Keenan Takahashi - Japan Part II

//Hōtō//

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My first experience with the legendary noodle dish occurs during our first multi-day trip to Mizugaki. We’re staying with an old couple who recommend a restaurant just down the street. Before we enter, Nick sees a sign on the door and immediately exclaims, “Oh hell yes, I know exactly what I’m ordering!” Intrigued, we walk in and he proceeds to describe the wide handmade noodles in a miso broth brimming with kabocha squash and other vegetables. After a frigid (Samui!) day at the boulders, a warm dish sounds perfect, so we all order it. I notice they have unagi on the menu and I attempt to order two pieces. Surprisingly, the chef rejects my order, saying I won’t be able to finish it. Normally, I would gladly accept such a challenge, but as a visitor in Japan I feel it would be rude and stuck with his “suggestion”.

The noodles arrive in massive steaming pots with extra bowls to eat cooled off portions. I knew we’d found a gem. Nick’s enthusiasm is contagious; I’m immediately hooked. The next day, powered up off of noodles, we return to the compression project I’d first tried with Toshi. It’s a bit damp from the wet soil next to the river but ok to try moves. I jokingly state, “it’s such a rad project, it’s almost as good as hōtō… maybe if I do it I’ll name it that.” Nick laughs but follows up with, “You should definitely name it hōtō..” 

That afternoon, I finally figure out the crux sequence, a nails crossover off a technical heel. I manage to make a good link, climbing from the bottom into the crux. As we drive back to Tokyo that night, dreams of climbing it start to materialize. After finishing Asagimadara, I told myself I did not care about any particular ascents…but that sentiment has disappeared. One of the best boulders I’ve tried anywhere, it would also be a new personal level of difficulty of a first ascent and I would be honored to contribute such a nice line to such a special climbing area. 

The rest of the week in Tokyo I train in the gym, hard, working on compression sequences and focusing on powerful moves. When we return the following weekend, the left arête is in the sun, but has dried up significantly. Psyched about the improved conditions, I dispel my fatigue with some green tea and start working the sections. To my pleasant surprise, the crossover feels much better than the last session and I quickly repeat the crux, but the second time I crumble the crimp slightly. Toshi is positive and encouraging and devises a slight change in how to grab the crimps. It still works, but it’s a tiny bit harder. I start giving goes from the bottom but have more trouble getting through the first hard right hand move than the previous session. Finally, I stick it from the bottom, set up to set the heel, and feel my shoulder shrug, exhausted. 

Gutted, I tell Toshi and Nick I think I only have one more try through the bottom; my arm feels like it may get injured if I try too much. I go and sit by the river alone, thinking about my time thus far in Japan. I’m a month into my trip, climbing on one of the nicest boulders I’ve seen, with great friends in a beautiful, serene forest. The sound of the rushing water reminds me that everything changes, and the frustration I felt a few minutes ago will also disappear in time. Mentally refreshed, I remind myself to try hard, focus on effort, not outcome, and do my best. GAMBA! I pull onto the wall.. and fall again. No matter, I just want to stick the right move before the crux; I still made great progress today and the project has already improved my climbing and my motivation. 

I pull on again, reminding myself of my pact to try HARD, and my foot picks as I stick the right hand move. For a split second, I hesitate mentally, thinking there’s no point to continue as I’ve over-exerted myself by holding the swing. As that inner voice starts to speak, a louder, more powerful feeling rises from within, telling me, “fuck that, you told yourself to try, let’s see what happens when we continue.” So I do continue and set up for the crux. My shoulder sags as I place the heel, but my mind is focused on effort, not falling, purely the moment ahead and the task at hand. I place my heel well, open my hip, and stick the crossover. Maintaining tension, I match and come back to a small right hand crimp and cut feet. Setting the left heel, I dig deep and surge to the lip, yelling as I never do during the exhalation. I’m shocked to still be on the wall, but maintain focus, shifting my right foot slightly before hopping to the right hand sloper, the final crux. I barely hold the swing, and shakily bring my heel up to the lip. “Don’t fuck up now, this is your chance,” I realize as I nervously pinch a small undercling before mantling. As I finally bring my right foot up to the lip a sudden realization that I actually just linked the whole sequence sets in and I yell in joy. 

I am not sure of the difficulty of the line; it suits me very well and is right up my alley, but it felt like the hardest thing I’ve done that year, harder than Monkey Wedding or Asagimadara. Still, being a new line, my beta might have been bad so I’m hesitant to call it V15 and will leave it at V14 for now. The grade doesn’t matter, as the feeling and effort of linking the sequence was so limit; I was so close to falling multiple times that it is a hard sensation to compare with many other experiences. I immediately realized I had to call it hōtō, after my favorite noodles, and I hope that many climbers will try this line and enjoy it as much as I did. 

After later climbing on Decided with Toshi, I recognize my weakness in the frontal style that Japanese climbers excel at. I like to squeeze and use my legs as much as possible and this forces me to crimp directly in a way I am very weak at. I get totally shut down, yet another reason for my hesitation to give hōtō a hard grade, and am graciously humbled by the unforgiving granite of Mizugaki. 

Tired from Hōtō, I only climb a bit more that weekend on a direct start project to Takaki Mikura (V14) at Kotei Iwa. I manage to do all the moves but am too exhausted to make any good links. We head back to Tokyo, and for once in a very long time, I feel satiated and excited in a liberating way. 

With Hōtō completed, my newfound mental freedom spurs Koha and me to book tickets to climb at a new area on the southern island of Kyushu in Kagoshima prefecture. We link up with our friend Takahiro Nagayama; we met two winters ago in Yosemite, and his psych and light-hearted, constant joking immediately made me feel at home. The Kagoshima area has very little info, but fortunately Taka-san happens to be the most knowledgeable guide and is encouraging when we mentioned we wanted to go.  

//KAGOSHIMA//

We arrive at the airport and Koha’s friend Isamu picks us up. As we drive, we are engulfed in ash from the currently active Sakurajima, an incredible sight to behold.  Fortunately, when we arrive at our accommodation, an awesome hut overlooking the ocean, the sea breeze has cleared the ash. 

The next day, we head to the ocean and Taka tours us around the most developed area. Before climbing, I run around, shocked at all the amazing granite highballs that line the crashing waves. At the far end of the rocky shore lies The Tower, an inspiring highball/solo by Toru Nakajima. It’s cool to see how tall it is in person and the fact that he did it with only one pad makes my heart pound loudly in my chest. 

Isamu is most psyched on a different (and also unrepeated) Nakajima line, Drink the Sea V12 (4 dan). It starts with a big dyno to a jug and then goes left out a very slopey rail. It’s baking in the sun currently, so we warm up slowly and I help Isamu set up a rope on top. He rappels in, and checks out the moves. Afterwards, I follow suit but it feels impossible with the warm conditions on the marginal slopers. 

We decide to head to the Tofu boulder, an aptly named cube of white granite jutting out just above the ocean. It has an awesome looking arête project on the left and Isamu and I start setting up pads to try. All of the holds face to the left as you get higher, so you’re constantly fighting a barn door and it’s hard to set up the pads in a way that feels safe given its height. 

One attempt I realize my foot sequence is wrong; my left foot is on a big ledge around the corner and needs to be on the right side of the arête. I drop, but somehow my left foot stays on the ledge. It inverts me, and I end up slamming my elbow and taking a bad fall for no reason. Frustrated at getting hurt for such a stupid reason, I go off for a few minutes by myself to calm down. After a while, my elbow stops bleeding and I decide to try a bit more.

As we sort out the sequence I find a small foot that allows us to grab a good incut with the left hand. It feels a bit hollow, so I decide to drop off rather than weight it fully. Isamu gets to the hold, and continues upwards, and I realize he is going to try despite the sketchy hold. I back up a bit to spot, and sure enough, just as he sets up for the last move, the hold snaps off the wall and he goes rocketing backwards. Fortunately, I spot him well and keep him on the pads, but the hold is now terrible so we decide to go back to Drink the Sea with our pads.

As I’ve recently learned of Isamu’s boldness, I prepare the pads assuming that he will go for broke. He sticks the jump and continues left, but the terrible slopers are still too warm. I try as well, but after just a few tries realize I need to be stronger or have better conditions; ideally both. He tries a bit more with no success, and we pack up for the car and head to an onsen. 

The next day, we cruise to a different, less developed beach area; this zone has even bigger boulders. Again, we spend the first portion of the morning questing for the coolest lines. Immediately, we find three awesome projects and after exploring a bit more decide to start there. Just after Isamu and I establish a nice ~V6 arête, our friend Tomoaki Takata shows up to join us for the next few days! His psych is infectious as well and as it’s his first time to this zone as well, he explores and returns with a big smile and many arm motions and exclamations I can’t understand. 

Just below the arête there’s a beautiful slightly overhung highball face climb. We start working on it, noting that the base has a red line of algae where the tide seems to rise, well into the landing. After some serious effort, we figure out most of the bottom, and I find a way for the upper/middle section but the sea water has now made our pads massive sponges. We realize the Crimson Tide project will have to wait until the next trip…

We try two more hard projects in this same cluster, a gentle overhang with some of the best rock quality in the area and a compression arête. The left face/prow is one of the nicer lines I saw in Japan, but requires some seriously freezing conditions, which might be hard to find so close to the sea. 

After a fun slab that Taka got us hyped on, Tomoaki is motivated to try a big highball face to a slab in a corridor. I ask if he wants to rope the top (I want to, I am intimidated as it is probably 8 meters on small holds with a marginal landing); he tells me that he wants to do it ground up. This is an awesome way, definitely the most impressive and challenging; something that seems fairly common in Japan. I have huge respect for his decision to try this way. It is undoubtedly the proudest method, and forces a different mindset that seems perhaps more experiential than outcome-based. Tomoaki and I manage to get through the face, but we can’t sort out how to transition onto the upper slab. As the sun sets we decide to pack up - yet another incredible project to return for!

That night, Tomoaki goes to meet a friend and Taka goes to see his family; Koha and I stay with Isamu at his house. His mother cooks us an amazing dinner - my first time having oden, with many of the accompanying vegetables coming from her garden in the backyard. I joke to Isamu that the reason he’s so strong is because his mom’s cooking is so delicious and healthy! The following morning, she cooks us a wonderful breakfast, and I have my first experience with nattō. It was definitely strange, but her agedashi tofu was, to me, the best tofu I’ve ever had in my life! We also have a special type of kaki (taishu) local to Kagoshima, for sure one of my favorite fruits I’ve ever tried! As my first real experience with Japanese home cooking, these two meals are some of my absolute favorites and ones I will remember for ages. 

The following day, we go to a forested area high in the mountains called Kinpousan. The first main overhang we arrive at has an unrepeated V13 called Arms, and looks impossible. There’s a mono and I don’t want to get injured, so I steer clear of it. After warming up, I find some holds just to the right of it and start messing around on a direct entrance. It revolves around a hard first move to a left hand undercling and then a cool jump, at which point you finish via Arms. After some microbeta and maximal effort, I manage to establish Long Arms (V12, 4 dan). Tomoaki finds a different method with a heel hook for the first move and does the second ascent! By this point, we’re pretty tired and head to our new accommodation, a guesthouse that Taka and some friends are building in the mountains.

It storms overnight, and Tomoaki meets up with us the next morning at a different forested zone that Isamu has been to a long time ago. Everything is wet and we’re exhausted from the last few days; when Koha and I suggest we have a beach rest day Tomoaki and Isamu happily agree. We take a ferry to Sakurajima and spend a wonderful afternoon basking in the sun and wandering the black sandy beaches, digging in the sand and dipping our feet in the lava-warmed waves.

On our last day, Koha and I go to another forest zone mostly established by the legend and one of my personal heroes, Dai Koyamada. After a long time, I manage to make a repeat of Jigumo, a sweet V12 (4 dan). Koha makes good progress on a rad 1-kyu to the right, and we pack up and race to make our flight. I’m always nervous about missing flights, but the Kagoshima airport is so small that my concerns are unnecessary and we make it back to Narita late that night.

My final week rushes by in a blur - a few short training sessions in the gym are followed by one final trip to Mizugaki with Nick, Koha, and Rob. The night before the trip, Toshi-san treats us all to dinner and we party hard off some delicious sushi and sake. Unfortunately, the hangover the next morning is a bad one and the drive to the boulders is rough, to say the least. After some serious chill time, we manage to finally move around a bit and have a fun session at Kotei Iwa; I try the Takaki Mikura direct project and make some surprisingly good links considering how rugged I feel. 

We roll back to our Airbnb and take a much-needed mellow evening after the previous night’s festivities. The next day, I rest until evening and try Tokio Muroi’s highball Butterfly Effect V13 (4dan+) a few times in the dark. I go back the next day while the crew goes to a zone below Kotei Iwa. Padless and alone, I manage to stick the first move and climb to the top. The increased focus required after the crux is a rad new experience, and I am happy to have climbed it in this style to have an experience more similar to Muroi. 

Koha and Rob take the train back to Tokyo that night, and Nick and I make yakisoba at the Airbnb. The next day is my last full day in Japan; I somehow manage to do the direct project to Takaki Mikura in perfect, cold and breezy conditions, naming it Fūjin after the god of wind. It’s hard to say about the grade, but perhaps an easy V14/5 dan? A short while later, I also do the original Takaki Mikura (5 dan), one of my best days of climbing yet. On the drive up that day, Nick and I stopped at some new boulders and got very psyched… but those must wait for next year…

A huge thank you to everyone who helped make this trip such a wonderful experience. I cannot wait to go back and am looking forward to a return sooner than later (and more oishii hōtō!). In the Japanese way, until I am back I will make sure to GAMBA!!!

A very special thank you:

The Takeuchi family: Toshi, Mai, & Nako

Koha Urawa

Nick Hodge

Rob Ueno

Takahiro Nagayama & Family

Isamu Kawabata & Family

Tomoaki Takata 

Akira Owashi (RIP - I am forever grateful for the time we shared)

Katsu Miyazawa

Tsukuru Hori

Yamato Katagiri

& everyone else I met who made this the greatest trip of my life.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Keenan Takahashi is a member of the La Sportiva Climbing Team.

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