I loved this line: “…it’s no wonder that the majority of Hyakumeizan climbers are either retired or the Crown Prince of Japan.” I can relate as I am a poor man myself, supporting a wife and child with an English teacher’s salary.

A fewnotes from my own research:

Japan has 21 peaks over 3,000 metres, though some peaks are part of the same mountain mass, such as the peaks of Mae Hotaka, Oku Hotaka, Kita Hotaka and Karasawa, collectively referred to as the Hotakas at times. Nineteen of these peaks are in the North and South Alps, Mt. Fuji and Ontakesan being apart from those ranges.

The Hyakumeizan include many of Japan’s highest peaks but many were also omitted in favour of lower peaks that have a rich history. Particularly notable is Tsukuba, which is only 877 metres but is the site where Amaterasu came down to earth, if I remember correctly.

The Japanese Alps are the only mountains in Japan that saw glaciation. Cirques, now devoid of glacial ice, can be found in all three ranges, and U-shaped valleys can be seen around the Yari/Hotaka range, as can glacial erratics. The famous Byobu Iwa below the Karasawa Cirque was cut away by glacier. Akaishidake in the South Alps is the southernmost extent of glaciation in Japan.

Houou is at the bottom tip of the South Alps if you work your way north from Shizuoka. It forms part of the northern face of the South Alps alongside Kaikomagatake and Nokogiridake.

Kaikomagatake is 2,967 metres.

An interesting thing I read on a site about Japanese geology, Ainodake was once possibly the highest peak in the South Alps and during the last ice age was higher than Fuji (whether that means higher than Fuji is now or higher than Fuji was then I don’t recall). A large amount of erosion material on its flanks suggest significant wearing of the mountain. The North Alps – the Hida Range – once possibly reached 4,000 metres but were reduced to their 2,800 – 3,190 metre height during the last ice age.

Kitadake is said to be growing by a few milimetres per year thanks to uplifting by tectonic action.

Phew, well it was a long read but worth it. As I said, I did a run on Houou about a week after you I think. There was still lots of snow and the wind was something else. I knew where you were and what you were pitted against. It was fun to read. Lots of background information was good too. It’s good you made it back alive and were able to share this marvelous account.

The start of this piece certainly stands out for me. I wrote on another blog a couple of years ago about how when you fly and look out the window you see how our grand cities with all their glitz and grime are but splatters like lichen on a huge rock that has only just been colonized by the symboitic life mass. Between our cities and towns strench our tenuous strings of highways, like strands connecting one spider web to others in different trees. You don’t need to fly even. Just cruise around on GoogleEarth and see how vast the land is that we scarcely occupy, or how even vaster the land is that we dare only to cross by motorvehicle or train. That’s why I find the movie Armaggedon such a sham. How can three meteorites falling towards Earth strike only New York, Paris and Shanghai? It plays on the imaginations of the general public who dwell in the cities and never stop to think how little space the human race actually occupies on this planet.

I shall return next week to read on. Thanks for this post!

I just came across this post on Tales of Asia, and wanted to commend you for a superb report of your ascent on Houou. You inspire me to try to write better accounts of my own trips. Oddly enough, I was on Mt Kaikoma looking over at Mt Houou around the same time you were there:
http://i-cjw.com/blog/2008/05/06/fishing-for-mountains/