‘Crap, this place won’t work either’ I thought to myself trying to extract my leg from the knee deep snow. From the path it had looked like a good spot, flat, hidden from view and out of the wind. It was the third place I had tried and it was the third miss. The snow was slowly but surely seeping through my shoes and it was getting to be late afternoon but I had yet to find a place for my tent. I wasn’t worried but wondering where I was going to sleep for the night was keeping me from fully enjoying the village around me.
My day had started many hours and hundreds of kilometers away in the city of Gero, a place known for wonderful hot springs. My original plan was to wake up around 5am to catch a quick soak in the natural spring next to the river but when I was forced into consciousness by my alarm the sound of steady rain pitter pattering against my tent drove me back to sleep. After all, taking a bath in the rain surrounded by snow without a roof over my head was probably not the smartest of ideas.
When once again my consciousness had returned the rain had been reduced to an occasional mist making it much easier to drag my tent under a nearby bridge and pack it away. Still groggy from a night on the cold hard ground I checked my watch and realized that if I didn’t want to wait for 3 hours to catch the next local train I would have to hustle a bit. I was on a budget and didn’t have the luxury of taking the express train to my next destination, though in a pinch hitchhiking would have been just as good. Out in the middle of nowhere with piles of snow all around people are usually pretty willing to pick up a stranger and help them along.
The train ride flashed by in what seemed a blink of the eye. My eyes were glued to the scenery that rolled past the windows showing me a constant view of a wooded valley with a deep blue-green river winding through it. I was so captured by the scene that I couldn’t sit down and instead paced from side to side in the car trying to catch the best view munching on a cold apple pie and sipping some hot Boss coffee.
At Takayama, my next stop, I arrived just in time to catch the bus headed to my final destination, the classical village of Shirakawago. I really can’t describe the scenery as the bus moved from one mountain pass and another because my stamina failed me and I fell asleep. The few glimpses I did have from half closed eyes were gorgeous but not breathtaking enough to rouse me from my stupor.
I stepped off the bus into the rain I thought I had left behind in Gero. My heavy pack was beginning to chafe so I dropped it at the local information office(paying them 300 yen for the service, something I wish all train stations in Japan offered) extracting my bright yellow raincoat for an extra layer of protection. For a moment as I mixed with the crowd outside I thought I had somehow gotten lost and wound up in China because there was a definite ratio of at least 4 Chinese people to any other nationality.
The village was made up of a number of structures built in the traditional fashion with no nails, 
straw roofs, and huge wooden pillars, all quite impressive. Snow that clung to the buildings occasionally broke off and tumbled to the ground in muffled thuds giving credence to the signs posted warning people of falling snow. The steady rain slowly gave way to snow as the temperature dropped and then finally to clear (but cloudy) weather.
As I wandered between the buildings and up small stone covered streets my eye was always on the lookout for someplace to pitch my tent. When I’m on these kind of trips my first goal is always to find my ‘home’ for the night and then go about enjoying the sights around me but this place was not making things easy. When they say mountain villages are buried in snow they really mean it! Even at the shrine stepping of the path (which was just snow hardened from people walking over it) meant stepping into at least a foot of snow.
I took respite in a small delicious smelling udon (buckwheat noodle) restaurant to warm my bones and pass some time. A historical village is an interesting place but it only has so much to look at before it palls and I had many hours before the sun set and I retired to my tent. With my book in hand and a large picture window showing a snowy mountain village in front of me I settled into a nice hot meal. The broth was heavy with flavor and the big bowl of rice filled in the corners of my stomach nicely.
Before long though it was once again time to begin my search for a place to stay. I rejected the idea of staying at a Japanese inn without a thought. The cost was prohibitive and that wasn’t the experience I wanted. This was a camping trip and gosh-darnit I was going to camp. I was working my way up the main street when suddenly a small road to my left caught my attention.
A man was mounting one of those giant snow yellow snow plows, the ones with a heated cabin and a shovel the size of a lane of traffic. Approaching the machine to ask where might be a good place to camp I looked around and saw that the area around me was perfect. It was out of sight, out of the wind and afforded me a great view of the valley, not to mention it wasn’t in a few feet of snow.
I hollered to him through the window and got a puzzled look in reply. He opened the door and looked at me expectantly. ‘Excuse me, I have a really strange question. I am looking for a place to pitch my tent, would this parking lot be okay?’ He blinked once, twice, three times and then replied, ‘That’s a good question. This is a public space so I’d have to ask someone.’ He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number but somewhere deep in my heart I knew what the answer was going to be. A foreigner in a little town asking to camp, too many variables for a Japanese person in authority to say ‘yes‘ to.
A minute later he hung up the phone and looked at me. ‘You won’t use fire?’ he asked with a serious look. ‘No, not at all.’ Fire? I didn’t even have a lighter with me. ‘Then go ahead, just make sure it is out of site and you clean up after yourself.’ ‘Wow, thanks a bunch!’
Now I had a place to stay and could get down to actually enjoying my surroundings but unfortunately it was beginning to get dark and the temperature was steadily decreasing. I made a few laps around the city shivering in the cold then finally gave in and headed to a place I planned to spend a few hours before tucking myself into my sleeping bag, a local hot spring.
I cannot even begin to describe what it feels like to submerge yourself into a giant pool of hot water after spending all day in the cold. The chill that had found its way deep into my bones was thawed bit by bit as I looked through the bamboo slats protecting the baths privacy onto a moonlit river. A cool breeze mixed with the rising steam creating an interesting sensation on my face and a bit of pleasant conversation from a fellow traveler helped to pass the time.
My stomach let me know it was time to eat and so I stared at a sign leading to the hot springs restaurant contemplating, do I eat here or go grab some convenience store food? A selection of hot dished and a place to sit won out over the slight savings that might be had and I settled down to a plate of curry rice. My book was engaging and the room comfortable but after a while they gently informed me that the restaurant would be closing shortly but I could sit in an adjoining room if I wanted. I decided to take my leave despite the frigid temperatures outside.
The streets were dark and deserted. Only an occasional car, usually a member of the safety patrol with a rotating red light on the top of their vehicle made its way through the village. An almost unearthly quite had settled on the city and the moon shone brightly through an occasional break in the clouds creating deep shadows in the snow. I sat (or rather crouched) on a walking bridge that spanned the river and took a deep breath.
Fresh water bubbled steadily below me, mountains grew all around me, clouds moved endlessly above me, nature was singing its song. This escape from the daily routine, throwing myself into a exciting challenge that when people hear about they shake their heads, I live for things like that.
The cold soon found its way through my layers of clothing and the call of sleep could no longer be ignored. My tent was where I had left it, standing and waiting to receive its guest for the night. After one last look around, I kneeled down and crawled in. My sleeping back was chilly but quickly warmed as I zipped myself in leaving only my face exposed. Today had been a good day, a full day, an interesting day, were my last thoughts as I drifted off into sleep.
