``Japanese mountains? I suppose you mean Fuji?" This was the usual response when I told people of my plans. Well, I did spend a very enjoyable day walking up Fuji, but Japan also contains two beautiful ranges known as the Japan Alps (North and South) in which hut mountaineering is well developed. My long-cherished ambition to get to these mountains was realized in September 1981.
The Japan Alps were first explored for mountaineering purposes by an Englishman, Rev. Walter Weston, in the 1890's. Nowadays, however, very few of the foreigners who visit (or live in) Japan find their way there. I didn't meet a single non-Japanese person during my time there apart from one lone American just as I was setting off. The mountains themselves are well-charted and quite easy, but this total lack of other foreigners contributed something to the feeling of adventure.
Though the Japanese have completely adopted Weston's term ``Alps" for these mountains, this name is not always to be found on maps. The ``North Alps", called Hida Sammyaku on some maps, is the range just west of Matsumoto, about 200 km NNW of Tokyo. The ``South Alps", alias Akaishi Sammyaku, are to the west of Kofu, about 130 km west of Tokyo. Both ranges extend about 100km in a north-south direction. The highest point in the North Alps is Hotaka Dake, 3190m. The South Alps beat this by two metres, rising to 3192m at Kita Dake (which, confusingly, means ``North Peak"!).
Both ranges contain a good number of peaks over 3000m. In appearance and character, I found them quite similar to the non-glaciated Austrian mountains of this height. There is generally dense forest up to about 2500m. In fact, a lot of Japan is covered by steep wooded hills; the only mountains that are high enough to rise substantially above forest level are Fuji, the ``Alps" and the mountains of Hokkaido, the northern island, where the tree line is lower. In the ``Alps", smaller plants and shrubs are found right up to summit level, though some of the peaks, especially in the North Alps, are bare rock. There are large areas of twisted pine bushes similar to the Austrian Latschen, known here as haimatsu. I did not see much wild life except for occasional groups of ptarmigan (raicho), which were quite ready to let me come close. There are no dangerous wild beasts to worry about.
Most of the peaks are joined by high ridges. Many of the huts are placed on these ridges, some of them actually on summits. Because of this, one can walk for several days without descending to the valleys. My five-day programme in the North Alps took in 19 summits. The network of huts is so dense that it is often possible to be flexible in deciding one's destination for the day. It is essential, of course, to have a good, detailed map. These are easily obtainable at the points of entry into the mountains. They are printed in Japanese writing (i.e. Chinese characters) only, but fortunately they indicate huts by unmistakable pictures. Names of mountains and huts are soon discovered by asking people; my own maps are now annotated in the Roman alphabet. The maps also mark suggested times for each section of the path, though different maps don't always agree! On the whole, I found the map times very generous. One can use them to deduce which sections of the route are less easy. Detailed Japanese guide books exist, but they are quite unnecessary for walkers staying on the beaten track. Hard climbing is certainly available in places, but as a mere walker this was not my objective.
The paths were always well marked, usually with circles. One soon tumbled to the fact that an X indicated where not to go! Generally, they were quite similar to Austrian paths, passing through most kinds of mountain territory apart from British-type bogs. Mostly, they are quite easy walking, but there are a few places where a bit of clambering becomes necessary. These are liberally (I felt rather too liberally) provided with chains, ladders and other artificial aids. One of the best examples of such a place is the southern half of the range connecting Hotaka Dake to the second highest peak in the North Alps, the shapely point of Yariga Take (3180m), often referred to just as ``Yari". I had been led to expect something terrifying here, but in fact it consisted of enjoyable scrambling comparable to Jack's Rake or Crib Goch (but sustained for longer). The worst bit of path I encountered was actually down in the forest, on what was clearly a less travelled section. One would certainly be most unwise to leave the path in forest areas.
There are some tongues of permanent snow overlaying ice a few feet deep, but they are quite tame and can hardly be regarded as glaciers. In one place, my route took me down one of these, and I found it a pleasant alternative to walking in the forest.
During my brief stay, I was treated to a demonstration that Japanese mountain weather includes all the phenomena (sun, rain, mist) known elsewhere. Low-lying parts of Japan can still be unpleasantly hot and humid in early September. Up in the mountains, days were very warm when the sun was shining, but decidedly cool when it wasn't. Freezing temperatures prevailed at night.
The huts are built mostly of wood, and vary in size as much as European ones. They are very crowded in July and August, when most Japanese have their holidays, but pleasantly empty in September. There were six people staying in my first hut. Its theoretical capacity was 100, though this seemed to me to be a generous figure, and I was told that there had regularly been 200 there in August. One person described an occasion when he had set up a tripod to photograph the dawn, and was then unable to force his way back to it through the mass of people! Crowds of humanity are a general feature of Japanese life. In September, by contrast, there are so few people that some of the huts in less popular areas close down. I was caught out by this once, though my mistake could have been avoided by referring to the Japanese guide book. Some of the huts allow campers to establish themselves nearby and make use of their facilities, and a few hardy souls were doing this.
There is no equivalent of the Alpenverein, but the huts are run on fairly standardized lines. Meals are provided, in the Japanese style. I approached the food with some trepidation, but quickly found it quite palatable. The quantity was ample provided that one could stomach heaps of plain boiled rice, the basic filler. At breakfast time I admit that I found my appetite for this somewhat limited! Survival depend on being able to use chopsticks; it doesn't take long to develop an adequate, if not elegant, technique. No fruit is provided, and I was glad that I had taken my own supply. The Japanese nashi, a unique cross between an apple and a pear, proved excellent for this purpose. The charge for an overnight stay with supper and breakfast varied between 3900 and 4400 yen (the exchange rate was 420 yen to the pound at the time). Breakfast was usually at about 6 am: with no snow slopes to scale, there was no need to set off any earlier.
Many of the huts are supplied by helicopters, which take the rubbish with them on the return journey.
Everywhere the reception was friendly: in fact, I found mountains and mountain huts a much better place to meet the Japanese than anywhere else. My hastily acquired smattering of Japanese came in for much more use than I expected: English is not very widely spoken. I would strongly recommend anyone going to these places to make the effort to learn a bit of basic Japanese. Contrary to popular belief, this isn't unreasonably difficult (though acquiring real proficency is another matter!).
I had equipped myself with a few British postcards, as well as photos of my house and family. These invariably occasioned enormous interest, sometimes forming the agenda for an entire evening's conversation. The first time I gave a postcard to a companion, I was promptly presented with a fearsome Japanese hatchet in return!
Not many Europeans will travel to Japan purely to climb the mountains, but as one ingredient of a visit to a fascinating country, or for anyone there on business with a bit of time to spare, these ranges are to be highly recommended. Anyone seriously contemplating the trip is welcome to contact me for more details on such matters as how to get to the mountains (not entirely straightforward for the foreign visitor) and a look at my maps. In turn, I am indebted for this kind of help to Patrick Sprunt, formerly of the British Embassy in Tokyo, and possibly the only other Britisher in recent years to have followed in the tradition of Walter Weston. If others exist, we would be very interested to hear from them.