Matsumoto and the Ascent to the Alps

Ai and her husband are 25 and 27 years old. They've been married for almost two years now. He's a physiotherapist at Matsumoto Hospital, and she works there as a nurse. — I want to travel too, but I want children even more. — Well, at 25 there's no rush. Ai apologized for her English and answered in simple sentences, which made her responses more straightforward and somehow more charming.

— You see, when I'm 25 — lots of energy, but at thirty little energy (for children). As it turned out, she had been to Hawaii and England. For many Japanese people I spoke with, the most popular destinations are England and Asian countries, but Turkey and Morocco leave the biggest impression on them with their eastern flavor. They travel little within Japan itself, and almost none of those I interviewed from Honshu island had been to Hokkaido, climbed Fuji, or knew more than 5-10 prefectures in their own country. When asked "How many prefectures are in your country?" many can't answer.

— Where should we go after the onsen, any suggestions? — I asked Ai's husband. — Come to our place, Ai has already prepared dinner. — Yes, I prepared dinner. — You have a good wife. — Yes, I'm a good wife! — They're amusing.

Over dinner I recommended Kanazawa, who I brought with me, but mistakenly called Murato in the previous post. Fortunately, his business card was still in my wallet, which I had completely forgotten about. Kanazawa drew the newlyweds and, according to tradition, photographed us holding our portraits as a memento. I was waiting for the next day with some excitement — I was about to begin climbing into the mountains called the Japanese Alps. The route running through them was 160+ km long and by my calculations should take about four days. I needed to stock up on food, check my bike, and wash all my clothes.

— Have you seen monkeys yet? — Who? — Monkeys. — some people, when showing monkeys, scratch their side and make a high "Ooh-ooh-ooh," but Ai shaped her hand like claws, bared her teeth, and scratched me. I had already climbed in Nikko, conquered more than one mountain ridge, and often camped in nature, but disappointedly admitted to her that I still hadn't seen any monkeys. — What, none at all? Tomorrow you'll see them. — This was a statement full of confidence. The morning turned out beautiful weather. We habitually, like experienced travelers, packed our bags, securing them with ropes, got on our bikes, thinking through each day ahead. Kanazawa stopped at a crossroads and pointed left. — I go that way. — Good luck! Nice meeting you. — the silhouette of his bike with bags like mine and its skinny rider receded, while ahead on my route loomed an impressive mountain range in dull colors from the morning fog.

The mountains that looked so threatening on the map, whose checkpoint names I memorized by heart while checking elevation gain and so on, turned out in reality to be an endless series of tunnels. There were about fifteen of them, all different kinds, even with intersections and traffic lights inside. There was also a 1.5-kilometer tunnel with an 11-degree incline that I had to walk through. In the mountains I immediately felt the cold, but it occupied me less — I felt much more the silence and peace that reigned here. Only taxis and buses drive on these roads — private transport is banned.

After overcoming the last tunnel, I found myself in a grove. Already in the mountains, but not quite the highest ones yet. On the road a hundred meters from me sat someone's gray hairy mass.

I thought it was a bear and whistled as a warning, stopping in place. Then the mass scratched its ear with its hand, hinting at its monkey origins, and another gang of three emerged onto the road. Despite all the warnings I'd received from Tokyo to here that monkeys are supposedly aggressive and can attack, I couldn't resist filming. Besides those four that were visible initially, another ten were sitting around the road, small and large ones.

Later, approaching the campground, I met a tourism representative for these parts, who told me that the local monkeys are different from those in Nikko — they're not aggressive, and you can photograph them without harm to your health.

The most interesting part awaited me upon arrival at the campground.