Takatori Yama

A couple of weeks ago (if you've been following, I went on three or four hikes last week- that's why the last few entries all start similarly), I went with Takahashi-san's and Murata-san's group from city hall. They're the ones that like to get dirty and splash about in local rivers and along the seashore checking the quality of the water. I just can't imagine the group from my other three hikes getting too dirty.

Our destination was Takatori Yama (Hawk Mountain). It turned out that I only saw pigeons up there. Proud of my Japanese, I told the guy next to me that maybe it needed a new name, Pigeon Mountain. He wasn't impressed.

As usual, we stopped at a few points along the route to check out the water. If there's any fence jumping and bridge diving to do, Takahashi-san is our man!

Takahashi-san, at it again.

It's not quite like the floating huts I've seen on TV in Vietnam or China, but I wonder what it's like to live over this small river. During summer, I bet the bugs are terrible. Also, I can't help but suspect sewer somehow ends up here.

As usual, this hike had its adventurous moments. I think these moments are the most heartracing for me. I have all these grandparents scuttling around on rocks and I'm just waiting for one of them to fall and break a hip. It's very stressful! I bet their kids don't even know what they're up to.

There was a water tank at one of our little summits. It had this teensy lock on the gate and this warning for potential terrorists. I feel safer. That's why I only drink sake!

Here's the view would-be terrorists would have after being deterred.

(Folks, I'm not making light of the terrorist threat. I'm only making light of the light precautions that are in effect.)

I was walking down the trail when I heard Takahashi-san yelling, "Jory-san! Jory-san!" He was pointing around the corner of the big cliff I just rounded. Suddenly seeing the giant figure of a person startled me and the rest of the crowd had a good chuckle.

The lady on the right is the one that is bowing in the picture, above. She also tried to adopt me for the day, on a couple of occasions. She was really nice but I avoided her a little bit. I simply couldn't understand anything she said. And one time, she went on and on.

There was a spacious clearing near the summit of the mountain. Near the middle of it was a big rock. That's were we took our lunch break. That's Takahashi-san on the rock playing Lion King. He has to make sure we are all accounted for.

At the summit, there was a little observation tower. Here's the view down on our lunch rock.

This view from the observation tower shows the big Buddha. Can you find it?

How about now?

On the side of the mountain is a famous temple. It's nestled in a small valley and the access to it seems to be carved between these two rocks. It had a very private feel to it.

We were milling around, admiring the scenery, when the head priest opened his door and invited our entire group to come inside. Apparently, this was our good fortune. More than a few people passed me saying "Our good lucky!" We were then treated to a 30 minute speech on the history of the temple. Needless to say, I didn't understand a word. People are always telling me, "I bet your Japanese is getting better!" Yes and no. Yes, if you'd like me to order some food for you- no problem. I can even get us on the right bus or train. I can even talk a little sword or weather. But, I cannot discuss the history of Buddhist temples. Instead, I played a little game in my head. There was about twenty of us inside the temple. Half of us are sitting in seiza (how Japanese people sit). Even for most Japanese, sitting like this for an extended period of time becomes excruciatingly painful. I took it upon myself, to be the last holdout. I pitted myself against some veterans of the game. One by one, a lady over there would change positions. Next, the man in front of me changed to "Indian style." Finally, it was down to the last three. I couldn't even feel my legs. That's not true. I could feel they were still there because they were hurting. Suddenly, the priest concluded his story and invited us to come "behind the curtains" so to speak and look at all the artifacts up close. That was really cool, except I couldn't stand. Long after everyone else was up and about, I was finally able to shuffle forward. A few of the grandmothers asked if I was OK.