It had been a pretty uneventful morning. I tried to hitch, but only three cars passed, none of them going all the way anyway. My reward was a long beautiful walk, pointed toward the rising sun. I was freezing when I got off the train, but my temperature was rising in the sunshine, though dropping quickly under the odd patches of shade. A few fisherman were standing up in those mini one-man boats I noted on my last walk up here.
Having hitched along this section on my walk the month before, I felt guilty that I hadn't taken in this section on foot, as lovely as it was. And the weather was far better today. After returning to Tsukide village, the plan was to backtrack, then follow the Umi no Be across the top of the lake and up to Shizu-ga-take to meet the section that I'd walked (though not written about) last year. Online info was sparse and not terribly accurate, so I'd be relying mainly on signposts. I recognized the futility of this, being in inconsistent Shiga after all, but signage for the route had been pretty good elsewhere in the prefecture. Fingers crossed.
I fell in behind another walker who was about 50 meters ahead of me. He stayed along the water's edge, I cut through the center of Tsukide proper, but we eventually met at the base of the steps of Hiyoshi shrine. I thought that he was looking for the trailhead that I too had sought out last time, relying on the same incorrect maps as I had. It turned out he was on a different mission altogether, walking the countryside to connect the area's shrines. In cases where the distances between were too great he would drive, ditch the car somewhere, then loop around on foot, as he was doing today.
As we were both returning the way we came, we fell in step to chat. He too was a seasoned walker, having successfully summited the Hyakumeizan, albeit stretched over 25 years of weekends. (A pace not unlike my own, though I've not been actively seeking out the goal.). Since retirement, he went on to climb the 300 peaks of the Sanbyakumeizan, and now was aiming even higher to pay house calls on the gods.
His car was parked along some rice fields, so I bid him farewell, heading across and through Shiotsu, a small post town along the Shiotsu Kaidō, a spur route off the Hōkkoku Kaidō. Jizo that had once lined this route had been unceremoniously clustered together at the edge of the concrete walls meant to prevent erosion. But what protects against the erosion of tradition?
Good new signage contradicted the older weathered signage. The newer was aimed at the bicyclists attempting a loop of the entire lake. One sign at the far end of town made little sense, the arrow pointed in the wrong direction, and the accompanying text completely bleached away by the sun. So I continued to follow my online map. I decided to pop in and pay my respects at a large shrine, and climbed the leaf-strewn steps behind up to some smaller shrines higher up. From there I noted a small clearing with a sacred tree and a stone marker, the latter perhaps indicating trail, had that odd arrow earlier been correct. But the path between had been rubbed away by the crash of a pair of tall trees felled by storm. I tried to make my way there anyway, moving up steep slopes slick with mud, into which I dug my fingertips, seeking a better grip. Finally at the stone marker, it revealed nothing.
The sign posts continued to fail, any lettering long ago faded. I followed the map along a course that looked right, which crossed a river and a highway, then a bit of wasteland. I knew I had to enter the forest at the far end, between the two buildings of a concrete factory. I hurried through, not wanting to get told off by the workmen zooming around on heavy machinery. Then I found my signage again, having been more or less on course all along.
The entrance to the forest lay in the shadow of two slag heaps. And for the first few minutes, the hike reeked of old oil. Not many did this route any more, to judge from the fallen bridge, and the trail overlaid with debris of stick and stone. I reached a junction, my map splitting into two routes. The followed the one to the left, until it became less trail and more stream bed. In some sections it felt more like I was canyoning than hiking. I was grateful for the cold temperatures, which ensured the absence of leech and viper. Felled trees proved an obnoxious obstacle, making for a lot of up and over, or ducking beneath on weary legs.
Midway up, I again checked my map, and realized that the trail I'd forsaken below had actually been correct. The junction wasn't that far back, but I didn't fancy navigating all those downed trees again. I knew the trail was above and to the right, and the hillside didn't look that steep. It turned out that my scrambling at the shrine was a dress rehearsal for what was to come next. I stretched and lurched upward, a few steps at a time, testing and grasping at roots, or throwing an arm around medium sized trunks. To miss would have meant a slide rather than a fall, but the risk of injury was always there. And yet again, I found myself wondering when I was going stop doing such stupid stunts.
Safe at the top, I found my trail, which eventually joined a junction with a better marked trail, and the rest of the day was an easy stroll along the ridge line. One col had been sheared away to construct massive electrical towers, which opened up the view of Oku-biwa and the north end of the lake. I lunched here with the view, then met the ridge line which ringed Lake Yogo on the other side. I plunged down to another saddle before making the final and ascent to the familiar clearing of Shizu-ga-take.
I'd originally intended to do this entire hike in reverse, until train delays and the threat of missed connections made me come up with a better Plan B. My initial route had me cheating with the chairlift up to this very spot, so imagine my delight in seeing that the lift wasn't running at all. Closed for the winter, a fact neglected by their website. So, with brand-new trekking poles in hand, I raced down the switchbacks like a skier, into the village below.
It was a 30 minute walk from here to the station. I considered hitching, as I always do in these situations, but the day was still bright and warm. So I walked happily, feeling the sun on my face, a sensation that is at a premium in this month when the days continue to grow shorter, and cold.
On the turntable: Grateful Dead, "1983-04-17, Meadowlands Arena"
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