hot spring accommodation at Nakabusa Onsen, at the base of Mount Tsubakuro. It was nice to catch up with them both, as it was the first time since New Year’s that our paths had crossed.
On Monday, snug in my warm winter clothes though the temperature was about -5 C, I was on the trail well before sunrise. I hiked about 1 km to the south but after two hours returned empty-handed: No raicho! Another day, another beautiful sunrise, but I had to get moving. With Sakaki-san's kindness, I downed a hot coffee, hoisted my heavy backpack onto my back and thanked all the staff, who lined up and waved me off as they hung out the dining room windows. After negotiating the steep, snowy slope down the side of Mount Otensho with the aid of an ice pick, it took me just three hours to hike along the ridge to Enzan-so.
The weather was fine and sunny, and like Saturday, no raicho had ventured out. With no reason to stop and watch anything, it took me just three hours to hike along the ridge to Enzan-so. On the way I did see three hawks, probably Eurasian Sparrowhawks (haitaka), circling on a thermal high above Otensho, a couple of Spotted Nutcrackers and one rather late Japanese Accentor (kayakuguri). Normally these birds leave the high mountain ridges earlier (most have gone by early-/mid-October), and stay at lower elevations during the winter.
At Enzan-so, Inagaki-san and Kawachi-san, the reception desk staff, greeted me, and I sat outside in the warm sun for an hour and made hot coffee and a pot of hot noodles on my gas stove. For about 30 minutes I searched for the female ptarmigan and her chicks that live around the hut, but there was no sign of them anywhere. As I ate my noodles, a group of five Alpine Accentors arrived and hunted for food under the tables before flying off again.
I began my descent soon after 1300, and 2 hours and 5 minutes later I arrived at the trailhead at Nakabusa Onsen, 5.5 km down the mountain at the end of a 48-km-long hike. The last bus was not until 1620, which was an hour later. Luckily a couple of hikers from Fujisawa, who had met me before in the huts, came over and very kindly offered to drive me to Hotaka Station. I hopped out of the car at 1620, at exactly the time the last bus of the day was leaving Nakabusa Onsen, and I had to wait for only about 5 minutes on the platform for the train back to Matsumoto.
As I hiked the Omote-Ginza trail one more time last weekend, I looked across at the other peaks, and realised that this year I had not been anywhere other than between Jonen and Otensho and Tsubakuro. I saw Norikura, Kasagatake, Sugoroku, Tateyama and several others on the skyline, but had not gone near any of them. And it is now 5 years since I hiked from Kamikochi up to Minami-dake and Yarigatake.
Maybe next year, things will be different!
Yoroshiku—Chris
20 June 2022
Hi Kantori birders
A few times recently I've been training on the "kiddies' course" — 599-metre-high Mount Takao, just west of Tokyo — just in case I decided to go and hike on a real mountain. At the end of last week, I pushed work aside and escaped. On Thursday night I headed over to Matsumoto, in Nagano-ken. The expressway bus didn't arrive until just after midnight, so after rolling out my sleeping bag in a quiet corner of the station, I managed to get in a few hours of zzzzzzzz.
At 0556, the first train of the day to Shinano-Omachi left, and 25 minutes later I hopped off at Hotaka Station. My plan was to hike along part of the Omote-Ginza trail — named due to its popularity but definitely not as crowded as the glitzy and crowded Ginza shopping district in central Tokyo. From Hotaka there are two ways to get to two hiking trail entrances: via a ¥5,000 taxi ride to Ichinosawa, or by the more economical (¥1,500) local bus to Nakabusa Onsen. Occasionally I've been lucky and have managed to share a taxi and split the fare to Ichinosawa with some other hikers. But early Friday morning, there was just one taxi and no hikers heading to Ichinosawa.
At the bus stop, half a dozen people were lined up, and I caught the microbus to Nakabusa Onsen. Ishiguro-san, the driver, told me he had seen two Asian Black Bears ツキノワグマ along the route in recent days, but none popped out of the forest as we drove the winding mountain road. Everyone with their backpacks piled out when the bus arrived soon before 0730, and as I made last-minute adjustments to my 20+kg bag, Sawada-san, who works at the onsen, stopped by for a chat and the latest Nakabusa area bear information.
By 0815 I was ready to hit the trail and so began my steep slog up the side of the mountain to Gassengoya hut and at the top, Enzan-so. With a few brief stops en route and a longer 15-minute break at Gassengoya, I arrived at Enzan-so at 1300. I've climbed in much shorter time, but with a heavy backpack I just couldn't go any faster up the steeper parts of the trail, of which there were many.
On the way up through the trees ,I heard a few forest birds (Lesser Cuckoo ホトトグイス, Northern Hawk Cuckoo ジュイチ, Goldcrest キクイタダイ and Spotted Nutcracker ホシガラス) but only saw a male Siberian Blue Robin コルリ and a pair of Eurasian Bullfinches ウソ. Higher up, I heard Japanese Leaf Warblers メボソムシクイ and Red-flanked Bluetails ルリビタキ and just below the summit, a Japanese Accentor カヤクグリ sang from the top of a pine sapling.
At the hut, the staff welcomed me, and after Kawachi-san had told me the latest news about the pair of Rock Ptarmigan ライチョウ that live nearby, I spent 30 minutes wandering around looking for them. The female was probably sitting on a nest of eggs, so I didn't expect to see her, but the male, seen by several other people around the campsite in recent days, eluded me, so I gave up and concentrated on eating lunch at the outdoor tables.
Although 1420 was later than I would have liked, I decided to hike over to Mount Otensho. I expected to arrive at about 1800, when there was still enough light to put up the tent which Yann-san, a French birding friend in Japan/Hong Kong, very kindly let me borrow. As I slowly wandered along the trail, I admired the early flowering alpine flowers and also the scenery of nearby mountain ranges to the west and northwest. Below, from the forest, birdsong floated up on the breeze, and I enjoyed a relaxed hike in the warm, sunny early summer weather.
The whole purpose of the trip was to check on my buddies, the ptarmigan, and also to look for bears. But, with nice weather, ptarmigan are hard to find, as they are often sheltering under the Haimatsu bushes or among the rocks. I was lucky, as about an hour after I started, I found one male among the rocks just north of a steep slope called Okudari. It was just sitting there, watching the world and a few hikers go by, and I spent about half an hour nearby, taking photos and watching it.
Just before 1800 I arrived at the beginning of the steep path up to Otensho, where I stopped for a final rest and drank hot coffee. Step by step I slowly climbed up and at 1830 arrived at the entrance to Daiten-so mountain hut. The hut itself was not open for guests, but the next day, Saturday, it would open its doors for the 2022 hiking season. Sakaki-san and his staff welcomed me, and after a short chat, I left them to enjoy the last few hours of calmness before the first hikers arrived the next day.
At the tent site among the rocks in front of Daiten-so, I found a suitable place, flat and without any stones poking out of the ground, and began the process of putting up my tent. By the time I'd finished and put my bag and everything else inside, I was too tired to even think about making dinner, so I unzipped the sleeping bag, climbed inside, zipped it up and went to sleep. Due to a low-pressure area affecting central Japan, Saturday night turned out to be a windy one, and throughout I was often awakened as the tent shook with the force of the wind hitting it. And it was cold, too, so I was glad that I'd packed extra clothes and a down jacket, as I needed all to keep warm.
Early on Saturday, when I met Sakaki-san for coffee, he told me the temperature at dawn was just 5°C. Overnight I'd recharged my body with a long sleep, and my plan was to spend the day just enjoying being around Otensho. There were only three items on the agenda: eat, look for ptarmigan, and look for bears. Sakaki-san had given me the latest information, so I knew approximately where to look for my buddies.
He'd made coffee early, so soon after dawn, before I left the hut, I downed a couple of cups and filled my flask. And off I went along the trail, bag over shoulder, binoculars at the ready, in the direction of Jonen-dake. In the strong, cold northwest wind, few birds were in the mood to show themselves. Two Alpine Accentors イワヒバリ were feeding among the rocks close to the hut, but otherwise I didn't see anything for the next hour. My plan was to hike as far as the pass below Higashi-tenjo peak (about 2.5 km), check the area for ptarmigan and bears, then return to Daiten-so for coffee and for a late breakfast/early lunch.
There was no one else around, so I had the trail and the mountains to myself — just me and the birds, the alpine flowers and the openness of the mountain peaks near and far. In the distance, not far from Nishi-dake mountain hut, I saw a single bear feeding. At Higashi-tenjo Pass 東天井乗り越し I found a large area of snow that had not yet melted, so I sat down at the edge and began scanning the "forest" of Haimatsu bushes below. The open grassy areas between the bushes and the narrow valley below are magnets for bears during the summer, as the slopes are covered with tasty grass and fresh leaves of alpine plants.
No sooner had I sat down than I saw a large black shape pushing its way through the haimatsu bushes just 150 metres below me. One of my target species for the day, a bear! And, if that was not exciting enough, nearby was another! I assume that these bears are males which come up from the valleys to feed on the lush vegetation during the summer months. I have seen females and cubs there too, but invariably it is single animals. The two animals seemed to be on a collision course, and sure enough a few minutes later the nearer one charged the other, and both bears disappeared into the thick haimatsu bushes. After that I could occasionally see the head of one bear poking out of the bushes, but after an hour of waiting to see them come out, nothing else happened, so I assume they were both resting in a warm and sheltered spot deep inside the forest. I picked up my bag and began the hike back to Otensho.
On the way, just to the south of Naka-ten, the small peak 500 metres south of the hut, I found a male raicho on guard duty. At this time of the year, with the females sitting on the nest for long periods of time, males will often sit out in exposed places, like on top of a high rock, and watch over their territories. This particular male allowed me to get within a couple of metres, and we sat together of half an hour while I took some photos before I left it in peace.
It was lunchtime when I arrived back at the hut, and I was hungry. I dug a couple of two-day-old sandwiches out of the bottom of my backpack, drank some more coffee, and then intended to spend the afternoon looking for my buddies around the summit of Otensho and on the lower north slope. Just as I was finishing eating, I heard a ptarmigan calling nearby, and only 25 metres from where I was, I found two males fighting. One bird had obviously strayed into the territory of the resident male, and the two were chasing each other and calling. The intruder gave up and flew over the rooftop towards to summit of Otensho, while the other bird moved a short distance towards the east.
Later, I heard a male (presumably the intruder) calling halfway down the mountain but could not locate it. I climbed back up and began another search along the trail south of Otensho. This time I had more success, as I found two males: the male whose territory includes Daiten-so hut and the bird I'd photographed on the south side of Naka-ten before lunch.
Later on, I was able to take a short video of the Daiten-so male enjoying a dust bath, and the other male (the one I'd spent some time with before lunch) let me sit nearby for almost an hour while I took close-up photos as the sun was setting. Although I cannot say for certain, it seems there are four and possibly even five males in the Daiten-so area, as I heard another different male calling, too.
After curry rice and ramen noodles for dinner, I was ready to sleep, and I didn't wake up until I heard my buddy calling near the tent at 0330, while it was still dark. There were actually two birds near the hut, and as dawn broke I saw one atop a large rocky outcrop nearby.
Sunday dawned cloudy, but at least the wind had dropped. Today was moving day, so I packed my tent, and after thanking Sakaki-san I left Daiten-so at 0615. I was hoping to meet some of my buddies and maybe a bear or two along the way, but by the time I reached Jonen-goya at 1300, I'd seen almost nothing. I didn't know the two new and friendly summer staff at Jonen-goya reception, but they knew of me. "Are you Raicho Chris?" one of them asked. I paid for a place to put up the tent, ordered lunch, and then spent the rest of the afternoon climbing to the summit of Jonen-dake.
Almost at the top I began to hear thunder rumbling far away to the north, but I guessed that I still had enough time to look for ptarmigan. There were at least three males, maybe four, just below the summit junction, and I found another very confiding male about halfway down. And as I arrived back at the hut, two birds flew over the mountainside not far away. I was very lucky in that virtually the second I stepped inside the hut to get some hot water, a brief but very heavy rain shower began. I made dinner under the awning while waiting for the rain to stop, and as it was getting dark I heard the call of a male ptarmigan as it flew to its roosting spot not far away.
The plan for Sunday was to check the valley below Higashi-tenjo soon after dawn, return for a late breakfast, and then descend to the trailhead at Ichinosawa. I watched the sun rise as I hiked up towards Yokodoshi peak and carried on to my "bear-viewing rock"—a comfortable place to sit where I can look across to the opposite slope and look for feeding bears. It was sunny and calm, but in the shadow of the mountain, cold until the sun rose high enough.
At first I could see no furry black beasts, but after a while I spotted a bear emerging from among the bushes. It went to a birch tree that was growing horizontally and climbed onto the trunk, where it sat for a few minutes before resuming feeding. It then disappeared into the bushes again and although I waited and waited, it didn't reappear. An hour or more after I'd first seen it, I noticed a bear walking on the snow about 200 metres below me. As it slowly walked along, it was eating something off the surface, but I could not see what it was. Possibly fallen haimatsu cones? For about 40 minutes I watched the bear, presumably the same one that I'd seen earlier, through binoculars, and also took some poor-quality photos with my emergency crappy Canon camera. A couple of times it appeared to be eating snow.
While I was sitting and watching, a handful of hikers passed me en route to or from Otensho or Jonen, and none of them had any idea that a bear was nearby. Several had bear bells attached to their backpacks, and if I asked them if they had seen any bears, all responded that bears are dangerous and that they definitely didn't want to meet one.
Eventually the time came for me to return to Jonen-goya and prepare for my descent. Back at the hut I thanked the staff and at 1115 began hiking down to the trailhead entrance at Ichinosawa. On the way I saw or heard Japanese Robins コマドリ, Red-flanked Bluetails ルリビタキ, three Sakhalin Leaf Warblers エゾムシクイ Blue-and-white Flycatchers オオルリand another Lesser Cuckoo ホトトグイス.
As I had not made a reservation for a ¥5,000 taxi ride back to Hotaka Station, I continued from the trail entrance in the direction of Hotaka village. Fortunately, I did not have to hike all the way, as a very kind Japanese hiker whom I had briefly chatted with near my "bear chair" stopped his car and asked if he could take me to the nearest station.
I told him I was walking to Hotaka Station to catch the local train to Matsumoto. With this information, he told me he was going home to Ina City, about an hour's drive to the south of Matsumoto and that he would drop me off in front of Matsumoto Station. That sounded good to me, as after a lot of downhill hiking, my legs were beginning to get tired. It meant I did not have to hike the remaining 3 km to the station, and I'd be driven right to where I wanted to go. On the way we had an interesting conversation about hiking in Japan, and he also gave me some information about places where he'd seen ptarmigan while on his one-day hikes. But, unfortunately for him, he was forced to listen to my tales about my buddies and bears in the mountains.
I never made it all the way to Hotaka Station, but later while waiting for the expressway bus in Matsumoto, I checked the health app on my iPhone. Between early Friday morning and my arrival in Matsumoto on Monday afternoon, I'd hiked almost 63 km!
That's probably enough exercise for my legs for a day or two.
Yoroshiku, Chris