We purposely decided to avoid the crowds and do the night climb of Mount Tsukuba on the third day of the year, hoping to see the sunrise.
The weather forecast was clear skies, with 0% chance of precipitation so we went for it.
Torii gates are usually found at the beginning of mountain roads and trailheads, to mark the boundary of sacred areas and the secular world where people live.
A sign says: Please refrain from mountain climbing with light clothing and without a plan because it is dangerous.
This is supposedly the abode of a white snake that will make you rich if you make its acquaintance. We tried looking around with no luck.
This is the first time for K to climb Mount Tsukuba at night, so we had headlights on and dressed in sufficiently warm–but crucially, not waterproof–clothes.
Thirty minutes into the trail, we could feel a light shower of rain falling through the leaves of cypress trees above. We pressed ahead hoping it would go away.
After another hour of climbing, we saw a faint glow up ahead which we thought was the light of some sort of hut. It turned out that two other hikers had started the climb earlier than us and were taking a break from the rain under a tree.
We went past them, and then when we were resting, they passed us by in return.
By which time the light drizzle of unexpected rain had become worryingly bigger drops of rainwater mixed with round bits of hail. We were going to get seriously wet if it didn’t stop.
K inspects the white round bits of hail on the trail.
If we hurried up to the top, there would probably be a place where we could find shelter under a shrine. But we could have been soaked to the bone by the time we got there. In the end, we decided that the best course of action was to not risk it and abandon the climb and try another day.
We found out later that our two hiker friends did the same–we could see their lights above the trail on their way down.
The weather can be fickle on a mountain and it is best to not get wet especially on a cold winter night.
Just before we left the trail, we met another hiker (a gentleman of around 60 greeting us with a merry Ohayou Gozaimasu) on his way up. The rain had stopped by then, although with the gray overcast sky you never know if it would stay that way.
It was still dark when we left the trail, the bright lights of the sleeping city glowing in the distance.