6 March 2017
I was having one of those days. I was standing under a giant palm leaf in the middle of a jungle-like forest, raindrops that had slipped through the breaks in the palm now running down my face. It was dark, and gloomy, and the further I hiked in the denser the foliage became, and the drearier the journey became. I think I stood under that make-shift umbrella for ten minutes while I weighed the options before me. I could finish what I set out to do, complete the five hour round-trip hike to the waterfall at the top of the mountain. Or, I could scrap the hike and go find a cozy restaurant or cafe in the little village at the base of the mountain. After much deliberating, I picked up my bag, and made my way back down the trail towards town.
I didn’t make this decision out of laziness (as I have been known to do from time to time), I turned around because I was tired of being alone. In the week since my parents had left Japan, leaving me to return to the life of a solo budget-backpacker, I’d quickly discovered that this wasn’t the backpacking season in Japan. Understandably so. I’d come at that awkward transition period between winter snow and spring blossoms, and meeting people hadn’t been as effortless as it had been in Southeast Asia. So, despite how accustomed I’d become to my own company over the past four and a half months, today I really just wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of a hike with just me, myself and I.
Just as I’d reached the very bottom of the trail, a man ran into me on his way up. I’d seen him on the bus ride here. We’d gotten off at the same stop and silently walked on opposite sides of the road to the bottom of the trailhead. When I’d veered off to start the hike, he had headed to the onsen at the bottom of the trial, so I’d assumed I’d seen the last of him. The universe had other plans.
“Good morning,” I greeted, as I tried to scoot past him. I don’t even remember if I’d addressed him in English or Japanese, but either way I admit I was slightly taken aback when he responded in fluent English, as I’d spoken so little of it recently.
“Why did you turn around?” He asked, “I saw you head up the trail and assumed you were going to the waterfall.”
“Umm, there was no one else on the trail. I didn’t really want to spend the day hiking on my own, so I turned back,” I explained lamely.
He paused for a moment, taking that in, then motioned back up the trial, “Let’s go.”
The adventure that followed was easily one of the most memorable of my time in Japan. We swapped life stories on our way up the mountain. He was a pilot from Taiwan, and like me, loved any chance to get out into nature. Hence why he’d made his way to Yakushima, this natural gem of an island that has a larger population of deer and monkeys than it does people. As we gained elevation, the tropical jungle-like forest gave way to old growth cedars and moss covered ground, and the trail itself became more and more convoluted. There must have been at least half a dozen times when we had to fully stop, and scan a full three sixty to find the next trail marker, which more often than not we’d spot on the opposite side of a stream, or at the top of a seemingly unscalable cliffside. Such instances usually left us in fits of exasperation and laughter.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“How are we even suppose to get over there?!”
During one such incidence, we decided to stop for lunch before seeking out the next trail marker. As we entered a nearby clearing that offered stunning views of the rushing river beside it, we heard a screech from the treetops.
“What kind of bird do you think that was?” I asked, scanning the trees for activity.
“Bird? No, that was a monkey,” He responded.
“What? No way. Monkey’s don’t sound like that. That was definitely a bird.”
“How much you want to bet?”
I laughed, “You choose.”
“Ok, we’ll say one beer to whoever is right.”
“Deal.”
I proceeded to scan the horizon for activity, the competitive nature in me coming out. Despite our best efforts, we didn’t see hide nor hair of our little unknown forest friend.
As we continued up the mountain, we discovered that the trail was also much longer than either of us anticipated.There were several instances in which we thought we’d reached the end, only to then spot another trail marker further along. If we hadn’t had each other there, I’m positive neither of us would have made it to the end. We already know I wouldn’t have, I’d turned around barley half a mile in. I know he wouldn’t have either, because he hadn’t even planned on hiking that day. The only reason he’d headed up the trail head was because the onsen hadn’t been open yet. His plan was to walk around for a mile or two before heading back to the hotspring. I think at some point he made up his mind to see it through with me until the end, rather than turn back in order to make it to the hotspring before it closed. For this, I was immeasurably grateful.
To help distract ourselves from how much further we had to go, each time we came to a trail sign, he would give me a lesson on reading Chinese characters (kanji). The first time he did this, he decided to start with the basics:
“Ok break this one into pieces. The bottom is the symbol for fire, see? And this top part is the ‘roof’. So what does that make you think of?”
“Ah ok I see, so it’s like a stove?” I replied.
“Exactly. Ok take this one here, what does it look like,” he pointed to a square shaped character.
“Mouth.”
“Wow, umm yeah. Ok and this-,” he pointed to another that looked like a plant sprouting from the ground.
“Up, or above.”
Now he was looking at me with mingled confusion and surprise, “Yes…how?”
I tried to hide my amusement at his reaction, “I studied Japanese in high school.”
“What! You just were going to keep that piece on information to yourself? What am I teaching you for then?” he scolded, as I tried to keep from smiling at his indignant expression.
“No, no do keep teaching me. I only know the really basic ones, I’ve forgotten all the rest.”
“Ok then…” I think he rolled his eyes at me, but he continued on with the lessons at the next sign. By the end of the trail, I was able to work out one of the signs for myself based off of what he’d taught me. I was beaming from ear to ear, like a toddler who’d just read her first sentence.
I’d almost forgotten all about our “bird or monkey” bet when all of a sudden we heard a screech come from the forest ahead of us. I whipped my head up just in time to see it, a bright red face staring at me from the dense green foliage, before it darted out of sight.
“MONKEY!” I screamed in excitement jumping and pointing, effectively ending any chance I had a winning our bet.
“Where?!” Having been leading the way, he jumped back in surprise, wanting to distance himself from the creature he couldn’t see. I had to laugh.
We scanned the surrounding forest much more thoroughly for the remainder of the hike, but never again saw our furry friends. Though I’m sure they saw us.
Finally, finally we reached a clearing and could see a stunning waterfall looming in the distance. Our goal was in sight. All that separated us from it was a maze of glacial-cold streams. While we could spot the trail markers on the other side of the waterway, there wasn’t really a clear route across. Not one that wouldn’t risk slipping into the fast moving water below. So, with some trepidation, we settled on the safest option, wading across the shallowest area of the stream. If I was at all tired from the hike, one step into that frigid water woke me right up. I cursed whoever had hung the trail markers, sure they must have been laughing as they did it. But despite my grumbling, I really wouldn’t have wanted to have been anywhere else, it was too incredible of a setting to pass up.
The entirety of the hike had been filled with conversation and laughter, but when we reached the base of the falls we both stood in hushed silence, soaking in the magnificent display before us. Rivulets of water running down an impressive stone slab, smoothed overtime by the relentless flows that emptied into the deep, crystal clear pool below. Yes, this was worth the exertion.
The trek back down took half the time, as we raced to make it back to town before the final bus of the day departed. We surprised ourselves when we made it back with enough time for my new friend to visit the hotsprings, and for me to grab a cup of tea at a cafe in town. At least that’s what we thought. Turns out my bus never showed up as scheduled, and his bus schedule was off by three minutes, so both of us ended up separately hitch-hiking back to our hostels. Gotta love the kindness of the locals on Yakushima.
