From Yarigatake to the Hotaka Range: a two-day traverse, camping overnight

Contents

• A loop out of Kamikochi
• Day 1: from Kamikochi up the Yarisawa valley
• From Yarigatake to Minamidake
• Day 2: the Daikiretto at dawn
• From Kitahotaka to Okuhotaka
• Uma-no-se, and on to the Jandarme
• Checking every rock, one at a time
• A rest at Nishiho Sanso, then down to Kamikochi
• What this route made me think about
• The gear I used over these two days

A loop out of Kamikochi

This is Yamane from ROCK STEPPERS. In late August I had the dates for a trip to the Alps fixed, and all that was left was deciding where to walk. The forecast looked good. If the conditions were going to be that kind, it seemed worth taking my time on terrain I never get near on the local hills. What I settled on was a loop: up from Kamikochi to Yarigatake, then linking Minamidake, the Daikiretto, Kitahotakadake, Okuhotakadake, the Jandarme and Nishihotakadake, and back down to Kamikochi.

The aim was simply to enjoy the Northern Alps in good weather. There was no record to chase and nothing to prove. I just wanted to spend time on rocky ridges. So I left plenty of slack in the plan from the start. Enough room to cope with trouble or a change in the weather. To move without rushing, and to take the mountains in. That was the intention when I set off.

Day 1: from Kamikochi up the Yarisawa valley

I took the bus into Kamikochi in the morning and started a little after half past eight, heading for Yarigatake by way of Yokoo and Yarisawa. The trail through here is well maintained. My pack was heavier than usual with overnight camping gear, so I kept the pace down and just worked steadily along.

What strikes me again every time in the Alps at this season is the strength of the sun. The altitude means you do not get the constant streaming sweat of the lower hills I usually walk, but stay in direct sunlight and it gets genuinely hot. If you are going to be out for long hours in the summer Alps, you need some tolerance for heat and a way of managing it. This time I used a new cap with a sun shade. Just keeping the sun off the back of my neck made a noticeable difference.

I carried only a minimum of water. There are huts along this route, so you can top up when you need to. Rather than hauling a lot, the idea is to run low and refill at the next hut. With the weather and pace on this trip, that was enough.

Past Yokoo, once you are into Yarisawa, the trail starts to feel like a climb. The slopes close in from both sides and only the way ahead is open. It is the kind of section where you work straight up the floor of a cirque. The valley is wide, so it is hard to feel that you are making progress, and you simply keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The upper part of Yarisawa turns to boulders, and that is where the spire of Yari first comes into view. At that point it starts to feel real. The stacked rocks are each of them large, and their size is what gives you the scale of the mountain. Put a person in among them and you can see just how big they are.

From here up to the hut it is all boulders. The gradient rises, but the line is easy to read and there is nothing to hurry you. You pick the rocks you put your feet on and gradually close in on the spire.

I reached Yarigatake Sanso a little after one. There was plenty of time, so I decided to eat properly. Not having to run on trail snacks alone is one of the pleasures of a plan with room in it. A hot meal at three thousand metres changes how the afternoon feels.

From Yarigatake to Minamidake

From there the route crosses Ogamidake and Nakadake on the way to Minamidake. Rather than stopping at Yarigatake, linking the peaks one after another makes it feel more and more like a traverse heading for the Daikiretto the next day. Yari stayed in view behind me the whole time, and I could see the spire receding by exactly as much as I had walked.

This section is not quite a rocky ridge, but it is not flat walking either. You go up and down along the crest, holding your height, and that is how I made my way to Minamidake.

The goal for day one was the campsite at Minamidake Goya. I checked in at the hut and had a beer before even pitching the tent. There was still a lot of time left, so I had some wine and read a book the hut had on its shelf. Hours like that are part of why I camp.

There were not many other people camping. The wind was up a little, so I picked a spot that looked sheltered. The sound of it was noticeable at night but not enough to keep me awake, and I slept well. I finished the day with plenty in reserve. With a long stretch of rocky ridge waiting the next day, that felt like the right way to end it.

Day 2: the Daikiretto at dawn

I woke a little before four. I ate first and got ready without hurrying. It was nearly five by the time the tent was packed and I was walking. It was still dim when I set off so I used a headlamp, but not for long. The sun came up soon after I started moving.

Before dawn the ridge changes colour before anything else does. The far side of the cloud sea turns orange and the shapes of the mountains rise out of it. Being out and moving at that hour feels very good.

Beyond Minamidake the Daikiretto begins. A long ladder drops straight off the descent, and that is the signal that you are in. Once you are down it, the rock path with both sides falling away starts.

The name alone leads some people to picture something extremely difficult. Walking it, the route is in fact marked with a lot of care. Check the line, keep to the basic movements, and it did not strike me as technically hard in any extreme sense.

That said, not difficult and safe are two different things.

What you feel most on the Daikiretto is exposure. The footing itself is somewhere you would pass without a thought, but just beyond it the ground drops away completely. It is not a place where you fall easily if you move calmly and do nothing strange, and yet you spend a long time in terrain where a fall would be serious. You are aware of that height the whole way.

The sign at Hasegawa Peak is small, but the ground it stands on drops away on both sides. Getting through takes no special technique. You place your hands and feet the way you always do. It is continuing to do the ordinary thing that becomes slightly harder at that height.

Hida-nakase was the same. There are chains, but rather than hanging your weight on them, more often you are holding the rock and keeping your balance. Places with names usually have a reason for them.

From Kitahotaka to Okuhotaka

Out of the Daikiretto and up to Kitahotakadake. Looking back, Yari stands at the far end of the ridge I had been walking since the day before. It is the kind of view that makes you feel you crossed the Daikiretto in order to see it. The distance you have covered becomes a single picture.

Kitahotaka Goya is the highest mountain hut in Japan. It sits right on the edge of the ridge, with the valley dropping away from the terrace.

The stretch on towards Okuhotakadake keeps climbing and dropping. Push too hard on any one of those climbs and it costs you later. With that in mind I again kept the pace down. The ground itself does not allow speed in many places, so you end up moving at a steady rate whether you plan to or not.

What stayed with me on this section was how carefully the route is signed. There are places with a name and a marker, like the Okukabe Band. Circles and arrows are painted in detail, and you will not lose the line if you keep looking around you. Which also means the route assumes you are looking.

From the lowest col on the way to Karasawadake, Karasawa opens up below you. You can see the hut and the campsite on the floor of the cirque, and it puts you on the side that is being looked up at. There are several chained sections, but all of them are short, and you get through by placing your feet calmly.

At Hotakadake Sanso I took on water for the section ahead. Looking up at Okuhotakadake from the hut, it appears steep from the very bottom. There are chains, and there was a small queue. It looks imposing, but the steep part itself is not long. Climbing calmly, I was on Okuhotakadake sooner than I expected.

The view from Okuhotakadake was the one that stayed with me most. The weather was clear and I could see the whole traverse I had walked, right back towards Yarigatake. From there to here, on foot. Taking in the ridge you have covered in a single sweep gives you the size of the Northern Alps.

Uma-no-se, and on to the Jandarme

From Okuhotakadake the route turns towards the Jandarme. The first thing that stayed with me was Uma-no-se. It is a thin, sheer crest, and the exposure there is the strongest on the whole route. Rather than demanding especially hard moves, what you feel is that you are somewhere very high.

It may be a little like crossing a very high suspension bridge. The bridge is built to be safe and it has a handrail. Even so, look down and the height gets to you. Uma-no-se and the ground around the Jandarme feel close to that.

The decisive difference from a suspension bridge is that there is no handrail. You balance with your own hands and feet and keep three points of contact as you go. Somewhere you would pass without trouble moving normally becomes dangerous the moment you get into an awkward position or rush a movement.

On this section you spend more time climbing than walking. You get on the rock, pull yourself up with your hands, place a foot, and repeat.

The closer you get to the Jandarme, the more you understand it as a mass of rock. From a distance it is a bump on the ridge; from directly beneath it, it is clearly a summit of its own. Once you are up, the top is surprisingly open.

Checking every rock, one at a time

The rocky ground carries on well past the Jandarme. There is a lot more up and down before Nishihotakadake, with steep climbs, chains and loose rock.

You go slowly, looking at the rock and the stones: is this one safe to stand on, will this hold take weight. Rock that looks solid is often loose. A hold can move under your hand, so you never fully trust one. You check before you load it. I did that over and over.

In places the line is also a little hard to read. Look around properly and you will find it, but hurry and miss a marking or a footprint and you can end up heading somewhere that is not the trail. On this kind of ground, a small deviation can put you at the top of a serious drop.

You also spend a long time on three points of contact. On an ordinary day in the mountains I almost never link rock for hours like that. It was fresh and enjoyable after a long gap, and it was also, frankly, long.

I was not exhausted, but after hours of moving the tiredness does arrive. What I felt this time was not so much my legs as my upper body. Walking in the hills, I never use my arms for that long. Holding and pulling myself up over and over, I could feel how much had gone into my arms. It also made clear that I do not have enough upper body strength. A little more climbing in my regular training would leave more in reserve on long rocky ridges like this.

Past Nishihotakadake and on to Dokuhyo, the feel of the other people on the mountain changes. Their clothing and shoes are different from those I had been seeing on the rock, and I could tell that the long Yari to Hotaka traverse was coming to an end.

Beyond Dokuhyo the walking gets easy all at once. You no longer need your hands on the rock and can simply use your feet. By the time you are around Maruyama the ground has turned to creeping pine and soil.

A rest at Nishiho Sanso, then down to Kamikochi

I reached Nishiho Sanso around half past two. I had thought that if queues or the weather put me behind schedule I might take the ropeway, depending on the time. As it turned out, I had time to spare.

Since I did, I took a proper rest at the hut. I ordered oden, and some people nearby shared their cake with me, and I spent a while doing nothing much.

From there I walked down to Kamikochi. Once you are into the forest the sound underfoot changes from rock to earth. The long tension of the rock lets go, and it becomes time that is simply about getting home.

I came back on foot to the same Kamikochi I had started from. Yarigatake, the Daikiretto, Kitahotaka, Okuhotaka, the Jandarme, Nishiho. Listing the names makes it sound like a big undertaking, but I do not really feel that I took anything on. The weather was kind, the plan had room in it, and I got to enjoy the rocky ridges of the Northern Alps properly. For me, that was the two days.

What this route made me think about

The traverse from Yarigatake across the Hotaka range is a genuinely interesting route. There is of course no need to link it in a single overnight. You can split it over several days with a relaxed plan, or walk only part of it, and the Daikiretto, Okuhotakadake or the ground around the Jandarme are well worth doing on their own.

At the same time, I have written more than once here that it is not technically that hard. I would rather not be misunderstood on this. Not hard does not mean anyone can walk it. It assumes you already have the basics for moving on rock: three points of contact, foot placement, checking holds, shifting your weight.

I can climb beginner level routes at a climbing gym without much trouble, and no more than that. Even so, the way of using the body that I learned from climbing was a real help on this ground. Get into an awkward position high on the rock, cramp suddenly or lose your balance, and it can genuinely mean a fall.

So rather than acquiring difficult techniques, the thing is to have the basic movements in your body. Where you put your hands and feet. Where you load your weight. Checking that the rock does not move. Not breaking three points of contact. Not forcing a hurried step.

The other thing that matters is time and weather. Clear with good visibility, and cloud, rain, strong wind or darkness, are completely different conditions on the same route. It was because the weather was kind and I had time in hand that I was able to enjoy the rock itself.

Rather than forcing the whole thing into one push, make a plan with room in it that suits your own experience, skill and the weather. That way you will enjoy this traverse from Yarigatake to the Hotaka range for what it is.

The big scenery that only the Northern Alps has, and rocky ridges that go on and on. A feeling completely unlike runnable trail, of moving forward one step at a time with your own hands and feet. It had been a while since I enjoyed walking in the mountains this much for its own sake.