Tokyo Weekender - February 2016
Hidetoshi Nakata a soccer all-star on the sake trail. The Tokyo Marathon turns ten. Scaling Japan’s frozen heights.
Hidetoshi Nakata a soccer all-star on the sake trail. The Tokyo Marathon turns ten. Scaling Japan’s frozen heights.
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ICE CLIMBING | FEATURE | 19<br />
mornings and ice climbers do too, but they<br />
really understand that dull and overcast<br />
is better, as it has less effect on the ice.<br />
The following morning granted us that. By<br />
torchlight we ate, drank coffee and emerged<br />
from the tent, heaved on our packs and<br />
started down into the valley. It was certainly<br />
cold as we walked into the wind that<br />
howled from across the mountains, creating<br />
the rush of freezing air. It was a bittersweet<br />
trade off that we hoped was worth it.<br />
The valleys were narrow and the<br />
walls were multi-tiered, meaning little<br />
sun crossed the faces, and unique rock<br />
formations made channels for ice to collect<br />
and grow in. To be “good,” ice has to be<br />
uniformly formed, well bonded to the rock<br />
beneath, and protected from direct sun that<br />
can break it down. Tight, tiered valleys that<br />
catch the snow are ideal for this.<br />
The winding geography of the valley<br />
meant we could only see small parts of the<br />
walls above us, and through the purple predawn<br />
light we began to get a notion of what<br />
was around us. The walls were covered<br />
in jewel-like ice that encrusted the rocks’<br />
features to form chandeliers and pillars<br />
that drooled down the cliffs and hung from<br />
the roofs of caves. We found the ice to be<br />
exceptionally clear, hard and well bonded<br />
to the volcanic rock beneath. The rumors of<br />
the area being left to obscurity due to lack<br />
of capable climbers began to seem true:<br />
in fact, by the look of it, the old crew had<br />
barely gotten started. With the majority<br />
of the walls either non-existent on the old<br />
maps or barely recorded, for every ice line<br />
mentioned we counted another seven or<br />
eight not.<br />
Deciding on a route to climb is always<br />
hard and when there are hundreds of choices<br />
and you’re working against dwindling<br />
time, things only get harder. Lines were<br />
everywhere but most looked exceedingly<br />
tough—the stuff of days to work at. Our<br />
time in the valleys<br />
had shown<br />
us that nothing<br />
was going to be<br />
easy, so the idea<br />
of just taking a<br />
token route was<br />
off the table.<br />
We decided<br />
elegance would<br />
give us the<br />
right options,<br />
and something<br />
truly worthy<br />
of shooting<br />
for—even if we<br />
failed. We went<br />
for a line of<br />
thin, intricately<br />
chandeliered icicles that wove up the<br />
back of a corner in the rock face. Unlike<br />
many lines, this had ice to ground level<br />
rather than starting with an overhang.<br />
Your protection from falling are<br />
threaded titanium tubes that have been<br />
screwed into the ice and clipped to ropes.<br />
Ideally a screw gets placed every five or<br />
six meters but in reality it is wherever<br />
you can get one in. Fat ice lets you drive<br />
When done well, ice<br />
climbing has a unique<br />
dynamic, more tai chi<br />
than brute force ... it is a<br />
beautiful but totally<br />
unnatural thing to do<br />
the screws deep, but thin ice demands<br />
total attention. It’s a matter of delicately<br />
picking away, being careful to not<br />
drive into the rock beneath. Over the 50<br />
meters of a pitch this is exhausting, nerve<br />
frazzling and totally absorbing. The irony<br />
is that the effort of placing these screws<br />
makes a fall more likely. The fact that<br />
many ice lines can be easily climbed but<br />
not made safe is fundamentally accepted<br />
by ice climbers, and is exactly what we<br />
had going on.<br />
My initial fear quickly became total<br />
concentration as I picked my way up the<br />
wall of ice crystal, smashing away anything<br />
threatening in a constant cascade<br />
of tinkling ice shards. In the silence of<br />
a frozen valley, ice climbing can sound<br />
amazingly violent as every foot and tool<br />
placement means smashing into fragile<br />
ice. Ice is inherently frictionless, so your<br />
only connection to it are the points of<br />
metal. This makes those pick choices<br />
very important and involves a process<br />
of reaching high, swinging with careful<br />
force and weighting the tool to make<br />
sure it holds.<br />
Over the 50 meters of vertical ice I<br />
found placements just on the good side of<br />
acceptable. I climbed silently and intently,<br />
needing no overt communication with<br />
the guy below who fed out rope exactly<br />
as needed. When done well, ice climbing<br />
has a unique dynamic, more tai chi<br />
than brute force; with the right degree<br />
of sensitivity it is a beautiful but totally<br />
unnatural thing to do.<br />
The line of ice topped out at a large<br />
ledge that was safe to stand on, and to<br />
our surprise diverted to form several<br />
more ice falls up tiers of overhanging<br />
rock above. Burned out from what we’d<br />
already done, we left them for another<br />
day, and named the new line Shimajiro<br />
after a popular kids’ toy, and the face itself<br />
White Dragon Wall. As we rappelled<br />
back to the snow line the afternoon snow<br />
began to thicken and clouds rolled down<br />
the valley.<br />
We spent several days in the various<br />
valleys trying out new lines: some<br />
worked out and others did not. Each day<br />
we would return exhausted and cold but<br />
high on the idea we were climbing new<br />
ground, a buzz that gets rarer every year.<br />
Since then we have returned every<br />
winter, silently keeping the dates all year.<br />
In keeping with the attitude of the locals<br />
we haven’t pushed the location into common<br />
awareness; the roadside verge is still<br />
empty, the road still uncleared. The old<br />
onsen has never reopened. We prefer it<br />
this way: In a world of oversaturation not<br />
everywhere needs to be on the map.<br />
Ed Hannam is a strategy analyst for<br />
<strong>Tokyo</strong>-based Tripleshot Consulting, which<br />
has a long history of working in<br />
complex and dangerous environments.<br />
www.tokyoweekender.com FEBRUARY <strong>2016</strong>