Climbing Mount Fuji

When I was young and in my prime and stationed in Yokohama, Japan, in 1970, three of us decided to climb Mt. Fuji. It was already getting late in the climbing season so we didn't have much time to plan and barely made the regular climbing cutoff on the last day of the season which in those days was in September. Now the end of the regular season is the last day of August but that's a dfferent story.

When I climbed the mountain there were nowhere near the number of climbers (300,000) that ascended the mountain in the 2011 or 2012. Now that it has been designated as a World Heritage Site (in June, 2013) I don't know how many climb every year.

The train from Yokohama took us to the jump off point, we bought our climbing poles and started up in mid-afternoon.

We bought one each of the old and new Japanese flags inscribed "Light of world peace. Top of Mount Fuji 3776 meters"

We improvised and had "Fuji or bust, 1970" burned into the other side of our climbing poles

We started the actual climb at station five and it wasn't long before dark descended on the trail. Of course being young and feeling the need to get on up the mountain we decided to take a shortcut and headed straight up. Need I say that was a mistake? The trail winds back and forth, zigzagging up the mountain Our shortcut led from a kinda trail to steep rocks and difficult going.

The old light still works

In those days before efficient batteries and LED lights we had one flashlight that soon went dead and my old hand powered generator light. It did work, and still does, but it takes muscle so was only useful at intervals.

"Hand generator flashlight Aeromarine Mfg Co.
Delray Beach, Fla., U.S.A." probably WWII era 

It took us a couple hours to find the trail again and although tempted we didn't try any more shortcuts.

Each station had a small fire with branding irons and for a small fee (50 Yen?) the operator would brand the symbol of that station onto our climbing poles.

Some fires weren't very hot

At station eight we were tired and sleepy so we paid the operator the branding fee and also a fee (perhaps 200 Yen) to crash for a couple hours.

3000 meters

Up before dawn we made our way up through the last two stations and witnessed the sunrise from the atop Mt. Fuji. It was a beautiful and memorable sight. As it turned out we were lucky because the top is often surrounded by clouds and sometimes drizzle at that time of year.

After a cup of expensive coffee (but not so expensive considering it was at the top of Mt Fuji) we headed back down the mountain. Most people hiked back down the trail but we were young and brash so we took the shortcut down the long sand slide on one side of the mountain and got the Sandski brand.

In just three hours we were down the mountain and back on the train, smelly and tired but happy from our wonderful trip climbing Mount Fuji.

Giving Thanks at Thanksgiving

The fall of the year has become a time of introspection and assessment for me. As the trees complete another year of their cycle and enter into the dormant season with turning colors and falling leaves, I turn inward and review what has happened since last November to make me ever more thankful.

I'm thankful for a wife who has taken good care of me for over fifty years, for sons, both of whom are good and productive members of society and for five siblings who have actually gotten along together all these years. It is impossible to count all the good things and help my family and siblings have given me over the years. I am thankful we all get along and they have been willing to share their kindness with me.

I'm thankful for friends. I've been privileged to have good and true friends over the years and I am thankful for each of them. Friends who have given of themselves to help a needy soul traveling through this earthly valley of trial and temptation.

I'm thankful for fellow soldiers, past and present, and members of the several veterans' organizations to which I belong. It is an honor and privilege to have served with and known these fine citizens who at one time or another promised to give their very lives for their country.

I'm thankful for my parents. Raising a large family during difficult times, they instilled values, maybe not all the best values but enough to produce capable and valuable members of the adult community. The traits of loyalty, honesty, thriftiness, openmindedness and ability to work hard to achieve goals I owe mostly to my parents. Some not so good traits carried over from my parents as well but, on balance, the good outweigh the bad.

I'm thankful for teachers who gave of themselves, and were free to give of themselves, to guide children and adults to see and appreciate critical thought and learning for the sake of learning. My teachers weren't bound by the need to be politically correct but could teach the knowledge of the ages in ways that helped their charges to grow mentally instead of being fearful that someone might be offended by vibrant if sometimes unusual ideas.

I am thankful for coming of age in a time when kids played outside and learned to work at an early age. We played in the dirt and gained immunity from the bugs of the day. I'm also thankful that we didn't have soaps that killed 99.5% of bacteria, leaving the other .5% (the strong ones) to survive and breed resulting in super bugs.

I'm thankful that corporal punishment was not regarded as child abuse but was used as a tool to guide children toward the path they would travel through life as responsible adults.

I'm thankful for health. Not necessarily the ability to run marathons or do the Ironman but the ability to travel and enjoy the larger world, not in luxury but in a practical and useful way. Even toward the end of my allotted span I am thankful that I can climb stairs to the tops of monuments and museums, walk without a cane and get a good night's sleep no matter where in the world I might be (after jet lag goes away).

I'm thankful for a home with a good roof for protection from the elements, warmth and good food. After dealing with the homeless situation here in Seattle I appreciate those things even more.

I'm thankful for the silence that we lived with as children of the forties and fifties long before the time of omnipresent sound via earbuds, speakers and other electronic and very portable devices that surround the children of today with noise. I can appreciate the silence of a starry evening, a sunrise, a walk in the woods or on the beach and even a wakeful period during the dead of night without having to reach for the diversion of external sound to dull the moment.

And I'm thankful that there were no computers or calculators when I learned arithmetic. If the bill is five dollars and change I know (even if the clerk doesn't) that I can hand over eleven dollars and expect a five dollar bill and change in return instead of four ones and change. It sometimes results in a confused look but having learned the old way, I know how it works.

I'm thankful for the memories of over seventy-five years of life. Some a cautionary note to remind me of times not so good but most reverberating in my mind with the thrills and pleasures of good times working or playing or raising family or just sitting admiring the world as it went by. Memories of people and things from other places and cultures. Memories of different ways of thinking and doing, and worshiping and living that might have been foreign but were nonetheless valuable and good ways of approaching and solving problems in those different cultures and places in the world.

I'm thankful for being taught early that life is a cycle. Hamburgers don't germinate in grocery stores and bacon isn't picked from a tree. I helped butcher animals, pluck chickens and dig clams. From life on a farm I learned and am thankful for the knowledge that if you want to eat oatmeal in the winter you need to plant oats in the spring. Nothing was free and safety nets were only as big as your family or church or community.

I often worry about the young, and not so young, people of today who come of age believing that they have the choice of whether or not to work, or plant, or harvest, or butcher. A cardboard sign on a corner or a visit to the voting booth will result in free money or other things all of which cultivate the attitude that there is no danger of starving or shivering for big government and generous people are there to prevent that. I hope they learn before it's too late that, in the long run, real life doesn't work that way and themselves become thankful, as am I, for that knowledge.

We may have missed out on the big bucks but I'm thankful I grew up during a time when we were responsible for our own actions. If I fell off a ladder, spilled hot water on myself in a restaurant or fell and poked a hole in my arm while running with scissors the thought of hiring a lawyer to collect damages never entered my mind. We were taught, in those far away days, to take responsibility for our actions and not to claim victimhood or blame others for our own mistakes and also to pay attention to what our elders said. That philosophy has paid off in adulthood. Not in money but in cultivating a sense of personal responsibility that carries over to all facets of life.

I am thankful for a God that allows us to live and exerience and cry and laugh, to have family and friends and memories, to enjoy a sunset and likewise to enjoy a thunderstorm or the silence of the morning.

So, as the designated day to give thanks draws nigh, I give thanks, every day and every night that my time on this earth has been blessed, that I am able to give thanks and that I have so many things for which to be thankful.

The Pleasures of Blogging

Perhaps the title of this post should be, "The Pleasures and Tribulations of Blogging."

One of the biggest pleasures is the memory reinforcement that results from making and organizing notes; taking, sorting and editing photographs and then writing and posting photos to the blog itself.

Another pleasure is the heightened sense of perception I seem to have when I look at a scene trying to decide how it would look as a photo posted to a narrative instead of just clicking away taking photographs. Looking for subject matter and nice angles I often see things that I would have overlooked before.

As an example of looking for possible posting material, here's a photo taken in the early evening while in Japan. I like to watch the moon when it's viewable so was observing that when I saw some Tombi (translates as Black Kite, but it is a fairly large raptor, smaller than our Bald Eagles but larger than most hawks) riding the air currents. The thought entered my mind that if I waited I might be able to catch one of the Tombi watching the moon also. Most of them had given up soaring for the day when this one lone bird sailed toward the moon and into my camera frame. It's not a great photo but I was happy that it worked out as I envisioned. Thank you Mrs. Tombi.

Another interesting thing about blogging is the audience. Even though there is software available to track the unique computers of viewers I don't do that but I do have access to where in the world viewers are clicking on my blog and how many there are.

This week, for instance, there were pageviews from the US and Japan, of course, but also from Russia, Australia, Brazil, Indonesia, Mexico and Ukraine.  I'm sure some of these viewers are regulars but many are probably one-time passersby who were tempted to click by something, I don't know what; but it is rewarding when I see the number of pageviews peak after a certain post. 

Then there are the tribulations. 

Number one is the time required to organize thoughts and notes, sort through photographs and get it all down in a readable form.

The second and sometimes more frustrating problem is balky software. I sometimes post from my phone, sometimes (especially lately) from my tablet and sometimes from my laptop. The phone software was just updated yesterday allowing photos to be inserted where the cursor is. That's a big step toward ease of use but there are other problems with the phone. There is one large advantage though. It is ultra portable and allowed posts from the back of a motorcycle in Vietnam earlier this year.

The tablet is a little better but still frustrating in some respects as that software doesn't read my mind as I think it should. When I want a photo enlarged or a caption attached it sometimes takes ten or twelve tries and even then the results are less than satisfactory.

The laptop is easiest but I'm having problems with my old laptop (unrelated to blogging) and until I get a replacement I'm reluctant to use it because it might do a final crash before I can get all my goodies transferred to a new one.

Sometimes I feel like it is a waste of time but then I get feedback from a viewer who appreciated a particular aspect of a post and that combined with the pleasures, above, make it all worth while. 

Guess I'll continue blogging, at least for now. If nothing else, it encourages travel so I have fresh fodder for my camera and fresh thoughts for a slowing mind.

Around Fukuoka (Cont)

Heading on around Hakata Bay we entered Nishi-ku (Western Ward or District) which stretches from the southwestern part of the city all the way out to land's end on the western side of Hakata Bay. There are actually seven wards in Fukuoka but Higashi-ku, where we started our trip at Deer Island, and Nishi-ku hold the majority of seashore around the Bay. Three other districts share the center shoreline of the city. They are Hakata-ku, Chuo-ku (Central District) and Sawara-ku. The other two districts, Minami-ku (Southern District) and Joonan-ku are situated away from the waterfront. Fukuoka University and St. Sulpice Great Seminary of Fukuoka, where Japanese Catholic priests are trained, are notable landmarks in Joonan-ku.

We stopped to admire the approach to this shrine for seafairers' safety near the point where Hakata Bay meets the Genkai Nada (Sea of Japan)

After we turned the corner moving from the shoreline of Hakata Bay to the Sea of Japan we saw these rocks, male and female, tied together with a sacred rope denoting marriage.

Add caption

As we turned back toward Fukuoka City we traveled some back roads through farm country. The rice harvest was almost finished so I was lucky to find this small-field sized harvester in action. Only the smallest of fields now are harvested the old way with a sickle.

Still following the alternate road we came to Hikizu Bay where the oyster roasting season had just started. We stopped and surveyed the various tents. Each seafood company had a different color jacket to protect the wearer's clothing from the popping juices of some of the seafood.

Many kinds of seafood available to grill

We grilled two baskets of oysters.

Since I wasn't driving I could have a cold draft beer.

We ate in the orange jacket tent.

After we ate our roasted oysters we wlked along the seawall looking at the newly harested oysters being cleaned. On one barge I saw a couple of what looked like non-Japanese men. I walked down to their gangplank and said hello. It turned out they were both from Nepal and here going to school and working as oyster cleaners in their spare time. Both spoke good English and when I said "Goodbye, work hard" in Japanese they responded in well-accented Japanese.

On the way back to Fukuoka City instead of taking the expressway we drove on the old highway 202. 

When I was stationed near here in the early 60's this was the only road that ran from Moji, now incorporated into Kitakyushu, through Fukuoka, and south to Sasebo, Nagasaki and points south. I well remember the time a couple friends and I rode our Maruishi bicycles from Fukuoka to Sasebo. I'm sure the Japanese drivers thought those crazy foreigners had completely lost it. The approximately 125 km (78 miles) ride was a great trip even if a little dangerous on the narrow, crowded roads of those long ago days.

Around Fukuoka

Nobuko at a bicycle rental shop on Shikanoshima

Thought maybe you'd like to join me for a tour around Fukuoka City and Prefecture.

We'll start at the northeastern tip of the land surrounding Hakata Bay and end up at the southwestern tip and a little beyond.

At the northeastern corner we find Shikanoshima, a small island that is connected to the larger island of Kyushu by a bridge.

The sands of Shikanoshima are blown into ridges by the north wind

More wind ripples

From Shikanoshima (literally: Deer Island) we travel on Uminonakamichi (literally: road between the seas) with the Genkai Sea on the left and Hakata Bay on the right to Gannosu (nest of the gan (wild goose)) and then via the "new land" called Island City to the waterfront of Fukuoka City.

The Sapphire Princess at the cruise ship terminal on the Hakata waterfront.  In addition to cruise ships from around the world there are two cruise ships per day from China and others from other Asian ports bringing shoppers to Japan.

Next stop the largest mall in the Fukuoka area where goods of every kind can be had for good prices. The main parts of the two shopping floors were occupied by tenants specializing in all manner of clothing and accessories. There was also a large grocery section. Three upper floors were dedicated to parking. Altogether I suppose the mall occupied an area similar in size to our own Northgate Mall here in Seattle. 

After the strenuous shopping we had to stop for a cup of ice cream from Baskin Robbins or "thirty-one" as it's known in Japanese with the English numbers pronounced Japanese style: Sa-chi-wan. The name might be diferent but the ice cream is the same but with some unusual (by US standards) flavors.

For a size comparison, here I stand in front of a Yamakasa

Kushida Shrine in Fukuoka City

Yamakasa in its garage waiting for the next Gion festival

This Yamakasa (literally: mountain bamboo hat) is one of seven that are carried in a race. The race starts at 04:59 on July 15th and the yamakasa, each weighing approximately one ton and carried by 32 men depart at five minute intervals for the timed race through the streets. 

When we visited Kushida Shrine this Yamakasa was parked in its garage welcoming visitors. The gold spots just above the red picket fence are the decorated ends of the carrying poles.  The men who carry the float wear a short summer kimono (happi) and cotton shorts. There are two or three hundred members of each team and they spell each other off as they race along the course being splashed with water.

I've never been part of the million or so tourists who attend the Gion Festival which runs from July 1st thru July 15th each year. Good reason to go back to Japan in the heat of summer. 

Here we visit a covered shopping street similar to those in most cities in Japan. This particular street ran for seven blocks with no vehicles allowed except during the night when stocks are replenished. The large red sign with the three block yellow letters says ki mu chi (kimchi).

I'll take a break here and continue our trip around Hakata Bay with the next post.

Gojyukaiki (50th Memorial)

On our recent trip to Japan one of the most important things we did was observe the fiftieth year memorial service for Ikuko's parents.

Some Japanese are devoutly religious but most observe Shinto rituals for the New Year and some other occasions during the year, Buddhist rituals for burials and some other occasions and even some Christian events such as Easter and Christmas.

We were staying with my wife's family. They have a small Shinto shrine to protect fishermen and for driving safety. They also have a Buddhist altar or Butsudan which is referred to as Hotokesama because it contains religious relics and pictures of the parents and other deceased.

Butsudan (Hotokesama) ready for ceremony

 From the top, just below the lights are two cups of tea. If you look closely, just to the right of the tea are two small photographs, one of the two parents and one of my brother-in-law. Below the tea cups are rice cakes flanked by fresh fruits. On the table below is a candle, which is lit at the beginning of the ceremony and from which josh sticks are subsequently lit. In front of the candle is an ornate bowl containing clean white sand where the lit incense sticks will be inserted. To the right of the sand on the red and green cushion is a brass "singing bowl" which is rung prior to daily meditations and by the attending priest at appropriate times throughout the 50th year ceremony. To the left of the sand are the unlit josh sticks in a lacquered container. Flanking the table are two fresh flower arrangements and below the table to the left is an offering of a bowl of fresh mikan (Japanese tangerines), subject of a later post.

On the appointed day relatives and guests gathered (no photos out of respect) and a Buddhist priest arrived to perform the ceremony. The priest was eighty-eight years old but had a wonderful deep voice for reciting the chants.

Before the service started the guests placed money offerings (gobutsuzen) in special black on white envelopes on the altar and made sure to have their prayer beads handy. We borrowed beads from nephew and wife. There were cushions (zabutan) on the tatami floor but there were also chairs around the perimeter of the ten-mat room and in the adjoining room.

When I first went to Japan in 1960 western style chairs were uncommon and most people knelt or sat cross-legged on the floor on the zabutan or dangled their legs into a kotatsu which, in those days before central heat, contained a charcoal brazier. Now almost every house has kitchen chairs and table and living room sofas and easy chairs. Most houses still have a tatami room but it is used mostly for formal occasions.

The result of sitting in all these chairs is that only some of the old people are comfortable sitting in the traditional manner either kneeling or sitting cross legged. During this ceremony older people with bad knees or hips sarted off sitting in the chairs. They were soon joined by others who just couldn't sit on the floor for long. I managed to kneel for about twenty minutes but then crossed my legs and let the feeling return below my waist.

As the priest worked his way through the chants, ringing the bowl at the appropriate tmes, we held our prayer beads in clasped hands. Toward the end of the chanting the priest passed around the incense bowl and lighted sticks of incense for each of the participants to place in the sand, finished the final chants, rang the singing bowl again and that was the end of the formal ceremony.

The priest removed his over-robe and sashes, packed up his books, received the Ofuse (monetary gratuity, in this case about $600) and returned to his temple about 45 minutes after he arrived. The family and guests stood and stretched painful legs then rode a bus to a restaurant for the formal dinner where there was good food and drink in honor of the fifty-year memorial couple.

Grandson (and our nephew) Kyosuke speaking to the group just before the toasts and dinner.

Ninety-two year old daughter, Haruko, enjoying dinner.

Fresh sashimi from a locally caught wild Hamachi (Yellowtail)

Another nephew, Takeshi, and daughter (and my wife), Ikuko.

Grand-daughter (and our niece) Chisato.

The fifty-year memorial that we attended was a reminder that in Japan (and some other Asian countries) the dead are remembered and honored more than in our western countries. Formal ceremonies take place seven days after the death, again at 49 days, one year, three years, seven years, 13, 17, 25, 33 years and so on until the fiftieth year. Plus there are the daily rituals of offering fresh fruits, rice and tea at the Hotokesame. Also, in many homes pictures of the deceased hang around the upper part of the formal room.

I can't say if those customs are better than the American custom of paying a visit to the graves each year on Memorial Day, but it is refreshing to see the old people honored a little more than we do here in the culture of the young.

Ikuko's parents were fortunate to have a family to carry on the remembrances. Traditionally the formal room with its butsudan and memorial ceremonies was the responsiblity of the child (and their family) who inherited the house and property but nowadays the culture is changing.

In the countryside the extended families with two or three generations living in the same house remains  the standard but in the cities and even smaller towns and villages, important changes are happening.

First, the extended family is being replaced by the nuclear family. As children grow up and marry they most often move away from the family home to their own house, condo or apartment and begin their own families. If they are close enough the grandparents can assist with babysitting but often jobs or housing take the new parents too far away. As the old couple ages they are moved to retirement or nursing homes and there is no one to take care of the household butsudan or shrine.

Second, thanks to efficient methods of birth control and economic pressures, families have only one or maybe two children. Many young people, as is true here and in other countries around the world, postpone marriage or give it up entirely and have no children. As the childless people and those in retirement homes age the government is tasked with finding a way to support them.

 As we have traveled around Japan these last few years I've seen evidence of these changes. There are more than a few vacant houses, the fields in farm country are growing larger (not a bad thing now that they are using mechanized farming mehods) and some fields, especially in the mountainous areas are returning to a natural state for lack of cultivation.

This trend is not nearly so apparent as in our ghost towns across rural America but it is there nonetheless.

To compound the problem the Japanese always have discouraged immigration so the population is contracting and aging and it is becoming more and more difficult to keep the social security and health care systems afloat.

Sorry for rambling. Back to the Gojyukaiki.

It was a memorable day for the remembered parents but also for the living.  Personal problems and cares were put aside for the day. The ceremony united family and guests in a spirit of appreciation of and well-wishing for the souls of the departed. The dinner and social time reminded me of a wake or celebration of life fifty years removed.

Mikan Noen (Tangerine Orchard)

Mikan are those delicious and easy to peel Japanese tangerines that we see in markets this time of year. One of my ealiest memories of Japan is buying small mesh bags of mikan on train platforms to eat while traveling.

While in the Fukuoka area one of my wife's nephews took me to his mikan orchard to harvest and eat the freshest mikan ever.

Nephew Kazuyo showing me how to harvest mikan in his 40-tree noen (orchard).

The best mikan are grown on a hillside where the sun hits with just the right angle and the wind is off the salt water so the trees are treated to a salt breeze to help flavor the oranges.

Behind Kazuyo in the picture, above, is a biwa (loquat) tree (bush). The season for biwa is  late spring here in the Fukuoka area so we couldn't have any fresh fruit.

A mikan tree full of fruit.

The mikan season in this part of Japan starts in mid-October so the fruit was just getting to the pickable stage when we were there. Even green colored fruits are tasty but they are even better when they turn fully orange.

Where the orchard is located is pretty steep terrain.  There is either fencing or steep walls on all sides to keep out the wild pigs which have become numerous in the past 20-30 years. The entrance is up a steep path with a sturdy gate to keep those pesky pigs away from the fruit trees. They can't climb the trees but will butt against them to knock down the fruit if they get into the orchard.

Fisherman nephew Takeshi working outside his skill level. In the center of the noen is a propane powered bird and wild pig chaser. The propane feeds into a hollow T-shaped tube connected to a striker. Every few minutes the striker ignites the propane and produces a loud noise reminiscent of a shotgun blast.