A meizanologist's diary (63)

22 March: we haven’t visited Ochi-san (616 metres) since the pandemic. Nor have we heard any news of Otani-sensei, the genial guardian of its summit shrine, who always used to invite us in for tea at his lodge. So, following in the footsteps of Monk Taichō, who inaugurated the mountain a millennium and a bit ago, we drive the short distance from the Sensei’s hometown.

As if to warn us that everything must change, a brash new map heralds the start of the trail. But the factory forests of cryptomeria are much as we found them before. We make as much haste as we can through these monotonous groves towards the mountain’s fourth station, where the satoyama’s more natural woodlands take over.

Even though the woods are still bare, helpful signs identify the various trees. In short order, we pass a five-leaf chocolate vine, a Japanese clethra, and a linden arrow-wood. Almost with relief, we stumble upon a mountain cherry – now here’s a tree we’ve actually heard of. 

But a Chinese hackberry? No, me neither – such is the biodiversity of these hills that the English language can hardly encompass it.

More or less where the snow starts, so does a succession of Jizō statues. These too are new; the Sensei has heard they are carved from a non-local stone. Donated by local dignitaries, they appear to be celebrating a recent exchange with Buddhists from Thailand. 

We seem to be the first up the path today – nobody else’s footprints mar the freshly fallen powder. Soon we’re climbing the last slope up to the great trees that ring the Ochi-san shrine – this is the grove that Otani-sensei used to celebrate in his sermons and newsletter articles.

We’re surprised to find well-trampled snow around the shrine buildings: surely Otani-sensei can’t already be in residence, so early in the year? Then the door of the lodge opens, and out steps the old priest’s daughter. Greetings are exchanged; we remember meeting each other up here before the pandemic, when Otani-sensei introduced her as his successor. Alas, we are too late to renew our acquaintance with Otani-sensei himself: he passed away last May …

Accompanied by a work crew, Otani-sensei’s daughter has come up the mountain for the first time this year, to prepare for the spring opening. After she leaves for home, we climb the final steps to Ochi-san’s inner sanctuary. This is where Taichō used to meditate; snowy Hakusan looms palely in the distance. 

Awaiting us is a rusting metal signboard, written in an antiquated yet elegant script:

Enshrined here is a guardian spirit of Ochi-san who stands for the virtues of duty, generosity, patience and diligence. The essence is to accept whatever blessings you receive and to be straightforward, bright, pure and correct, undertaking all matters great and small in a cheerful, hopeful and grateful spirit without being waylaid by human desires or feelings of resentment …

We stand in front of the timeworn calligraphy for a moment. “I feel as if it was Otani-sensei himself speaking to us,” says the Sensei. Then we turn to go down.