For a long while, I had been studying the maps around Kitami and after talking with Mr. Bozek, the English teacher who'd done his share of touring Hokkaido in the past as well, I became convinced that Sounkyo was where I wanted to ride to. It was supposedly an onsen village in a valley right next to the Daisetsuzan mountain range, which was also the host to the tallest mountains in whole of Hokkaido. Asahi-dake, peaking at 2290 meters, was to be my final destination. So, after coming back to Kitami on a late Monday evening and spending a good while packing my stuff on the cycle bags, I was good to go and ready to sleep.
I decided to skip all my classes for that week, obviously. I just chose to leave on this particular week since the English lessons had been canceled and I didn't want to skip them any more than I already had, so it was the only choice for me until August to spend a whole week away from Kitami. That's not to say I wouldn't have been absent from the other classes, but it's just that the teaching methods of Mr. Bozek are quite spartan, especially when it comes to skipping class.
Petri was awake for one reason or another, around 7:30am when I was about to leave. He helped me carry the bags downstairs and at exactly 8 am, off I went. The morning traffic was not that bad and as soon as I got out of the central Kitami area, the cycling turned out to be quite enjoyable once again. I went about 40 km to a village called Rubeshibe, from where I bought the butane gas which I was still missing. By a coincidence, there was an English-speaking Japanese woman watering the flowers outside that shop and we had a chat for some time. It turned out she was actually a restaurant manager, but landed on a temporary job before heading for France to open a new restaurant.
I didn't make it far until taking another break, just around 15 km away from Rubeshibe, there is an onsen village called Onnenoyu, to which I had cycled before as well. In that village, I just filled my water bottle, ate a bowl of soba, the worst I'd ever had, really, and quickly escaped the tourist trap to make my way up to the mountains. I needed the energy, though - lately, I've been constantly hungry, which is due to a couple of things - cycling consumes a lot of energy and the portions in Japanese restaurants, fast food shops and even supermarkets are just too small. Sure, you can get a super size, but most likely, you can't afford it. The food is just too expensive here. On my backpacking trip a year back, there were a few 20-something English teachers who argued the exact opposite, but then again, they were working and could afford it.
After about 60km from Kitami, the steep, steep uphill started. Until then, it was all easy and even with extra 15 kg on the bike, it was no problem. However, the climbing lasted for a good ten kilometers and I can tell it was the most intense cycling I've done. I didn't time it, but from around sea level, I rose up to 1050m, to Sekihoku toge. Not stopping was hardly an option. I was all drained out of energy, just like in computer games. Luckily, I had the countermeasure, a power-up, handy. I ate half of a PowerBar, some kind of energy snack, a lot of peanuts, drunk a lot of water and I was ready to go again. On the top, I ate something with and odd resemblance to hot dogs and started the descent. In fact, all the way to Sounkyo was just that, constant downhill, occasional straight road and a tiny bump back up again.
There were some dangers on the way, though. A triplet of tunnels neatly divided the distance into something more bearable, because I knew that the next windless, completely even hole in the mountain was going to be always close enough to reach. It's just that the first tunnel, albeit short, didn't have a sidewalk at all, so it was really dangerous driving there. I had lights, obviously, but they were 100 yen lights. In euros, that would be something like 50 cents. They don't exactly provide illumination, just so that the car driver might see you, possibly. If you're lucky.
Still alive and breathing, I made it through the tunnels with ease and arrived to Sounkyo around 3 p.m. The total distance was 96 km and I had covered it, including a multitude of breaks, in seven hours. That was slow. Without counting the breaks, it would be somewhere around six. Still, the insane climb up to one kilometer was somewhat devastating for timing. I felt like not moving at all, but I never really wanted to stop, because every time I did, my muscles ached so badly that I didn't want to start moving again.
In Sounkyo, I had planned to get up to the mountain on the same day and lodge at the mountain hut, which was supposedly free or almost free. So, I went to ask around about them, but the reality hit me in the face right there - the huts were closed, too much snow. I had packed all my camping stuff with me and now all that was useless. I didn't know what to do about it at first, but a lady at the tourist information center readily suggested me to sleep in the parking center if I looked for cheap accommodation. I didn't buy it at first but the next alternative was spending 3000 yen on a youth hostel and after visiting that place, I had come to the conclusion that I didn't want to go there. So, I headed for the parking lot instead right after visiting an onsen in the middle of the resort town.
Sounkyo was really for tourists only. Some things in the city were aimed for long-term tourists, but it also served those who just stopped by while driving through the mountain range. There were restaurants, handicraft shops, other souvenirs, a post office and an easy access to all the main sights. Then, there was not much else, disregarding hotels. That's Sounkyo. It's still a nice place though and I might go there again while cycling to Sapporo in the summer. It's not like there would be much choice, anyway - the next town, Kamikawa, is even further away and who knows what kind of paths one must take to get there.
After a night of not many hours of sleep, I woke up early, around four in the morning, to climb up to the mountain, or at least as far as I could go. At least it meant going up to the ropeway's end station, up to 1300 meters. Bozek had said it would take only "a few hours" to get all the way to the closest peak, Kurodake, so I was determined to go there even if the cottages were closed. I started walking up through the ghostly, silent village to a road on the mountainside and upon arrival to where the map said the hiking path was supposed to be, I couldn't find one. All I found was a dried-up tiny stream which looked enough like a path to me to climb. So up I went and eventually, I managed to cross the real path too. I didn't know if it was the real hiking path or just a maintenance path for the ropeway towers and cables, but at least it would surely take me to the top.
I went up as fast as I could and since I had felt cold in the morning, I had put on my wind/waterproof jacket and pants. The pants were a good idea, since I didn't have any options in the first place, but the jacket was a mistake. By the time I was halfway through, I was sweating so much that the shirt I wore underneath was completely covered in sweat. Sure, the jacket was waterproof, both ways.
The path itself was really scary all the time. It was about 60 degrees elevation at times and due to that, there were ropes attached to some of the sturdier trees to help the hiker get up. Obviously, there were no fences or anything of the sort. Definitely, it was a real mountain.
By the time I got close to the ropeway station, more and more snow was on the ground. It was all solid, but slippery enough to lead a careless stride a long way down and to a certain paraplegic state. So, I went slowly and carefully for the last odd meters. It was around 6 am by the time I was almost on top, just about five meters short from the plateau. At this time, the first gondola brought the employees of the ropeway company up on the hill and I stopped too, since I didn't want to seem like struggling in the snow (which I really was). So I just stopped, leaned to the snow and holding my legs against a curved tree, bending up through the said snow. I looked around to seek for a path up. I figured out how to get there and the employees in the gondola figured out about my presence, too. They pointed at me and looked intensely, but after their gondola stopped next to the building and I climbed up at the same time, they didn't come after me or anything. So, I went to mind my own business, taking some pictures of the mountains.
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