Mitake

A missed post…

One of my friends who studied at UA during my senior year works in Tokyo. He is a climber and occasionally we have a chance to climb together. About a month after I arrived in Japan, my friend invited me (on several occasions) to accompany him and some friends on a bouldering excursion in the city of Mitake. Finally, on a Saturday in September, I was able to make the 3+ hr train ride to the edge of Tokyo.

For those who are unfamiliar with the term, bouldering refers to a type of climbing characterized by its intensity, brevity, and lack of verticality. The idea central to climbing is ascension (raising the center?); the central idea of bouldering is perhaps nonlinearity. For one, boulders are not high; five meters is perhaps the upper limit of what can be thought of as a boulder. There are boulders and then there are mountains. In bouldering, ropes and harnesses are not used. Protective gear amounts to at most a piece of foam placed below the climber (I know, I said climber…but boulder-er just doesn’t work), and hopefully a partner or two to help guide your fall. While some might risk their life free-climbing cliffs, the rest of us must be content with the relative security of clinging to boulders without the assurances of ropes to stop us from slamming into the mat or rocks below in the event of a fall.

The paths used in climbing mountains, cliffs, and walls, are known as routes or lines. They are set by others and left for the rest of us to follow. When climbing boulders, the paths are not paths; they are problems. There is a starting point and a goal, but in real bouldering the path is unwritten. Problems are solved or sent, routes are…ascended or simply climbed

That was the bouldering part of this entry. I tackled the problem of explaining bouldering. Now I’ll return to the linear path, the narrative.

The bouldering in Mitake is located along a mountain stream. Japan is renowned worldwide in climbing circles for its rich water/river bouldering locales. Well, last month, I was finally able to go. I left early in the morning to embark on a three-hour train ride to the mountains. When I finally arrived there, I was blown back to memories of the mountains I’ve visited back home in the US.

I continue to be impressed with the beauty of the Japanese countryside. Years ago, before I ever visited Japan, I was convinced that this was a country that was one sprawling techno-polis. This is one of those prevailing myths that manage to somehow survive in spite of the internet. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth. It seems to me that the vast majority of Japan is still countryside.

Believe it or not, Mitake is considered to be within the Tokyo metropolitan area (albeit on the outskirts). It may seem a little odd, but then remember who governs the area. The zoning decision must mean that at least some of the people residing in Mitake sojourn to the city (and back?) everyday. While a six-hour daily commute sounds exhausting, going home to the mountains must be refreshing enough to warrant the sacrifice. I’ve noticed that at uncertain times in certain parts of Tokyo, it is physically less draining and demanding to simply hold your breath, rather than breathe the air. Taking even a shallow breath in Mitake seems the oxygen-delivering equivalent of 3 lungfuls of Tokyo exhaust. I guess one way to train for a Fuji climb would be to become a-pack-a-day smoking, bicycle courier in Tokyo. Of course, a healthier way might just be to take up jogging.