The first weekend in May! We decided to go up to Umegashima, to the Hakkorei trail, to see how the yashio were doing.

They were doing great!

I think we knew, 15 kilometers away, when we passed the Umegashima plum orchard, that the yashio were going to be lovely.

When we passed the waterfall, still three or four kilometers away from the trail, and saw the shimmering green and blue there too, we knew—down to the bone—how lovely the yashio would be.

And then there they were—so lovely.

It was hard to believe, but Vam-I-Am was there, too. He seemed befuddled by how much joy the yashio were giving us. His brow was wrinkled and his head was tilted to the side—and we realized he was wondering if there could be any situation in which the yashio did not give us joy. (Of course, we we were wondering if he didn’t have something else better to do.)

And Vam-I-Am said to us, “You like them when the sun is bright, but would you like them in the night?”

We nodded.

“Of course, we like them when it’s bright, but they’re also nice in dreams at night.”

“But,” Vam-I-am said, “Would you like them while you lunch? Would you like them in a bunch?”

“Why, yes,” we replied. “We especially like to see them in a bunch–especially while we munch our lunch.”

“Would you like them with purple flowers near? Then would they seem to you so dear?”

Again we nodded.

“Yes, we’d like like them still with purple near—even with the grey they’re dear.”

“If Fuji couldn’t find his hat? Could you like them on a day like that?”

“Lost his hat? What do you mean by that?  She’s merely thrilled to see aglow the bright and lovely yashio!”

“What if you stubbed your toe, would you like them then? Would you like them if there were only ten?”

“Especially if we stubbed our toe–we’re never going to answer no. Ten or five or two or one! Why one would give us so much fun!”

“What if they burned your hand? Upon your soul made some demand?”

“Oh, Vam-I-am, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you see when things are true?”

That exasperated him, let me tell you. He threw his hands up in despair, then pressed them to his sides, flopped down on his belly, and slithered back down the mountain.

We Hearty Hikers shrugged our shoulder and turned our attention back to the yashio.

Then we heard another voice. The purple mountain azaleas were talking.

“Yashio, yashio!” they moaned. “What about us?”

“You’re lovely, too,” we replied.

Early May. At the bottom of Kenashi Mountain—and most of the way up—the leaves are out and parading about, twirling their way round and round and into the light.

From Shizuoka City, drive to Fujinomiya, then head for the hills for forty minutes or so, and you’ll come to the Kenashi trailhead, at around 800 meters.

In May, on a clear day, you’ll feel a lot sugar being manufactured in the canopy above. Something from the manufacturing process seems to spill over into the hiker, as  can be seen in the picture above. What’s actually at work physiologically, well, feel free to consult your own scientific authority.

The top of the mountain is 1964 meters. There’s a bit of flat walking at the bottom of the trail and at the top (once you hit the ridge), but more or less, you climb 1000 meters while walking 2000 meters—which means . . .

. . . you’re going up at a 45 degree angle for the vast majority of the climb. Eat your Wheaties before you leave home. It took us a little under three hours to reach the top.

Along the way, with the leaves not yet fully out, you can sneak views of Fuji here and there, but . . .

. . . you don’t get a clear view until you’re almost at the ridge, at the “Tenbodai,” the first “official” Fuji-viewing point. It’s nice. There are no other mountains between the Kenashi range and Mt. Fuji, so the view includes all the green fields at the foot of Fuji.

Hit the ridge and turn right and you’ll soon see a tall rock, from which, if you scamper up it, you get a nice view of the Northern Alps. The view is much better than the picture. With your eyes, you can see way up into the Humboldt-blue sky.

A few minutes later, you’ll come to the top of the mountain, and to another clear view of Fuji.

You can go back the way you came, or you can walk farther back along the ridge, past where you came up, and descend via the Jizo Pass.

It’s a slightly longer route, but the last hour or so will be along the Kanayama River with all its waterfalls and green pools. Recommended.

You might discover the iwakagami “rock mirror” flowers along your way.

You can imagine what the ants make of them. You can even experience some dangerous and agonizing rock-climbing (note expression on Hearty Hiker’s face).

But mainly just enjoy the springy spring.