Mt. Futago: the forest of the lost gaijin

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On a perfect Spring day I made the trek to hike Mt. Futago in the Zushi area. I followed directions for walk #4 in "Day Walks Near Tokyo" by Gary Walters. Beginning from the Shin-Zushi train station I walked along a small stream bordered by peaceful neighborhoods abounding with spring vegetable gardens and their diligent, elderly, retired Japanese tenders. The birds were chirping and the snap peas in full bloom. The first half of the trail was easy with some muddy areas, but nothing crazy. I continued to follow the gorgeous stream as it babbled its way through the woods, providing moisture for the propagation of many green ferns along the way. At one point I stopped to record the melody of the birds and stream because I couldn't imagine leaving there without some kind of souvenir of that sound. The earthy smell was intoxicating as well. Along the way I encountered a daycare group having lunch near the streambed, a trail runner, and a middle-aged Japanese couple who said "Konnichiwa! Kanko des ka." to which I was so excited to hear because I actually understood it: "Good afternoon, are you sightseeing?" all I could muster though was a Hai (yes) and a smile before continuing along the trail rather quickly because I hoped they wouldn't ask me anything else (sadly) since I didn't want to have to give that awkward "sorry, I don't understand Japanese" talk.

As I continued, it became heavily wooded with mostly tall cypress. The trail to the summit was not in the best condition, but I went upwards along the steep ridge anyways. The hills eventually afforded nice views of Tokyo Bay and the Zushi area, I just didn't care to look down. Not surprisingly, I did at some point become lost. Once you descend from the summit there are many trail intersections with hand drawn maps on wooden signs in Japanese that are basically indecipherable. On one occasion I had to pick up part of one that had broken off and piece it back together in an attempt to read it. Actually, I'm not sure I would've figured it out even if I could understand the written language. I chose a path and came upon another retired Japanese couple decked out in full day hike gear tromping along a stream. I stopped to ask the direction to Taura Station (my end destination) to which they pulled out some great maps that they had acquired from the internet (I wish I knew how to get a hold of these) and promptly began confusing the hell out of me. Eventually they motioned for me to follow them as they were going the same direction that I needed to be going. So I spent the next 20 minutes following in their footsteps unable to converse really at all except for when the woman tried to teach me the name of some spring flowers and mimicked one of the bird calls we had been hearing, I repeated after her, but do not remember the words now, notebook fail. I attempted to say a phrase in Japanese, but all I got in return was a quizzical look and shrug. Damn.

We eventually came to an intersection where they sent me on my way as they continued the other, but not before giving me one of their maps, tracing the path I was to take, and wishing me 'good luck'. I was extremely grateful as later I realized I surely would have gotten lost again were it not for that detailed map. The remainder of the hike consisted of more cypress stands and towers of power lines that were a helpful aid as they each had numbers that corresponded to places on the map. There were trail intersections literally every 3-5 minutes with confusing arrows, and with each one I became more and more anxious to know whether I really was going the correct way. Thankfully, I was successful and eventually planted my muddy shoes firmly on the floor of the train back home. All in all, the hike was enjoyable due to the spring weather and picturesque, wooded stream. I have gotten lost way worse than that on a previous occasion in my native country in the least. I continue to learn, or rather just skate by, life is best seen on the edge. Plus, it works up a phenomenal appetite.

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