Risshun just passed, and on the old calendar, the New Year has just begun. This morning seemed the perfect time to take the Hearty Hiker who missed the January 1st Sunrise Hike due to a cold another chance to ascend Ryuso Mountain in the dark . . . in time to see the sunrise.

I suspect that a person or two out there might have wanted to ask (had I not just told you the reason: to see the sunrise), “Why would you want to walk in the dark?”

It’s a fair question. My first instinct would be to say, “You’d better be willing to walk in the dark—or you’re going to get yourself stuck in bad places a lot more than you want to get yourself stuck in bad places.”

But before I attempt to answer this why question, let me handle some easier ones.  1) “When did you start?” Answer: 4:37 AM.  2) “What time was the sunrise?” Answer: 6:43 A.M. 3) “How does one climb in the dark?”

Answer: With a light.

You take your light and just point it down at the dry leaves that cover the trail. Just follow the big, dry leaves.

Follow them up for about two hours.

Okay, now, WHY?

Well, let’s head on up the mountain and see if we can find the answer.

Or as the famous poet said, as he prepared to climb a mountain in the dark, “The answer, what is it?—Let’s go see—let’s go and make our visit.”

So here we go. We follow our lit-up leaves, one after another after another, and before we know it (after an hour or so) . . .

. . . the sky, off to our left, begins to lighten. Black goes dark blue . . .

. . . and the horizon goes all rosy (at least on this day with a bit of low cloud cover). And then you jig-jag through the cedars,  come to where you can see out off your right shoulder, and low and behold . . .  

there’s a magical mountain—floating in the sky.

And when you’re face-to-face with such extraordinary beauty, you stop asking “Why should we walk in the dark?”—and start asking, “Why don’t we walk in the dark more often?”

In case you wondered, we weren’t the only ones out and about in the wee hours of the morning.

This guy, too, seemed to think it was a special time of the day. He’s a Japanese Serow.

So no more questions. Let’s get to the summit.

And enjoy the sunrise. (Yes, we got up there with a minute or two to spare.)

I think you know I have a thing for persimmon orange . . .

. . . and that I think that I can feel love coming through the blue.  (For details on blue and orange, visit a previous post.)

. . . So it was a great morning.

And the sun, as we sometimes do, kept getting bigger.  It got, as we sometimes do, really big.

Ah, two New Year’s hikes in one year! Marvelous! So lucky!

I imagine there will be a lot of special images floating around in my noggin for a long time to come.