Japan Day 22: Islands and Mountains

We met a man from Rockhampton over breakfast in the hotel, and bonded over our shared Queensland identity. "Go to Miyajima Island!" He said. " The ropeway is great and so is the shrine. But get there early mate. By midday you can't move." 

Miyajima Island was on my to-do list anyway. We got up early the next day, scoffed our breakfast, and headed off on the train to catch the ferry for the 10- minute journey to Miyajima.

Miyajima was a rugged island with granite bluffs and a fringe of settlement along the coast.

The tori gate to the world heritage listed Itsukushima Jinja shrine was visible from the ferry.

Once on the island the path to the ropeway was clear: follow the tourists and dodge the deer. The deer were habituated to humans and persistent in their attempts to be fed all sorts of human food. I watched one stalk and successfully snatch a chocolate milk left momentarily unguarded on a seat beside its owner.

Look at me. I am a starving deer and need chips.

I don't think it's fair to put a ropeway so far up a mountain that you have to walk up lots of steps to get to it but no matter, up the steps we went all the way to ropeway base camp.

You can guess what song Roger sang as we dangled far above the treetops in our gondola. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on a far horizon as the ropeway took us impossibly high over steep valleys cut into the mountain, while the Seto Inland Sea spread out below us.

We jumped out of the gondola at the top, excited to see the view. "Follow the arrows!" said the ropeway attendant. At least I assume that's what he said, it was all Japanese to me. Lo and behold there was another ropeway with a bigger gondola into which we packed so tightly that my nose was up against the glass and I really hoped that the door locking mechanism was sturdy. Up we went again over more vertiginous views while Mr Tsunami mumbled about earthquakes and disasters and weight limits for gondolas. Out we hoped at the top, excited for the views.

An excited pair.

It's kind of mean to stop a ropeway a couple of km short of the mountain top and then add insult to injury by making visitors walk down a whole heap of steps thereby adding extra up to the steps that visitors have to climb to get to the spot where there truly is no more up to go. We were committed to getting to the top by then, so down and up again we went.

There was a shrine along the way, with fat little dieties kept warm by beanies and scarves.

Finally we reached the top, where influencers and bloggers dominated the Observatory, mumbling commentary into their microphones. The 360 deg view encompassed the islands in the Inland Sea. Horoshima and Kure sprawled along the coast, overlooked by jagged mountain ranges. Oyster farms formed neat geometric patterns in the shallower water and below us a cruise ship trailed a long white wake as it headed to dock at Hiroshima.

Lunchtime called and, contrary to what I'd come to expect, there was not so much as a vending machine on top of the mountain. Roger decided to risk earthquakes and mechanical failure by descending on the ropeways while I headed down the mountain on foot. This was quite the endeavour as the path had succumbed to gravity and erosion, becoming an unstable course of granite blocks, tree roots, and washouts. I picked my way carefully downhill, grateful to have gravity on my side, while geriatric Japenese bounded up past me, leaping from rock to rock with octogenarian ease. 

Right at the end the path flattened out and I congratulated myself on my nimble sure-footedness. Well we all know that pride goes before a fall and sure enough I was flat on my face within 30 seconds, performing an inelegant tumble right in front of a very nice Spanish couple who very kindly checked that I was still alive and all in one piece. Cluching my damaged dignity about me I soldiered onward, meeting Roger at the bottom of the ropeway. We made our way through throngs of tourists toward the shrine where the tide had gone out and more throngs of tourists paddled in shallow muddy water out to the Tori gate. 

By now I had a sore ankle to go with my damaged dignity and Roger's back was wearing out. We headed for the ferry with one distraction along the way: tempura momiji manju as recommended by Akiko our Hiroshima guide a couple of days ago.

Sorry Akiko, once was enough.

Blossoms beside the river on the way back to the ferry.

A scene very typical of our time in Japan: blosso.s and an old man on a bicycle.

Back at the hotel I put my foot up and promised myself 25th floor pudding as a treat. I had to wait until 8pm, which was pudding o'clock according to the program in our room. Come 8:01pm Roger and I were up on the 25th floor along with other pudding hopefuls, waiting for our treat.

Well that was a disappointment.

25th floor night views: cool. 25th floor pudding: meh, could be better by a long shot. 

With that behind me there was nothing left to do but go to bed.  So I did.