風林火山 (fu-rin-ka-zan; wind, forest, fire, mountain)

I went hiking on Sunday with the specific intention of seeing Mount Fuji. Winter is the best season to see the mountain, as this is usually when the air is crisp and clear. However, this winter has been pants - grey, drizzly, cold - and such Irish conditions have prevented me from making plans to take the trek out to Yamanashi up till now.



It was pretty warm at the bottom when I started into the hike. This meant that there were a few plum blossoms to be seen.




However, once I made it nearer the top, it got a wee bit colder, and there was even some snow still on the ground here and there.



When I take a break on a hike, I like to lie down and spend some time spotting cloud animals. But as it was a clear, blue day, I had to look down on my rests and imagine animal shapes in the snow. Here's a pretty good rhino.


The cold meant that the further up I went, the bearer the trees got. But imagine how beautiful this place will be when dusted in papery pink cherry blossoms.


Cherry-blossom season - with its pink tones - tends to give the countryside a very feminine presence for a couple of weeks every year. But I think Mount Fuji has a very female energy whatever the time of year.


Maybe it's the whole 'mother earth' thing. I mean, it is a dormant volcano and is ready to give birth to new molten ground any day now. To be honest, we had a quaker on Saturday, and then a slightly bigger one on Sunday, so I guess I was lucky that I made it home without the mountain erupting all over me.

As you can see, if she does blow, a heck of a lot of people are going to be toast. This is Otsuki City; a tiny, conurbation of Yamanashi Prefecture. But even here you can see how high the population density is and how little livable space there is in this country.



This was supposed to be a relatively easy course that I had planned; I really wanted to just chill out and make the most of the good weather. In the end, though, it turned out to be a bit more challenging than expected. The hike up to a certain point was fine, but then the last bit is this 660 metre rock. You have to slap on the cramp ons and push up to the summit. I exaggerate, of course. It's no Mount Everest. It's just that I think I'm pretty fit right now, and yet this final part of the climb definitely took it out of me.





It wasn't without it's rewards, though. In addition to the great views, you get to check out the rock face up close. There was some kind of jadey moss or fungus on it that made it look more like wood.


I'm amazed at the variety of life you can see in fairly unwelcoming conditions. These little yellow flowers must be made from hardy stuff. They were right at the top.


As too, this little guy. I really thought it would have been two cold for butterflies, but what do I know, right?



The main attraction at the summit was doubtless Fuji, but the view to the other side of the peak wasn't half bad either. I think it could pass for somewhere on the west coast of the States like Oregon or Northern California.




Being the contrary person I am, I spent a lot more time soaking in this view - I found it very peaceful in its simplicity. Once it started to get hazy I knew it was time to head home.



The way back to the station was pretty unspectacular. However, at one point you had to cross a bridge and I really liked the colour of the water below. I considered making my way down, but my jelly legs couldn't take another descent.


I also passed a restaurant with this sign displayed outside.


It reads 風林火山 (fu-rin-ka-zan; wind, forest, fire, mountain) and is the most famous saying associated with Yamanashi. It describes Takeda Shingen's battle strategy (he was a Japanese military hero of the Sengoku Period) :

First, be quick like the wind; then make no sound like the forest; after that, you must be strong like fire; and finally remain as unmoving as a mountain. A pretty efficient way to communicate a plan of war with poor old soldiers that probably didn't have that much education or experience of strategic thought.

More importantly, these were the words I got my brother to write in his one and only calligraphy lesson when he visited me here in Japan, and which now hang on scrolls in our kitchen in Dublin. No matter where I am, home is never very far away.