Mitsuhide's Road to Infamy, Part I

 

 

I wrote last year about the Akechi Mitsuhide's attempted flight after the assassination of Oda Nobunaga.  Since writing that piece, I learned of a hiking trail that supposedly traces the route that he and his men followed into Kyoto.  This fact haunts me through the winter, and the morning after the year's heaviest snowfall, I make my move.     

Leaving the ruins of his Kameyama castle, I trace a straight line through the historical part of Kameoka. Then and now, this was the Sanin Kaidō.  I walked the old highway out of Kyoto thirteen years ago, though I'd mistakenly followed the busy Route 9 rather than the true road through Mitsuhide's old castle town.  Route markers have improved, making it easy to follow. 

The more attractive parts are north and west of the castle, but this section still holds charm. There are plenty of old sake breweries, which makes me wonder if Mitsuhide's hair-brained scheme came up while under the influence.   Traditional Edo Period homes line the way, though the further along I go the greater the colonization by suburb. Stone lanterns bearing the kanji for Atago-san suggest that pilgrims too preferred this route.   Today, the road has a little too much automobile traffic for my liking, so am happy when I cross a small river and move toward the hills.

I am led straight to a familiar friend, Hōsen-ji, where I used to practice Zen back in the previous century.  I always enjoyed the quality and balance of training here, and would drop in for a few days at a time every three months or so, in order to supplement the weekly sittings up in Yonago.  I see they've built a new zendo, and the cabins I remember have grown in number.  Around now would be the work period, but all is quiet on this snowy morn, as I move up into the hills.

 

 

 

The land loses color the higher I climb, the slate grey above preventing any shadow.  I top the ridge rather quickly, warm from the exertion, and so pause to take in the mountains rolling toward the north, each one whiter than the last.  Atago-san dominates entirely.  The sound of frequent trains pull my attention downward as I follow the ridge.  Most stop at that odd station built atop the bridge that spans the Hozu-kyō, before being consumed by the tunnels at either end. Before long I too disappear into a tunnel, dropping beneath the branches of overhanging pine.  

Karato peak gives name to this crossing, though I need to divert slightly to get there.  I keep my lunch break short for the wind is too cold for lingering.  The trail grows darker as I move closer to Kyoto, the snow lesser along here.  I stop often to gaze over the city, and imagine Mitsuhide doing the same, growing more apprehensive each time.  

By the time I descend into the bamboo forest near Jizō-in, the snow is gone.  I enter a quiet suburban neighborhood, most notable for a flower shop called Ran, bringing Kurosawa immediately to mind.  Mitsuhide played no part in the film of the same name, but it reveals that betrayal was a common practice back amongst the warlords of his day.

I wonder how far the forest continued when Mitsuhide's came through.  Being the western edge of the Katsuragawa flood plain, all that remained was a simple march into town.

However...

 

 (TO BE CONTINUED)

 

On the turntable: Modest Mussorgsky, "Pictures at an Exhibition"