Running the Mt Takao to Mt Jimba trails

Mt Fuji with a cloud cap in the distance to the south west, seen from the route

Thanks to first time visiting runner Michal who sent photos and a report on his recent run from Takaosanguchi station on the western edge of Tokyo - his gpx file is at the end of the post:

"My recommendations for someone running it for the first time would be to start from Takaosanguchi station; there are shops for water, lockers, and an English-friendly information office with maps etc. and it is easy to get there from Tokyo, for example from Shinjuku. I took route number 5 up and down Mt Takao, which was pretty nice and mostly runnable. From Mt Takao to Mt Jimba there are good markings, but while some are bi-lingual, some are only in Japanese; it's therefore best to memorise the Kanji characters, for example as on this sign:

Sign on Takao-san with approximate walking times - fit runners might take around one third of these times

For many of the hills on the route there are options to go up over the hill or around it with the a more contouring path which re-joins the ridge path later - the latter is usually the more runable option.

The view back East towards the Kanto plain and Tokyo from Takao-san

It's easy to get water at shops or toilets at Mount Takao and Mount Jimba plus several other places in between, but decent food options are limited. There is a new, really good onsen directly attached to Takaosanguchi station (1000 yen entrance fee, 150 yen for towel rental), which is great for post-run recovery!

A shorter alternative to doing the out and back course is to run down to the main valley road south of Mt Jimba (maybe 20 mins running?) where I have heard there is a bus that goes back to Takaosanguchi station. It might be best to check at the information centre before starting though.

The summit of Mt Jimba with its memorable horse statue -the turn-around point on this route

GPX file for the Takao-san Jimba-san out and back route
"Note that I was doing extra “loop” on the way and I got lost in a minor way a few times, so it might not be perfect, or may require corrections. But it gives you an idea of elevations etc. Michal"

Thanks Michal! For other ideas for running near Tokyo click here

Mt Hiei and the marathon monks, Kyoto

Mt Hiei just north east of Kyoto in late December

I didn't know until we were on the mountain that I would be coming into close contact with one of the world's great historical mountain endurance traditions. I had read about Mt Hiei's 'marathon monks' but never thought I would see the place - especially by accident.  In a gloriously incongruous transplanted cultural tradition I had been invited for a Christmas Day meal, sleep-over and long Boxing Day run by David, who I had only met once before - oh the joys of spontaneous sociability! Ohara was snowy and beautiful, and it felt like being at home back in Fukushima's mountainous Okuaizu villages.

Ohara morning - only 10km north of Kyoto

Run preparations were of Olympic standard. Well stuffed with the a western-style meal, refreshed with long conversations in English and slightly pummelled by David's great kids acting out their favourite animé scenarios, Boxing Day dawned with more snow. Let's get at it.

David heading up the first climb in Northern Irish  hard man style  - gear is for wussses

It was only now as we climbed gradually up the first hill in pristine shallow snow that I understood where we were going - over a couple of tops to Hiei-san. We would be running in the footsteps of the 'marathon monks.' Wow, I'm not worthy. Nah, not really, I'm too much of an egotistical sceptic to feel that. But it would be very interesting. We made the top of Yokotaka-san and made our way along the undulating ridge, ribbons of ice coating every twig, and a stiff breeze cutting over the hill. "It'll harden ye," said David with a wry smile. In a homage to Michael Jackson he had managed to come out with only one glove, and he explained that "It'll harden ye" is a stock response to any hardship in Northern Ireland, where they have known a few.

Ice decorations and David in his element on Mt Yokotaka

We were the only souls out - it is a normal working day in Japan, so we had the new-made world to ourselves, slithering, leaping and whooping down steep slopes. As we approached Mt Hiei David told me what  he knew of the place, that the Buddhist temple and it's army (yes, Buddhist mercenaries/soldiers, but if you think that is weird, check out the Yakuza scandal, links below), had got ideas above it's station and interfered once too often in the affairs of the capital in Kyoto, with the result that a large imperial force was sent in 1571. It encircled the mountain and neighbouring towns and then moved upwards, killing everyone (an estimated 20,000) and burning everything until it reached the top. Problem solved after a fashion. The temple was re-established, and the tradition of a gruelling discipline of mountain endurance and prayer resumed.

Part of the monks' prayer and endurance route

After exhaustive research spanning several minutes in the dusty tomes and darkened recesses of the internet, I have gathered the following. I'd take the details with a pinch of salt if I were you, as most sources say something slightly different and seem to be feeding off each other without looking at primary materials - and I'm doing the same.

They are sometimes called 'running monks' but this seems to be inaccurate. "Jogyozanmai" is translated on an information board I saw as "walking meditation" rather than running, and the films (links below) show fast walking  - so no, it is not that kind of jog! However, anyone who understands mountains knows that one person's fast walk is not the same as another's. The walking is incidental in that it is primarily there to gain access to the numerous prayer sites across the mountain. The difficulty of the Jogyozanmai lies not in its speed, but in its relentless succession of hard days in sets of one or two hundred, over seven years, amounting to an estimated 28,400 miles, set in the context of prayer and meditation, sometimes with limited food and sleep, no modern comforts, and all done in grass sandals through any weather and illness, come what may. Very few have completed it, though some have done it twice, and good runners are reputed to have given up after a week.

I have a feeling that English running greats Joss Naylor and Billy Bland would not have had a problem with it, mind you. Clearly, it is very different as even hardened mountain runners used to long distances have flexibility and fit their running around the pleasures of ordinary life, resting when they need to, and choosing when to suffer. It seems to be the unforgiving rigidity and emotional isolation - the intentionally soul destroying boredom even - of the Mt Hiei discipline that makes it particularly difficult - one day of serious illness and the whole thing is in jeopardy.

Jogyo-Do temple on the left, Hokke-do on the right, for walking, and walking and sitting training respectively. I'm looking for the cake eating temple

There is a wide continuum of human experiences that connect up with recreational mountain running and mountain asceticism. Both can span meditative thought, a quasi-spirtitual (in the sense of awe and wonder) relationship with the land and existence. Is there a point where both touch on the dysfunctional self (present company excepted of course) escaping the difficulties of ordinary life, or even a need for the kind of intensity that borders on self-harm? In case you think that is an exaggeration, the monks carry a rope and blade as in previous centuries they were supposed to top themselves if they failed, and the route is said to be dotted with the graves of those who have. Generally speaking when I fail to finish a run I have a little moan to my friends then go home and have some nice beans on toast - but then again, I am not enlightened. The long ordeal finishes with a 7 (or 9?) day sleepless fast where death, slash, enlightenment is hopefully approached. It used to be 10 days, but most people died so they shortened it, the softies. Imagine getting to the of it all end and feeling, well, no different? I know the Mt Hiei experience would not be for me unless all else had failed....erm...where do I sign? As David would say, "It'll harden ye."

Excuse me, is this the café?

Information on the marathon monks and Mt Hiei on the internet is patchy and often slightly contradictory: the truth is out there somewhere....
20 minute Australian video on the marathon monks
English documnetary (older film, different monk):Pt 1
Pt 2
A slightly wacky page on the marathon monks
USA today article 
The masacre on Mt Hiei
"The Marathon monks of Mt Hiei" is a book by John Stevens
Wikipedia page
Enryaku-ji temple and the yakuza scandal 
Warrior monks

Mount Rokko Longitudinal Course pt 2

The spurs and flanks leading up to the Rokko ridge are much better than the ruined ridge itself

Rokko-san above Kobe is a mountain ruined by development. In the absence of planning protection it may be inevitable for a mountain so near a city, but the ridge itself is ruined for long stretches by roads, strings of very ugly buildings and attempts at tourist business. Many of these were probably built in the bubble economy period and never had any chance of making money - and with no thought of dismantling them or rehabilitating the site afterwards. I will spare you the photos as I couldn't bring myself to take any. Fortunately the sides are too steep and rough to do anything with, and there are some great paths on the off-lying tops, spurs and side valleys  that are well worth exploring.

I wanted to check out the second half of the 45km race I am doing on March 17th, which follows the 56km route from Sumaurakoen station on  the Sanyo Dentetsu line to Takarazuka station to the north east, with about 3,000m (10,000ft) of climb and descent over 16 peaks. See here for part 1. The race misses the last 10km section and from Rokko-san itself drops left, down to a park in Arima Onsen.

Cage running: a mountain running first

The 650m (2,100ft) climb up a ridge from Rokko station on the Hankyu line was wild and great until we hit the first concrete monstrosity NE of Mayabatou-san. The next 10km or so to the top of Rokko were easy but not a pretty site - though the roads are good for families with young children and older people to get access to somewhere high for an easy walk. Running through one is as near as I ever want to get to a golf course, but at least there was no chance of getting brained by a well driven ball as the path is enclosed with a netting cage - a curiously zoo-like experience.

WTF? There is a place for ugly monumental sculpture. This isn't it.

The wire netting theme was continued by the enormous.....I'm struggling for a category here.....let's be charitable and call it a thing, seemingly a lighthouse in a chicken coop on a Wagnerian scale, perched proudly on the ridge. [update: a reader has kindly pointed out that it is a wind sculpture consisting of hundreds of flutes that sound beautiful in the breeze] At least when you are mountain running you can get past such aberrations quickly, and in fact this whole section to Rokko-san was easy, in contrast to the repeatedly stiff climbs in the first half of the full 56km course.

Top of Mount Rokko 931m

I checked out the race finish with an hour's quick blast down to Arima Onsen and back up. This confirmed that the side paths and valleys in this area are great. My companion Keisuke-san very sensibly read the paper over a bowl of udon in the cafe just below the top of Rokko-san instead. We then began what proved to be the very nice end section of the main route. We quickly left the dross behind and began the long fast path that contours along a very quiet undulating ridge towards Takarazuka. Ahhh - no roads or paved paths, what a relief!

What a relief - lovely views in places, and not a vending machine in sight

It was a surprise to find this section so pleasant, but be warned - unlike the rest of the Rokko Juso, there is nothing along this last 7km section but trees, so if you need liquid or food stock up at Rokko-san. Also, the small green signs go AWOL when just when you are looking for the entrance to the ridge path from the road, so take care. 800m from the Rokko car park the path seems to go up a small rise to a shrine, but you need the path that heads NE from a loop of road below - so keep left on the road. If you have done the whole route it would not be a good time for a detour down the wrong ridge.

Lovely easy running towards Takarzuka

If you are feeling good this must be a nice path to really let rip on. Whoever laid it out knew what they were doing as it contours beautifully, with the odd rise as it gradually descends - it felt longer than it actually is though, just because it is so quiet - on this cold February day anyway. Or was it the several hours with a full rucksack that did it? A steepening descent brought us out above Takarazuka. On my map it is all a lovely green, leading me to expect something rural. But no, it is part of the urban sprawl of Kobe which laps all around the skirts of the mountains, and pug ugly. Grey would represent it better. Running into the first tall blocks of flats hemming in the roads was a slap in the mug after the woods - and dammit - no change of clothes or towel, so we had to give the onsen (hot spring bath) by the concrete rimmed river a miss.

The towers of Osaka from above Takarazuka

So in summary, now that I've seen the whole course, I would say the Rokko Mountain Longitudinal Course is worth doing if you live nearby and take it for what it is. The first half is hard,containing most of the 3,000m (10,000ft) of climbing, and the second easy but you need a map and to take care all the way - don't rely on the signs. The sides of the ridges provide some paths on challenging and beautiful terrain with epic cityscapes behind, but the main section of ridge from 10km SW of Rokko-san to the top is best avoided unless as part of the whole course, but after that it improves again.

Mount Rokko Longitudinal Course - part 1

View  to the south west from Kikuisui-yama, looking back along the first 40% of the Rokko trail

The Mount Rokko Longitudinal Course is a 56km trail from Sumaurakoen station on  the Sanyo Dentetsu line to Takarazuka station to the north east, with about 3,000m (10,000ft) of climb and descent over 16 peaks. It is incredibly varied, from neat park-like paths, to road, to very rough rock and root-strewn sections, and even ladders and exposed crags. But more than anything, it has steps, steps and more steps.

I have entered the race in March, so I wanted to have a look, and I am glad I did. Route-finding wasn't easy, even with map and compass and signs on the way, especially in the urban sections, as the signs sometimes go AWOL when you most need them. There are worse ways of loosing your way. On the way to begin on an early commuter train a young guy in a suit was keeled over asleep next to me - or was he dead? I began to think so at the end of the line when vigorous shaking didn't wake him, and called for help. He finally stood up and staggered onto the platform where he sat down on the first bench and went immediately to sleep again, clutching his briefcase. I don't think he was drunk, just exhausted to his very bones, perhaps on his way to 'karoshi', or death by overwork - the dark side of Japanese economic success. I felt very sorry for him and wished him a better life and stronger unions. Hard work in the context of the freedom of mountain running could not be more different, and the first few hours of my run were coloured by this encounter. I felt very lucky.

The freedom of running. Osaka bay from the park steps up Hachibuseyama

The views over the sea make for a sublime start, but on a slightly earthier note there are toilets in the station and the park, but no paper, which is surprisingly common - note to self: add a pack of tissues to kit list. The first of many, many flights of steps lead up to the cable station on the first top, Hachibuseyama. Paper! As with most of the tops on the first half of the Rokko-san Longitudinal trail the low height in metres is deceptive as you climb more or less from sea level each time, and those steps - ouch!

Looking from the steps down the 1st descent to Yokoo-san, the second objective

Each mountain is strung in a line heading towards Rokko-san like islands of forest, with suburbia lapping and nibbling at the edges. The streets are more confusing than the mountains, as always, but both required careful navigation and sometimes asking people to make sure. Presented with 5 different paths and a map without much detail it took a lot of time. I don't want to waste too much time on race day. A lot of the paths are over-engineered, being so close to towns. I don't know about you, but I find staircases harder than rough trail. I couldn't believe it when I found this was the second climb of the day....

You have got to be kidding me. Killer steps up Yokoo-san.

Ah the love affair with concrete and the taming of nature (as if that can be done). Actually, practising and training on steps would be a good idea for trail racing in Japan, they are very common on any well used mountains and require their own brand of pacing on the way up, and a particular style of descending. I don't want to fall down these babies. The view back from the top was good though...

Looking back to Tekkaizan and Hachibuse-yama, the big bridge and beyond

Who would think from those regimented steps and the innocuous first part of Yokoo-san that it is such a dramatic mountain. After the first top there is an easy short ridge that comes up to a second top. There is a short path straight on, but it doesn't go through, it just gives this glimpse of what is ahead...

Glimpse of the craggy col section on Yokoo-san, with Takatoriyama, the next top, behind

Don't go straight on here! It seems strange when the route veers down to the left. Here is why...

The precipitous crags on Yokoosan - note the walker bottom right for scale

The north east end of Rokoosan is a crumbling mess of jagged gravelly crags, and there is a bit of exposure to drops in a couple of places. Ladders have been added, and there would be some 'bad steps' without them. It is as if someone has attacked it with an axe. I took a lot of care here, no show-boating!

Looking back to Yokoosan (312m) from the NE.

For the last 5km or so I had been to-ing and fro-ing with a very fit man who looked to be in his late seventies at least. I kept passing him, but every time I stopped to check the way he came past, and he ran down every descent, his cagoule pulled off his shoulders and slung round his arms. From behind, with his neck of thick corded muscle and his easy movements, he looked 30 years younger. I was very impressed -  he looked like he could go all day like that, but he waved away my compliments and was off before I could get my camera out....

All in a day's jog for this septuagenarian: Takatoriyama (328m) from Yokoosan

The next confusing crossing of suburbia over, there is a stiff pull with more steps up to Takatoriyama (328m), which sports an enormous telecoms array, like many mountains near cities. This time there was a family with small children near the top, stopping me from feeling like running up hills was anything special - well, ok, puffing and panting up them at fast walk, then, what are you, psychic? I love to see that, too - kids having a good time on the hills, in this case in the company of their dad and grand-dad. Maybe in 70 years time one of them will still be enjoying it, like the elder on the last hill.

Young boy reaching the first of Takatoriyama's two tops (328m) with Osaka in the distance

The hill has a long top mainly taken up with shrines and paved footpaths, but affording this view across Kobe and Osaka bay...

Across Kobe and Osaka Bay to the Nara and Wakayama mountains beyond

The way off Takatoriyama was particularly hard to find and not well marked with the Rokko Longitudinal Course signs. This set the tone for a scrappy route through the next bit of town, where the signs suddenly gave out and I went wrong - or perhaps it was my concentration that gave out. I used map and compass to go in the right general direction and met up at a railway station with some walkers I had left ten minutes before, where we milled around a bit looking confused until I plunged off down the path I had convinced myself was the right way. Fortunately I was right for once, and a few kilometres of track and road brought me past some reservoirs and beneath a big dam to the big climb up to Kikusuiyama (458.8m). Here's the view again....

View back over the route on the way up Kikusuiyama

Next comes another big climb to a 486.2m top...are you getting the picture? They aren't so big, but those climbs just keep on coming. The navigation needed care again on this next section by Futatabi-yama over to what should be checkpoint 3 in the race, with paths heading off all over the place and not many course signs, so I wasted a lot of time trying to match up Kanji symbols on the signs with those on the map, without much success. Fortunately I asked a walker, who put me back on track. No shame, me, I always ask when needed. I was too tired by then to deal with unnecessary diversions.

A long drag took me up to Maya-san at 698.6m, and by this time my legs were telling me those spot heights were surely not nearly high enough - but apparently most of that 3,000m/10,000ft height gain has been done by this point, and it gets a little easier. Maya-san is home to Tenjo-ji temple, which was founded in 646 but burned down in an arson attack in 1975. Fire, whether arson or accident, seems to figure in the history of most Japanese places.

Shinto shrine on the top of Mayabetou-san 717m

On this day at the end of a week in which I had already done two long runs and a long bike ride, it was beginning to look as if discovering the last part over Rokko-san itself would have to wait for another day. The afternoon was growing gloomy, the January wind was blowing sharp, and snow laden clouds were coming in. I went on to what should be checkpoint 4 out of 5 on race day and decided to call it quits - the roads and tourist developments on this section did not inspire acts of heroism, and being on my own in the dark was not appealing 6 and a half hours into the run with a full rucksac and very tired. I found a steep and rugged but direct line down towards the nearest station to the south east. After more steps - a lot more steps - I bumbled out into suburbia just before dark, and treated myself to a nice hot bowl Kitsune Udon. Rush hour was beginning as I travelled on packed trains back through Osaka. I was tired and probably over-trained, but it was just my own silly fault. I wondered what time my exhausted friend from the morning would get home, or if he would at all?

The whole 56km route over 16 tops can, according to Jean-Yves Terrault in Kansei Scene, be done by elite runners in under 6 hours, by regular runners in 10 or 11 hours, or by walkers usually over two days. The cut-off time for the 45km race which finishes in Arima-onsen is 8 hours. See my post on 2nd half of the route here. My race report from 2012 is here. Another runner has some blog posts on the Rokko trail here

Hidden caves and a secret village...possibly

Unusual man-made cave hidden near the top of a small mountain - any guesses?

One of the great things about running in the hills is the unexpected, those little shocks to the illusory order imposed by our minds, the simplification and predictability we crave tickled into repositioning itself. No? That'll just be me then. The Yamashiro hills in Kyoto prefecture just north of Nara are modest and unassuming, but once you get into them, they have some refreshing surprises. I had been trying to find some new routes in this complex little area, but working out how it all fits together is not easy, and that makes for running fun. Trying to link up well used paths and starting and finishing points into good circuits means thrutching through some thick scrub on old hunters tracks, and sometimes loosing even those.

One of the more 'runnable' bits along a ridge

Taking an educated guess took me and my mate Richard down a steep hillside on a path that was probably made by wild boar, as it appeared from the goodly stink and a muddy wallow. After we had finished doing that we carried on. Luckily, just as the 'path' petered out, some unusual dry-stone embankments appeared in the woods, marked by red tape on twigs.

A long way from the nearest modern village up in the hills - there were lots of these

As we descended through a steep rough gorge more of these terraces appeared, some on the hillsides, and some apparently marking off flat areas. It felt to me that we had stumbled onto what used to be a hidden village, perhaps built at a time of war to hide from conflicts. If this was the case it was a good spot, as there was a water supply, and the bottom of the valley was protected by a rocky gorge, which though small, certainly wouldn't have looked to marauding soldiers as if there was anything up there worth plundering. As we stumbled out of the undergrowth, scratched but intrigued, and looked back, you would never know there was anything to see now.

Above this same area, coming from a different direction we happened across two caves at the base of a small sunken crag. I let Richard check out if there were sleeping bears in them first, it only seemed fair out of respect for his spirit of adventure, I'm very selfless that way. Each had been chiselled out and was big enough for two people to lie down in (or several to crouch in), and crude stone shelves had been carved out in each. Why were they made? Were they also hiding places, or were they graves? The chisel marks were quite sharp, so Richard wondered if they were WWII bomb shelters - yet we were far from any target, and the Americans deliberately spared Kyoto and Nara from the fire-bombs that destroyed most Japanese cities. Osaka is 40km away.

The second hidden cave

There is one man made cave about 10km away by a road, and in Saitama the Hiaku Anna (100 caves) are scattered across anentire craggy hillside. Yet no-one really knows what they were for either, though their guess of graves seems sensible  These caves were rougher and made in a hurry, but whether that was because of fear of an enemy, or the need for a local misanthropic boar hunter to bivouac regularly we'll probably never know. And I quite like it that way.

But what do you think we were looking at?