So there we were in Tokyo in 1996, Erik teaching English and me doing research at Keio University but feeling rather unmotivated and increasingly homesick. Although I wasn't particularly busy (I had no lectures to attend and was working at my own pace), I looked forward to the weekends, when I usually stayed at Erik's apartment. We drank, did art, listened to music, and watched videos into the small hours, whereupon I'd collapse on a futon in Erik's bedroom while he and his girlfriend slept on another futon in the lounge. Erik encouraged me in my artistic endeavours, and I discovered a fondness for collage.
Occasionally we'd venture out, often to art galleries during the day, and restaurants at night. We also played chess. One evening, inspired by the Situationists and fueled by cheap red wine, we concocted our very own "drifting" game, which involved heading off on foot from his apartment with a deck of cards, the direction and duration of our urban rambles and other decisions determined by cards drawn at each intersection, with various other "signs" (the sighting of a cat, for example) triggering additional changes in direction or other predetermined actions. The drift would end whenever a joker was drawn from the pack, at which point we'd race each other back to the apartment.
Along with a French-Australian astronomer called Boud, Erik and I became involved in the nascent anti-McDonald's movement in Japan - actually, we were the nascent anti-McDonald's movement in Japan - which formed in the wake of the famous McLibel trial in the U.K. In October 1996 we marked the International Day of Action against McDonald's by donning clown costumes purchased at Tokyu Hands and leafleting several McDonald's outlets in Shinjuku. The high point of our anti-McDonald's campaign was a protest in Shibuya on the evening of 7 March 1997 which ended with Boud and me being hauled off in our clown suits by the police for interrogation. The episode was filmed by Erik and formed the basis of the hit movie Bashing Ronald (25 min.).
By this time I'd decided to go back to New Zealand, at least a year earlier than planned, a decision that upset Erik a lot more than I realized at the time. I left Tokyo on 16 March 1997. I wouldn't see Erik again for over four years, although we did keep in touch, our correspondence taking the form of everything from scribbled notes on napkins to erotic postcards, and at least two cone-letters.
Erik stayed on in Japan for another couple of years, devoting an increasing amount of time and energy to his art. He then moved to New York, where he continued to paint. Keiko and visited him there in June 2001. I bought three of Erik's paintings, which hang in our living room. We last saw each other at the end of 2004, when Erik visited New Zealand, spending time in Christchurch and Karamea. Since then we've kept in fairly regular contact, mainly via email, but of late increasingly via Skype. In fact it was during a Skype conversation that we came up with the idea for the Nakasendo Project.
Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since blog began: 61.7km
Monday, 30 April 2007
Sunday, 29 April 2007
Saturday, 28 April 2007
Rain!
Today I was doubly blessed. Not only was it raining when I got up, but I also had the whole morning off. So I quickly filled a shoulder bag with a few essentials (water bottle, mobile phone, wallet), slipped on my blue plastic poncho, and headed for the hills. The Cashmere Hills to be precise.It was just after 9am when I left, and I started by following my old jogging route along the Heathcote River to Cashmere Road. I then commenced the climb up Hackthorne Road. This section of the walk was like a trip down memory lane. Or perhaps that should be a slog up memory hill. There on the left was the house where my old third form English teacher used to live (the one who owned the Norton Commando); further up, down a side street, was where my old girlfriend used to live; there on the right was where my ex-sister-in-law lived before she married my brother; up a bit further, on the corner, was the flat where my parents lived in the 1950s, just after they got married; and up a bit further still, on the left, was where as a kid of about seven or eight I nearly lost an eye when an errant firework flew into the side of my head one Guy Fawkes night (definitely not a damp squib, that one).
After a brief pause for a slug of water and to recover from all this reminiscing, I pushed on to the Sign of the Takahe, then headed back to the flat via Dyers Pass Road. I stopped off at the supermarket before finally making it home just after noon.
So, I know you're all dying to know how the poncho performed. Well, it performed about as well as you'd expect a cheap plastic poncho to perform, I guess. It kept the water off the top half of my body effectively enough, but my trousers got pretty wet below the knees. Adjusting the drawstring around the hood was a bit of a nuisance. Too loose and the hood would come off in the wind; too tight and it restricted my peripheral vision (even though the poncho is semi-transparent). Being very light, the poncho didn't perform too well in the wind either, flapping around like a loose spinnaker at times.
But perhaps the worst thing was the build up of moisture inside. This was especially bad during the uphill section. I got so hot I had to take off my vest. It was OK going downhill, but then when I stopped at the supermarket I felt really cold and had to put my vest back on.
On the plus side, the poncho was light and afforded great freedom of movement. It was also really easy to take on and off. But overall it wasn't a hugely satisfying experience. I think I'll try a rain suit next time and see how it compares.
The best thing about today's walk was the performance of my New Balance 748s. It wasn't pouring with rain, but it was steady enough that my shoes ended up getting completely soaked on the outside. However, when I got home and took them off my socks and feet were perfectly dry.
Distance walked today: 12.4km
Total distance walked since blog began: 58.7km
Maximum altitude reached: 206m
Friday, 27 April 2007
What's in a name?
The route that we know today as the Nakasendo was actually established long before the Edo period to facilitate travel between the ancient capital of Kyoto and the provinces to the east. At one time it was called the Tosando, or eastern mountain route (as opposed to the Tokaido, or eastern coastal route).
After defeating his rivals at the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600 (the scene of which we should pass on around day three or four of our walk) and becoming shogun of Japan, Ieyasu Tokugawa moved the capital to Tokyo, or Edo as it was then called. This heralded the beginning of the Edo period (also known as the Tokugawa period), which lasted over 250 years and was a time of great political and cultural change.
Soon after taking power, Tokugawa began work on developing the five major roads that would later become official routes for the use of himself and the other daimyo and to provide the Tokugawa shogunate with the communications network that it needed to stabilize and rule the country. These were the Tokaido and Nakasendo (both linking Kyoto and Edo), the Koshukaido (linking Edo and Kofu to the west), the Oshukaido (linking Edo and Shirakawa to the north), and the Nikkokaido (linking Edo and Nikko, also to the north).
One of the highlights of the Nakasendo was - and still is - the approximately 80km-long section that follows the Kiso Valley from near Magome in the south to near Niegawa in the north. Known in Japanese as Kisoji, this stretch of the Nakasendo was so famous that its name was often used as a synonym for the entire Nakasendo in the form of Kisokaido ("kaido" simply means highway). And so it was that when Hiroshige and Eisen produced their series of woodblock prints of the stations along the Nakasendo, they gave it the title The Sixty-Nine Stations of the Kisokaido.
Partly in homage to Hiroshige, and partly because I think it just sounds nicer, I've decided that from now on I'll be referring to this project as the Kisokaido Project, dispensing with the rather unwieldy "Nakasendo walk/art project".
Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since blog began: 46.3km
After defeating his rivals at the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600 (the scene of which we should pass on around day three or four of our walk) and becoming shogun of Japan, Ieyasu Tokugawa moved the capital to Tokyo, or Edo as it was then called. This heralded the beginning of the Edo period (also known as the Tokugawa period), which lasted over 250 years and was a time of great political and cultural change.
Soon after taking power, Tokugawa began work on developing the five major roads that would later become official routes for the use of himself and the other daimyo and to provide the Tokugawa shogunate with the communications network that it needed to stabilize and rule the country. These were the Tokaido and Nakasendo (both linking Kyoto and Edo), the Koshukaido (linking Edo and Kofu to the west), the Oshukaido (linking Edo and Shirakawa to the north), and the Nikkokaido (linking Edo and Nikko, also to the north).
One of the highlights of the Nakasendo was - and still is - the approximately 80km-long section that follows the Kiso Valley from near Magome in the south to near Niegawa in the north. Known in Japanese as Kisoji, this stretch of the Nakasendo was so famous that its name was often used as a synonym for the entire Nakasendo in the form of Kisokaido ("kaido" simply means highway). And so it was that when Hiroshige and Eisen produced their series of woodblock prints of the stations along the Nakasendo, they gave it the title The Sixty-Nine Stations of the Kisokaido.
Partly in homage to Hiroshige, and partly because I think it just sounds nicer, I've decided that from now on I'll be referring to this project as the Kisokaido Project, dispensing with the rather unwieldy "Nakasendo walk/art project".
Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since blog began: 46.3km
Thursday, 26 April 2007
Flat feet
Today I walked into town to meet my sister Stephanie for lunch at The Bicycle Thief. Again, no rain. Stephanie's been spending a lot of time of late delving into our family tree. Apparently Great Uncle George was the New Zealand walking champion, a fact I was originally alerted to by my brother Mark. Ironically, he (George, not Mark) was refused entry to the army because he had flat feet. This was around the time of the First World War, when track walking was quite popular. Mark rather cheekily suggested George only became champion because all the best athletes were away fighting, and only the flat-footed ones were left behind. But then again, according to this Wikipedia article, many of the fastest runners have been flat-footed, including at least one Olympic champion. Not sure what this has to do with the Nakasendo walk/art project, except that maybe it proves walking - or flat-footedness - runs in the family.
Distance walked today: 10.4km
Total distance walked since blog began: 43.3km
Tuesday, 24 April 2007
Seeds
As I was saying, Erik arrived in Japan in January 1994 to teach English at the school where my wife Keiko worked. He'd graduated the previous year from Antioch College (motto: Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity) in Yellow Springs, Ohio. According to Wikipedia, the college was a hotbed of student radicalism even before Erik enrolled, particularly in the 1960s, when it had strong links to the New Left, the anti-Vietnam War movement, and to a lesser extent the Black Power movement. The town of Yellow Springs was founded in 1825 by followers of the Welsh utopian socialist Robert Owen, and developed a reputation as an island of liberal and racial tolerance in southern Ohio.
Erik and I started meeting for coffee after I heard through Keiko that Erik was an admirer of Emma Goldman, and we became good friends. Erik would often come over to our apartment in Mishima after work and the two of us would stay up all night drinking, drawing and painting, watching videos, playing racing games on my Sega Mega Drive, and watching late-night Japanese TV, before heading down early in the morning to nearby Hirokoji Station for coffee and donuts. He was full of youthful energy, and I found it hard to keep up at times. Sometimes some of the other teachers would also come over for drawing parties. We also did at least one hike together. Looking back, 1994 was not only one of the most enjoyable years of my life; it was also the year in which the seeds of the Nakasendo walk/art project project were sown.
Keiko and I returned to New Zealand in November 1994. The following year I went back to Canterbury University and continued my studies. Then in April 1996 I returned to Japan, this time without Keiko, to do some research at Keio University in Tokyo. I was still in touch with Erik, who'd left Japan and was in China, where he'd been teaching English at a university in Nanjing. He was considering going to Kuwait, but I talked him out of this and persuaded him to come to Tokyo instead. He arrived in June, and after spending a week living on the floor of my tiny one-room apartment, he moved into a "gaijin house", and then into an old wooden apartment in Nishi-Sugamo.
The year that followed was a difficult one for me in many respects. I found it hard being away from Keiko, and things at Keio weren't going as I'd intended (I'd originally wanted to do an M.A., but soon found out this was going to take a lot longer than I anticipated, and I was also doubting my suitability for an academic career). The one bright spot, and possibly the thing that kept me sane, was my burgeoning friendship with Erik.
(To be continued…)
Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since blog began: 32.9km
Erik and I started meeting for coffee after I heard through Keiko that Erik was an admirer of Emma Goldman, and we became good friends. Erik would often come over to our apartment in Mishima after work and the two of us would stay up all night drinking, drawing and painting, watching videos, playing racing games on my Sega Mega Drive, and watching late-night Japanese TV, before heading down early in the morning to nearby Hirokoji Station for coffee and donuts. He was full of youthful energy, and I found it hard to keep up at times. Sometimes some of the other teachers would also come over for drawing parties. We also did at least one hike together. Looking back, 1994 was not only one of the most enjoyable years of my life; it was also the year in which the seeds of the Nakasendo walk/art project project were sown.
Keiko and I returned to New Zealand in November 1994. The following year I went back to Canterbury University and continued my studies. Then in April 1996 I returned to Japan, this time without Keiko, to do some research at Keio University in Tokyo. I was still in touch with Erik, who'd left Japan and was in China, where he'd been teaching English at a university in Nanjing. He was considering going to Kuwait, but I talked him out of this and persuaded him to come to Tokyo instead. He arrived in June, and after spending a week living on the floor of my tiny one-room apartment, he moved into a "gaijin house", and then into an old wooden apartment in Nishi-Sugamo.
The year that followed was a difficult one for me in many respects. I found it hard being away from Keiko, and things at Keio weren't going as I'd intended (I'd originally wanted to do an M.A., but soon found out this was going to take a lot longer than I anticipated, and I was also doubting my suitability for an academic career). The one bright spot, and possibly the thing that kept me sane, was my burgeoning friendship with Erik.
(To be continued…)
Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since blog began: 32.9km
Monday, 23 April 2007
Baby steps
This morning I donned my cowboy outfit and walked the 5km into town to buy tickets to the Steely Dan concert in September. I could have telephoned or bought tickets over the Internet, but I'm mindful of the need to take every opportunity I can to pile on the kilometers in the lead up to the Nakasendo walk/art project, particularly in light of Erik's recent sterling achievements (not that it's a competition or anything).
I packed my poncho in the hope that I might get to give it a road test, but despite the forecast of showers and the presence on my departure of several ominous-looking dark clouds overhead, it remained dry throughout the morning, and was actually pleasantly warm and sunny for the journey home (dammit!).
Skyped with Erik this afternoon (yesterday night his time), and the conversation turned to ideas about the art facet of the Nakasendo project. Interestingly, we've been having very similar thoughts e.g. using found paper objects (flyers, newspaper clippings, receipts, etc.) we've picked up - and possibly prints of photos we've taken - along the way to make collages at the end of each day's walk, perhaps collaging over prints from The Sixty-Nine Stations of the Kisokaido. It was a very satisfying and fruitful discussion, and my enthusiasm is building almost daily.
Distance walked today: 10.4km
Total distance walked since blog began: 29.9km
I packed my poncho in the hope that I might get to give it a road test, but despite the forecast of showers and the presence on my departure of several ominous-looking dark clouds overhead, it remained dry throughout the morning, and was actually pleasantly warm and sunny for the journey home (dammit!).
Skyped with Erik this afternoon (yesterday night his time), and the conversation turned to ideas about the art facet of the Nakasendo project. Interestingly, we've been having very similar thoughts e.g. using found paper objects (flyers, newspaper clippings, receipts, etc.) we've picked up - and possibly prints of photos we've taken - along the way to make collages at the end of each day's walk, perhaps collaging over prints from The Sixty-Nine Stations of the Kisokaido. It was a very satisfying and fruitful discussion, and my enthusiasm is building almost daily.
Distance walked today: 10.4km
Total distance walked since blog began: 29.9km
Sunday, 22 April 2007
Japan
I know it's a bit of a cliche, but "second home" is a term I've taken to using to describe my feelings for Japan. The moment I touch down at Narita or Kansai, I'm invariably overwhelmed by a sense of euphoria that's a strange mix of nostalgia, relief, and anticipation. This feeling usually lasts until around the time I reach the immigration hall and join the long queue that seems to snake permanently from the hopelessly understaffed counters reserved for non-residents. But I inevitably have a good time after this, and throughout the nearly 25 years I've been a visitor to Japan, I've very rarely looked forward to leaving.
My love affair with Japan began in the early 1980s. I made several Japanese friends thanks to my parents' connection with an English language school here in Christchurch, and as I wasn't doing much else at the time, in 1983 I enrolled in a part-time Japanese language course at the local polytechnic. This was around the time of the TV series Shogun, starring Richard Chamberlain, Toshiro Mifune, and Yoko Shimada (the entire series has recently been released on DVD, and I would seriously consider buying it if I saw it on special somewhere - purely for nostalgic reasons, you understand), and of 240 yen to the US dollar. I was into Yasunari Kawabata and ukiyo-e (including Hiroshige, whose series The Sixty-Nine Stations of the Kisokaido is one of the recurring themes of this walk/art project). Anyway, I enjoyed the course, and was picking up the language quite quickly, so the next year I decided to enroll in a full-time course at the same school.
At the end of 1984 I got a job in Queenstown as an inbound tours coordinator, and by April the next year I had saved enough money for a return ticket to Japan. I still remember clearly the Blade Runneresque scenes that greeted me as I exited Narita airport and was driven into Tokyo for the first time. For all I knew, I could have just touched down on another planet. Unfortunately I had very little idea what I was going to do in Japan, and while just being in Tokyo, traveling around the country a bit, and living off various acquaintances was satisfying enough at first, my lack of a job (this was before the introduction of the working holiday scheme, so I was on a 90-day tourist visa) and lack of initiative resulted in my living a rather meaningless existence for several months while being put up by a former student of my parents in a small town near Kurashiki city in Okayama prefecture. Things deteriorated to the point where I had to get my father to transfer me the money to pay for my ticket home (the return portion of the ticket I bought in New Zealand was no longer valid).
Back in Christchurch, I worked as a tour guide until September 1986, when I decided to go back to Japan, this time with a working holiday visa. I stayed for a year, living in a tiny apartment not far from Matsubara-danchi, famous as the site of one of the first large-scale, low-rent apartment complexes ever built in Japan, in Soka city, famous as the home of Soka senbei rice crackers, in Saitama prefecture, famous as one of the most boring prefectures in the whole of Japan. I worked as a day labourer for a company that supplied workers to furniture removal businesses, and later as a porter (and, briefly, receptionist) at a hotel in Tokyo.
I arrived back to New Zealand in September 1987. It was over the following summer, while working as a tour guide again, that I met my future wife, Keiko. In 1988 I went back to university to finish the B.A. I had started in 1980. I graduated in 1990, and in October that year headed back to Japan to study Japanese language and culture at Nagoya University for a year. Keiko joined me mid-way through the course, and when it finished we decided to stay on in Nagoya. I got a job as a translator, and Keiko was already working at an English language school. After a couple of years in Nagoya, we moved to Keiko's hometown of Mishima in Shizuoka prefecture. I continued translating freelance, and Keiko got a job with another branch of the same English language school she had worked for in Nagoya.
In early 1994, a new teacher named Erik arrived at the school from the U.S.
(To be continued...)
Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since blog began: 19.5km
My love affair with Japan began in the early 1980s. I made several Japanese friends thanks to my parents' connection with an English language school here in Christchurch, and as I wasn't doing much else at the time, in 1983 I enrolled in a part-time Japanese language course at the local polytechnic. This was around the time of the TV series Shogun, starring Richard Chamberlain, Toshiro Mifune, and Yoko Shimada (the entire series has recently been released on DVD, and I would seriously consider buying it if I saw it on special somewhere - purely for nostalgic reasons, you understand), and of 240 yen to the US dollar. I was into Yasunari Kawabata and ukiyo-e (including Hiroshige, whose series The Sixty-Nine Stations of the Kisokaido is one of the recurring themes of this walk/art project). Anyway, I enjoyed the course, and was picking up the language quite quickly, so the next year I decided to enroll in a full-time course at the same school.
At the end of 1984 I got a job in Queenstown as an inbound tours coordinator, and by April the next year I had saved enough money for a return ticket to Japan. I still remember clearly the Blade Runneresque scenes that greeted me as I exited Narita airport and was driven into Tokyo for the first time. For all I knew, I could have just touched down on another planet. Unfortunately I had very little idea what I was going to do in Japan, and while just being in Tokyo, traveling around the country a bit, and living off various acquaintances was satisfying enough at first, my lack of a job (this was before the introduction of the working holiday scheme, so I was on a 90-day tourist visa) and lack of initiative resulted in my living a rather meaningless existence for several months while being put up by a former student of my parents in a small town near Kurashiki city in Okayama prefecture. Things deteriorated to the point where I had to get my father to transfer me the money to pay for my ticket home (the return portion of the ticket I bought in New Zealand was no longer valid).
Back in Christchurch, I worked as a tour guide until September 1986, when I decided to go back to Japan, this time with a working holiday visa. I stayed for a year, living in a tiny apartment not far from Matsubara-danchi, famous as the site of one of the first large-scale, low-rent apartment complexes ever built in Japan, in Soka city, famous as the home of Soka senbei rice crackers, in Saitama prefecture, famous as one of the most boring prefectures in the whole of Japan. I worked as a day labourer for a company that supplied workers to furniture removal businesses, and later as a porter (and, briefly, receptionist) at a hotel in Tokyo.
I arrived back to New Zealand in September 1987. It was over the following summer, while working as a tour guide again, that I met my future wife, Keiko. In 1988 I went back to university to finish the B.A. I had started in 1980. I graduated in 1990, and in October that year headed back to Japan to study Japanese language and culture at Nagoya University for a year. Keiko joined me mid-way through the course, and when it finished we decided to stay on in Nagoya. I got a job as a translator, and Keiko was already working at an English language school. After a couple of years in Nagoya, we moved to Keiko's hometown of Mishima in Shizuoka prefecture. I continued translating freelance, and Keiko got a job with another branch of the same English language school she had worked for in Nagoya.
In early 1994, a new teacher named Erik arrived at the school from the U.S.
(To be continued...)
Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since blog began: 19.5km
Saturday, 21 April 2007
And what about socks?
I'm wondering if I should bother buying a pair or two of special trekking socks. I'm seen them around town in various shoe and outdoor shops. They seem to be pretty expensive, though, around NZ$30. Is it worth it? I want to look after my feet, but really, what can be so special about these socks?
Speaking of socks, someone on a forum somewhere suggested you only need to take three socks (that's three individual socks, not three pairs of socks), washing one at a time on a kind of rotational basis. Sounds like a plan.
Distance walked today: 0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 16.5km
Speaking of socks, someone on a forum somewhere suggested you only need to take three socks (that's three individual socks, not three pairs of socks), washing one at a time on a kind of rotational basis. Sounds like a plan.
Distance walked today: 0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 16.5km
Friday, 20 April 2007
Gear
Choosing the right gear - and the right amount of gear - will have a considerable bearing on the success of the Nakasendo walk/art project. I've already spent quite a bit of time thinking about what I'm going to take in the way of clothing, footwear, rain gear, pack, and other equipment.
Earlier this year, before the thought of an epic walk ever occured to me, I invested in a pair of New Balance 748 walking shoes. I wore these during a recent trip to Myanmar (where I did quite a bit of walking), and have worn them on all of my training walks, and they're nice and light and definitely very comfortable. So chances are I will take these in October. I'm in two minds as to whether or not I should take an extra pair of shoes. It would be an advantage to have a spare pair if the first pair got wet, but the extra weight and bulk would be a disadvantage. I may just take a pair of sandals (I got some nice Columbia ones last year), which wouldn't be ideal for walking, but could serve as backup footwear in an emergency.
Shirts and trousers I have. I bought a neat hat with a wide brim around the same time I bought the shoes, and I recently purchased a zip-up fleece vest. The hat, fleece vest, jeans, and check shirt make a nice cowboy outfit.
I'm not sure about rain gear. I was considering buying a fancy Gore-Tex raincoat, but while rummaging through a cupboard the other day I came across a poncho I bought two or three years ago for a trip to Vietnam that never got beyond the preliminary planning stage (i.e. I bought a copy of Lonely Planet Vietnam), and thought that may do the trick. I plan to test it out on a walk in the rain some time to see how it performs. I'm sure it will do a fine job keeping the rain off, but my main concern is ventilation.
The most important item of equipment will be the pack. I have a Kathmandu travel pack which I use on most of my solo overseas trips. It's like a soft suitcase really with wheels and a pull out handle. It does have straps like those on a backpack that tuck away when not in use, but these seem to have been added as a kind of afterthought. Size-wise this bag is just right, but I tried shouldering it for about the second time a few weeks ago and decided there was no way I was going to have that on my back for two straight weeks. So I hit the Internet and did a little research, and discovered that backpacks are pretty high-tech, specialized items these days. (Maybe they always have been, and I was just ignorant of the fact.) There are travel packs, day packs, two-day packs, hiking packs, alpine packs...you name it they have it. They also come in different sizes. You're supposed to measure your back with a tape measure to find out what size you take. (One website even had a short video showing you how to go about doing this.)
As for capacity, I think something in the 60L range should be about right. I was originally thinking 35-40L, but when I went and had a look at a 35L pack in a shop it looked positively tiny. Erik pointed me in the direction of this Osprey Men's Aether 60, which apparently is similar to one he used during a walk/art project in Shikoku a few years ago. So I might go in and take a look at one of those at some stage. Incidentally, one thing I didn't realize is that good packs are designed so that a lot of the weight rests on your hips instead of on your shoulders. Makes sense, really.
Another thing we have to consider is what equipment we'll need to implement the as-yet-unspecified art project associated with the walk. As this project is still in the gestation phase, it's unclear what exactly we'll need, but possibilities are a laptop computer (which will also come in handy when it comes to maintaining this blog while on the road), video camera, still camera, pen and paper, paint and brushes, scissors, clown suits (red noses optional), portable solar charger, and several balls of string. Since it was his idea to do the art project, Erik has kindly volunteered to carry all this art-related equipment. Thanks buddy!
Distance walked today: 0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 16.5km
Earlier this year, before the thought of an epic walk ever occured to me, I invested in a pair of New Balance 748 walking shoes. I wore these during a recent trip to Myanmar (where I did quite a bit of walking), and have worn them on all of my training walks, and they're nice and light and definitely very comfortable. So chances are I will take these in October. I'm in two minds as to whether or not I should take an extra pair of shoes. It would be an advantage to have a spare pair if the first pair got wet, but the extra weight and bulk would be a disadvantage. I may just take a pair of sandals (I got some nice Columbia ones last year), which wouldn't be ideal for walking, but could serve as backup footwear in an emergency.
Shirts and trousers I have. I bought a neat hat with a wide brim around the same time I bought the shoes, and I recently purchased a zip-up fleece vest. The hat, fleece vest, jeans, and check shirt make a nice cowboy outfit.
I'm not sure about rain gear. I was considering buying a fancy Gore-Tex raincoat, but while rummaging through a cupboard the other day I came across a poncho I bought two or three years ago for a trip to Vietnam that never got beyond the preliminary planning stage (i.e. I bought a copy of Lonely Planet Vietnam), and thought that may do the trick. I plan to test it out on a walk in the rain some time to see how it performs. I'm sure it will do a fine job keeping the rain off, but my main concern is ventilation.
The most important item of equipment will be the pack. I have a Kathmandu travel pack which I use on most of my solo overseas trips. It's like a soft suitcase really with wheels and a pull out handle. It does have straps like those on a backpack that tuck away when not in use, but these seem to have been added as a kind of afterthought. Size-wise this bag is just right, but I tried shouldering it for about the second time a few weeks ago and decided there was no way I was going to have that on my back for two straight weeks. So I hit the Internet and did a little research, and discovered that backpacks are pretty high-tech, specialized items these days. (Maybe they always have been, and I was just ignorant of the fact.) There are travel packs, day packs, two-day packs, hiking packs, alpine packs...you name it they have it. They also come in different sizes. You're supposed to measure your back with a tape measure to find out what size you take. (One website even had a short video showing you how to go about doing this.)
As for capacity, I think something in the 60L range should be about right. I was originally thinking 35-40L, but when I went and had a look at a 35L pack in a shop it looked positively tiny. Erik pointed me in the direction of this Osprey Men's Aether 60, which apparently is similar to one he used during a walk/art project in Shikoku a few years ago. So I might go in and take a look at one of those at some stage. Incidentally, one thing I didn't realize is that good packs are designed so that a lot of the weight rests on your hips instead of on your shoulders. Makes sense, really.
Another thing we have to consider is what equipment we'll need to implement the as-yet-unspecified art project associated with the walk. As this project is still in the gestation phase, it's unclear what exactly we'll need, but possibilities are a laptop computer (which will also come in handy when it comes to maintaining this blog while on the road), video camera, still camera, pen and paper, paint and brushes, scissors, clown suits (red noses optional), portable solar charger, and several balls of string. Since it was his idea to do the art project, Erik has kindly volunteered to carry all this art-related equipment. Thanks buddy!
Distance walked today: 0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 16.5km
Thursday, 19 April 2007
Obstacles
No doubt various obstacles will be placed in our path between now and October, challenging our commitment if not threatening the very viability of the project. Just this morning I received an email from Erik saying that he had discussed taking time off at work, and had been told that while two weeks wasn't a problem, three weeks might be difficult. I replied explaining that even at a pace of 40km a day it would take at least 15 days to complete the walk itself, not allowing for rest days or days at the start or end of the walk, and that two weeks wouldn't be enough. He's going to have another go at getting three weeks, I think.
Other possible obstacles include fitness and health issues. A few years ago I suffered a serious gardening accident (dangerous thing, gardening) which has left me with a dodgy groin. I was trying to pull out a small tree root at the front of the house when I stumbled backwards and felt a sharp pain shoot up my right hip. I was still on my feet, but when I tried to walk it was so painful I had to sit down. That turned out to be a bad move, as I found it impossible to get up again. Even crawling was too painful, and so I ended up flat on my back, totally immobilized. To cut a long story short, an ambulance was called and I was hauled off to accident and emergency, where x-rays revealed no bone damage (I thought for a while I'd dislocated my hip). The doctors plied me with increasingly potent painkillers until I was able to stand up, at which point I was told there was nothing more they could do and that I should go to my GP for further treatment. My GP diagnosed a groin strain, and after a couple of weeks on crutches and a dozen or so visits to a physiotherapist, I was feeling a lot better. However, back in February this year I suffered a mild relapse while out jogging, not serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor, but scary enough to make me reconsider the jogging thing. Looking back, I think my groin problem can actually be traced to my first trip to Japan some 25 years ago, when I suffered a mild strain shortly after taking up Shorinji Kenpo (a Japanese martial art) that wasn't particularly debilitating but did prevent me training for a few weeks.
The other health issue that may come in to play is my history of ingrown toenails. I've had surgery twice on my right big toe, but have also had problems with the left. Particularly worrying is the fact that on at least two occasions these problems occured while I was overseas. I could handle a flare up while in New Zealand preparing for the walk, but nothing would be worse than an ingrown toenail occurring midway through the trip. Well, a few things would be worse, I suppose. Like a typhoon. But you know what I mean.
Distance walked today: 11.4km
Total distance walked since blog began: 16.5km
Other possible obstacles include fitness and health issues. A few years ago I suffered a serious gardening accident (dangerous thing, gardening) which has left me with a dodgy groin. I was trying to pull out a small tree root at the front of the house when I stumbled backwards and felt a sharp pain shoot up my right hip. I was still on my feet, but when I tried to walk it was so painful I had to sit down. That turned out to be a bad move, as I found it impossible to get up again. Even crawling was too painful, and so I ended up flat on my back, totally immobilized. To cut a long story short, an ambulance was called and I was hauled off to accident and emergency, where x-rays revealed no bone damage (I thought for a while I'd dislocated my hip). The doctors plied me with increasingly potent painkillers until I was able to stand up, at which point I was told there was nothing more they could do and that I should go to my GP for further treatment. My GP diagnosed a groin strain, and after a couple of weeks on crutches and a dozen or so visits to a physiotherapist, I was feeling a lot better. However, back in February this year I suffered a mild relapse while out jogging, not serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor, but scary enough to make me reconsider the jogging thing. Looking back, I think my groin problem can actually be traced to my first trip to Japan some 25 years ago, when I suffered a mild strain shortly after taking up Shorinji Kenpo (a Japanese martial art) that wasn't particularly debilitating but did prevent me training for a few weeks.
The other health issue that may come in to play is my history of ingrown toenails. I've had surgery twice on my right big toe, but have also had problems with the left. Particularly worrying is the fact that on at least two occasions these problems occured while I was overseas. I could handle a flare up while in New Zealand preparing for the walk, but nothing would be worse than an ingrown toenail occurring midway through the trip. Well, a few things would be worse, I suppose. Like a typhoon. But you know what I mean.
Distance walked today: 11.4km
Total distance walked since blog began: 16.5km
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
(Naked?) ramblings
This will my first epic walk. In my early 20s, I did complete (half-completed, actually) an epic bicycle ride with a friend that took us half way around the South Island of New Zealand from Christchurch to Greymouth, a distance of around 1000km I think, and over a couple of highish mountain passes. We had intended to circumnavigate the entire island, but I was fed up by the time we reached Greymouth and insisted we take the train home. Earlier still, as a child I completed a non-epic walk that seemed epic at the time, when I was dropped off in town for a recorder class and couldn't find the right room, and decided to walk the 5km home. I was oblivious to the panic that struck my parents when they went to pick me up and found I hadn't made it to the class, and according to family legend, was discovered at home sitting nonchalantly on the toilet eating a piece of toast (with marmite).
Having set a tentative date (October-November 2007) for walking the Nakasendo, Erik and I agreed we should start doing some serious walking, firstly to make sure 30 or 40km a day was a reasonable pace, and secondly to get into shape. I started by walking into town and back. I'd done this journey in one direction on numerous occasions since that fateful recorder class, once or twice at night in a pretty drunk state, and most recently when I got sick of waiting for the bus during a bus drivers' stop-work meeting a month or so ago and legged it home. But I'd never done it both ways in a single day. So that was around 10km. I felt pretty dehydrated when I got home, and resolved to take a water bottle on future outings. My legs also ached for a day or two afterwards. Once I'd recovered, I did another longish walk to a local shopping mall and back.
I was feeling pretty proud of my achievements, but when I next got in touch with Erik he told told me he'd completed a walk of something like 18 miles up and down Manhattan Island - with a loaded pack! Not to be outdone, a few days later I set off in the direction of Tai Tapu to see how far I could really go in half a day. I left at 9am and got back just before midday, and though I didn't make it as far as Tai Tapu, I did cover about 14km (including some small hills). Double that is practically 30km, so I figured that 30km in a day wouldn't be a problem. And once my fitness improves, 40km should be achievable. I haven't done any major walks into the countryside since then, but I have done some walks around town in the 5km range, plus I walk to the supermarket occasionally (a return journey of just over 3km).
Update: I've been flooded with emails asking for more details about the Naked Rambler. I need to stress again that I won't be doing this walk naked. So get over the naked thing already. But since you asked, here's the very latest, courtesy of the BBC website:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/edinburgh_and_east/6542329.stm
Distance walked today: 0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 5.1km
Having set a tentative date (October-November 2007) for walking the Nakasendo, Erik and I agreed we should start doing some serious walking, firstly to make sure 30 or 40km a day was a reasonable pace, and secondly to get into shape. I started by walking into town and back. I'd done this journey in one direction on numerous occasions since that fateful recorder class, once or twice at night in a pretty drunk state, and most recently when I got sick of waiting for the bus during a bus drivers' stop-work meeting a month or so ago and legged it home. But I'd never done it both ways in a single day. So that was around 10km. I felt pretty dehydrated when I got home, and resolved to take a water bottle on future outings. My legs also ached for a day or two afterwards. Once I'd recovered, I did another longish walk to a local shopping mall and back.
I was feeling pretty proud of my achievements, but when I next got in touch with Erik he told told me he'd completed a walk of something like 18 miles up and down Manhattan Island - with a loaded pack! Not to be outdone, a few days later I set off in the direction of Tai Tapu to see how far I could really go in half a day. I left at 9am and got back just before midday, and though I didn't make it as far as Tai Tapu, I did cover about 14km (including some small hills). Double that is practically 30km, so I figured that 30km in a day wouldn't be a problem. And once my fitness improves, 40km should be achievable. I haven't done any major walks into the countryside since then, but I have done some walks around town in the 5km range, plus I walk to the supermarket occasionally (a return journey of just over 3km).
Update: I've been flooded with emails asking for more details about the Naked Rambler. I need to stress again that I won't be doing this walk naked. So get over the naked thing already. But since you asked, here's the very latest, courtesy of the BBC website:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/edinburgh_and_east/6542329.stm
Distance walked today: 0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 5.1km
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
Nuts and bolts
I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me for a couple of posts as I bring you to up to speed with developments to date.
OK, so after hitting on the idea of walking between Kyoto and Tokyo, I did some googling and came across a whole lot of websites dedicated to walking the Nakasendo. Of these, this one is probably the best:
http://www.geocities.jp/gkhyagi/5kaido/go-11nakasendo69-1.htm
It's in Japanese, but there's a nice map showing the 69 "stations" (towns roughly 5-20km apart where people used to rest or stay the night) between Tokyo and Kyoto, and some sample itineraries for walking the Nakasendo. The people behind the website also publish a handmade walking map of the entire route, a copy of which I've already ordered.
I was getting excited by this stage, and started thinking about when to go. Spring or autumn would be best (the Japanese summer is horribly muggy, and I didn't want to be walking through snow in winter). So I figured either March-April or October-November 2008. It was around this time that I first mentioned the idea to Erik, and after he expressed an interest in tagging along, my excitement peaked and I thought, why not October-November this year? So at the moment we're looking at setting off in mid- to late-October and finishing in early- to mid-November, hopefully catching some nice autumn colours along the way but not too much in the way of cold weather.
I then started thinking about how long it would take. The sample itineraries on that website are based on a walking pace of 30, 40, or 50km a day, so I took the middle option and figured that would take around 15 days. Of course, at this stage I had no idea if 40km a day was a reasonable pace, or if I was even capable of walking that distance each day for two straight weeks.
Next my thoughts turned to money. I still haven't done a proper budget, but given that we'll be staying in business hotels or sharing rooms in inns (when Erik suggested taking along a tent I made it clear in no uncertain terms that that wasn't an option), I reckon NZ$100 a day should just about cover it (the good thing about a walking trip is that transportation costs are minimal!). Then there's the airfare on top of that, which should be around NZ$1600. So, allowing for a total stay in Japan of three weeks, that works out at about NZ$3600. Sweet!
The next question was the direction. Should we walk from Tokyo to Kyoto or the other way? I was set on starting in Kyoto, firstly because it seemed more historically "accurate" (I was under the impression that the Nakasendo and the other highways were largely established so that people in the old capital, Kyoto, and other provinces could get to the new capital, Tokyo, though now I'm not so sure of the accuracy of this reasoning), and secondly because I usually do some shopping whenever I go to Tokyo, and I didn't want to do this at the start of the trip and have to lug everything in a backpack for 530km. I mentioned the matter of the direction to Erik, and being an extremely practically minded individual, he brought up the altitude factor. In other words, if we started relatively high up and ended at sea level, then that would mean a net downhill journey! I thought about it for a moment or two, and figured that Tokyo was definitely at sea level, while Kyoto is in a basin surrounded by mountains, so is surely quite a bit higher than sea level (I haven't confirmed that, though). Another reason to start in Kyoto. So far, the only argument against starting in Kyoto has been that the famous series of woodblock prints produced by Hiroshige and Eisen in the mid-19th century showing scenes along the Nakasendo that may or may not form the basis of an art project accompanying this walk starts in Tokyo. You can see these prints here, by the way, along with another map (Kisokaido is just another name for the Nakasendo):
http://www.hiroshige.org.uk/hiroshige/kisokaido/kisokaido.htm
So although a final decision has yet to be made, at the moment my preference is still for a Kyoto start.
That's it for today. Tomorrow, more nuts and bolts, and maybe a bit about my walking buddy/collaborator, Erik.
Distance walked today: 3.0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 5.1km
OK, so after hitting on the idea of walking between Kyoto and Tokyo, I did some googling and came across a whole lot of websites dedicated to walking the Nakasendo. Of these, this one is probably the best:
http://www.geocities.jp/gkhyagi/5kaido/go-11nakasendo69-1.htm
It's in Japanese, but there's a nice map showing the 69 "stations" (towns roughly 5-20km apart where people used to rest or stay the night) between Tokyo and Kyoto, and some sample itineraries for walking the Nakasendo. The people behind the website also publish a handmade walking map of the entire route, a copy of which I've already ordered.
I was getting excited by this stage, and started thinking about when to go. Spring or autumn would be best (the Japanese summer is horribly muggy, and I didn't want to be walking through snow in winter). So I figured either March-April or October-November 2008. It was around this time that I first mentioned the idea to Erik, and after he expressed an interest in tagging along, my excitement peaked and I thought, why not October-November this year? So at the moment we're looking at setting off in mid- to late-October and finishing in early- to mid-November, hopefully catching some nice autumn colours along the way but not too much in the way of cold weather.
I then started thinking about how long it would take. The sample itineraries on that website are based on a walking pace of 30, 40, or 50km a day, so I took the middle option and figured that would take around 15 days. Of course, at this stage I had no idea if 40km a day was a reasonable pace, or if I was even capable of walking that distance each day for two straight weeks.
Next my thoughts turned to money. I still haven't done a proper budget, but given that we'll be staying in business hotels or sharing rooms in inns (when Erik suggested taking along a tent I made it clear in no uncertain terms that that wasn't an option), I reckon NZ$100 a day should just about cover it (the good thing about a walking trip is that transportation costs are minimal!). Then there's the airfare on top of that, which should be around NZ$1600. So, allowing for a total stay in Japan of three weeks, that works out at about NZ$3600. Sweet!
The next question was the direction. Should we walk from Tokyo to Kyoto or the other way? I was set on starting in Kyoto, firstly because it seemed more historically "accurate" (I was under the impression that the Nakasendo and the other highways were largely established so that people in the old capital, Kyoto, and other provinces could get to the new capital, Tokyo, though now I'm not so sure of the accuracy of this reasoning), and secondly because I usually do some shopping whenever I go to Tokyo, and I didn't want to do this at the start of the trip and have to lug everything in a backpack for 530km. I mentioned the matter of the direction to Erik, and being an extremely practically minded individual, he brought up the altitude factor. In other words, if we started relatively high up and ended at sea level, then that would mean a net downhill journey! I thought about it for a moment or two, and figured that Tokyo was definitely at sea level, while Kyoto is in a basin surrounded by mountains, so is surely quite a bit higher than sea level (I haven't confirmed that, though). Another reason to start in Kyoto. So far, the only argument against starting in Kyoto has been that the famous series of woodblock prints produced by Hiroshige and Eisen in the mid-19th century showing scenes along the Nakasendo that may or may not form the basis of an art project accompanying this walk starts in Tokyo. You can see these prints here, by the way, along with another map (Kisokaido is just another name for the Nakasendo):
http://www.hiroshige.org.uk/hiroshige/kisokaido/kisokaido.htm
So although a final decision has yet to be made, at the moment my preference is still for a Kyoto start.
That's it for today. Tomorrow, more nuts and bolts, and maybe a bit about my walking buddy/collaborator, Erik.
Distance walked today: 3.0km
Total distance walked since blog began: 5.1km
Monday, 16 April 2007
Formalities
Hello, world
Being a relatively private kind of person, I find the prospect of "baring my soul" to the world, of sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings with total strangers, rather intimidating, if not downright terrifying. So why the blog?
Well, I've decided to embark on a walking adventure. To be precise, I'm planning to walk the inland route (the Nakasendo) between Kyoto and Tokyo - a distance of just over 530 km. And a blog seemed the perfect way to keep track of and record my progress as I prepare for - and hopefully complete - this adventure.
The idea for the walk came to me a couple of months ago after watching a documentary on TV called The Naked Rambler. The doco was about an ex-marine who walked the length of the UK wearing nothing but a pair of boots. He also carried an enormous pack (odd considering he can't have needed much in the way of changes of attire, although I noticed he did occasionally don clothes - much to the chagrin of the "true" nudists he met along the way).
Anyway, to the great relief of my family, I never really seriously considered the naked part, but the idea of an epic walk immediately appealed to me. And it didn't take long to work out where I wanted to go. I've had a fascination with the "highways" of Edo period Japan since I started studying Japanese more than 20 years ago. Even then I dreamt about walking them. The most famous of these highways is the Tokaido, the coastal route between Tokyo and Kyoto, whose name lives on in the form of the Tokaido railway and Shinkansen lines. I have walked a short section of the original Tokaido through a lovely cedar forest near Hakone, but for the most part the Tokaido is buried under modern highways and railway lines. Another drawback is that I've travelled this route or parts of it many times before.
Like the Tokaido, the Nakasendo was established in the Edo period to facilitate passage between the old capital (Kyoto) and the new (Tokyo). But instead of running along the coast, the Nakasendo goes inland. This makes it slightly longer, and of course hillier, and while most of the Nakasendo, too, is today under concrete, some sections of it and even one or two towns along the way have been preserved. It also passes through some relatively out-of-the-way parts of Japan which I've never been to before.
I originally envisaged doing this alone (I was pretty sure I didn't know anyone crazy enough to want to come with me), maybe taking my video camera along to document things, but when I mentioned the idea to my friend Erik in New York during a Skype session, he decided he wanted to come along. Which is great. He also expressed a desire to organise an art project to tie in with the walk, something that I wasn't keen on at first, but have since warmed to.
So that, in a nutshell, is the premise. More tomorrow. I'll also try to post a map or two.
Distance walked today: 2.1km
Total distance walked since blog began: 2.1km
Being a relatively private kind of person, I find the prospect of "baring my soul" to the world, of sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings with total strangers, rather intimidating, if not downright terrifying. So why the blog?
Well, I've decided to embark on a walking adventure. To be precise, I'm planning to walk the inland route (the Nakasendo) between Kyoto and Tokyo - a distance of just over 530 km. And a blog seemed the perfect way to keep track of and record my progress as I prepare for - and hopefully complete - this adventure.
The idea for the walk came to me a couple of months ago after watching a documentary on TV called The Naked Rambler. The doco was about an ex-marine who walked the length of the UK wearing nothing but a pair of boots. He also carried an enormous pack (odd considering he can't have needed much in the way of changes of attire, although I noticed he did occasionally don clothes - much to the chagrin of the "true" nudists he met along the way).
Anyway, to the great relief of my family, I never really seriously considered the naked part, but the idea of an epic walk immediately appealed to me. And it didn't take long to work out where I wanted to go. I've had a fascination with the "highways" of Edo period Japan since I started studying Japanese more than 20 years ago. Even then I dreamt about walking them. The most famous of these highways is the Tokaido, the coastal route between Tokyo and Kyoto, whose name lives on in the form of the Tokaido railway and Shinkansen lines. I have walked a short section of the original Tokaido through a lovely cedar forest near Hakone, but for the most part the Tokaido is buried under modern highways and railway lines. Another drawback is that I've travelled this route or parts of it many times before.
Like the Tokaido, the Nakasendo was established in the Edo period to facilitate passage between the old capital (Kyoto) and the new (Tokyo). But instead of running along the coast, the Nakasendo goes inland. This makes it slightly longer, and of course hillier, and while most of the Nakasendo, too, is today under concrete, some sections of it and even one or two towns along the way have been preserved. It also passes through some relatively out-of-the-way parts of Japan which I've never been to before.
I originally envisaged doing this alone (I was pretty sure I didn't know anyone crazy enough to want to come with me), maybe taking my video camera along to document things, but when I mentioned the idea to my friend Erik in New York during a Skype session, he decided he wanted to come along. Which is great. He also expressed a desire to organise an art project to tie in with the walk, something that I wasn't keen on at first, but have since warmed to.
So that, in a nutshell, is the premise. More tomorrow. I'll also try to post a map or two.
Distance walked today: 2.1km
Total distance walked since blog began: 2.1km
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