A few last rays of sunlight come grazing through the trees as we start on the first snow slope. At least, thanks to the late hour, we won’t have to break trail – just follow the trench excavated by all those snowshoes ahead of us.
Low on the ridge towards Genanpo (1,441m) we find a grove of red pines. The trees are in good shape, unlike the devastated grove we saw in Nagano on the way back from Mizugaki last year. Altitude seems to be the key here: the nematode that causes the pine blight prefers an easy life at low levels.
A fine old tree, warped by a century’s wind and weather, is labelled Nio-no-matsu. It resembles one of those fierce guardians that defend a temple’s gates.
Nearing the treeline, we find ourselves hovering between cloud layers. The view doesn’t last.
In driving fog, we cross the summit plateau to find the shrine more than half-buried in snow. Pausing only to pull on an extra jacket, we turn to go down.
The way back, into the teeth of the wind, feels longer than the way in. This is a different place from the one we once visited on a balmy autumn day. We still haven’t picked up a frosted-up landmark that we saw earlier. Doubts start to fester: are we still certain of our position? The Sensei pulls out her phone – yes, Geographica says we’re still on track and we can still just about see the snowshoe tracks on the wind-scoured snow.
Disorientated, off-route, succumbed to exposure … After reminding us how unstructured situations develop in the winter mountains, the weather gives us a break.
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