Beyond the ski slopes: take a hidden trail through Japan's poetic wilderness
Natagiri Pass in Tohoku sits away from Japan's popular ski trails. In 1689, the area - in the north-east of the main island of Honshu - was made famous by Japan's most famous haiku poet, Matsuo Basho, when he penned his travelogue, The Narrow Road to the Deep North. To explore the area in the thick of winter you need specialised equipment, and on an adventurous tour with walking experts, Walk Japan, I donned snowshoes to embark on a hike through deep snowfall. Without a soul in sight, the untouched trail lay before our small group like a scene from a Disney fairytale. During the 17th century, the pass was known for its lawlessness and when Basho journeyed through the forest, he feared bandits, but we had no such concerns. Inspired by the quiet beauty of the snow-laden cedar trees, we attempted our own three-line haikus, following the 5-7-5 syllable count, but our unskilled attempts were more ditty than poetry.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Sydney Morning Herald
5 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Swallowed by white, this is a different sort of hike
The '80s-brown digital alarm clock crows. The window glows a gradually whitening aurora. I gracelessly roll off my futon like an anaesthetised horse, shuffle down the corridor in ill-fitting slippers, swaddled in a yukata, thwacking my forehead on a hefty low beam that's been thwacked by generations of yawning pilgrims. Togakushi Pilgrims' Inn owner, Gokui-san, 78, is regaled in a black conical hat and powder-blue robe. The bespectacled, rally-driving Shinto priest thumps a taiko drum, chants metallically, executing the purification ceremony's esoteric formalities, by proxy launching my seven-day guided snowshoe tour of rural Nagano with Walk Japan. This week, three metres of powder snow will coat Japan's Central Alps, a region Nobel Laureate Yasunari Kawabata labelled 'Snow Country'. Sky and earth become one profoundly white realm. Cloistered senses sharpen. Time compresses into exhilarating snippets, like a real-time slide-night. Morning rituals develop. Devour teeny bowls of provincial scrumptiousness. Squeak into snug, snow-resistant synthetic layers. Tether snowshoes to hiking boots; affix gaiters. Follow Walk Japan's chirpy guides, Nick and Shiori, into the snowscape, shepherded by local enigmas like Hata-san. An Italian restaurateur-cum-ski-slopes-groomer, Hata-san knows the most intriguing forest paths between Togakushi's five shrines; centuries-old Buddhist/Shinto structures where divinity dances on weathered woodwork, where 'treasure meets light', and where water-breathing dragons safeguard trees. Hata-san's owl-strength eyes and wisdom breathe life into Nagano's backcountry. Simple scratches in mossy tree bark become claw-marks of now-hibernating Asian black bears. He occasionally hears them thud to the forest floor from their precarious tree-top perches in warmer months, fixated on nothing but scoffing acorns. Criss-crossing indents in the snow become a fox pursuing her bunny-rabbit feast. My own snowshoe-track trajectory reminds Hata-san of the common raccoon dog's. I cagily crunch across Lake Kagami-ike, trout swimming under 50 frozen centimetres. Sapphire sky perforates clouds briefly, uncloaking formidable Togakushi Range, home to cave-dwelling monks, life-extinguishing mountain-climbing routes and, reportedly, Momiji – a murderous female demon exiled from Kyoto. A stupendous avenue of 400-year-old, sky-tickling cedars preludes Togakushi's Okusha shrine. Instagramming day-trippers and pilgrims alike approach this 'power spot' reverently: toss a coin, bow twice, clap twice, pray, bow again.
The Age
5 days ago
- The Age
Swallowed by white, this is a different sort of hike
The '80s-brown digital alarm clock crows. The window glows a gradually whitening aurora. I gracelessly roll off my futon like an anaesthetised horse, shuffle down the corridor in ill-fitting slippers, swaddled in a yukata, thwacking my forehead on a hefty low beam that's been thwacked by generations of yawning pilgrims. Togakushi Pilgrims' Inn owner, Gokui-san, 78, is regaled in a black conical hat and powder-blue robe. The bespectacled, rally-driving Shinto priest thumps a taiko drum, chants metallically, executing the purification ceremony's esoteric formalities, by proxy launching my seven-day guided snowshoe tour of rural Nagano with Walk Japan. This week, three metres of powder snow will coat Japan's Central Alps, a region Nobel Laureate Yasunari Kawabata labelled 'Snow Country'. Sky and earth become one profoundly white realm. Cloistered senses sharpen. Time compresses into exhilarating snippets, like a real-time slide-night. Morning rituals develop. Devour teeny bowls of provincial scrumptiousness. Squeak into snug, snow-resistant synthetic layers. Tether snowshoes to hiking boots; affix gaiters. Follow Walk Japan's chirpy guides, Nick and Shiori, into the snowscape, shepherded by local enigmas like Hata-san. An Italian restaurateur-cum-ski-slopes-groomer, Hata-san knows the most intriguing forest paths between Togakushi's five shrines; centuries-old Buddhist/Shinto structures where divinity dances on weathered woodwork, where 'treasure meets light', and where water-breathing dragons safeguard trees. Hata-san's owl-strength eyes and wisdom breathe life into Nagano's backcountry. Simple scratches in mossy tree bark become claw-marks of now-hibernating Asian black bears. He occasionally hears them thud to the forest floor from their precarious tree-top perches in warmer months, fixated on nothing but scoffing acorns. Criss-crossing indents in the snow become a fox pursuing her bunny-rabbit feast. My own snowshoe-track trajectory reminds Hata-san of the common raccoon dog's. I cagily crunch across Lake Kagami-ike, trout swimming under 50 frozen centimetres. Sapphire sky perforates clouds briefly, uncloaking formidable Togakushi Range, home to cave-dwelling monks, life-extinguishing mountain-climbing routes and, reportedly, Momiji – a murderous female demon exiled from Kyoto. A stupendous avenue of 400-year-old, sky-tickling cedars preludes Togakushi's Okusha shrine. Instagramming day-trippers and pilgrims alike approach this 'power spot' reverently: toss a coin, bow twice, clap twice, pray, bow again.
The Advertiser
25-05-2025
- The Advertiser
Beyond the ski slopes: take a hidden trail through Japan's poetic wilderness
Natagiri Pass in Tohoku sits away from Japan's popular ski trails. In 1689, the area - in the north-east of the main island of Honshu - was made famous by Japan's most famous haiku poet, Matsuo Basho, when he penned his travelogue, The Narrow Road to the Deep North. To explore the area in the thick of winter you need specialised equipment, and on an adventurous tour with walking experts, Walk Japan, I donned snowshoes to embark on a hike through deep snowfall. Without a soul in sight, the untouched trail lay before our small group like a scene from a Disney fairytale. During the 17th century, the pass was known for its lawlessness and when Basho journeyed through the forest, he feared bandits, but we had no such concerns. Inspired by the quiet beauty of the snow-laden cedar trees, we attempted our own three-line haikus, following the 5-7-5 syllable count, but our unskilled attempts were more ditty than poetry.
