Friday 24th July

So the plan is that extremely early on the following morning (i.e. Saturday), Sam and a number of gaijin associates (pictured below: Sam, Jean-Luc, Tony, Guillaume, and Nicolas; left to right) will depart from Haneda airport, and fly North to the wilds of Hokkaido. Things are of course, never quite that smooth, and the obligatory "rough-around-the-edges" event is naturally a Friday night sobetsukai (leaving party) for the only female member of Sam's immediate research group (which is about ten people and called SS41, but that doesn't seem to leave me with any words to describe it, if I say group, how do I then describe the successive hierarchy of groups that I am also a part of? The problem is typified by one of the other Toshiba fellows saying to Sam "I had lunch with your boss the other day", prompting the reply "which one"?). Anyway, parenthetical discussions aside, the traveller is still feeling that he must attend every conceivable social event in an attempt to try and make some headway into this Japanese group context thing, and so there is nothing for it but to go along with the others after work. There are the usual thoughts of "Right, I won't drink any beer, well perhaps just one ...", floating around in the mind of the traveller, and in retrospect it is easy to laugh at such good intentions. The meal is pleasantly Japanese, in a not too eccentric fashion, and Sam manages a modicum of Japanese small talk, sitting next to Kawamura-san no less (Sam's ever silent cubical partner). And it seems increasingly the case that what they say about Japanese loosening up after work is indeed true.

The real problem comes when the crew moves on to nijikai (phase 2 drinking), and especially when they manage to find a star-trek theme bar in Kawasaki, and we can see how this might come as a little bit of a "difficult-to-turn-down" situation for the traveller. Not that he is obsessed with star trek ("Engage"), no, not by any stretch of the imagination ("Make it so"), no he merely has a healthy interest in a vibrant and well thought out tv drama ("Fire photon torpedoes"), that just happens to be set in outer space. Anyway, the drinking establishment is not like totally star trek crazy. They just have a few flashing lights, and loads of the toy models and figurines in glass cabinets all around the walls, and the figures are not exclusively star trek, so whatever. Of far more interest to you, perhaps, is that Sam does get down to some serious drinking with his colleagues, particularly Ohsuga-san and Sasaki-san (who has not, to Sam's knowledge, said a word to anybody in the last four months (well, not in the office anyway)), with the traveller trying his hardest to make as much of the conversation Japanese as possible, but Ohsuga-san keeps explaining things in English, which is just as well really considering the Traveller is only really getting about one word in five. Eventually Sam realises that he does have quite serious travel commitments for the following day, and leaves the rest of the group as they move on to sanjikai (phase 3 drinking). Making his way home the Traveller feels that the evening was a very positive social step, but also wishes fervently (once again) that his Japanese was good enough to have a really relaxed chat with his colleagues.

Saturday 25th July

So it is technically Saturday when Sam gets back from the sobetsukai, and tries to sober up enough in order to start getting packed for the next ten days in Hokkaido. He has agreed to meet Tony Lau (Chinese American who is living in the same dormitory) at 4:30am, at which time they will both travel to the station to meet the three Frenchmen (Jean-Luc, Guillaume, Nicolas) who will be joining them on this particular excursion. Sam flusters about his room, occasionally falling over things, trying to assemble the items that he might possibly need for ten days in some of Japan's most pristine untouched wilderness (Hokkaido is one of the four main Japanese islands, and also the Northernmost, making its climate much colder). The traveller manages to get together some array of items that will probably serve for the mountainous hikes that the group have planned (compass, space blanket, rubber chicken, etc.), but his biggest worry is the slight pains that have been easing their way around his jaw recently. Particularly since his last trip to the dentist, at which time he was told that he still had bacteria in his wisdom tooth root canal. While the dentist had said that serious pain might not occur for up to ten years (or tomorrow) Sam felt the potential recurrence of root canal pain like a weight around his neck. And in captain paranoia mode he imagined scenarios such as going into full unremitted agony while on the top of the mountain in Hokkaido, something that could really screw up the holiday. Stuffing ibuprofen tablets into his rucksack, the traveller decided that it was too late to start worrying now. Particularly because it was already 2:30am, and even two hours sleep might make the coming journey a little more comfortable.

Surprisingly the traveller does actually manage to drag himself out of bed in order to meet Tony at 4:30am, and the pair arrive at Tsurumi station in time to meet the Frenchmen. Sam is also, for better or for worse, taking an ultra-light computer with him on this trip, in part to try and help him keep up with his overdue diary entries. The thing weighs less than a kilo, but provides reasonable word processing capabilities, although the on-line and off-line instructions are all in Japanese. Sam also has the idea (why, we shall perhaps never know) that it would be terribly cool to be using his laptop at the top of a mountain in Hokkaido. He also has the idea that by writing on location, as it were, that he might be able to capture some of the aspects of live reporting and recording in television and music respectively. The effect you can judge for yourself as we know go direct and live to Sam, typing on his laptop in the keikyuu train as it speeds its way towards Haneda airport:

"On train, with French people. It is far to early to contemplate serious thought, but indeed the travellers are struggling their way inexorably towards Haneda airport, and Sam is at once both thrilled and horrified that he has brought a palm-top with him on holiday."

There we go, exciting stuff huh? But of course that's always the problem with live performances, with no rehearsal you lose that smooth polished feel that you know and love so much (okay, fair enough, my diaries never have a smooth and polished feel, but it feels good to fantasize). So, given the dismal failure of that first live slot to reap literary dividends, I shall use it sparingly throughout the diaries that follow, but always keep in mind that the original transcripts for this Hokkaido section, where written in the places they describe. Yes, yes, I know, so exciting that you can barely contain yourself, right? Sorry, I'll try and get back to the flow of the story.
 
 

Images from Sapporo: Left - Dr. Zmoo's nightclub, Right - Neon displays

So the plan for the Hokkaido trip, which I have almost completely failed to mention so far is that this week is a compulsory ("you *will* enjoy it") holiday week in Sam and Guillaume's factory, while, only half of it is a holiday for the others. Thus Sam and Guillaume will be in Hokkaido for nine days, while Tony, Nicolas and Jean-Luc will leave after only four. A hotel has been booked in Sapporo (capital of Hokkaido) for the first night, but the plan is to organise the rest of the accommodation as they go along, and that after a night in Sapporo, the foolhardy gaijin will make directly for the daisetszan national park, that occupies a huge portion of the islands interior.
 

Sapporo weirdness and Border marker of Daisetsuzan national park

And so despite Sam's complete failure to organise his life in the run up to the departure the rest of the day proceeds remarkably smoothly, the Japanese check in assistants allowing the gaijin easy access to the plane, which effortlessly inserts the itinerant travellers into the new-found realm of Sapporo. Of particular interest during the day were the complete crashing out in various of the city's national parks (to recover from general sleep depredation (or deprivation, whatever)), followed by a round of extended sightseeing in botanical gardens and (very small) museums depicting "authentic" Ainu culture (being the aboriginal people of Hokkaido, suffering at the hands of the Japanese the same fate as other aboriginals around the world), watching unpleasant videos of the Ainu Bear festival, in which the tribe appears to take out it's anti-Japanese hostility on a hapless brown bear, and trawling around the back alleys for signs of seediness and small out of the way hotels that will provide lists of potential accommodation in the as yet unexplored Hokkaido interior. For Sam there was the additional exciting experiences of the Hotel Spa and massage sessions (life in Japan can be very stressful you know, so it's difficult to relax without a bevy of nubile women applying thousands of years of physiotherapeutic wisdom to one's joints and muscles). There was also the obligatory bumping unexpectedly into Edinburgh acquaintances in strange Sapporo night-spots and running away from over-excited (drunk or amorous, or both) Japanese women, who in the aftermath of a beer festival raging through the city center, seem unwilling to leave the gaijin alone, insisting that they should be allowed to continue practising their English. In the end the gaijin troupe fool the ladies by scattering in all directions, and screaming "Run away, run away" as you are wont to do in such situations.

Sunday 26th

More live excerpts from the holiday, available because at this stage the traveller still thought it was cool to be typing things into his mobile computer:

"Plans are formed over the extensive "tabehodai" (all you can eat) breakfast.  Mixtures of yoghurt, quoissant, miso, bacon, rice and sausages are digested along with ominous "bear activity" warnings from the Japanese guidebook. And I quote "(if you encounter a bear) do not run away from your group. If you do, you will not *only* die, but also endanger the safety of your group. And it is very important to stay calm", which seems to say more about the Japanese fear about dissolution of the family/friend community huddle, than it does about how to survive in the wilderness. Undeterred, the gaijin allow themselves to be saddled with their trusty backpacks and board a series of soothing Japanese transport devices, that transplant the refreshing Hokkaido greenery from one horizon to another (people from earth normally call them trains)."

"The youth hostel was not difficult to find in Sounkyo, although the winding short cut that took them there was rather treacherous in the dark. Arrangements for the next few days accommodation were somewhat stressful to sort out, largely because the neighbouring mountain resorts seemed to be rather full, and cheap accommodation was not to be found within hiking range of Sounkyo. In the end the crew organised matters such that they would stay in Sounkyo youth hostel for three nights, which had the added advantage of them not having to lug their full kit over three of Hokkaido's largest peaks in order to get to the next night's accommodation. For Sam, phoning youth hostels was just about doable with his limited language skills, but it was the failure of these options that had forced the phoning of more obscure overnight stay places, leading to phone conversations with Japanese who had had little experience talking to foreigners and thus had some difficulty speaking at anything other than supersonic speeds. Over the phone this naturally lead to a breakdown in communication, and a traveller pretty much at a loss of what to do."

"Nonetheless, with the next couple of days accommodation organised, it remained only to find a place for supper (easier said than done in a place like Sounkyo, where everybody eats in their hotels, and much of the place is still under construction - see photo) and then settle back to watch the Ainu fire festival that the travellers had arrived on time for, entirely by accident. The festival consisted of much dancing, drumming, and perhaps most importantly, groups of Ainu warriors shooting flaming arrows into the sky to herald the oncoming pyrotechniques of a suitably impressive, but not tediously long, firework display. Just how authentic this all was to the original Ainu way of life is something that everyone involved needed to decide for themselves, but most of the tourists didn't complain."

Monday 27th

"The valiant adventurers rose bright and early for the youth hostel breakfast of egg, bread and a single sausage, carefully designed to prevent the hostellers from excessive obesity. A cable car and a chair lift took them a fair way up the first peak (Kuro dake), the kilometer and a half of trail remaining before the summit was fairly steep and required some effort to ascend, but once it was behind them it did not seem like it had been such a struggle. The summit was unfortunately shrouded in cloud, but there had been tantalizing glimpses of scenery on the way up, as well as a plethora of friendly chipmunk creatures, and an excess of swarming and buzzing things, occasionally getting themselves stuck in the keyboard of Sam's palmtop, even as he wrote the words to describe the event."

"The first ascent proved to be the toughest of the day, although that is not to suggest that the travellers were not exhausted by the successive ups and downs that were part and parcel of walking the rim of what must have been one of the largest volcanoes in Japan. The crater interior was a remarkable criss cross of yellows, whites and occasional greens; in some ways looking like a populous city some ten of miles distant, rather than a crater floor only a kilometer away. The rim itself changed abruptly from one landscape to another, moonscape after desert mesa, after flowers or greenery, and huge ochre pumice landslides."
 

And I think that it was about this point (note lack of quotation marks on this paragraph) that the traveller ran out of energy or enthusiasm or something (or maybe the others just threatened to throw the lap top into the volcano if Sam didn't stop forcing them to stop every five minutes to type up the progress of their journey), but anyway, the rest of the holiday was mercifully free of live reports from the roving reporter. Anyway the rest is just from memory as usual.
 

So the Ohachi hike, which wended its way round the rim of the ancient, subsided volcano, was pretty bloody impressive. Not least for the changing colours of the landscape as already mentioned. The other thing that really made the travellers catch their breath was the snow that remained in small pockets, even under the blazing sunshine. And I guess when I say pockets you think of isolated bits of snow a few meters across, but these were more like miniature glaciers, some hundreds of meters across, surrounded by the greenery, or red black clay, or whatever that part of the Hokkaido landscape was presented as a backdrop at that particular location. The most impressive mystical sight was on the way back down off the crater rim, having done the full circuit, suddenly their was fairly lush greenery once more, but one side of the hill completely covered in snow and ice. The bottom of this frozen sheet melting into a fast flowing stream, and fine mist rose off the entire ice ensheathed hillside. And this isn't even the really breathtaking bit yet. Passing along the other, green, side of the valley, the Gaijin and swallowed in mist, hearing only the gurgling of the just melted water gushing along below them, and then down onto the flat, out of the mist and looking back to see the sheet of green and the hide of ice colliding, the mist curling delicately up to caress sparkling rays of sunshine. Okay, so enough hyperbole, but I really was pretty impressed.
 

Thus the travellers eventually dragged themselves down off the mountainside, Jean-Luc's legs turning steadily more and more red as the effects of the high-altitude sunshine made their presence felt. The evenings relaxation very pleasantly aided by tickets to the onsen in the expensive hotel next to the youth hostel. The bathing rooms bedecked in silver and marble, and with a 40 foot ceiling, allowing one to  feel like a decadent Roman emperor.
 

Tuesday 28th

The weather closes in, and the crew don their rain coats, and walk the length of Sounkyo Gorge, which seems to be the main attraction of this area, apart from climbing up in the mountains. It is not excessively unpleasant, although attempts to make the journey more pleasant by walking along the river, instead of on the dual carriage-way, are met with determined failure. There are of course not overbearingly disinteresting waterfalls at points along the three or four hour walk, which ends uneventfully at the closure of the road to further traffic, due to the danger of rock slides. The Princess peak, which is just visible from the rock slide barriers, is quite impressive, being some great enfolding of stone protruding out above the already towering canyon walls, the strata of the rock slicing upwards like some illustration from the lord of the rings (although it is difficult for Sam to look at anything remotely non-urban and not start thinking of a Tolkein novel).
 

To offset the aches of walking up and down in the rain, the group seek out the local onsen on the basis of Sam's very positive experiences in Tsumago, but unfortunately this turns out to be the bottom of the range of Japanese bathing establishments, providing the barest minimum of facilities, and a bath water so green that it might have been in constant use for ten or twenty years (or maybe that's just how they make the tea). Jean-Luc's sunburn preventing him from entering the water, but providing amusement for all and sundry by his red and white striped legs.

Wednesday 29th

Today, Tony, Jean-Luc and Nicolas must return to Sapporo and catch a plane back to the world of work. Guillaume and Sam are more fortunate, having the rest of the week to do as they please. There had been some discussion the previous day about what to do next, with Sam feeling fairly resolute that he would travel north to the Islands of Rebun-to and Rishiri-to, on his own if necessary. Guillaume had expressed a desire to see other parts of Hokkaido, but the traveller was in no mood to compromise, especially when he had originally intended that the second part of this trip would be solo. Subsequently, Guillaume had asked to join, and Sam had tried to caution Guillaume that this was his original plan. It has always been fairly clear that Guillaume had not really taken on board what Sam was saying, and this left the traveller feeling a bit guilty about saying he was going North. It was pretty obvious that Guillaume did not feel comfortable about travelling on his own in Japan, so Sam was effectively forcing the Frenchmen North; something that neither of them were happy about. However, after a while reading about the Japan's northernmost islands in Sam's guidebook, Guillaume came round to the idea, and Sam beat his conscience back with a handy shovel marked "my holiday" in bold letters.
 

Trilingual sign in Wakkanai	Collapsed volcano crater on Rishiri-to

Against this backdrop Sam and Guillaume got the early bus from Sounkyo, and spluttering somewhat it carried them away from the partially re-developed mountain resort town. Sam's lack of preparation for this holiday not with-standing, Guillaume had bumped into a friendly German the previous evening, who naturally had complete schedules for all transport in Hokkaido. This information suggested that the Gaijin pair could get to Wakkanai (Japan's northernmost port) in time to catch a ferry to Rishiri-to. And indeed none of this proved problematic, the four hour (maybe it was longer) train journey providing tantalising views of Hokkaido seascapes, and small televisions set into the back of the chairs that allowed you to see from the drivers perspective, or watch a number of banal Japanese torture ... sorry, entertainment shows. Switching off the television, Sam sunk back into his seat and buried his mind in the really quite captivating "Diary of a Geisha" that was book of choice this holiday. A strange novel written by an American who studied Geisha extensively, and had then written a novel in the first person, describing the life of a Geisha in Kyoto. Just how authentic this made the story never became entirely clear, but Sam at least learnt the difference between a Geisha and a prostitute, and was in turns fascinated and appalled at stories of a girl's virginity being sold to the highest bidder, and the general nastiness with which people conduct their affairs in stories, if not in real life as well.

The ferry port in Wakkanai had little of note except that all the signs were in English, Japanese and Russian; Sakahlin Island (part of Russia) being not far distant. The ferry itself was a hulking car ferry that plowed its way through the low mist that rose from the ocean to greet the travellers as they made their way to the volcanically formed island of Rishiri-to. Sam fell asleep on the voyage, to be wakened by Guillaume just as the full mass of Rishiri-fuji (the islands single peak) shouldered the mist aside and leant menacingly over the ferry, as if to inspect its occupants. As expected there was a mini-bus waiting to take the travellers to their accommodation, which was a pleasant enough youth hostel, populated by staff who smiled far too much by any universally recognised standard. The small town scattered along the seafront provided little apart from basic supplies, and an evening meal of sushi, but the travellers had not come here for the night life, they had come here to hike. And hike they would, in concert with others staying at the youth hostel. The plan was explained in the youth hostel main room, as the smiles broadened to the point of pain threshold, colourful maps were produced detailing activities that could be undertaken, including ascent to the summit of Rishiri-fuji. This was clearly the plan of choice, but for some reason that could not easily be extracted from the exclusively Japanese explanations, this would involve getting up at 3:30am the following morning, which is bordering on the extremely ridiculous even by Japanese standards.

Thursday 30th

So by some means as yet not fully understand, the gaijin get up at 3:30am (god, makes me tired even just remembering it) along with three Japanese and a Canadian (I'm sure if I were a better person, I could remember all their names). Picking up their packed brunch of rice cakes, the travellers set off into the morning gloom, glad of their heavier clothing as they are gripped by the freezing wind that comes off the sea. The dead-quiet town is left quickly behind, the majority of the island being completely undeveloped; and soon the path begins to rise, the sun poking glowing fingers through the surrounding mist. The day begins to break and the hikers get aquainted, Sam overcoming his extreme terror at Japanese small talk, but managing enough basics to make for a companionable feel to the proceedings. Soon the last reliable water source is passed; a small brook that is viciously cold. Just beyond it the group breakfasts on their rice and plums, sheltering from the excessive early brightness in a small hut. And so it goes on, the clouds/mist are still thick enough so that the summit is obscured, and the ascent takes the travellers directly into the whiteness, alternately encloaking and revealing the surroundings. The beginning of the path being not steep by any means, but complicated since the path is twisted and churned by ancient tree roots, boulders and stones pausing on their erosive journey down the mountain to trip and push at the feet of the hikers.

The plant-life is pleasant enough to look at, but many of the branches hang low over the path, making progress slightly hazardous for the taller Gaijin, especially when they are concentrating on trying to keep their footing against the irregular surface of the path. About a third of the way up, Guillaume uses his personal phone to contact Nicolas back in Tokyo, and compare the experience of being on a rush hour commuter train with trying to hike up a mountain. How wonderfully technology can bring people together, and prevent the achievement of any sense of isolation anywhere. The trail is broken up my markers that provide rest points ("you are now at mark 4", "you are now at mark 5", etc.), although the total number of marks is not known, they are usually at more open points, and by about mark 6, the group has ascended above the clouds and can now see the wooded slopes above them, and even some of the ocean in the distance, the cloud bank ringing itself around the foot of the ancient volcano, effectively obscuring the coast of the island.

And so it goes on, the group spreads out, and then bunches up again as people take turns in the lead, as the path switches between favouring those with longer and shorter legs. Climbing higher still, the clouds receding, the mountain looks like it just grows out of the mist, its contours looking like many Japanese landscapes as if they are the limbs of a dragon, the foliage looking more like green fur, as if one was scaling the back of some great beast. Eventually the final stages are reached, first the taller trees and then even the taller shrubs receding until the path is passing through eroded passages in the rocks themselves. The last two marks (9 and 10) are both just clusters of boulders against a backdrop of scree. This footing becoming very loose by this point, and the ropes provided by the Japanese a necessary component for further ascent. Where the gravel and small stones have been pushed away the path curves in sweeping bowls, worn down by the passage of many travellers. Finally (although still before 10am) Sam and Guillaume (who have pushed ahead) make the final ascent above mark 10 and come to the peak. The peak itself seeming like something out of a dream, there being a levelled area about twenty feet square. In the centre of this there is a small Shinto shrine, and sitting with one's back to the shrine the rest of the mountain is obscured by the lip of this tiny plateau at the summit. Beyond this precipice one can only see clouds, and hints of ocean, sitting there in the blazing sunshine, it is possible to trick the mind into believing that that was all there was too the world, just this little patch of land and then just sea and cloud, no coast in sight.
 

Resting close to the summit	Shinto Shrine

When the weather is clear Sakahlin island can be seen from the peak of Rishiri-Fuji, but not today. There is bright sunshine, but enough cloud around that the long distance visibility is low. In further mystical mode the peak is bombarded by battalions of swallows that seem to delight in swooshing past the shrine. The tiny birds which had not been seen at any point on the way up kicking away from the peak, then folding their wings around them, they shoot in towards the little plateau, flicking them open again at the last moment, to kareen off in a different direction. Soon the other gaijins' companions arrive at the top, along with a fairly steady procession of other climbers (although not so many as to take the shine off the occasion). The far side of the summit providing spectacular views of strange pinnacles of rocks and huge curving slopes that are presumably the remnants of the collapsed volcano crater.
 

Insect life at the summit	Sam has mystical experience

The way down is slow, and while the limited water supplies took the group to the top, the way down is characterized by increasing thirst. Sam begins to freak out a little, and breaks into a run after passing the 5th marker. Thinking the stream is at the 4th, it turns out that it is below the 3rd and the traveller ends up hurtling down maybe a kilometer of path, past other climbers, over tree roots, practically falling/flying afraid to stop or slow down, driven on by a raging thirst; he simply could not wait. Coming to the painfully cold brook was nonetheless a just reward, the traveller once again appreciating that one of the greatest pleasures in the world is pouring ice water on a desperate thirst.
 

Photo of Rishiri-Fuji in good weather	Canadian Climber

Back at the youth hostel the staff in enquire as to what time the traveller reached the summit, and Sam's answer provokes the response "You are usual Joseph-san", which is difficult to construe as a compliment, but the smiles were enough to reassure good intention. The remainder of the afternoon is spent in the company of the fellow hikers, everybody going to the local onsen together to soak away their aches is steaming water. There is high grade weirdness as Guillaume translates French tongue twisters into English and Sam translates them into Japanese, and peoples ears eventually start bleeding from the mental strain, but a sort of universal comedy is established in the process.
 

Friday 31st

Not content with going to the top of Rishiri-fuji the previous day, Sam, Guillaume and a friendly German (the same one they bumped into in Daisetsuzan) hire bicycles and start off to see if they can make it around the fifty kilometer island perimeter before the ferry for Rebun-to leaves that afternoon. Rebun-to is the island partner of Rishiri-to, long and thin instead of round and pointed like the extinct volcano that makes up the body of Rishiri-to. Rebun-to is just visible as a dark streak along the horizon as the trio set off on their bicycles. Two wheeled machines that are not exactly the latest in style or technology, and with remarkably small frames that induce the German to swear softly for the duration of the journey, wishing that he had his hand-made something-inch frame bike from back home. The weather is clearer than the previous day, but now it is the turn of the mountain peak to be shrouded in clouds. Fortunately the Japanese have provided large blown-up photos of the mountain on a clear day at regular points along the coastline, so the Gaijin are at least able to pretend it is a perfectly clear day by standing very close to the posters and half-closing their eyes. Much of the coastline is very underdeveloped (except for the road), but the astounding seascapes and golden rays dancing off the waters are occasionally broken by tourist enclaves built up around particular scenic spots, such as lakes, or good viewpoints, or shops where they serve the local delicacy of mucus in a cup (no, really, and we've got photos to prove it). Tour buses occasionally pass the cyclists and some how the trio slips into a pattern that involves meeting the same tour party at each scenic stop point, striking up conversation with the attractive tour guides, and generally pretending to be hardened round-the-world cyclists.
 

Mucus in a cup	Random weirdness

Making it back to the youth hostel in plenty of time, Sam and Guillaume bid goodbye to their German friend (look, okay, I can't remember his name, I'm just a failure as a social entity is all), and shoulder their packs once more. Rooms (or rather beds) have been booked in the Rebun-to youth hostel, although their have been enigmatic warnings from Australians who have already stayed there, and mixed comments in the lonely planet. Still, the deed was in progress, the bookings made, but really no amount of preparation could prepare the travellers for the beating their incredulity circuits would be given on this next island (imagine that I am in fact a really skilled writer, and that this last sentence massively built up the narrative tension; thanks, you'll enjoy the next section much more now).

So, exhausted enough to ignore the rising dramatic music in the background, the pair of Gaijin board another ferry and collapse into television shopping programs selling jewellery, modelled by women in bikinis, standing on the beaches of desert islands (?). Rishiri-to recedes and Rebun-to slides up, the ferry turning in an arc to run parallel to the coastline. This new island, as already mentioned, being a very different shape from the previous, and although having no steep central pinnacle, the land is at a generally much higher altitude, all sides seemingly bordered by steep cliffs. Even as the boat docks in the main town, Sam and Guillaume spy a large number of oddly dressed people waving flags. Leaving the boat, the gaijin try to look as inconspicuous as possible in order to avoid the attention of what seems to be the islands religious missionary group, but then realise that this group is actually here to greet them, and in fact all the flag-waving is in their honour (or at least to attract their attention). Speedily the last lot who stayed at the youth hostel get on the ferry to leave (all of them looking somewhat shell-shocked), and the fresh gaijin pair leap into the waiting minibus amid excited yelps and squeals from the youth hostel staff, who are describing things in Japanese, but at such high velocity, little in intelligible. Sam and Guillaume just nod alot and find their trust rewarded when they arrive at a secluded spot along the coast, that is home to the Momoiwa youth hostel. As Sam was to describe after the trip, to anybody who would listen, this was maybe the most beautiful place that he had ever seen. As he would further explain, to anyone foolish enough to continue listening, it is difficult to tell about this kind of thing, since one sees so many places in the movies, specially lit, shot, whatever to create hyper-realistically beautiful places, and this gets confused with your real experiences (well, it does for me anyway). But back to the point, here at Momoiwa the only visible buildings are the wooden youth hostel structures, the whole area almost totally natural, great cliffs rising above the hostel itself, patched with mossy grasses, and then a huge sweeping bay, the arms of which curve out ot create a kind of artificially scenic view. Particularly with the burnished red sun dipping over the horizon, well, it was pretty breath-taking.
 

Momoiwa Youth Hostel	Coastline

And that was just the view, as was to become a feature of the next three days, the youth hostel staff seemed to take pleasure in shouting the traditional Japanese greetings whenever someone left the hostel "Itterashai" (go and come back, to which the reply is "Ittekimasu" meaning I will go and come back), or arrived "Tadaima" (meaning I've just come back, to which the reply is "Okaerinasai", yes please come back). Depending on the number of people arriving or leaving, these phrases would be repeated by the appropriate parties (it was difficult not to join in) a number of times, and as the number of departees/arrivees increased (for example, the people coming back from one of the arranged hikes) the crescendo to the greetings/farewells would be a song and dance, literally. When Sam and Guillaume arrived, there was an old Japanese playing the pipes on a wooden bench in front of the hostel and a man sitting on the roof holding a long pole. After their own greeting (which was a modest affair, with only a few tambourines and drums), they were shown around the hostel, a quite beautiful building, filled with wooden beams, all the men's bunks on a mezzanine level around the central "activity" hall. No sooner than the new Gaijin had taken on board the fact that Momoiwa maintained its own time zone half an hour ahead of the mainland (and the rest of the island as well) and that there were all sorts of special times for leaving for ferries, hikes, having meals etc., were people coming back from one of these hikes, and the male staff members rushed outside to perform the greeting yells, and their special dance. The man on the roof was now waving his pole like a mad thing (with a Japanese flag attached to the end of it for good measure), and various assorted gaijin and japanese travellers appeared and joined in with the dancing. While it initially looked like a lot of people just going into spasm, it did become clear over the following two days that there was a properly choreographed Japanese dance under all this, rather heavily disguised by everyone doing it knew a different percentage of the actual moves. Arriving for the first time on a strange island, it was quite a sight.

Saturday 1st

So anyway, the next morning begins exceptionally early for some (and not for others), Guillaume cannot be roused for the 5:00am breakfast that accompanies the eight hour hiking course. The plan had been carefully explained (in Japanese) the night before, and went something along the lines of "this is a most arduous hike, and to ensure it's completion (as well as your own sense of masochism) you will be required to get up horrendously early, and then be driven to the other end of the island, from where you will walk back. Oh yes, and there are loads of really treacherous rocky bits, so be careful not to get killed." So fair enough, Sam is even quite looking forward to the event, particularly since the hike organised by the last hostel gave him plenty of opportunity to have fulfilling interactions with Japanese people, and today was to be no exception, although as the person who roused him explained, the weather was very bad and they might be able to do only half the walk. Amidst the general confusion of the breakfast (lots of odd sticky things and rice) it became clear that there was a good deal of rain going on (or rather coming and going) and the whole venture might be in jeopardy. Not really understanding alot of it, the traveller left Guillaume to his beauty sleep and piled into the back of "Blue Thunder" (a rather dilapadated truck, but the youth hostel staff had to have names for every even vaguely animate object), which proceeded to rattle everyone bones out of their sockets as it sped up the dirt track away form the hostel and on to the local bus station (so, not exactly a barren isle, but still pretty out there, you know). So donning kamikaze uniforms and toasting the emperor, the success of the war... I mean hike, the youth hostel staff sped away from the bus station in Blue Thunder, leaving Sam and ten assorted Japanese (names? Yeah, right.) standing in the drizzle. The full on dance departure stuff wasn't deemed appropriate this early in the morning, and was replaced with a lot of rousing cries and salutes.

The effect of the rain on the viability of the hike seemed to have dropped below conscious level, and the hikers boarded a standard issue Japanese bus that drove them to the other end of the island, the scenery obscured along the way by the fogged up windows. Thus, the group found themselves at the windswept pointed end of the Island, looking suitably barren (the surroundings rather than the people) apart from the obligatory gift shop, from which Sam purchased a cap with the logo "Hokkaido" emblazoned across it, in order to try and prevent the drizzle from completely obliterating his ability to see through his glasses. After a short false start in the wrong direction, the Japanese who had been declared "Leader-san" at the previous nights meeting, turned the group around and began to lead the valiant trek down the coast and through a series of environments, almost as varied as the ones Sam had already experienced in the central Hokkaido mountains. The start of the hike climbed up steep hills and then down the other side, small paths carving their way up and down, short grasses hugging tight to the ground against the elements, that thrashed about the less well secured human beings. The heat generated going up one side of a hill would be quickly lost coming down the other, and this early period was characterised by all adjusting and then re-adjusting their clothing in order to try and stay cool and dry in alternation.

Sam was feeling somewhat nervous about being the only gaijin, but fairly quickly he was having prolonged conversations with his fellow hikers (the majority of which were female) who didn't seem to mind that he had to have things repeated to him three times, and seemed much more interested in actually having a conversation, an interaction, that whether understanding might or might not accompany it. Worry dissipates, the traveller settles into the hike, chatting with different people, and relaxes enough to enjoy the scenery. The weather continued to fluctuate throughout the day, but in many ways this was to make for a more beautiful backdrop than the intense sunshine Sam was to experience at the other end of Japan a fortnight hence. The scenery changed in stages, from the rugged hills, to more craggy cliffs, aquamarine sea curving into little bays below, the crystal water revealing the contours and plantlife of the sea bed. At different times the group was walking through what seemed like tropical forest, then back onto the smooth glassy rocks of the seashore, then up a gravel slope and lunch atop a plain of reddish scree; cutting against the flow of the land they were to climb up and down the browns and beiges of rocky clay hills, moving back and forth from the coast to inland and back. The last phase of the walk taking them completely away from the sea and through tracks cut through fields and grass lands that looked remarkably like the South coast of Britain, but with something strangely different that was difficult to identify, maybe the plant-life, but the traveller could never quite be sure.

For Sam this was the first day when he had talked almost exclusively Japanese (he was to have a chat in English with Guillaume that evening), and it felt good, and it seemed that if only everyday could be like this he would be fluent in no time. After the mountain and the bicycles of the previous two days this eight hour trek (it took about that long) began to take its toll on the traveller, and as the group approached Momoiwa (which means peach rock, an indeed one of the cliff faces by the hostel looks remarkably like a section through a peach) he could feel his ankles starting to go beyond just normal tiredness. Fortunately the next day was to be relatively undemanding, apart from the dancing that is. Return to the youth hostel allowed the staff to break out into full dance routine, the six main dudes strutting their funky stuff on the youth hostel roof, the hikers managing a less energetic imitation on the ground below. Sam eventually had to go and sit down, but the festivities continued, pausing briefly for supper (the food there was excellent), it continued into a kind of nightly jamboree, involving comedy sketches (in Japanese) and plenty of standing in a huge circle in the main hall practising the moves from their special dance. Guests were invited to do their own skits, which included Guillaume performing "Stand by me" on the Guitar, and Sam uncharacteristically hiding in the kitchen and practising his Kanji. In the kitchen, the traveller met the rather attractive kitchen staff, from whom he divined that this whole outfit was a summer thing, and that most of the people involved were students or part time workers who could take the summer out and behave like lunatics on the island far from the clamouring oppression of society at large. Before lights out Sam stood on the balcony looking over the main hall, watching the people interact. There was no alcohol here, but everyone was relaxed having a good time interacting, Japanese and Gaijin alike. The traveller had already spent various parts of the evening chatting with people from the hike, in buts of Japanese, bits of English, here it didn't seem to matter. It might seem like a bunch of dangerously mentally unstable individuals on the surface, but in fact when compared to the framework that Sam existed in in Tokyo, it was pretty damn good. And the traveller began to dream of times when he didn't have deadlines and corporate responsibilities, and personal objectives that all seemed to get in the way of just taking off and spending the summer achieving nothing much in particular, but just hanging out with people and having a good time.

Sunday 2nd

The final morning of the holiday is necessarily characterised by the general confusion of trying to co-ordinate the Momoiwa nutter people's time zone with that of the ferry company, but eventually Sam and Guillaume (and a number of others, including the German from Rishiri-to) board the ferry, and wave goodbye to the youth hostel staff and guests who have come to say goodbye. And this is perhaps the strangest tableau of the whole week, the five or six main guys at the front of the group begin the big dance routine thing; and all the others are in lines behind them, making up a big square of people on the quayside. Needless to say, Sam and Guillaume join in the routine from their position on the deck of the ship, and while other people are flailing multi-coloured streamers off the side, the whole thing begins to start looking like a "kids from fame" extravaganza, and interested tourists turn their video cameras, as the tightly choreographed dancing gets more and more dramatic (Sam having given up on following the steps some time previously, and is busy getting on with his own dance version of "baby, I want your love thing"). As the ferry sailed off the dancing continued, and the cries of "Itterashai" and replies of "Ittekimasu" rebounding off the nearby cliffs, a testament to just how far really obsessed people can push their vocal chords. Eventually, just shaking his head in disbelief, the traveller walked to the other side of the boat and looked out into the sundering sea, just in time to see the back of some great leviathan arch its way out of the water and then disappear again under the waves. "Now that," he thought "is the way to end a holiday."
 

Momoiwa - the peach rock	Seagulls as seen from the Rebun-to ferry

And what a holiday it was. Rejoin us next time for a return to civilization, and then to lose it again as the Traveller's father and sister arrive in Japan, all sanity and recognizable things taking off, just as the Joseph family are landing. Gasp, at the complex itinerary that Sam creates for his beloved family; weep, at the stress of any extended family visit in an alien culture; laugh, at the undeniable humour of the whole expedition as we travel to more and varied parts of Japan than ever before. Consider yourself warned.