Ashley has spent the night, and is all packed and ready for the mountain. We make some sandwiches, I grab a shirt, sweater, jeans, runners, gloves and my wind-breaker jacket—that’s it. Ashley decides to wear three or four layers of clothing and takes a towel. I don’t know why, the onsen (Japanese spa at the hotel we’ll be staying at on Mt. Nasu) will provide one.
We bicycle over to Nishinasuno station—which is a 10 minute ride from Ashley’s place, but a 30-minute ride from mine, so in hindsight, I have to give her props. We take a local train up a stop to Kurosio eki (station) arriving at 11:45AM and along with the other AETs, we leave there at Noon. At 1PM at Mt. Nasu, we take a ropeway partially up before disembarking for a climb. Not sure why, but my right leg hurts—probably residual from the bicycle accidents—this is 1990, I’m not out of shape yet.
Half-way up chatting with my girl-crush Gasoline (Catherine Komlodi), I discover that the onsen doesn’t provide towels. Figures. The weather is cool but comfortable, with hardly any trace of a wind. The leaves along the trail are just beginning to turn red, orange and yellow—it looks beautiful. I wish I had my camera, but perhaps I can convince Ashley to make copies of the shots she’s taking (I did).
After a couple of hours, we arrive at the top of Mt. Nasu. Check out the photo above. It’s freezing cold with a wind wafting down at us at about a 1000-miles-per-hour. My legs (yes, both of them, as apparently I’m not in as good shape as I thought I was) hurt like heck. While we stop for a photo break, I wander off by myself to sit on a rock and glare out at the valley below. Around me, steam vents from the mountain at various spots---yes, Mt. Nasu is an active volcano. There’s a slight smell of sulphur in the air, but the terrific winds push it away quickly.
So. This is nature. Wow. I almost feel like I’m a part of it... but only for a few seconds as the voices of the other AETs slowly drown out that feeling of oneness. It was a good feeling. A sense of majesty and power. Top of the world, ma!
We all then hike down the other side of the mountain. The grade is somewhat flatter—like the Canadian woods. Or so I assume, if I had ever actually been in the woods back home. There are scores of birch and maple.
One of the folks traveling traveling alongside me is one Douglas Izzaks. He’s 4-years-old, and is the son of Marina, who has joined her husband and Robert the AET here in Japan. Very cool people, and I envy their happy little family.
Click HERE for pix of the climb.
We arrive at the onsen at around 5PM—18 of us will squeeze onto a room containing 12 tatami (grass mats), that are about 3-feet wide and 6-feet long. I already have a bad feeling about this.
We grab dinner – it sucks. The women finish up first and head over to the onsen. Us five guys—Peter, Robert, Gavin, Tim Mould and myself) sit around and suck on our beers. Notice there’s no Matthew. I did. Best friend I have in Japan, and he couldn’t make the trip up a mountain that was essentially in our backyard. Probably out chasing women. In hindsight (again), it obviously worked out well for Matthew. After an hour, the guys head over to the onsen. Since I had to go to the washroom, I get ditched.
After the pee that wouldn’t end, I struggle through my shyness and bad Japanese to ask where the spa is. No one knows. Stumbling about for 15 minutes, and ready to go and find the bar, I accidentally stumble across it. Just the guys are there. No women. Great. Five naked gaijin in a hot water mini pool. After a half hour, two of the women bravely join us (Mary Ann Hironaka and Mary Mueller). It’s dark, and my night blindness renders the good stuff invisible. They leave after a couple of minutes and come back with six more female AETs. Hey! I’ve heard of this type of party. Unfortunately, it doesn’t become one. Gasoline is there, too. Damn! This! Night! Blindness! So is Ashley – and we all have a good time.
Let me just say that if you have never seen five naked guys in a hot tub doing synchronized swimming, you ain’t never been around me.
After two-and-a-half hours, the onsen turns the lights out on us in an attempt to stop our drunken revelry and various renditions of Christmas carols. After that length of time in the water, even my wrinkles were wrinkled.
We crawl back to our rooms – I’m last because I have to towel off with a shirt. Looking around for a space, I discover a solitary piece of tatami that is 5-feet long by 14-inches wide. I measured it.
Anyhow, I quickly fall asleep, and get hit in the ribs by Mary for snoring. I’d kill her if I could move my legs. In all, I get hit about 21 times. After that initial hit, I don’t fall asleep. I keep telling them I’m awake. I’m not snoring. I can hear Tim and Peter snoring, but no one is hitting them in their still tender from a pair of bicycle accident ribs.
At 5:30AM, Tim and I have a whisper argument about how neither of could sleep thanks to the his/mine snoring. That’s when we hear it. The gentle roar of a buzzsaw at a lumber mill. It’s Susan St. Cyr whom I then dubbed Susan St. Snore.
Of course, despite Tim (and Ashley) believing me, Mary doesn’t. I’m wide awake but very tired. Anyhow, here’s what I have learned about sleeping around a lot of people. I do snore. Like a jet plane with asthma. In later years, I developed horrible, horrible sleep apnea that made me stop breathing every 44 seconds before I’d breath/snore and catch my breath. I spent eight years only getting about 64% oxygen to my brain when I slept ensuring I was killing brain cells. This blog is a direct result of that.
Somewhere, 20 years later, I learned that Mary was right.
Andrew Zzzzz Joseph
Today's title was first sung by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell - and you can listen to it HERE.PS: Susan will remain Susan St. Snore, however.
PPS: Sleep apnea can kill you. If you snore, stop breathing or are always tired - even after just waking up, or wake up choking in the night, you may have sleep apnea. Get checked out at a sleep clinic. Get a C-PAP machine and get back to living a 'normal' life. Don't be like me and wuss out for 8 years before getting the machine! I finally relented and life is so much easier to live now.
