Tokai Shizen Hoedown VIII and IV: Twice Walkin' & Twice Rockin'

Flying in over the mountainous spine of the Chugoku region had made me long to get walking again. It took only a few days for me to lace up my boots and head upward. Miki and I picked up the TSH at Kasagi following the road through the village, then climbing the path to Kasagi Temple. There were quite a few folks about, braving the chill wind while picnicking under momiji full blown with color. We walked past the ancient temple buildings, beneath tremendous rocks cut with Buddhist deities. You had to feel a little sorry for the men--presumably men, in those days-- who had carved these figures, since their labours inevitably go unrewarded. As if often the case in Asia, such incredible feats are often labelled with mythological hyperbole. "Kobo Daishi rested here for a meal, then using his toothpick, carved these Buddhas in a single afternoon" and the like. Miki and I too rested for a meal, sitting on a boulder at the highest point of the trail. But the only feats we did were to take somebodies photo.

We headed on along the ridge to Yagyu Village. I hadn't been out here for years, since the summer of 2003 when NHK was showing that "Musashi" program in which the Yagyu family played a prominent part. We poked around the old manor awhile. I was especially taken with the old wooden bokken and kenjutsu gear, the ancestors of today's kendo bogu. In one room were a series of photos of the village, comparing shots of certain locations taken both recently and back in the day. As usual, the newer came off the poorer. We walked up to the old dojo next, and sat on the steps to have tea and rice crackers. The Yagyu graves looked much as I remembered them, though I hadn't then noticed that Munenori's grave marker (teacher to the Shogun) was bigger than his father's (founder of the school of swordsmanship ). Typical how people with political clout are often more rewarded than those who create. We followed the trail past the tea fields to the mysterious grove where I'd had my bizarre encounter with a serpent. This time too I was mesmerized, at the stones and the trees and the silence. This is a magic place still. And a magic still place. Miki pointed out a carved Tengu on the hillside which I hadn't noticed before. This is easily one of the most amazing places in this country.

We wanted to follow the mountains back to Kasagi station, but found that the trail was closed. We went anyway, with the agreement that if we encountered any true peril we'd immediately double back. It was a mere twenty minutes until we met open trail again, but my mind reeled the entire duration. From the practical (a landslide) to the impractical (this is a forest thick with bears or boars) to the supernatural (this is the realm of ghosts or other beings of which the villagers know but we don't). We crossed a small area that looked to have had a landslide a few years ago, but was passable today. That was probably the reason for the closure. Not long after, near a thicket of high grass, we heard the sound of some animal moving just off trail, which gave Miki and I a good spook, both of us repeatedly looking back over our shoulders. Basically, this was a lovely stretch of mountain that seemed untouched and pure somehow. Back onto the road, which we followed alongside a stream which fed a few small yet impressive waterfalls. In fear of missing our train (A modern fear of the lack of control over that man-made construct, time), we hitched a ride with a surly middle-aged couple smelling strongly of the hot springs they'd just taken, though had apparently not enjoyed.

The train took us one stop backward to Kamo, where Roman Rhodes and Tim were playing a gig. It was in a tempura restaurant, small but with a nice family vibe. I hadn't seen Roman play in a few years, and I liked how at peace he is on stage, his confidence endowed by being a damn fine musician. Tim clowned about as usual, pulling absurd rock star poses whenever I aimed my camera. During the show, at one point I looked up to see a poster announcing this very gig. On the bottom, unmistakable, was my name, though misspelled. Oh man... I had been expected to play percussion at some point, but my train was leaving in less than an hour. Next time fellas...

The following morning, Miki and I trained it to Ishiyamadera, to continue another section of the TSH there. Just off the train, I opened my mouth to say something, only to take a full blast of smoke from some guy walking a few steps ahead of me. I appreciated neither the tobacco, nor the other bits of black sludge that he'd just expelled from his lungs. Truly foul. Today's walk, and the day itself, offered little to better my spirits. It was a long 22km over paved roads. Aside from the pleasant Iwamadera, where Basho supposedly heard the

Old pond's frog splash

(Voila! Revisionist minimalist haiku!)

and the subsequent long steep descent over slippery leaves, we rarely left the hard stuff. Not many cars, but the feet do ache after awhile. Plus curve after curve of garbage laden hillsides. Having recently taken part in the clean-up of a similar hillside, I know how much work it will take to restore this area. Really depressing. We quickly and nervously went past a gun range, and the only real open space we found, where we'd hoped to rest and lunch, was being used as a landing zone by a gang of remote-controlled helicopter pilot otaku. At the very end of the walk we were rewarded with another short bit of forest, but it was the verge of dusk and we lost the light quickly. This is the first time this has happened to us. On two occasions we passed a single lone man walking without a torch, both acting shady. At the end, we were rewarded by a beautiful night view of Uji from atop the mountain behind Ujigami Shrine. Overall, it hardly seemed worth, as we'd done most of this walk already a year ago, though in reverse. If we'd known this this morning, we wouldn't have bothered. Multiple experiences have shown that any hike in or out of Uji involves long stretches of asphalt. I recommend the train...

Later on at Hill of Tara, some Guinness and Trad restored our spirits. Tim and the Welsh fiddle-player from Matsue were in town, and the session was rounded out by that amazing Uilleann pipe player's group, plus myself on bodhran. The gig was good, though I was tired from the walk, and my stamina flagged a little on some of the faster reels. Quite a few times, we really got cookin'. As we were finishing, just bringing the last song in for a landing, I went through the head of my drum. Luck of the Irish...

On the turntable: Dylan and the Band, "Tree with Roots"

On the night table: Greil Marcus, "Invisible Republic"

On the reel table: "I'm Not There" (Haynes, 2007)