I hurriedly dress (making up for lost time) and dart around outside in the snow with my cameras. Even the Olympus is behaving itself this morning. The zoom and electronic controls seem to function despite the cold. The little Canon with its wide-angle lens proves itself a worthwhile addition to the contents of my pack, even if only for album-sized prints.

I boil my billy from the hut door, gazing at the fairy-tale view, stomping my feet on the floor and clapping my hands to try to keep them from going numb. No gloves (I wear fleece inner gloves and insulated Gortex gloves over the top of these) seem up to the task of keeping my hands warm when I am stationary. The numbness itself, whilst not pleasant, is not nearly as horrid as the sickening pain as you try to shake it out. My climb up Komagatake in December resulted in numb hands which I tried to massage out as I descended through the deep snow. The pain made my stomach turn. I was close to crying as I stumbled down the boulders seeking a spot out of the wicked wind. Since then I have been extra careful not to allow myself to get into that state... hence all the stomping and clapping. I even resorted to doing star jumps in my pyjamas and a jacket one morning whilst I waited for the water to boil... an amusing spectacle for the wildlife, not altogether a waste of time.

The rain through the night has made the forest more slushy than kino (yesterday). The sun now firing through the intertwined fingers of the forest further melts the snow. Kyo (today) I am going to get (more) dirty. Ashita (tomorrow) I will be part of the earth.

On this day I am aiming for the summit of Miyanoura-dake. It will be a long day in the saddle (I know that makes no sense since I'm not riding a bike and don't have a horse... force of habit). The path rises as steeply as the past few days but the snow is heavier. The day is clear, the sky is blue, the sun flashes about the white playground. I pass a new hut in the snow and continue in the footsteps of others. A lone walker with a small satchel appears ahead. He estimates it will take me about two hours from here to reach the summit. Ha! Maybe if I wasn't carrying a pack it might. I don't expect I will be that quick at scrambling upwards.

The tree cover thins and views of distant mountains appear between giant granite boulders. It is about time for a snack. I pull off my boots and sit on a wide exposed rock. Still higher mountains rise into the blue sky. A series of steep but rounded peaks form a ridge which I will soon have to climb. Below me are many lower peaks. How can so many peaks fit on such a tiny island? Much of what lies below is shrouded in a blanket of cloud. The ocean is not visible. I can't afford to idle for long, there are still many clicks to pass. Back on with the boots and the pack, back into climbing mode.

A section of board-walk appears and I cross it with spiked feet sinking into the soft pine. My claw marks mix with countless others. It feels like I am walking on water. Beneath me the fields of bamboo grass ripple in the gusts of wind. The boards become a timber ladder over granite obstacles. They too are slippery with ice but the spikes bite and I stay upright. It is getting late and I am not yet at the summit. I think of those lost on Everest... "Into Thin Air". Well this doesn't compare, but I don't want to try to pitch my tent here all the same. I am moving as quickly as the terrain and my load allows but my limbs are starting to feel the pinch. The GPS says its not too far... as the crow flies... it doesn't allow for the fact that I have to keep ascending and descending, that the path winds to the left of a boulder, to the right of a peak... always icy and riddled with snow drifts, pot holes covered with snow into which my legs disappear to the waist. I am starting to worry. The hut is not for another five kilometers after I reach the summit. Which of these peaks is the top?

I sit down for a minute to suck on a lemon drop and regain my strength. It really can't be much further. I laugh out loud at the two hour estimate given me by the guy I met earlier. Was he super-human? The path forks ahead around a peak topped by boulders like ground nuts on a green sundae. This fork is not on my map. As I approach I see the sign... hooray! This is Miyanoura-dake. I take the spiraling path to the summit instead of the route which skirts it and clamber upwards the last few steps. Yeeehawww! Here I am :-) The roof of Yakushima, the roof of Kyushu. From where I stand, the roof of the world.

As I scan the horizon, a brown fur-ball darts from a rock beneath me and scurries about the grit at my feet looking for seeds. The tiny mouse doesn't notice me. I had forgotten about the magic in my frustration to reach the summit. It pokes about my spiked boots. I am careful not to move until it has vanished under the stones and re-appears further afield in its quest. Speaking of quests... time I got off this great mound and found a place to sleep! It will be dark soon and I really want to be out of here by then. If not the hut, perhaps a quiet place in the forest to pitch my tent. Hmmmm.... I am not too hopeful.

Down, down, down. This South side of the mountain sees the sun more than the North face. The ice is not sufficiently thick to warrant crampons. I stop, using precious daylight, to remove them. Instead of packing them away I hold them in my left hand as I cross the bamboo grass, snow and sections of boardwalk. The path flicks upwards. I groan in resignation as I trudge up the granite once more.

A shriek from a few meters to my right causes my heart to skip a beat. There is no wind in this sheltered location. What the hell made that noise? I hold my breath and listen. The sound does not come again. It sounded half human, half bird. I keep an eye peeled as I continue to climb. Again the shriek, from further afield but still to the right. I scan the bamboo grass. A head with full antlers pointing into the pale sky faces mine. The deer shrieks and bounds through the grass to the top of a nearby hill where it halts and stares, ears upright and focussed upon me.

The hairs on the back of my neck sit down as I continue to climb. As I cross the saddle I turn to glance back. The deer is standing motionless on a flat boulder. Behind it, four evenly-spaced cedar trunks twist their dead branches to imitate its antlers. A strange picture my zoom lens cannot reach.

The sun is setting. I am moving as quickly as I can. I am exhausted, the path is steep and dangerous. I cannot hurry too much. The sky is deep red, the mountains are glowing. I guess I will keep walking. I can't camp here. A mysterious flat brown meadow appears in the dim post-dusk. Maybe I can camp here!

This is a peculiar place. The boardwalk crosses it in large platforms. Surrounding and dotting the meadow are decaying cedar trunks. A small stone lantern is here. A deer is standing beside it in the gloom wondering who I am. I tread gingerly from the boards onto the soil... yikes! My foot sinks into the mud to my ankle before I pull it out with a gloopy sucking sound. Well ok. I guess I could pitch my tent but I might not get out of it in the morning :-) Probably not wise. I stand for a minute, considering the possibility of lying out my mat and sleeping bag on the timber boards beneath the stars. I think I better keep moving. I only wish there was more light here, a photograph of the eerie scene would have been worthwhile. My memory will have to serve. I am tempted to light a candle in the meadow's lantern to complete the picture. No time for such things now.

Eventually the forest swallows me and the open high places fade from concern. The stars are out and form a roof of bright pricks interlaced with the immense branches of the sugi whose roots I am forced to traverse in the dark. As long as the snow is thick, the black roots are clear even in the dim light. I am quite exhausted, I lose count of the number of times I slip and fall. Just keep on going. There are only a couple of kilometers of this to manage. It can't be more than an hour to go. I use my pole to probe the darkest spots then pack away my crampons and hold a torch. The light is blinding at first but later seems incredibly insufficient. Slipping and sliding, I bruise my shins on the roots and rocks, rely on my boots to keep my ankles from twisting like the trees. My knees ache from the jarring under load. I am past frustration and fatigue. One foot down, firm grip, weight down, one foot down, firm grip, weight down... an endless movement through the ravines and creek beds, the mud and snow.

I wish I had somebody to talk to.The trees are sleeping. The forest is quiet. I don't think I have a friend who could endure this and remain my friend.

After some forty five minutes of encouraging myself, the torch runs dim. I turn it off for a second and restart it. It lights my way for a short time then fades. Alkaline batteries do not work well in sub-zero temperatures. I try to keep the torch warm in my grip but the power source is on its last legs. My hands are cold, how can I hope to keep the batteries warm? I pull a spare set from my pack and continue my knee-jarring descent. Thank the weather it is a clear night! This could so easily be a nightmare instead of just a surreal dream. Even the magic of the forest won't help me if I'm silly.

Trudge across a sturdy iron and timber bridge. Yodogawa-goya! I have never been so happy to see a timber hut. In the candle light I spread my wet stuff out on the floor and hang it from the bunk ladders. Scoff down granola instead of cooking dinner. It is nine o'clock. I am completely shot. Rest at last. If this is what it is like to lie down at the end of a full life I don't think I will mind a bit.