Hossosawa Waterfall

In the western end of Tokyo’s administrative district lies Hinohara Village – the last “village” in Tokyo. Generally the term village in Japan is reserved for small communities. Despite having exceeded the generally accepted population of a village some time ago, Hinohara has kept the designation, doubtless for marketing purposes. That said, Hinohara looks like no other part of Tokyo – more of a small town nestled in the foothills.

One of the attractions of Hinohara, and the Okutama region to which it belongs, is the Hossawa Waterfall. 

Not the biggest waterfall by any means, it is situated in a lush box canyon at the end of an easy and short trail. From the bus stop or parking lot, make your way past the craft store, ice cream shop, a van selling Potato Burgers and another craft shop, then follow the rest of the trail along the stream with all the other people. Although it was not overly crowded, it was not a place one was going to find complete tranquility in which to ponder the deeper questions of life.

Potato burger, vegetarian version

Being a fan of natural beauty (and natural beauties) and not a fan of large crowds, it was heartening not to be there the weekend of August 21 for the local summer festival. The festival taking place that weekend is highlighted by the lighting of the waterfall in multiple colors – pink, blue, yellow, etc. The trail looked to be readied for the lighting with a string of – at the time at least – bare light bulbs just above head height.

That aside, it is a pleasant area worth a visit, though given the distance and transportation requirements (about 1.5 hours on a train and another 25 – 30 minutes on a bus) it is probably best to combine it with other hikes in the area. 

(The hike was done in mid-August.)

Monkey Prison

Near Kinugawa Onsen station in the hills of Tochigi Prefecture is a ropeway which will ferry passengers up a few hundred vertical meters to a “monkey sanctuary”. It appears more to be a monkey prison.

 (The idle monkey trainer was under the mistaken impression it was more of a wilderness preserve in which monkeys lived.)

Stepping from the tram car, one is assaulted instantly with the stench of close-quartered monkeys. Visitors to the facility are ushered into a small path extending into the monkey prison yard. Through the double layer of chain-link fence visitors may feed the monkeys by extending food pellets (conveniently for sale in the visitors’ area, of course) using a wooden stick. 

The monkeys climb all over the fences, the roof and each other, positioning for attention and food. They extend their forelegs through the fences, forlorn expressions on their faces. They pull and bite on the fencing, bounce and scream. The larger, more dominate monkeys exert their influence in the group to chase off younger, smaller rivals for the pellets, while (human) children squeal with delight and pull back the sticks so they can try to get pellets to the younger, cuter monkeys.

There are hiking trails up the mountain and around the top, which could have helped salvage the afternoon. But, an apparent infestation of mountain leeches put a stop to that. Having never encountered a mountain leech, the idle monkey trainer was somewhat surprised to learn that (1) leeches inhabit mountains and not just waterways, and (2) that the bite of the mountain leech is apparently very painful and results in lots of bleeding. It was strongly suggested that walking the trails in shorts and sandals would be a very bad idea. Apparently the staff at the top of the tram had already encountered hikers that morning suffering from multiple leech bites.

Instead, the idle monkey trainer returned to the public hot spring in front of the train station to soak his feet and enjoy a drink. And where the drunken security guard informed him that although the pump had been shut off at five o’clock he was welcome to stay as long as the water was warm, and repeatedly that the security guard had been attending a summer festival at which he was given several free beers, presumably including the one he was carrying around at the time. 


(The monkey prison was visited in August.)

It's a Small World

Tobu World Square is a sort of model-builder’s dream. Landmark buildings and architectural feats from around the world are rendered to a maximum 1:25 scale. Included in this collection in the hills of Tochigi Prefecture about two hours from Tokyo are the great pyramids of Egypt, the Great Wall of China, the Parthenon of Greece, palaces and castles too numerous to list from western Europe and a Manhattan scene.

The models are detailed and include human figures in most to help show the scale. The exceptions to this general rule are the Great Wall, Angkor Wat and the models of older Japanese temples and shrines. 

Among the models from Japan are Tokyo station in its original glory, but complete with express trains and the shinkansen pulling in and out of the station, Narita airport with taxiing aircraft, and Yokohama Bay with boats making circuitous routes and moving traffic on the bay bridge, and Tokyo’s newest – and yet unfinished – “attraction” the Tokyo Sky Tree (that for some reason billows smoke/mist and bubbles).

Although the models are to varying scale, the world is not. The view from Yokohama Bay looks onto lower Manhattan, which consists of the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building and the World Trade Center, with a brief notation about the latter’s destruction.

 It also includes a couple of street scenes. This is where things take a bit of a break from the general theme of the models.

Most of the models from Europe and Tokyo show bustling scenes in front of the buildings, parties and dancing in Europe’s palace courtyards. For reasons not explained on any signs, the New York Street scene shows on one side of a building a horrific car accident, complete with a body being removed. On the other side of the building the scene shows a bank robbery in progress. To an American friend, this raised a couple of questions: Why single out New York City (the only model from the U.S. – or the Americas for that matter) to include negative events? If you are going to include negative elements and negative perceptions of a city, why are there no train officials with a blue tarp hurriedly clearing the latest body from the Chuo Line in Tokyo? Where were the pick-pockets working the crowds of tourists in front of Europe’s cathedrals? (Or perhaps these were too subtle to notice.)

PS. I would like to thank the little Japanese boy who gleefully pointed out the bank robbery scene.

(This post is a couple months overdue.) 

Views of Pike National Forest, Colorado, USA

The idle monkey trainer spent a few days idling around the mountains of Colorado recently. 

The Log Ride

The Onabashira festival is dubbed by its promoters as “one of the three most interesting festivals in Japan.” And indeed it is interesting. Not knowing what the other two, or indeed what a number of Japanese festivals, are like, however, I cannot fully agree or disagree. That it is one of the most dangerous seems plainly obvious. Perhaps this is why they only run it once ever seven years. (It has also been suggested that it is run so rarely because of the scarcity of trees that can provide logs of the appropriate size and straightness. Of course, they have been running it for the past 1200 years.)

The main attraction of this festival is watching a number of men mount a 16-meter, one-ton log to ride down the mountain.  With due pomp the log is presented and hangs precariously over the mountain’s lip. Teams line the sides of the run with ropes in hand, ready to pull against a single counter-rope at the top.

When the time is right, the log is released with the swing of an axe. Like a North Korean topodong, the log pitches quickly forward and begins its downward plunge. For a moment those on the ropes continue to pull, helping propel the log down the hill. Within seconds, however, the log has passed most of them and is subject to the whims of gravity and earth. It stops only as the front of the log slams into the flattening hill. The small valley below, lined with seats safely below the road and across the river, erupts with cheers. Emergency responders rush in as needed.

Once at the bottom the long ropes are laid out down the road, and participants commence dragging the log down to the staging area, about two kilometres away, where it will wait along with the others from the weekend to be moved to and raised at the shrine next week. One then assumes quiet returns to this little town for the next six years.

Another Wander Through the Woods

On the final day of January, I took my hangover for a walk through part of Big Thicket National Preserve. The two-hour drive from Houston was not one I would characterize as enjoyable or particularly interesting (though that could be partly a side affect of the hangover). It was rewarded, however, with blue skies and temperatures in the upper sixties. And a buffet lunch at Mama Jack's.

Big Thicket is a sprawling piece of the National Park System and rather disjointed. The Kirby Nature Trail, and at least the first part of the Turkey Creek Trail and Sand Hill Loop Trail, are all well maintained and easy to follow.

There are also a number of wooden walkways taking you over the swamps and drainages (bafflingly with an apparent randomness of numbering).

There are also a great number of downed trees throughout, exposing their roots and providing plenty of space for moss and mushrooms.

Into the Woods

I was once told that you generally have to drive three hours from Houston to get to the interesting stuff. Proving that is only a slight exaggeration, Sam Houston National Forest lies just an hour north of Houston. Turning off the highway, the view suddenly changes from strip malls and chain restaurants to thick forests and lake views.

The forest hosts a portion of the Lone Star Trail, a 128-mile hiking trail that traverses the state, as well as a myriad of other hiking and multiple use trails.

The trails on which I wandered today were closed to horses and motorized vehicles due to muddy conditions on the trails. There was no word of warning regarding the downed trees that crossed the trail.

These were muddy of a sort, under the few inches of water anyway. But, such are the hazards of walking trails in an area that gets 55 inches of rain annually. It is well worth the effort for the quiet and solitude.

(Dis?)Honoring Elvis

Last night I heard an interesting tale:
Some time last week, presumably on the King's birthday, an Elvis impersonator took the stage of a local Houston bar. During his doubtless heartfelt rendition of Teddy Bear, "Elvis" tossed teddy bears to the cheering throngs of women in the audience (many of whom had probably seen the King in his prime). All very touching.



Until he finished the song. At that point, he took back his teddy bears.

Following his show, he set up on the stage a couple of photographers to take shots of a young boy being tossed a teddy bear from the stage. He naturally made sure to get that bear back. Sadly, there was no video of that night.

Scott's Bluff

On the final Sunday of 2009, the idle monkey trainer headed north and east into "God's Country" as my host and guide often calls it. On maps it is known as Scottsbluff.

Towering over the town is Scotts Bluff National Monument. The bluff rises quickly to 800 feet above the surrounding prairie. The afternoon proved to be a good one for a visit, the strong winds having cleared sky and provided views well  into Wyoming.

 Wyoming is out there.

The bluff, and the town, take their name from a fur trader clerk who died near the bluff in 1828. A memorial to him sits on top of the bluff, which is reachable by a 2-mile walking trail that winds up bluff. This trail, I was told, was also used by the high school cross country team for training, with the requisite hurdling of rattle snakes. It is also accessible by the easier (because you can drive up it) road from the visitor center.

The view from the top, looking down over the walking trail.

The bluff was a well-recognized spot along the Oregon Trail, later the Mormon Trail, and the Pony Express routes. Wagon ruts, along with replica wagons, are still visible along the base of the bluff.

Looking over the Oregon Trail.

One final note: If you are interested in exploring what nightlife there is in Scottsbluff, a wintry Sunday evening is not the time to do it. Other than a car of cruising teenagers, the downtown area was deserted and left to the snow.

Welcome to the Year of the Tiger

Happy New Year!

Texas Underground

The idle monkey trainer took a short getaway in San Antonio, home of the Alamo, the Riverwalk, and a number of other historically important Spanish missions. Having thus spent Saturday, and with fond memories of a fantastic dinner at the Fig Tree restaurant, I ventured into the low hills and even lower caverns of the Texas Hill Country.

Completely ignorant of the many commercial and other caves of the Hill Country, I managed to locate the oldest commercially operated caverns in the area. Cascade Caverns is located at the end of the aptly and not coincidentally named Cascade Caverns Road off of I-10 about 20 minutes west of San Antonio.

The first occupants, or at least users, of the cave were the local Native Americans. They were famously followed by a German recluse who lived in the cave during the Texas independence movement. In the 1930's several buildings were built directly above the caverns, including the original owner's residence, which utilized a natural vent from the cavern about 100 feet below to help ventilate the house. These buildings, along with the caverns themselves, suffered severe flooding in 2002 and stand unused.

The caverns were named for the waterfall that helped form the caverns and can be seen at the end of the tour. (Above) During the 1940's the "cathedral" was used for religious services when the waterfall had dried up. Water started flowing again and the alter was removed after a few years of use.

The cavern floods often, and the operators run a pump every 45 minutes just to keep it dry enough to have visitors. The constant water flow keeps the cavern "alive" with a number of formations continually growing, like the below formation, which started following the 2002 flood.

In addition to human visitors, the cave is home to a unique species of salamander found only in this particular cave. Obviously with such a limited territory, it is an endangered species. They are also incredibly hard to spot. Fortunately the guide is sharp-eyed and knows what to look for. I certainly would have been unable to spot the two-inch, camouflaged little guy. This being Texas Hill Country, there are also a couple of resident bat species. (Not shown)

The caverns, and surrounding grounds, have over the years yielded a large number dinosaur fossils, including a mastodon tusk and femur embedded in the cave's floor and wall respectively. All of which goes some way to explaining the T-rex (currently under restoration) that guards the parking lot and entrance.

The final frontier

On the grounds of the Johnson Space Center in Houston, NASA has a small heard of cattle, managed by a local group.

I think we all know where this is going:

Panama City

Panama City has been around since the Spanish decided it was a good location in the 16th century. As they plundered South America, the Spanish used the area as a transit point to reach their ships on the Atlantic side of the isthmus. In the early 17th century the city was sacked and razed by an English pirate.

Following that, the city was moved close to what is now the opening to the Panama Canal. Now a UN World Heritage site, the old city is being renovated (from the inside) by well off Panamanians and foreign investors.

The new business district is also seeing a large amount of development as North American and European retirees flock to the tropics and lower cost of living. The tourism authority obviously encourages such moves, as well as medical tourism. (The official hotel room tourist magazines featured articles and prominent advertisements for the reasonably priced treatments, primarily of a voluntary nature.)

Getting around

The idle monkey trainer has racked up a lot of air miles over the past few weeks. Waikiki did not produce any monkeys in need of training, but I did have fun with this guy.

Houston Aeros Hockey

The Idle Monkey Trainer and a couple of associates (also idle, but not monkey trainers) headed to the Toyota Center Saturday night to catch the third game of the season between the Texas Stars and the Houston Aeros.

To be honest, I have no idea where these two teams sit in relation to others in the AHL. (Since it is the Stars inaugural season, it would seem likely there is not much rivalry established yet. At least not between the teams. There might be some between their home cities.) It doesn't really matter to me. It was just good to see some live hockey.

The crowd looked sparse at the arena, despite having the nose-bleed sections covered to make the place look and feel smaller. Still, the small crowd was dedicated to the home team and had the cowbells to prove it. (The team has a promotional night on which the first three thousand fans get a free team cowbell.) Regrettably, we missed the Micheal Jackson Tribute night on Friday, when the first three thousand fans got one white sequined glove. All I got was a team calender.

Our seats on the Aeros' attack end ensured that we got to see every goal. Sadly for the home crowd, four of those came in the second period for the Stars, chasing the Aeros' starting goalie. We also got to see the Aeros' only goal in the third, and the glass pushed out of the corner when the Aeros' defenseman rode a Stars' forward hard into the corner. Sadly for us, that was the most inspirational thing we witnessed from the Aeros, who seemed more content to pass than shoot (getting out shot 11 to 23 by the end of the second). They turned it up in the third, pulling their goalie with seven minutes left, only putting him back in after the empty-netter the Stars posted with about four minutes left.

(Photographs may be posted later. There is some sort of technical issue that is currently preventing it.)

Patron Saint

The Saint Arnold brewery was named for the patron saint of brewing, a man who taught people that how to brew beer, which would keep them from drinking tainted water. For that, apparently, he was made a saint.

Each Saturday afternoon, the brewery opens their doors to the public for a two hour "tour" and tasting. The tour costs five dollars, and visitors are given a small tasting glass and four tokens to fill the glass. Visitors are allowed to trade up their glasses, receiving a dollar off the larger logo glasses. So long as the glass you're holding has the brewery's logo on it, you can get it filled for a single token. On subsequent visits, you are allowed to bring your previously purchased glassware. Five dollars for a souvenir glass and four fresh, quality beers is quite a deal.

The "tour" starts at a little after 1:00 p.m. and consists of a short speech going over the history of the brewery, and perhaps something about their beers. To be honest, standing in the vast warehouse it was really difficult to discern anything that was said. Following the talk, the tasting begins. Tasting stations (also known as tapped kegs) are set up around the hall, with their various brews on offer. At 3:00 p.m. the tasting ends and the hall clears out.

The brewery is scheduled to be moved to a new location, a bit closer to downtown Houston. Hopefully the tastings will continue.

For more information on the brewery and tastings, visit the Saint Arnold Brewing Company homepage.

Monkeys Found!

The Idle Monkey Trainer finally found some monkeys. Sadly for me -- and perhaps the primates -- they were already in confinements and docile.

Or, perhaps, just lethargic. In either case, the monkey trainer remains idle. As were most of the animals in the hot Houston afternoon.

Take me out to the ball game...deep in the heart of Texas

On a beautiful, if wickedly hot, Sunday afternoon I ventured out to watch the Houston Astros take on the Philadelphia Phillies. I am not a huge baseball fan. I cannot discuss the sport with any depth or insight. But I do enjoy getting out to a stadium every once in a while, to sit in the sun, have a couple of overpriced beers, and see a game. At Minute Maid Park, however, despite (or in part because of) the sunny day and heat and 40% chance of rain, the roof was closed and air conditioning turned up high. Which, was probably just as well. The heat and 24oz. beers would not have mixed well.

One singularity of seeing a game in Houston is that in addition to the now requisite God Bless America, and the traditional Take Me Out to the Ball Game, comes a rendition of Deep in the Heart of Texas. All complete with lyrics, of course.

Also, there is, for some reason I could not find, a rabbit.

Goliad State Park

Over a hot weekend, the Idle Monkey Trainer took to the road -- and was reminded what it is like to drive across certain parts of the United States: long, flat, an occasional cow to glance at along the way.

About three hours from Houston is the small town of Goliad, sitting along the banks of the San Antonio River. It was near here in 1749 that the Mission Nuestra Senora del Espiritu Santo de Zuniga was moved from the coast.

The Mission was the center of a huge cattle ranch that supplied Spanish colonial areas as far as Louisiana. The Mission also tried its best to convert the local population, who would take on elements they thought beneficial, and ignored those they did not, much to the frustration of the Spanish. The Mission is now the focus of Goliad State Park, which also hosts a memorial to Colonel Fannin, killed in the Mexican-American war along with hundreds of his men, the birthplace of General Ignacio Zaragoza's Birthplace, who commanded a unit of the Mexican army that defeated the French and whose victory is celebrated on May 5th each year.

It is also the home of the Presidio La Bahia.

The Presidio is where the declaration for independence of the Republic of Texas was signed, on the alter, which is still used in services each week. Nine different flags have flown over the Presidio -- Spanish, Mexican, Texan and the U.S.

Brazos Bend State Park

The Idle Monkey Trainer has relocated for a few months to America's fourth largest, and according to fitness magazine, sixth fattest city. Always in persuit of monkeys, and armed with the knowledge that Texas is a monkey-less place, I nevertheless ventured out to Brazos Bend to see what wildlife dwells.

This 50,000 acre wildlife refuge lies just an hour south of Houston, and is located on what used to be a part of the George Ranch. The bayous and lakes in the park are famously home to a multitude of American Aligators.

As with many a Texas afternoon, an oppressive heat was followed quickly by a thunderstorm, which quickly moved on, leaving in its wake soaked bipeds and their dogs. Wet poodle, apparently, will entice these normally stationary hunters to venture out of the water.

No dogs were harmed.

Wandering through the park with a friend who had been there frequently, but never witnessed any of the aligators in actual stalking behavior, I endevoured to find out how many of the creatures lived in the park. He responded that on his previous visits he had seen anywhere from three to 60 in one day, and so positited the true number to be in this range. I saw maybe two dozen, including the one-year-olds at the visitor center. (Which you can touch, while the very energetic volunteer tells you all about the life of the American Aligator in the park.)

The Idle Monkey Trainer was also fortunate enough to stop by the visitor center at the date and time that the snakes received their fortnightly feeding.

A return visit may be necessary. Though, I think I'll have to wait a couple weeks to be so fortunate.