Kayak Journal Day 29 (1/23) I awake to the sound of footsteps in the gravel path just inches from my head, and I soon make out the sniffing of an animal. Slightly alarmed, I slowly retreat deeper into the protection of my sleeping bag. Pshhhhhhtttt, I hear in a commanding tone, and this sniffing sound stops. Relieved it was just a dog, I untuck my head from my sleeping bag and roll over to check the weather; 9-14 meter per second wind all day. I walk down to my kayak and am given a quick shock to see that the tideline came all the way up to the rear hatch of my kayak, which was just next to where my tent would have been had I not moved. As I walk back up the stairs I take a second to reflect on how lucky I was not have been awaken by a cold splash of sea water and a soaked sleeping bag. As Im making a breakfast of miso soup, I drop in some of the Wakame that I was given the day before and to my surprise, this sea-weed which was before a purple color mysteriously turns green in the boiling water. Enjoying a warm breakfast, I decide to go and explore this small city but first I must find a place to buy some milk. Looking up the road, I spot a middle aged woman leaving her house and ask where the local store is. She points up the street and says something about a post office, to which I have no idea what shes referencing. I walk where she was pointing and just up the road I see a post office box, which is right next to the very small family store. I open the door to a dark room with only a few shelves and a lone refrigerator buzzing in the corner. I look around, seeing no-one I say Konichiwa, and a voice from across the small street answers. I look back and see a man carrying clothes, entering the store and stands behind the resister. I give him the 250 Yen and juste before I turn to leave I pull a Life Recycled flyer from my pocket and present it to him, quickly talking about my my passion for the environment. He smiles and I turn to leave his humble little store with my liter of milk. Opening the carton just outside his store and taking a swig, Im now ready to explore this little city and the wonders it has to offer. Feeling adventurous, I take the first path leading towards the mountain tops in the distance and as this path gets even narrower with the the concrete showing signs of aging and decay, I continue on to an even smaller path winding through numerous farm plots that dot the upper limits of this little city. Soon realizing I must walk back due to a dead end, I spot, what I assume to be a fake leather, although it could be real, recliner placed with Its to back to the fence in one of the farming plots, complete with an old blanket filled with bugs. Slightly perplexed, I reflect on how hard it must have been to get this large chair up this little path, only to leave it out in the open to get rained on and ruined. Now on a smaller paved road with the occasional car buzzing by I spot a sign that says something about not throwing trash here (Gomi Dame) and wonder over to the mountainside where I am greeted by waste of all sorts ranging from full trash bags to the running shoe, trailing down the length of the mountain to the ocean below. Saddened, that even in this small town of less then 300 people, there is such disregard for the environment; but whats even more disturbing is that it was getting so bad the someone had to put a sign up urging, what I assume to be, his neighbors, not to dump trash down the mountainside. I reflect on this for a second and trying to find a reason, I think it must be the age of the inhabitant of this city as well as the fact that this has probably been going on for a long time and they see no need to change. Taking a few pictures, I walk on to what looks like a mountain top shrine. After the first few turns and as the path continued to get steeper, I wondered how any of the elder residents made it up here. Climbing up this steep trail for about another 15 minutes, the trail edges finally begins to thin and eventually I see blue sky, signaling Im near the top. As I round the last corner, I can barley hold my excitement in as I imagine a grand shrine adorned with beautiful woodwork and high ceilings. I reach the top and look around but see nothing. Sure I must be missing what Ive hiked all this way for, I walk a little further and see a very small stone shrine about the length of my tent and half as tall. Slightly amused and laughing at myself for having such grand thoughts, I remove my jacket, wet from perspiration and see a clearing in the brush a little farther down. Now walking from peak to peak, I move slowly and look at the beautiful views of endless beaches divided by jagged rocks emerging from between the trees as I walk along this trail. Soon I come to a second small shrine, this one with a few small statues and incense that must have recently been burned. Admiring this location for a few minutes, I walk back down the mountain on an even steeper and narrower path then on the way up and am sure no person from this village is making the trek all the way up here. I return to my tent, now being pulled and pushed by the gusts that are violently ripping at everything in their path. I open the zipper and jump in, careful not to let the wind catch the inside of my tent, which will surely result it the tent becoming a large kite. Once again, within a few minutes I hear a moped stop just I front of the tent door and someone says something in Japanese. I emerge to another old fisherman saying something about me being cold and instructing me to follow him around the corner, recommending yet another place to move my tent; although this spot is almost entirely out of the wind. Once again I oblige, and soon settle into my new location and begin to cook curry rice but not before I am now approached by a kind policeman asking about what Im doing...and the story goes on....
Posted on: Fri, 23 Jan 2015 10:39:11 +0000