In 2023, I met Junki aka JK from Yamatomichi while on the CDT. We got to know each other while hiking in the Great Basin of Wyoming and quickly became close friends. From the Basin we hiked most of the remaining 1,700 miles to Mexico together.

JK talked about his life in Japan often. The mountains, his family, his wife Pei Pei, his community, and the food. Hearing him talk so fondly of his home made me want to experience Japan. We finished the trail and went back to our homes, and shortly afterward JK invited me to visit him in Japan. I was in! I couldn’t wait to visit.

Nine months, many messages, phone calls and 26 hours of flights later, I finally saw JK’s smile again. As we embraced in laughter at the airport, I was excited to be able to hike with my friend again.

Our friend Tip Tap (Elina Osbourne) would also be joining us for the hike. I met Tip Tap at PCT days in August. At some point, I mentioned I was about to head to Japan, and she said “Oh, you’re the friend that’s going to visit Junki!” She mentioned she would be in Japan around the same time and we agreed it would be fun to meet up and hike if it worked out. Days before I left for Japan, she messaged JK and I confirming she would be joining us on a hike in the north Japanese Alps.

Unfortunately, the weather forecast leading up to the hike looked abysmal. Five straight days of rain, fog, and wind. If we were lucky, we might get a break in the clouds for a few minutes here and there. I was pretty disappointed. I had been looking forward to seeing these mountains for months. I didn’t mind a day or two of bad weather, but seeing the forecast show a solid block of rain felt demoralizing. We decided to head out anyway in case the weather changed. You never know what might happen in the mountains.

Our hike started at Kamikochi. That morning, a cold rain steadily saturated the earth as we made our way to the mountains. As we got closer, we got glimpses of blue sky. The rain eased up. Maybe the weather would be fine after all? We reached the parking area and as we started unpacking JK’s car, the rain began falling again, this time a bit more gently. I didn’t care all that much, I was just too excited to start hiking.

When we finally began hiking, excitement rushed over me. “This is my first time hiking in Japan!” I casually mentioned to Tip Tap. The realization of what I said hit me.

The anticipation and excitement that had been building for months had finally reached its end. I was no longer looking at what was to be, I was walking in reality. I was finally hiking in the Japanese Alps! I was finally hiking with JK again!

The late start meant we would only be hiking for a few hours. Also, JK said we should try to be at camp each day by 4 pm. This was a new concept for Tip Tap and me. We’re used to thru-hiking where mileage goals are met, no matter the time. If you wanted to hike 50 kilometers but it took until 10 pm, by all means go for it. With the Japanese Alps hut system, however, we were learning that it is customary to finish hiking by 4 pm, especially in late September when the sun begins to set by 5:30 pm. We would find out soon enough that the 4 pm cutoff time is more of a guideline than a hard and fast rule, but today, we would only hike about 10 km in order to not hike too late past 4 pm.

Even though the first day stayed entirely in the trees, I was still in awe of the world around me. The landscape was lush and vibrant. The forest had a feeling of ancient wisdom. Trail makers installed lengthy boardwalks over boggy areas. We saw monkeys. And to my amusement, we passed several bear bells installed on the side of the trail. The idea was to scare bears away by ringing the bell as you walked by. I remarked that it was a dinner bell. Occasional views of soaring mountaintops adorned like stately kings in robes of clouds provided a foreshadowing of what lay ahead. The miles went quickly and easily.

We arrived at Yokoo Sanso shortly after 4 pm. JK had to convince the rangers that we were in fact capable of carrying out our intended hiking plan. Apparently, most people only hike 5-10 km and we had a couple of days on our itinerary that would push 20+ km. After assuring the ranger we were physically fit enough to hike that far, we registered to camp and set up our tents.

We made dinner and then hung out inside the huts common area until they closed at 7:30 pm. The hut had WiFi, so I nervously checked an updated weather forecast. I felt lucky enough that we only got occasional showers that first day, and I didn’t mind the rain too much as we were in the trees the entire time. The next several days, however, would not afford the luxury of trees to shelter us from any adverse weather. Once we ascended Mt. Yarigadake, we would be almost entirely above the trees for the next 4 days. Any extended stretch of rain could make our hike miserable at best, dangerous at worst. The weather app refreshed. To my disbelief, the forecast was improving! The next two days showed only a small chance of rain in the afternoon.

I fell asleep to the sounds of the rushing river. I felt alive and full. I felt peace and connection. I felt curious to know the world and those around me. Even though I was only 10 km into this hike, I felt like something bigger was at play, like this was more than a typical 5 day backpacking trip. I didn’t know exactly what that meant or what was in store for me over the next 4 days, but I did know that this moment was gold and cherished it accordingly.

We woke up early with plans to start hiking by 5:30 am. We had ambitious plans to hike 20 km over steep and difficult terrain, and with hiking cut off time being 4 pm, we needed all the time we could get. As would become a theme on this hike, we didn’t start hiking until closer to 6 or 6:30 am. Turns out, when you have 3 photographers/videographers hiking together, things tend to take a bit longer.

We woke up early with plans to start hiking by 5:30 am. We had ambitious plans to hike 20 km over steep and difficult terrain, and with hiking cut off time being 4 pm, we needed all the time we could get. As would become a theme on this hike, we didn’t start hiking until closer to 6 or 6:30 am. Turns out, when you have 3 photographers/videographers hiking together, things tend to take a bit longer.

We eventually packed up our tents, soggy from heavy condensation, and hiked out. The day’s first objective: Mt. Yarigadake. At 3180m Mt. Yari is the fifth tallest mountain in Japan and one of its famous 100 peaks. Yari’s sharp nosed summit makes it immediately recognizable. It’s also a long, steep climb.

From our camping location, the climb took us roughly 4 hours with breaks. Along the way, I learned how to say “Good morning neighbors” in Japanese, JK’s customary morning greeting from his tent. Ohayo Gozaimasu Otonarisan. I made up a song to help me remember.

おはよう お隣さん – Ohayo Otonarisan
Good morning neighor
朝日 お隣さん – Asahi Otonarisan
The sun, neighbor
起きれ お隣さん – Okire Otonarisan
Wake up, neighbor politely
起きろ お隣さん – Okiro Otonarisan
Wake up, neighbor rudely

I sang this song repeatedly, burning the words and phrases into my brain.

Again, I was ecstatic to be here. I was still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I was hiking in the Japanese Alps, climbing Mt. Yarigadake. The first few kilometers seemed to fly by. Then the final ascent hit, full of rocks and switchbacks. Yes, there were switchbacks, but I was a bit surprised at how steep and rugged the last couple of kilometers of the climb were. I shouldn’t have been. Mountains will be mountains after all.

We reached Mt. Yari Hut which stood right at today’s cloud ceiling. Long views were obstructed by low clouds, still clinging to the summits, but we could see down into the valley we had just climbed from. We ate lunch outside the hut, watching the clouds continuously give and take views.

In stark contrast to my first week in Japan, the combination of elevation and wind provided a bit of chill to the air. I started to say something about it being cold, then remembered the buckets of sweat that poured off me just a few days ago in Kyoto. I’d take being slightly chilly over heat and humidity any day. Besides, there was a hut only a few meters away where we could warm up in. We walked into the hut and each ordered a chai tea. Maybe it was the fact that we were a bit chilled. Maybe it was the fact that we were at 3,000m. Maybe it was the fact that we had hiked hard miles to get here. Probably all of the above. Either way, that chai tasted so delicious. We savored every drop of warm goodness.

The last drops of chai hesitantly consumed, we looked at our watches. Our quick 30 minute break had somehow turned into over an hour. We’d only hiked 7 km with 13+ to go and it was already 11:30 am. We’d be hard pressed to reach our goal by dark, but we’d sure as hell try. The chai was absolutely worth it though.

We descended the backside of Mt. Yari, clouds rushing in and out over the ridgeline. This side of the mountain was much more in the clouds. It was also a steeper descent than we anticipated, which slowed our progress some. The next several kilometers to the next hut proved to be spectacular despite the cloud cover. Every so often the wind would briefly blow the clouds away, providing clear views to nearby peaks and surrounding valleys. The colors of the orange rocks contrasted nicely with the lush green of the lower elevations.

By the time we reached the second hut of the day, it was 3 pm. There was no way we’d be able to hike to our intended campsite before dark. JK devised a new route that would take us to a different hut tonight, one that was close enough to arrive by 6 pm when it started to get dark. This change meant we would be hiking an out and back route instead of a lollipop loop, but that was fine with us. It also meant the following day would be a short 6 km day, providing us extended time at Kumonodaire.

New plans devised, we set out for the Mitsumata Sanso. We had one more steep climb and the rest would be gradual contouring or downhill. At the top of Mt. Mitsumata, we experienced a phenomenon I had never seen before. The sun was low in the sky at the cloud line and directly behind us. In front of us stood a bank of thick fog and clouds while above us was clear skies. I looked down at the cloud bank collecting in the valley and noticed what looked like a small, circular tunnel of light. Oddly, my shadow appeared to be in the tunnel of light despite this light projection being hundreds of feet away. I waved my arms in an attempt to figure out what I was looking at. Sure enough, the shadow in the light tunnel waved back. I was seeing my shadow in a tunnel of light in the clouds! Tip Tap and JK witnessed the same effect, but they each saw their own tunnels with their shadows. Crazier still, the tunnel with my shadow moved with me as I walked! We yelled out, “I’m the center, no I’m the center!” JK said this effect is called Brocken spectre.

Still in disbelief, we made our way down the final descent to Mitsumata Sanso, just in time to check in for a campsite before 6 pm. We quickly set up in the dark, ate dinner, then walked back to the hut for some dessert and coffee. Back at the tent, the skies had cleared a bit, revealing a sky full of bright stars. I fell asleep gazing at these glimpses of other universes, exhausted and content.

We awoke to a glorious morning. Golden rays of first light kissed the earth and warmed our souls. The clouds that desperately stuck to the mountain tops had been wiped clean. The sky was finally totally clear! Even from our campsite tucked in between Mt. Mitsumata and Mt. Washiba, the view was spectacular.

We made our coffee and ate our breakfast eyeing Mt. Washiba, which translates to “eagle wings.” Soaring steeply and directly in front of us, Mt. Washiba was our first goal of the day. We stalled as long as possible to let the sun dry off our tents, soaked with heavy condensation. Not helping my cause was the half liter of water I managed to spill inside my tent by not screwing on the cap tight enough. We weren’t too concerned with the time since we had such a short day, but we were eager to start hiking and reach the summit of the mountain we had been staring at all morning. Gear could finish drying later.

The climb was steep and reminded me of parts of the CDT. Energized by good sleep and fantastic weather, we reached the summit sooner than expected. Today was our first completely cloud free day and 360 views from the summit revealed depths of mountains connected by narrow, rugged ridgelines begging to be explored. River valleys unfolded before us, carrying life born amongst the folds of mountains to be shared with a weary world. Beyond the jagged peaks, we could even see the Sea of Japan, where that river of life found collective meaning before being summoned back to the home that birthed it. We lingered on the summit allowing the wonder to permeate our being.

Near the final climb of the day, we stopped for an early lunch and to have a dry out party. Smiles and laughter filled our faces in between bites of food. It’s a bit of a cliche, but the company you keep can greatly impact your experience of life. I felt fortunate to be surrounded by so much positive, joyous energy.

As clouds began to roll in, we packed up the yard sale scattered across the mountaintop. We crested the summit, descending into a spectacular scene. Kumonodaire stood majestically atop a small rise in the midst of a lush landscape full of small tarns and streams. Carefully constructed boardwalks zig-zagged their way across soft moss and delicate flowers, guiding us forward toward sanctuary.

We arrived at the hut, immediately feeling at home when we entered. JK knows the owners of Kumonodaire and was able to secure a room for us in the artist residency space despite the hut being full for the night. After checking in, JK took us to what he termed “the secret garden.” By now, a thick fog enveloped the landscape as darkness threatened to reclaim its rule over the world. We followed the boardwalks up to a small overlook where we could see the warm glow of the hut not too far into the distance, a welcome beacon of hospitality. Darkness tightened its grip and as we began the walk back toward the hut, I lingered behind the others. There’s a certain focus fog can provide. When you’re forced to look closely and inwardly, you can see and feel detail you may have otherwise overlooked. Beauty lay within the calm and quiet. I felt contentment and peace.

Back at the hut, we had dinner with the staff. Everyone was so hospitable and the food was delicious. It felt like we were sitting down to dinner with one big extended family. I enjoyed hearing about the hut’s history and conversing with the staff, many of whom return year after year. As I crawled under the blankets later that night, I again felt contentment. This was life: to see, to experience, to connect.

We woke for an early breakfast with plans for an early departure. We had now reached the return portion of our hike and needed to cover in one day what had taken us two. It was going to be a long day of hiking. Once again, the beauty of the space held us and the intended departure time soon passed. We reluctantly said our goodbyes to the friends we had made, hiking out under blue skies and lingering chill. I will always love the feeling of crisp, cool early mornings and the friendly warmth of the rising sun gently kissing my skin.

This last full day in the Japanese Alps felt like a thru-hiking day. We had big kilometers to hike in largely difficult terrain. We didn’t stop as frequently for breaks as we maintained a relatively brisk hiking pace. We even did a bit of night hiking.

Normally, I prefer a loop hike over an out and back as a loop can allow one to see more over the same distance. This time, however, I was glad to experience the same stretch of trail twice. Today’s bright, sunny walk with expansive views contrasted with the dramatic cloud cover we experienced on the way to Kumonodaire giving a sense of a completely different hike. The views and terrain felt new and exciting.

We reached Mitsumata where we camped two nights previously. We took a short water break and continued on, taking a different path that contoured around Mt. Mitsumata instead of hiking over the summit. Under clear skies, the area looked completely different. We hiked directly toward Mt. Yari, its nose lifted prominently in the sky in defiance to gravity. It looked quite far away, but later that day we would once again climb its flanks and descend the other side.

We reached Sugoroku Hut and decided to eat a quick lunch. The next several kilometers to Mt. Yari would be tough hiking, and we could use the fuel. Rejuvenated by calories and coffee, we continued along the ridgeline toward Mt. Yari.

Ridgeline hiking is my favorite type of hiking and this ridgeline provided some fantastic walking. We walked over broad shoulders and narrow knife edges.

We stood on the precipice of cliffs that dropped into the valley floor and gazed upward in awe of mountains rising all around us. We walked in calm, and, as we drew closer to Mt. Yari, walked in increasingly furious winds that brought along with it rushing clouds that threatened to swallow the mountain.

The grade increased while our pace decreased. Our lungs fought an ever losing battle with altitude. The lunch coffee was proving to be a great idea. One final push to the summit.

Like so many climbs, suddenly it was over. Our aching legs thanked us and our breathing slowly returned to normal. We briefly contemplated climbing the final pitch to the proper summit, but ultimately decided not to, given the time and the sheer amount of people on the route. Instead, we opted for one last cup of mountain hut chai.

As we descended Yarigadake on our way back to Yokoo Sanso, we realized that we would arrive after dark. JK said one of us needed to be there by 7 pm to register for camping. He decided to run the remaining kilometers to ensure we would get a camping spot. Tip Tap and I hiked fast, putting as many steps under our feet as we could before darkness set in. We reached a closer tenting area just before dark. JK’s plan was to go further, but mentioned he may stop here instead. As we wondered whether or not he kept going, another hiker approached us.

“I have a message from Junki” he said as he showed us his phone. Junki left us a message saying he was running ahead to Yokoo but if we wanted to stay at the first campsite, that was OK. Knowing he was ahead, we decided to press on, hoping he had secured us a tent site as well. We thanked the hiker for the message and set off into the dark tunnel of trees.

Whenever I hike in twilight, I try to see how long I can make it before I need my headlamp. After a few stumbles over rocks and roots, we decided darkness had finally won and grabbed our headlamps. We chatted while we hiked, sometimes shouting to hear each other over the roar of the nearby river.

Tip Tap and I reached Yokoo Sanso shortly after 7 pm, and were greeted by JK’s familiar voice and smile. “You made it!” As we sat down to eat dinner, we relived the last few days, sharing our favorite moments of the hike. This hike and the connections I made along the way were exactly what I needed in my life.

Have you ever felt you were in the exact place you needed to be at the exact moment in your life you needed to be there? In the Japanese Alps, I felt at home. I felt alive. I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.