A Visit to Kamikochi National Park Japan

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One of our sons is married to a Japanese girl, and is permanently resident in Japan, so Jill and I are fortunate to have the opportunity to visit them and to travel to other parts of Honshu. Jeremy and Kazuko live in Tokyo, so we usually spend some time wandering around the city; but the real excitement comes when we travel to the more remote areas in the mountains. Around 90% of the Japanese land-mass is comprised of mountains, and some 90% of the population live on the other 10%. Nagano Prefecture contains some spectacular mountain scenery, and we visited the Kamikochi National Park with our son and his wife and my sister, on our first trip to Japan in May 2001. This area, near Matsumoto, is popularly known as the 'Japanese Alps', the first person to climb in this area being an English clergyman called Weston.

After an overnight stay in Matsumoto City, we drove up into the Kamikochi range as far as private cars were allowed, then had to take to coaches for the rest of the hair-raising drive to our destination - the Asuza River valley high in the mountains. The road climbed ever higher, plunging into tunnels, emerging onto spectacular bridges spanning dizzying gorges - glimpses of water tumbling far below, smoke rising from cracks in sleeping volcanoes - then into the next mountain tunnel. We reached the terminus - a small village where we emerged into steady rain, descended to the track along the Asuza River bank, and we were off on our trek up the valley.

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We discovered that the Japanese carry umbrellas everywhere they go - with good reason, as we had non-stop rain for the whole four days of our visit to Nagano. Trekking through forests of silver birch and bamboo-grass, we came across this colourful scene of a coachload of umbrella-wielding tourists; I couldn't resist the image of these people, dressed as if in town, wandering along this valley some 4,000 feet above sea level in a remote mountain range.

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After a couple of hours walking we crossed the river, another short walk, then the welcome sight of a hotel nestling in the trees; a chance to get dry, powder our noses, and take lunch. The Shimizuya Hotel stood at the very foot of a mountain, just above the river. Jill and I decided that it would make an ideal base for a weeks' holiday, providing the opportunity to wander further in the side valleys and as far up the mountain tracks as our aged legs would carry us; a dream - but perhaps one day? Jill settled down by a large window overlooking the river, intrigued by the view of mountains opposite - the snow still clinging to the steep ravines dividing them, though this was a warm day in May.

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I left her happily sketching the scene, and wandered around the hotel looking for someone interesting to talk to. Jeremy and Kazu were with us, so there was no language problem, but I like to chat to anyone who will listen. I was lucky to find a girl on the staff who spoke quite good English; as I explained to Jill afterwards, it wasn't my fault that she just happened to be very pretty, too!

Through the window next to Jill you will see a chain-like structure with water dripping down it; these were the local version of rain-water pipes - little hooked buckets dangling from the eaves, the rain tinkling and bouncing down from one to the other, making delightful music and shimmering lights as it fell.

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This is a closer view of the rain-drip, and of the mountain range across the river that Jill was busy sketching.

Jeremy told us that this part of the valley was called Kasumizawa - in English, 'Misty Swamp'; we had to agree that its name was certainly well-chosen.

After a couple of hours, we were dry, fed, watered and rested, and ready to face the rain for a walk further up the valley, to cross the river again on the Kappa Bridge. This proved to be a wood and wire cable suspension bridge, with curious cable stays under the decking. When we asked what they were for, we were told that these were to dampen the movement during earthquakes! Not fancying a dizzying crossing swaying above the icy glacial melt-water, we said that we were quite happy to dispense with the earthquake on this trip.

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Here's Jill, on the right of the picture, safely across the river and gazing up past the bridge at the impressive sight of the Hotaka mountain ranges at the head of the valley.

We would dearly have loved to explore further up the valley and into that snow-basin; we always did have ambitions beyond our capabilities. However, the coaches were waiting at this point to take us back down the mountain to our car, then 'home' to Matsumoto for that night.

Having stayed in a modern hotel - though equipped with the usual onsen (volcanic hot-water plunge baths) - in the city the night before, this evening we were to stay in a traditional Japanese Ryokan, or Guest House.

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This was a lovely wooden building set into a ledge on the hillside outside the city, surrounded by beautiful rock-gardens sloping down the hillside.

In the corridor outside our room was an intriguing window shaped like an Oriental eye. On peering through it, I saw that the garden designer had lead a stream tumbling down the hillside in a series of cataracts so that it finally fell over a rock and apparently 'into' the bottom of the eye.

The Japanese are masters of this kind of artefact - something to delight the eye, but viewable only through this one window.

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Another kind of masterpiece awaited us the next morning - the exquisitely beautiful traditional breakfast table, a photo of which I used as the header for this entry. Japanese chefs lavish as much care on the colourful containers and presentation of the food as on the cooking itself. Jill and my sister Valerie and I bravely tackled as many of these unknown dishes as we could manage - though we did baulk at an apparently raw egg floating in a kind of soup. We smiled, and tried to look as if we were enjoying it, but were secretly longing for a pot of tea and a bowl of cereal!

This whole building was a work of art, with wood and rock fashioned into delightful corridors, dining-rooms and bedrooms - these last with tatami-mat floors. We had to remove our shoes at the guest house entrance, and wear hotel slippers on the waxed wood floors. There were two onsen here - one rather spectacular affair in the basement, and an outdoor one set up in the rock gardens. Jeremy and I chose the outdoor one, climbing gingerly up rock steps, dressed in our hotel jin-bei (a light cotton two-piece garment) and holding umbrellas against the incessant rain. Before entering the onsen, one must wash all over several times to ensure scrupulous cleanliness, as everyone shares the hot-spring bath. That was a memorable experience, sitting under a bamboo screen up to our necks in almost scalding water smelling like cabbage soup (the result of the sulphurous volcanic content); we gazed across the rice-paddy-filled plain at the lights of Matsumoto, whilst cold air tumbled down the mountain and cooled us with showers of rain.

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While Kazu rested, Jill and Valerie decided to brave the onsen on their own, but got lost and rambled around until a member of staff pointed the way over a wooden bridge. This crossed a 'ravine', with a small river tumbling down rocks into a pool - where large koi carp swam around (all this inside the hotel). Apparently, my sister looked at Jill and said "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm not taking my clothes off and going in there with those fish!" But they discovered that this was merely a spectacular introduction to the onsen proper just around the corner, fully equipped with dressing rooms and showers, with the men's indoor onsen next door.

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On our final day, when we visited the Hokusai Museum in Obuse - a house where the famous artist spent the last ten years of his life - we spent one night in a ski-lodge lent to us by a friend, then headed back to Tokyo. We arrived back at Jeremy and Kazu's flat weary and somewhat damp after our four rainy days, but with some memorable experiences of our adventures in the mountains of Nagano.

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Many months after we were back home in England, Jill used her sketches and my reference photographs to complete a finished painting of the river and mountains of Kasumizawa. It hangs in the stairwell of our cottage, a fitting reminder of a wonderful holiday in that wild country so far away.

'Kasumizawa, Kamikochi National Park, Japan.'

Jill Sanderson.

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