Scholarship 2013

The snow was pristine, and so deep that shorter trees were completely engulfed; larger trees were heavy with wind-sculpted stacks of snow. The landscape was ethereal, beautiful and highly moving, but it was also intimidating.
Having foolhardily ventured out snow-shoeing on Mount Tokachidake without any supplies, and no map or emergency beacon, I suddenly felt very vulnerable. Lost in the Japanese wilderness, there was no hope of a chance rescue if something went wrong.
“Out here, it’s just you and the mountains,” said Atsushi Tanaka, an energetic 77-year-old skiing fanatic who gave a hearty sigh as he eased himself into the water opposite me that evening, “oh, and the occasional bear.”
Low electric light cast an eerie glow on the surrounding snow, carved into fantastical figures by the steam from the rotenburo, and my diminutive companion seemed to grow as he spoke. “It can be dangerous, but as long as you are prepared, everything will work out.”
I described my earlier faux pas and how, too tired to return along my tracks, I had just guessed my trajectory and hoped for the best. He chuckled and slapped me on the shoulder, but passed no judgement.
He was a passionate outdoorsman, and his holiday routine made me feel less than adventurous despite my wintry endeavours. Every day, he hiked up the surrounding mountains alone and then skied back down the untouched backcountry slopes.
I was amazed that this unassuming old man went up avalanche-prone slopes solo, but he was full of enthusiasm for the experience. “It’s a lifetime passion: I’ve skied all over the world. But here, this is the best.”
“Sure, it’s a little scary sometimes,” he laughed, “but I’m old so I have nothing to lose. Anyway, the fresh air and the onsens keep me healthy.”
As Mr Tanaka eased himself out of the bath and headed inside, I tried to picture myself at his age. If I am even half as active and courageous as him when I get there then I will be a happy man.