Izu Oshima – Part 2: The best is yet to come.

From left: Mihara, 2010. Mihara, 1986.

So where was I?

After visiting the squirrels and bunnies, I lost my wallet for the sixth or seventh time in Japan (left it at the bus stop!), and then retrieved it, utterly intact and without difficulty with the aid of various strangers.

From there, Kana from Global Sports Club (remember part 1, dear readers?), took me and a trio of Saitama-ites to the volcano for a jaunt around the caldera.  All along the trail were tunnels leading to nowhere, which I now regret not having taken any photos of.

The last sound you will ever hear.

At any rate, they’re for hiding in when all the huge boulders come shooting down the side of the mountain.  As you approach the summit, there are fewer and fewer, until there are none.  I guess if you’re up there when the end comes, it’s pointless to prolong the inevitable, smashy,magma-y end that is waiting.

To illustrate this point, a coffee shop that used to stand on the edge of the older caldera was completely subsumed by magma during the 1986 eruption.  Remarkably, the Shinto shrine nearby was left unscathed, despite the magma passing within inches of the building.  Luck, or kami-sama, you be the judge.

The black rock (covered in snow) is the cooled volcano guts. Literally a hand's breadth in some spots.

Enjoy cool photo time:

Natural lava rock formation that looks like Gojira if you stand in the right spot, which I didn't.

Drippings in a lava tube. Until fairly recently, there was public access to one of these caves, but now it's closed due to danger of collapse.

The other Oshima islands from the rim of the caldera

Steam rising from the moist, hot rocks heated by all those volcanic insides lying in wait just beneath the surface.

The latest caldera, from the eruption in 1986. Quite a few lovers dove in there together.

Kana, stuck in the knee-deep snow

After the mountain, we hiked down into the craziest forest I’ve yet been to.  The ground was entirely volcanic rock, so the possibilities for flora were fairly limited.  There was this one particular tree that grew everywhere, under any conditions.  If you cut it off at the base, six more grew out of the trunk.  Needless to say, having no soil to set its roots in provided no obstacle.

One of the aforementioned super-trees with a super-tumor.

The coolest part of the forest was the labyrinthine paths, either natural or man-made – I don’t know, through the lava rock.  Snaky tree roots clung to the sides of narrow passages as deep as we were tall.  While we failed to encounter any, rogue monkeys wander around in the woods too (escapees from the local zoo).  When we finally parted ways, I was surprised by the granddaughter, who up to that point had sulked her way through most of the trip, replying to various questions from myself and other in monosyllables, when she smiled brightly and waved a vigorous good-bye, as if we were the best of friends.  Apparently, she thought I was awesome.  That was nice.

I made it back just in time to see the sunset over the hamanoyu onsen, and I sat soaking for the next hour as the stars came out over the ocean.  And then the trio from before – the grandmother and her two charges – appeared.  Let me take this moment to say that, unlike almost every other onsen in Japan, this one required bathing suits be worn. We chatted politely, but you know how it is when you say your good-byes to someone, thinking you’ll never see them again, and then there they are, over by the tomatoes.  The girl was fascinated with me for some reason (and I’m really not bragging – it was kinda weird), and she stared at me the entire time they were there, unless I looked in her direction, at which point she would try to subtly avert her gaze.

Sunset from the oceanside onsen.

Once again, we said our good-byes when they left, and that was that, or so I thought.

But no!  Nearly twenty minutes later, in I come to the changing room, and they are STILL THERE!  Here I was, faced with a situation I never had to deal with before – getting totally naked in front of people I kind of knew, but I wasn’t really friends with.  Now, nudity in front of strangers (in my case, women) is fine, as it is with friends, but Japanese people I’ve made polite conversation with, one of which is a preteen, is just fuckin’ weird.

Moving on…

Dinner - day two. I got seconds on the sushi.

I found a delightful sushi restaurant with a statue of Gojira and a lobster tank with the biggest lobster I’ve ever seen.  The chef and I chatted it up.

Wa ha ha!

Stone statue in the park

My final day would be spent biking, as I had planned. I rented a mountain bike, which I felt absolutely ridiculous riding on the road, not because it was not a road bike, but because mountain bikes in Japan tend to look completely stupid. Like a Humvee going down a suburban street with nary a mountain or terrorist enclave in site. This thing had shocks on it. Shocks, people. I mean, really?

I rode north up the coast line, on a path that more or less hugged the shore. All the beaches are black rock and severe, with huge, jagged rocks rising up out of the water. Not a beach to be trifled with. It was gorgeous. I spent at least an hour listening to uguisu and watching the freighters pass by.

I’d like more idle time to do things like this.

Northwest coast - the sun came out a little later.

When I could go no further, I struck inland, and explored all the one-lane roads cut into the dense foliage.  The trees and grass come right up to the edges of the road, and they are impermeable, threatening to swallow up any abandoned buildings or neglected tracts of land.  And they did, and it was awesome.

Inland - by bike!

At 2:30, my ship came in.  For the return, I booked passage on the slow ferry – about five hours to Tokyo.  My accomadations were totally awful:  essentially a greyhound bus seat facing a wall in the sub-basement of the ship.  The windows on this floor were all covered.  Instead, I sat up outside on the deck, and in all that time, I never got bored.

This ship spends its time wandering around Tokyo Bay, eating the lesser ships (you can see one in front of it, and no, that's not an optical illusion, it really is that big).

Sunset. I couldn't tell if that was Fuji-san or a cloud -

and it somehow managed to become more spectacular.

My final day would be spent biking, as I had planned.  I rented a mountain bike, which I felt absolutely ridiculous riding on the road, not because it was not a road bike, but because mountain bikes in Japan tend to look completely stupid.  Like a Humvee going down a suburban street with nary a mountain or terrorist enclave in site.  This thing had shocks on it.  Shocks, people.  I mean, really?

Izu Oshima – Part 1!

Flowers of Oshima

Recently, one of those rare, precious vacation periods came up (three consecutive days!), so I was off to Oshima island for some adventure. Inexplicably, Oshima and its chain of brethren is part of the Tokyo metropolitan area, but thankfully, the islands are nothing like that craphole. Actually, Oshima is nothing like any part of Japan I’ve yet seen, which made it more pleasant and refreshing than I had anticipated.
So, anyway, I reserved passage on a jet foil (a ship with a fucking jet engine!!!) from the city of Atami, set to depart at 10AM. This required getting up at 5AM and riding a hell of a lot of trains, and I still only just made it. Upon arrival to the island, I was greeted by a very handsome man from the Global Sports Club – a diving outfit with English-speaking guided. He didn’t really speak much English, so he was a bit quiet until I said something in Japanese. “Oh, is Japanese okay for you?” he asked me over the rattling of the van (it was used to ferry customers to and from their dives, so everything was covered in plastic, including the seatbelts, so I guess people just hang on to something…) I told him it was okay, I spoke a little.

I love you.

After arriving, we were greeted by the two cutest dogs ever, and the most laid-back and most contented Japanese people I’ve met in Japan. I imagine being a professional nature guide (scuba, mountain-climbing, and whatever else they did) in Japan is a much-envied and rare position to find oneself in. I immediately decided I was in the wrong line of work.

The dry-suit - always flattering!

Ishida (my guide) went over the finer points of diving: I’d be wearing a dry-suit (as opposed to a wetsuit), which has air pumped into and out of it. Would it be okay if he adjusted the valve on my chest. Sure, handsome! I’d have to take deep, even breaths, so no panicking. Okay… The water pressure would be pressing on my eardrums constantly, so I’d have to release the pressure to prevent my eardrums from getting damaged. What?!
Once I actually made it to the water, I couldn’t keep from laughing constantly – I was so excited about and so terrible at what I was trying to do. I was made to wear about 20 pounds of weights so I didn’t float to the surface, and Ishida swam above me, his arms wrapped around me to constantly adjust the valves on my suit. Awesome.
I wanted to touch everything, even the stuff I knew I shouldn’t, like the giant fugu swimming in front of me. Was that really a blowfish?! I reached out, and Ishida waved his hand to indicate, “NO!” I did the same thing with the sea urchins and eels. He did pick up a couple of sea cucumbers and toss them over to me like they were footballs. That was a little weird. A big, purple football with an anus on one end. And then there were these little sea plants/animals that lived on the rocks, with delicate, feather-like appendages that swept the water for food, presumably. We brushed them with out hands and they shot like reverse puffs of smoke into their little barnacle-shaped holes.
We both spotted the sea turtle at the same time, and he was so excited, I could hear his voice making excited sounds. Suddenly, we picked up speed and pursued it, until it finally outswam us. Ishida and I waved good-bye.
After the dive, everyone suggested I go to the local coffee shop, so Ishida dropped me off with an umbrella and bid me farewell. The coffee shop was a geodesic dome – certainly not the first thing I expected to see in a tiny island town, but whatever. I was stuffed to the gills with hand-carved, -forged, -printed, and -etc. crafts from the locals, and all of it was exceedingly cool. The best part was the gaggle of obaachan that were conversing excitedly over all the news of the day. One of them eagerly approached me and tried her best to speak excellent English, as I assured her it was. We chatted for a bit, while all of her companions watched and clucked their tongues in adoration. After a moment, my new friend conferred with the others, and it was decided that they must all buy me an omiage. I tried to pick the cheapest thing I could that I actually liked, and they made me pick out something else.

The welcome wagon

After this, I decided I should head on down to the indoor onsen, and it was here that the weather turned foul. Seriously. I was like being in a hurricane. It was all I could do to keep my umbrella from staying inside out, the rain poured down, the freezing wind blew (and I do mean freezing, as in snow), and the sky turned black. I hid out in the hot water for an hour or so before venturing out again, after the storm had passed. Dinner was fried fish, miso with fish, and fish salad. (Did I mention I had sashimi for lunch?)

The northern port of Oshima

In the morning, I woke up to a delightful breakfast of broiled fish, fish soup, and some non-fish food items – delicious! And so, it was off to the flower park and squirrel zoo. Oshima is known for its camellia flowers, and March is right at the end of the blooming season. The flower park was pretty spectacular, although the best feature was a grassy hill covered in violets with 180 degree view of the ocean and mainland Japan.

Camellia garden

The previous night’s storm had blown away all the haze, and Fuji-san was clearly visible from the island.
I eventually made my way down to the squirrel section, where creepy little forts have been constructed out of logs, and they are jammed packed full of psychotic, horny squirrels. It was a warm day, so most of the critters were laying in the sun being mounted by their more energetic counterparts.

Before the melee

I paid 100 yen for an oven mitt and a packet of sunflower seeds to feed them, but they didn’t seem all that excited at first. Eventually, the fat ones came out – you know the little bastards that probably shove the weaker ones out of the way so they can stuff their fat faces with a few more seeds, and the party started. The little log fort erupted with fur balls, and one of the fatter little shits jumped on me. After shaking it off I backed up, far enough so they couldn’t reach me from the fort. Then I realized they were watching me from the tall grass. It was like Children of the Corn – I could hear them skittering and chirping to each other. I eventually gave all my seeds to on squirrel and headed out of there.

Furry evil

I stopped by the rabbit pen for the last few minutes before my bus came, and I wished I had spent time with them instead. They were softer, gentler, slower-moving little creatures, and a hell of a lot cuter. Also, they couldn’t crawl up my pant leg.