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The Japanese adventure ends

The sky opens. It rains for the first time since my arrival in Japan. Maybe the land of the rising sun is sad on my departure, or crying with laughter. Who knows.

I spent the last two days exploring the Naritasan Shinshoji Temple and its garden surrounds. The temple was founded in 938, with the oldest building dating back to the early 18th century. 1701 to be precise. And all the timber work is fitted by furniture quality joinery. No screws, nails or bolts here.

Around 1968 they moved one of these to build a larger temple. They literally picked up the whole temple, built a number of railway tracks underneath it, moved it a couple of hundred metres, and put it back down.

The gardens on the other hand fell like they have been there forever. I suppose even for trees a thousand years is a long time.

But once again most people choose the easy path and miss out on the rewards the harder choice can bring. But then most people that come here, especially on weekends, only come here as a diversion, and to look at pretty things.

Do they know of the history? Do they care about the temples and their meaning? While they pose for another selfie, I am sure they have not gained any merit by coming here. Maybe a few extra followers, but no merit.

The Return

I may be losing track of time and days.But I know where I am, and more importantly, that I am still alive. But more on that later.

Kushiro to Tokyo went in a flash that went on forever. At least I now consider 5 degrees celcius as being warm.

Then there were the Geishas with their charming smiles, impeccable manners, and engaging conversations as much as the lnguage barriers could. Koala is a good woord to know.

This was almost overshadowed by the food. Presented too beautifull to eat, too good not to. Now I find myself in Narita north of the main Tokyo central district with it’s flashing signs and crowded footpaths. The buidlings here are older, the roads narrower, the food just a good. The eel is sensational – sweet, salty, soft and a few crunchy bits all at once. The pork nobe hot pot, with the mushrooms and vegetables is brimming with umami. The sashimi tender.

As a special surprise there is fugu. Fried and crispy on the outside. Moist and tender on the inside. Fugu, also known as blowfish, needs to be prepared by highly skilled and qualified artisans due to a neuro toxin in parts of the fish. Or else.

I am looking forward to exploring the Naritasan temple across the road tomorrow.

Hang on, my lips are tingling…

To Rausu and to Kushiro

Back to Rausu for another boat tour and more eagles. But wait. What are those fins? Orcas to port. They are not supposed to be here until May. But then again there is no packice to keep them away. Apparently the first winter visit in decades.

We drift close enough to smell their fishy breath as they exhale. It is hard to know how many there are. Five? Ten? Some large, some small. No exuberant breaching or even spy hopping. Just going about their killer whale business.

The eagles do pay us close attention, and the fish that are thrown to them. A few squabbles, but mainly the clicking of shutters.

A return to the Notsuke peninsula brings more easy shots of Eza foxes and deer in sunny, but chilly conditions. Some of these manage to have a Russian island in the background. Yes, they are that close.

Ahead for us now nothing but a long drive back to Kushiro.

Northbound

The deer here have gotten fairly comfortable with the human inhabitants, hanging out around the river banks behind the Kawayu shrine. But today we start heading further north to the coastal fishing village of Rausu.

Just 24 km off the coast is Kunashir island,  which was annexed by by Russia towards the end of the second World War.

A sideline for the boats in Rausu is tourism, the cruises can see anything from killer whales to dolphins. In winter White Tailed and Steller’s Sea Eagles are the attraction. From seeing the numbers of Steller’s here, you would not think it is a vulnerable species. But the are less than 5000 of these big birds. It is the heaviest of all eagles, weighing up to 10kg, with a wingspan of up to 2.5 metres.

Certainly the seagulls don’t argue with them when the eagles grab the handouts from the tourist boats.

Later, on a drive up the Notsuke Spit national park, there are deer everywhere. They feel safe here obviously as we line up on the side of the road to take photos. As does the Ezo fox that wanders past the little bus we came in.

Tonight’s bed is again a traditional futon on tatami mats with a blanket and a thick doona. If it wasn’t for the heating, it would be cold.

Swans and Volcanoes almost

Back to the swans this morning after getting through the breakfast rush. Less tourists this morning.

There is a fly fisherman at one end of the lake, so I move there to spectate this contemplative art form. I’m sure it is an art form. It certainly is mesmerising how swinging that fly rod back and forth can land that little fake lure with its hook so far out.

Repeat a few times, and of you are lucky a fish attaches itself to the hook. He was and it did. A picture is taken by him, many by me, the fish is released, and life goes on.

As do we. We head to a geothermal area with active vents gushing forth steam and sulphurous fumes. To think that volcanic action produced the mountains and lakes in this area. And will probably destroy it at some time in the unforeseen future.

Wind, Snow and Swans

Leaving Kushiro, the third largest city in Hokkaido with 160,000 residents. Not far off, you wind into the hills towards the crater lake of Mashu.

Patches of light on spindrift. Some sheen on the ice. Ripples of colour on the lake.

On to the next lake Kussharo, party of the same crater system created over millenia by volcanic action. What was then a natural disaster, is now a refuge for nature as a national park. And a refuge fir people from their lifes.

Swans near an onsen on the edge of an icy lake. A refuge from winter in the warmer waters on the edge for swans and ducks.

Up the hill to Bihoro pass. Exposed to the elements I feel I am in my element. Wind I need to brace against. Spindrift to turn your back to. Trees with shafts of light that comes through the scudding clouds. Footprints in the snow that are erased in minutes. Fingers that freeze in much the same time.

But you are alive and alone as you are the only one out here. Foolish enough or smart enough. You decide. I did.

Next stop, the swans at Sunayu. Very popular with tourists who come and feed the swans just the other side of the do not feed the swans sign.

The swans do not seem to mind, but there is less goodwill amongst them as they argue about the popcorn.

In between the shoving and pushing, and I’m not talking about the swans here, I do manage a few photos and move on. The tourists do not seem to walk far.

Here we Crane again

A noise. It’s dark. It’s the alarm. It’s 4am. Time to head off to spend sunrise with the cranes at a site made (in)famous for sunrise photos at a river with, you guessed it, cranes.

It is there that I sink to my lowest point. -18 degrees Celsius to be precise. But I am kept warm by the huddle of photographers on the bridge overlooking the scene.

In the distance, half shrouded by mist rising from the river, were the cranes. The surrounding trees and bushes were covered in rime. Once the sun appeared above the horizon the landscape glittered. I moved my focus to this as a photo opportunity, and moved away from the huddling masses.

As the day goes on in various locations, the number of intrepid photographers dwindle, even though opportunities still exist. Dinner today is slightly downgraded. Even the hoped for salad at my hotel for cancelled. Instead making use of the ubiquitous Japanese convenience store in the land of the cup noodle, an instant ramen and a beer it is.

Day of the Cranes

I wake up to a harbour view. It’s stark, it’s industrial, it’s pretty in its snowy cloak.

Time to head for breakfast, then layer up in order to brave the elements to get that perfect crane photo. Or get distracted by the scenery. The cranes seem to attract photographers with big lenses.

The line up at the fence to shoot the cranes is reminiscent of a media scrum at a sports event. It would be amusing if I wasn’t tripping over their tripods.

I, on the other hand, prefer the ability to be mobile, lens and camera in hand.

The nature documentaries have a lot to answer for with regards to the activities of the birds. You do not get 10 minutes of action every half hour. If you are lucky and not frozen, you may have 5 minutes every hour. In a flock. At the far side of the flock.

Oh, and there are Whooper Swans and White Tailed Eagles and Crows and…

Several hours later you might have a picture that at the very least it’s a memory. If you are lucky it is actually good. Then later somebody will tell you that you must have a good camera. The fact that you froze your digits and other parts off does not count. It’s the camera?

Then there is tonight’s dinner, where you are glad to have enough fingers left to use chopsticks. A little hole in the wall barely big enough to hold a dozen people. It is presided over by the sushi master who spent 10 years perfecting his craft. His daughter helps at the front of house.

The rice of the nigiri is perfect, as are the toppings of salmon, mackerel, beef, scallops, prawns, uni and more.

The atmosphere is jovial. The beer cold. Perfect.

Tokyo to Hokkaido

A travelling day. But leaving an airport hotel never seems to be a bad thing. It is fascinating to see that the more people there are, the more the personal touch seems to get lost in the crowd.

After close to 2 hours of queuing, checking in and transfers, we manage to board the plane to Kushiro on Hokkaido, the northern main Japan island.

It’s winter. It’s cold. We are talking snow and ice. But we are here to line up with other like minded souls to take photos of Japanese Red Crowned Cranes, which used to occur all over Japan.

These regal birds were almost extinct, dropping to 12 birds in 1924,surviving in a patch of swampy wetlands that man could not use. A single dairy farmer started to feed the cranes corn in the 1950s. Now there are close to 2000 cranes on Hokkaido.

All the photographers hope for that iconic photo of that happy couple doing their courting dance. Most just get cold.

Fuji San to Tokyo

Time for the next part of the Japan experience, so sayonara Fuji San. Departing the hotel with its views of the famous mountain we return to Tokyo. A roadside stop offers a reprieve from the drive, along with Michelin recommended Ramen. Oishii desu.

Of course there were numerous other culinary offerings such as Starbucks with its version of coffee, and that well known hamburger chain with its golden arches. But why would you.

CLoser to the Tokyo Haneda airport you see the industrial side of Yokohama, monumental in scale in parts, but that is not why I am here. That is part of what I prefer to escape from, as unavoidable a it is in this age.

Time for another airport hotel.