Famous mountains with a difference

After giving up the triathlon, an Osaka man takes on the Hyakumeizan...

“Climbing mountains on your own gives you a great sense of fulfilment and accomplishment …. That's why I want to see if I can actually do the hundred famous mountains solo.” Many a Hyakumeizan fan might agree with these words, but few face such challenges as the man who uttered them. For Kuwamura Masaharu is currently questing his hundred mountains with only a pair of lightweight crutches to help him on his way. 

"Challenging mountains with a disability": 
Gakujin magazine accompanied Kuwahara-san to Mt Kongo in late 2024.

Now in his early sixties and retired, Kuwamura-san (b.1963) has gone about on one leg for most of his life. Diagnosed at the age of eight with a bone cancer, he underwent an operation that involved the amputation of his left leg at the hip. And since he couldn’t have a prosthetic limb fitted, he wields his crutches wherever he goes, on city streets and mountain trails alike.

Kuwahara-kun
with his mother (NHK).

While he was growing up in Osaka, he worked out ways to play with his friends and keep up with them on a bicycle. His mother encouraged him. Instead of trying to hide the fact that her son had a disability, she actively took him out to local events and public places. “At first, I was embarrassed, but I soon got used to it and didn't mind the curious looks,” Kuwamura recalled last year in an interview with Gakujin, Japan’s second-oldest mountain monthly.

By the time he was twenty, Kuwamura had thoughts of aiming for the Paralympics. At the age of twenty-three, he did become the first Japanese to win a medal in badminton at the FESPIC in Indonesia, which was the start of the Asian Para Games. Then, around the start of this century, now in his forties, he started competing in triathlons, inspiring more and more people with disabilities to follow his example.

Not that he's ever limited himself to events for the disabled: “I didn't like being treated differently as a disabled person, and I often competed in tournaments for able-bodied athletes. Of course, I lost a lot, but I think there's more to be gained from fighting and losing against stronger opponents than winning in a narrow field and playing defensively. What's important isn't winning or losing, but how high you can aim for yourself," he told Gakujin.

Unfortunately, the triathlons started to undermine Kuwamura’s health. The additional stress on his liver worsened a longstanding infection with hepatitis C, which he’d incurred via a blood transfusion during his childhood. Hospitalised in Chiba and suffering from diabetes, a side effect of the treatment he was undergoing, he was close to giving up on life. He credits his recovery to a former colleague, Isako – now his wife – who travelled to see him from Kyoto almost every month during his year in therapy: “I consider her my saviour,” he said in the Gakujin interview.

Kuwahara-san tackles Goryu-dake.
Still from an NHK documentary (see References).

When he left hospital, Kuwamura was almost fifty. Looking around for a less intensive form of exercise than the triathlon, he soon hit on an alternative. As he put it, “I had a firm belief that climbing was the next thing I should do. Mountains are neither won nor lost, and they challenge both able-bodied and disabled people alike.” And since he’d already climbed Mt Fuji more than once while training for triathlons, the idea of tackling the Hyakumeizan followed naturally. A book too inspired him.*

Even for somebody as motivated as Kuwamura, the challenges of the Hyakumeizan are substantial. He had to turn back on Makihata-yama (1,967m), one of the easier peaks, after going two hours over his six-hour time budget for the ascent. His wrists and hands take the brunt of his crutchwork, meaning that he makes frequent visits to his chiropractor. And, of course, the crutches themselves must be replaced regularly, since breaking one on a mountain could be fatal.

Rugged Goryu...
Image courtesy Wikipedia.

Yet, by the end of last year, Kuwamura had despatched almost seven tenths of Fukada Kyūya’s time-honoured list. These included most of the marquee peaks in the Northern Alps, including rugged Tsurugi and Goryū, his sixty-fifth mountain. And as if Yari-ga-take’s chains and ladders weren’t challenging enough on their own, he chose to approach this rock spire via the Dai-Kiretto, an aery traverse over from the Hodaka peaks.

Since retiring, Kuwamura-san also found time to write a book. It’s called Kata-ashi de hagemu sanryо̄ (Running the ridges on one leg), and it was published in September 2024 by Gentо̄sha. As he says in the Gakujin interview, “I'd be so happy if people are inspired by my experience climbing mountains, even with just one leg, and are encouraged to give it a go themselves. And if they do, I'm really looking forward to meeting them on a mountain somewhere."

An English alpinist said something similar about seven decades ago:

I had determined to finish my own climbing for the year with the Matterhorn … To a mountaineer, to climb the Matterhorn must always possess a great significance, however often he may have climbed it or however easy its ascent may be upon a given fine day. I had another reason. If I was to give a much-needed encouragement to all those in Europe who had lost limbs in the war, and make a practical demonstration that the fatigue or inertia from which all who have lost legs suffer is a nervous fiction, then nothing was likely to call more attention, or have a better good-news value, than an ascent of the Matterhorn.

Geoffrey Winthrop Young resting after an ascent of the Grepon.
Illustration from Mountains with a Difference.

The writer was Geoffrey Winthrop Young (1876–1958), who during the Belle Époque had put up some of Europe’s most difficult alpine routes. This pioneer work ended in 1917, when Young lost his left leg to a shell explosion on the Italian front. But a decade later, then in his fifties and fitted with an ingenious metal peg partly of his own contriving, he felt ready to make an alpine comeback. And so, signing up some of his old guides, he reclimbed several of the highest peaks around Zermatt, Chamonix and other centres. The book in which he describes these one-legged adventures is called Mountains with a Difference.

Kuwamura-san aims to reach his one hundredth summit by his sixty-fifth birthday. When he does, let’s hope that he will update his book or write another one. Whatever title he may choose, readers will learn something about the human spirit. Some of them will probably decide to give the mountains a go themselves. And most will concur that Kuwamura-san’s are truly the Hyakumeizan with a difference.

References

Gakujin magazine, “Shо̄gai to tomo ni yama ni idomu” (Tackling the mountains with a disability: an interview with Kuwamura Masaharu), December 2024 edition.

NHK documentary (English version) on Kuwamura’s Hyakumeizan campaign and Goryū climb.

Geoffrey Winthrop Young, Mountains with a Difference, Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1951. 

• *Note: Surprisingly, Kuwamura-san is not the first Japanese author to write about mountain-climbing on one leg. That honour probably belongs to Yokota Sadao (b.1901) who published Matsubadzue tozan 40-nen (Forty years of climbing on crutches) in 1974. He was famous, among other things, for roaming the mountains in sandals and a yukata, a style that even in his day was distinctively retro.
  
  

  

  
  Born in 1901, Yokota graduated from primary school in 1914 at the age of twelve and started out as an apprentice in a soy sauce factory in mountainous Nagano Prefecture. About three years later, he noticed a small protrusion on the back of his right knee. This gradually swelled up until the leg had to be amputated in May 1922 following a diagnosis of synovial chondromatosis. There are more details of his life in this blog post (in Japanese).

  After recovering, and having lost about 16 kilos in weight, Yokota climbed around fifty famous peaks all over Japan, starting with his “home mountain” of Togakushi. His tally included Hakkoda, Tanigawa, Yari, Shirouma, Kiso-kaikoma, Unzen and the “Three sacred mountains” of Mt Fuji, Tateyama and Hakusan. He attained the last-named peak in his seventieth year.  Unsurprisingly, Kuwamura-san has taken Yokota’s climbing life and his book as an inspiration for his own Hyakumeizan project.

“Mountain photography” (9)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Composition: Arrangement, design or composition of the chosen subject within the picture space is very intangible, to say the least. It simply cannot be reduced to rule, except in the widest of terms, and though it is possible to set down a few obvious errors which it is probably desirable to avoid, the successful steering of an arrangement among these pitfalls does not of itself assure success. 

A composite picture in the Chinese manner by Chin San Long, FRPS.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

There is a definite scheme of formal landscape which has come down to us from the eighteenth century which has the merits of being harmless and necessary, if dull. For the concoction of conventional landscape in terms of foreground, middle distance, background and sky, all neatly divided into thirds or along "lines of beauty", is at least better than no sort of convention at all. The Print Room of the British Museum, and the provincial art galleries (one or two London galleries are provincial in this respect) are full of stiff compositions on these lines, but it is doubtful if much study of them with a view to imitation is very good for anyone.

Fujiyama by H G Ponting,  FRGS, FRPS.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Obvious errors of the kind I have mentioned include:

Exact symmetry. The mountain summit, the horizon line, the line of a lake or foreground tree is best kept away from the exact centre lines.

Equal divisions into areas of lake, mountain and sky are generally unpleasant. Lines of interest-roads, etc, with or without figures, tend to distract attention if they are at the extreme edge of a picture, or appear to be moving out of it.

Plain simple tones and lines are the easiest to deal with, a complex subject is not. This simplicity may be helped by the use of a long focus lens, or by choosing a foreground which does not assert itself and compete with the mountain for interest, to the detriment of the unity of the picture.

Figures in the foreground especially need care. If they are too large, they will attract too much attention; if too small, they might just as well not be there for all the help they give.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (8)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Choice of subject: Many mountains are subjects of inherent beauty and dramatic quality and have strong personalities of their own with which the photographer cannot compete.

The Matterhorn by H G Ponting, FRGS, FRPS.

Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Any attempt to express one's personality in a picture of, say, the MATTERHORN, is almost certain to result in a victory for the MATTERHORN. As CHARLES SIMPSON, R.I., says: "Subjects whose nature ensures a certain impressiveness as pictures ... mountains, lakes and scenic landscapes on the grand scale, do not afford the same opportunities for artistic paintings or photographs of those of a simpler character whose beauty has to be sought for and studied. Variations on a simple theme are more satisfying than grandiose panoramas."

Perhaps the idea worth aiming at may be conveyed in three imaginary comments by an observer of three mountain photographs, each of the WEISSHORN.

"I remember when we were caught in a storm on that."

The right comment for a record photograph. The mind of the observer has not been arrested by the surface of the print, but has passed on to the mountain itself, recognised it, and without any more consideration has recalled something from his memory.

"It's amazing how they get their cows up those slopes . . . Is that you standing among them?"

The WEISSHORN is lost at the top (or back) of the picture, whilst the interest has been seized by a group of cows and a man in the foreground. A very typical result of including too much.

"What a beautiful photograph. . . . Is it in the Alps?”

That may represent pictorial success to the photographer. It is recognised as beautiful, it is clearly accepted as a photograph and not an imitation of an etching or mezzotint, yet its subject matter is not a determining factor in appreciation but a mere afterthought.

A Himalayan glacier by F S Smythe.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

So that to make a first selection of subject matter, avoid scenes which conform to guidebook standards of beauty. Competent records of beauty spots can, indeed should, be made: the Blau-, Grün- or Schwarz-sees of the Continent; the BLEA TARNs at home; but their place is among the other documentary photographs of a district.

Into the same category of the pictorially impossible fall the impressive arrays of mountain summits catalogued at well-known Aussichtspunkte: and a good deal of conventional landscape in the traditional manner. Swiss scenery is especially difficult to handle with any degree of originality. Most valleys offer the mixture "as before". A few chalets, the ranks of pines, the glacier leading to the upper snows, and, finally, the rock buttresses of the distant peak standing crisply into the dark sky. One such photograph serves to ilustrate the type, all others are variations upon the same theme, and a succession of such views easily becomes dull.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (7)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Pictorial work: The greater part of this book is concerned with the production of competent record photographs. It is probable that a fairly general measure of agreement can be reached as to whether or not any particular print is a sound and straightforward piece of work approaching its aim of giving the observer as natural and realistic a rendering of the scene as possible, or whether it has achieved the limited objective for which it was intended, e.g. the rendering of distant detail, or the recording of exact proportions for the purpose of measurement. 

"Perfection of light and tone": the Biancograt by Andreas Pedrett.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

When photography aspires to be an artistic medium, differences and difficulties arise, for the camera is not an easy tool with which to secure that freedom of interpretation and personal expression which is supposed to be fundamental to art.

BERTRAM COX, F.R.P.S., puts the case very succinctly: "The photographer who is trying to produce something which shall have more than a transitory interest or value from the aesthetic point of view, might well consider how his position compares with that of the artist. First he has in his medium little or no opportunity for the exercise of any real creative ability. . . . Secondly, the photographer may become a master of his medium but even then its characteristics have been mainly determined by the manufacturer and are to a great extent inflexible. . . . What is left to him as a craftsman is the choice of selection from a variety of methods of arriving at slightly dissimilar results. Selection seems to be the only method by which he can work . . . he must be aware of what makes his selection worthwhile, and must be extremely critical for he has little control over problems of the elimination of the unessential."

Jingling Pot, Kingsdale, Yorkshire by E Simpson.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Before looking at mountain country as a hunting ground for good pictures, it is useful to consider what means of selection are at our disposal, and what ideas it is necessary to have in mind in making a choice. A picture, whether it be a painting, a photograph, a woodcut or an etching, is primarily an arrangement of line and tone within a selected space, which aims to be complete within that space and to speak its meaning to the observer in simple terms of tone or line or colour, as the case may be. An oil painting is expected to show something of what artists call the "quality of paint", a watercolour seeks to convey ideas and form in terms of transparent colour laid over white paper, and not to imitate tones of the depth and brilliance possible in oils. Similarly a photograph should conform to its own conventions and will be most acceptable if it confirms that the worker has accepted the discipline of photography and yet created a print which owes as much if not more to the manner of its taking than to subject interest.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (6)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

The middle way: For all ordinary purposes the best position on a mountain is around "half-way up the one opposite". There at least the lens of normal focal length can reach up to the summits and down to the valleys, enabling good use to be made of the picture area, and giving good proportion of upper detail to lower.

Winter in the Tyrol by Paul Wolff.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

The idea of a half-way position is not a precise one: somewhere above valley level and below summit level is the viewpoint we need. In favourable circumstances a viewpoint only 50 or 100 feet above the valley floor may be enough to open up the foreground so as to give a much better picture than in the valley itself.

A glen in the Cairngorms by G B Kearey FRPS, FIPB.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner. 

For instance, it is well worth trying for views just off a road, which always occupies too much of the foreground, and this expedient of moving a little way up the hillside can usefully be adopted. With mountains of moderate height, backed by higher neighbours, something a little lower than half-way may be best, for then the summit can be placed against a background of sky, as the highest point of the picture, whilst if a higher viewpoint is used, the bigger peaks may be a little too prominent.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (5)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

The high viewpoint: Summit views are troubled with an embarrassment of riches. The great panoramas extend on every side. Fold upon fold of the hills, summits innumerable, enter our field of view to confuse the eye and the mind. 

Aiguille de Roc du Grepon and the Dent du Geant.
Photo by C D Milner from his Mountain Photography.

From great heights, the vastness of the scene as a whole reduces the mountain tops to mere detail and all but the nearest peaks are rather like the furrows in tide-washed sand. Everyone who has been to the summit of a mountain takes such photographs or at least buys picture cards of them. And how disappointing they are! In trying to show everything they show nothing.

The ice arete of the Brenva by F S Smythe.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

There are rare exceptions. Mountains of equal height with the viewpoint do not abate their dignity; from the DENT BLANCHE, the MATTERHORN still soars above its glaciers. In the COOLIN, SGURR DEARG seen from SGURR ALASDAIR still puts a bold front to us, and in Wales SNOWDON towers above the intervening wall of the GLYDERs when we stand on the top of CARNEDD DAFYDD.

But where are the hills that put up such a brave show from the valley? Lost in the moraines perhaps, or hidden in a cloud layer a thousand feet below. In Britain the minor peaks may look like undulations in moorland. CNICHT, occasionally compared by the romantic to the MATTERHORN, only has this appearance from the flats of PORTMADOC, and from SNOWDON it is a little difficult to see "if the grass is at all long". Yes, summit views are unkind to the small hills: the RIFFELHORNS, the LANGDALES and the CNICHTS. Pictorially it is never easy, and frequently impossible, to do much with the wide view of this kind, unless considerable help is given by cloud forms . . . which is quite another matter.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.

“Mountain photography” (4)

Hints on the art and technique from a practitioner of the nineteen-forties.

Linear perspective: Mountains, even the minor hills of the PENNINE, are so big and usually so distant that impressions of scale and recession can only be assessed by other things, which are associated with distance and size. When there is obvious linear perspective in a scene the lines of a road converging to the horizon, or a similar line along the roofs of houses, we have no difficulty in perceiving distance. Even when the line is not obvious, we easily and subconsciously assess distance from the reduction in apparent size of well-known objects, such as houses, trees and men.

Unidentified waterfall and figure by Christof Croeber.

Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

In open mountain country obvious linear perspective is rare. It is occasionally seen in a mild form when rock faces are built in pronounced horizontal strata, as are the towers of the DOLOMITES. The occurrence of well-known objects is more frequent, and can usefully be employed in a photograph to give scale. The placing of a solitary figure in the foreground, however, usually large in relation to the picture space, does not give scale, but rather serves, by accentuating the small area of the distant mountain, to squash it.

On rappel: images by Ernst Baumann.
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

Figures are most satisfactorily employed to give scale to the plane in which they are seen. With lenses of normal angle of view, however, the useful limit within which figures can be introduced to serve this purpose of giving scale, is easily reached. At 240 yards a man's figure would occupy only half a degree of arc, in a photograph covering perhaps 40 or 50 degrees, and thus would be so insignificant a part of the picture that he would be in danger of being overlooked, even if his outline were clearly recorded by the lens. 

In the Tyrol (?): photo by Fritz Heimhuber (?).
Illustration from Mountain Photography by C Douglas Milner.

On the other hand, figures tend to draw too much attention to themselves and so, quite apart from matters of perspective, should not be allowed too near the camera, if their purpose is subsidiary. Between 40 and 100 ft. are useful distances within which a figure or a small group can help to give an idea of the vastness of a view.

References

From C Douglas Milner, Mountain Photography: Its Art and Technique in Britain and Abroad, The Focal Press, First printed October 1945, reprinted June 1946.