When cycling Indonesia, every so often or other, our adventures led us into the mountain tops. There, fog never dies and foliage slowly gives way from trees and untamed shrubbery to spectacularly organized tea leave plantations.
Today I am very happy to report that I have once again found my way into mountains on islands. These are not the kind of coastal mountains found along the southern strip of Honshu, where trucks and cars must follow alongside you, pushing your lovely narrating cyclist around turns and far off into shoulders so that they can in a futile effort keep their speed or keep their time; I can’t figure which. There, roads are shared. Here, I find myself completely alone, expect for the occasional white boxed farming truck hauling dirt and farm equipment.
It is not so much a silver lining as it is a green lining of unexpected delight today. I had thought that cycling up to Fuji would be a smog infused headache. A surprise route through the mountains keeps me climbing in low gears, and at the same time places around my head a halo of optimism not felt since cycling that first part of Wakayama with my friend Go.
I mean, just check out this morning shot. How else can you expect the day to build but amazingly when you start out the first rays of light over a crumbling mountain top, coloring the morning clouds with shades of fiery reds and oranges. The contrast between the absolute dark ink of the mountains and the burning sky really can only be found at this 5am hour, and lends to the idea that perhaps this is the image the Dead where strumming to in Fire on the Mountain.
Up, up, and up on sleek streets of gripping pavement. I have said many times before that this is my favorite time of weather – the day after it rains is most excellent for any outdoor activity. Blame the rain or the nature, the air just smells better up here.
Ah, and here they are, just as in Anytown, Indonesia. A small village tucked away within a dirt path valley, a few power lines indicating the modernity of our times, and nothing else but years of planting, harvesting, and carrying for the little green leafs that will one day make it into your morning ceramic tea cup.
The way fields are organized is typical of most farming cultures, the long coulombs of harvest fitting squarely into any available land. What fancies my curiosity is how the levels of these tea plants keep a certain height, about a meter high all around. I would suspect that they are cared for in that way, but I never see any farmers out in the tea leaf fields pruning away at the tops of these bushes. Is it so strange then that the variety of this bush grow to a certain length and halt? Perhaps not when I think of other living things, people for example. We grow to a certain height and stop as well, with variations. But these all grow the exact same height. None the less, that the tea leafs grow across different cultures and nations, different fields and dirt, yet retain uniform similarities is marvel in my eyes. Especially when compared to overgrowth and chaotic competition for sunlight found in more jungle like settings.
Foggy hill tops and muddy fields were the view today. Sometimes, after the storm, the sky opens up and clears away all the clouds to let in the blue solar, but not today. Still, the crisp air that comes in the absence of the sun on a clear day kept me going in high spirits, though my optimism would soon take a hit. At least, it wasn’t because of the weather.
What you are looking at is the only way through a mountain pass. I wouldn’t say the mountain is tall, but the range certainly is long. To have followed this road for half a day, and now only at the end realizing that I must go back the way I came because this road will not allow for bikes, is a major frustration. A prelude to cycling in Toukyo, I hope this is not. Coming down from up high where the tea leaves grow, back to the wonders of civil engineering. Or, should I say, restrictions.
Go look at a map, the distance is not far between Mt. Fuji and Toukyo. On a clear day, you can even spot the UNESCO mountain through the city skyline. I consider myself lucky today, to gain such mountainous elevation before falling from green tea grace, only to land in the most populous metropolis in the world of tomorrow. Thats right. Not "one of the most," but the largest metropolitan area in the world. For statistical sake, 3.64 million people pass through Shinjuku station alone alone on an average week day! And that is just one of many, many.....
Much Love,
-A
No comments:
Post a Comment