In all of the Gunma travel brochures, the biggest spread always goes to Oze, a National Park located about two hours north of Takasaki. The pictures always show a valley full of wildflowers in full bloom and tiny crystal clear ponds scattered about, all surrounded by tall mountains on all sides. It looks relaxing and beautiful, and I’ve been wanting to go ever since I saw the pictures for the first time last July.
Luckily, I got my chance to go this past weekend. My Canadian friend Mark had been wanting to go, too, as had this English guy named Greg, so the three of us piled into my car and took off on Sunday morning bright and early. Monday was a holiday—Respect for the Aged Day, thank you very much—and we planned on camping out somewhere in the big reserve.
We took the Kan Etsu highway up to Numata, where we got off the interchange to wind our way on mountain roads to the top. We drove past numerous apple and honey stands and roadside vegetable stores, promising ourselves that we’d stop on the way back to fill up with fresh mountain produce.
Even though the map we had said we could park at the top, we soon found out that it was mistaken. We were stopped halfway up the mountain to be told that we’d have to park and then take a bus up to the real hiking area. For 900 yen, we rode with five other people even higher up the winding mountain road until we were dropped off at the base area: a few wooden buildings surrounded by halved tree trunks for benches lined up in front. The biggest building promised 350 yen hot coffee, 900 yen udon, and all the omiyage you could ever want.
However, we didn’t waste much time there, and immediately started our trek.
I soon found out that I had brought too much; the backpack I had borrowed was meant for its 6’4” owner, and seemed to be dragging me down at every step. The first 20 minutes or so were the roughest; the path went up the mountain at what seemed like a 45-degree angle over rocks and branches, and I felt unbalanced. When I tried to roundaboutly ask if anyone else’s shoulders hurt, Mark told me, “Yes, but I don’t complain about it,” and Greg asked, “You’re one of the lads now, aren’t you?” Thus chastised, I quit complaining.
After my body got used to exerting itself, I fell into a rhythm and was able to keep up fairly well with my long-legged companions. The tree-filled mountain path (as always, but for the bamboo, reminding me of the Appalachian Trail) gradually thinned out and soon we were walking up a huge open Sound of Music hill covered in billowing grasses and a few stunted birch trees. This was the marsh part that is so prevalent in all the magazines. Although Mark’s teacher had told him that September wasn’t the best month to see Oze, I found it to be one of the most beautiful – or perhaps THE most beautiful – place I’ve seen in Japan. Definitely in Gunma! And after scrambling up the mountain path to get up there, the flat wooden boardwalk was heaven to walk on.
We spent that first day hiking the paths, alternating between the thick natural preserve and the juxtaposed rest stops of ryokan-style hotels and amenity-filled toilets. It’s kind of funny how completely civilized Oze is when compared to hiking/camping places that I’ve been to in other places; you could only go two or three kilometers before you stumbled into another clearing with buildings. I never felt like I was actually “roughing it” because civilization was always very close!
Around 5:30, we stopped at one of the many hotels to ask if we could leave our bags in the lobby while we explored the waterfalls nearby.
The front counterman was cordial but dubious. “You can leave your bags here,” he told us, “But it’s going to get dark soon. Do you have lights?”
Mark and Greg both did, but I didn’t. However, the man was kind and lent me a light that strapped around my head on an elastic band. With many “arigatou”s and “sumimasen”s, we exited the building, feeling lighter and freer without our heavy backpacks.
The path to the first waterfall was quick and easy, but the waterfall itself was only so-so. Between the first and second waterfall, though, the path became rougher, steeper, rockier, and wetter. Greg and I spent thirty minutes discussing the old Oregon Trail game to keep our minds off the Waterfall Trail. Who’s going to die of dysentery this time?
It was totally worth the trek, though! After we crossed a wooden bridge and made our way down a precariously steep ladder/stairs combination, we stepped onto a platform with a perfect view of a powerful 100-meter tall waterfall. No one else was around because it was getting on towards dusk, and it was so nice to have the whole view to ourselves.
(And that was my last picture, of the waterfall, because then my batteries died and could not be resuscitated.)
It was getting towards dark when we left the waterfall, and full-on dark by the time we arrived back at the first waterfall to take a break. We sat there for a few minutes on some rocks watching the stars come out, then switched on our headlamps and walked back to the hotel, where we claimed our bags and had dinner outside.
It was another 30 minutes or so to walk back to our camping spot. The night was dark, but the boys’ lights illuminated the boardwalk enough to prevent any missteps. Once in a while, we’d stop walking to stare up at the huge starry sky above us, albeit gradually becoming cloudier. That night, the three of us slept in a tent on a wooden platform, cloudy skies above us, lizards all around us, and the sweet sound of grasses blowing in our ears.
Around 5:30 that morning, we started to hear people walking by us, but we didn’t get up until two hours later. It was a terribly cloudy morning, and I was afraid it would rain, but the sun soon burned through the fog and mist. It became another beautiful early fall day.
Mark and Greg wanted to climb a nearby mountain, but I decided not to try it. (Call me a wuss, but I wanted to take it easy.) We stayed together for a few hours in the morning hiking through the marshland and enjoying the lovely scenery before splitting up at 10:30. The boys went off to start their 5-hour hike, and I stayed behind at the rest area enjoying the sun and the breeze.
For me, it was only another hour or hour-and-a-half walk back to our rendezvous point, so I tried to drag it out as much as possible. I stopped at almost all of the stopping-places, and walked slowly through the woods gazing at the leaves and the river so as to savor the moment. After a while, though, my Thoreau-ian peace turned into “get this backpack off of me,” so I hurried it up a little more. The last 500 meters or so was made up of ascending steps that were painful to climb, but I finally made it, panting for breath, right behind the jocular retired couple in front of me!
It was 12:30, and I had about three hours to wait until Greg and Mark got back. I took a nap in the sun, browsed the unnecessary Oze omiyage, treated myself to a 350 yen cup of coffee, and watched the sky gradually darken and drizzle gray dreary rain before they finally returned, a full hour early. Apparently, Mark can make a 5-hour hike in half the time. I’m sure the view was spectacular, but I’m glad I didn’t go on the mountain hike. Surely I would have been left behind!
We only hung around for a little bit more before buying another bus ticket back to the car. Even though we had wanted to stop at a lot of shops on the way back, many of them were closed against the rain. We did find one place, though, a sprawling farmers’ market-type set of buildings, where Greg and I ate spectacularly delicious homemade udon and Mark bought a handful of fresh vegetables.
Greg went back to the train station around 6:00, and Mark and I enjoyed a relaxing onsen in Gunma-machi before going our separate ways. Our trip was physically strenuous, but still a very tranquil experience for me. It was good to be out in the open, away from the cities and their stresses. And it provided me the best sleep I’ve had on Sunday night; I was out like a light by 9:00. I’ll be going back to Oze again in October with a big group of people, and I wonder if my experience will be any different.
(As a post script, I would like to mention that Japanese girls look so cute in their colorful hiking skirts, tights, and hiking boots! And they can sleep outside and wake up and still look amazing. Why can’t I have that gene?!)
