Lake in the Mountains: Chuzenjiko

Nostalgic of New Hampshire autumns, I ventured two hours north of Tokyo to the temple-studded town of Nikko. Bestowed with UNESCO World Heritage status in 1999, Nikko is also a gateway to a large National Park.

Nikko’s leaves were still green in mid-October, so my Japanese friend Makiko and I pushed another hour west into the mountainous Lake Chuzenji region, about 1270 meters (4167 ft.) above sea level. The coach bus navigated Irohazaka winding road and its 30 hairpin curves. Trees ringing the lake, however, were only just beginning to bare their fall coats.

Nearby roared Kegon no taki, considered one of the three most beautiful waterfalls in Japan. Water cascaded 97 meters (318 ft.) into the mist below. Instead of taking the traditional leap like lovers with no prospect of marriage, we hopped aboard another bus to transport us 15 miles deeper and higher up into the woods.

Our pursuit of peak foliage ended at Kotoku Onsen. We followed a trail lined with birch trees. The air was redolent of wet bark. I inhaled the scents of fall. Finally, I had found nature in Japan, and escaped the endless urban landscape of concrete apartment buildings that matches October’s overcast skies.

The dirt path led to an elevated track through the woods. The trees thinned to reveal a field walled in by mountains ablaze in seasonal color. A cloud belt encircled the midsection of Nantai-san (2484 m., 8150 ft.). This sacred mountain is the topographical godfather of the region. Now an extinct volcano, its lava flows created Lake Chuzenji by damming up a river.

Sunshine pierced fast-moving storm clouds to ignite the dried pampass grass field of Senjogahara. The wheat-like stalks contrasted with the dramatic patchwork of color in the mountains. Birch trees rose from these alpine marshlands in the watchful shadow of Nantain-san. These shirakamba are known as “noble women” of Senjogahara plateau. Their slender, white figures make shirakamba a fitting description. I could have spent the whole afternoon soaking up a setting reminiscent of New England.

A school trip of spirited 11-year-olds was taking the same hike. For once, the kids were clad in their choice of mismatched sportswear, and not school uniforms that make them look like naval cadets. My passive serenity as a day hiker disappeared. The shift to energetic schoolteacher was automatic. We traded greetings in both languages, and I handed out a few high-fives. A boy wearing a Yakult Swallows hat grinned when I began rattling off their roster. “Now I know what you are like in school,” Makiko smiled.

Ryuzu Falls marked the end of our forest wandering, and the beginning of a late afternoon downpour. Ryuzu’s water flows 210 meters (689 ft.) and feeds Lake Chuzenji. The deck from a nearby teahouse provided views of the foot of the falls, where rocks split the stream of water. The formation is said to resemble the head of a dragon, from which the falls take their name.

The hike worked up an appetite. The local specialty of yuba, thin layers of coiled bean curd, was a meaty supplement to ramen. Makiko said the succulent skewers of yakitori were among the best she’s had. For dessert, it was blueberry soft serve and a bag of addictive potato chips for the train ride home. Flavored with rich Hokkaido butter, they are only available during fall, so I’ve begun stocking up for the long winter ahead.

Foliage is the best thing about fall. To seek nature is the best reason to leave Tokyo. It wouldn’t be long before I returned to visit Nikko itself.

Take a hike! Well, a virtual one.