This past week I’ve briefly visited the three most easterly national parks on the island of Hokkaido, Japan: Kushiro-Shitsugen, Akan Mashu, and Shiretoko.
Kushiro-Shitsugen National Park
Kushiro-Shitsugen is Japan’s largest wetland, famous for its Japanese red-head cranes.
A JR (Japan Rail) line runs along the edge of the wetlands, with several stops. I decided to get off at one station then spend my morning meandering towards another station.
As I was walking along, a car stopped, and the driver waved me over. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.
I identified the item she was holding as an origami crane, a symbol of peace.
She demonstrated how to make the wings flap, then gave the crane to me. She asked me to flap the wings to show I understood her instructions.
She drove off, then a hundred yards up the road she pulled over, again. “Can I give you a ride to the station?” she offered.
I politely declined, explaining my love of walking. We bowed and she was on her way, and I continued to walk.
I find much generosity in Japan. The next day, a young couple offered to give me a ride, and, again, I politely declined.
Akan Mashu National Park
Lake Mashu
I flew to eastern Hokkaido on a turboprop from New Chitose airport in central Hokkaido. From the plane I caught this view of a caldera inside of a caldera.
The outer caldera holds a lake, Lake Mashu. A couple days later, I hiked to the inner caldera, Mount Kamui, then climbed it.
Much of the trail to Mount Kamui was a ridge trail, with great views.
The climb up Mount Kamui was straightforward: I didn’t need my work gloves to assist with scrambling.
At the top, I chatted with a guy from Kitami, Hokkaido. He shared his lunch with me (a steamed, stuffed bun) and took this photo. He clearly knew this summit well, instructing me where to sit to get the best background.
Lake Kussharo
Next day I spent a few hours near Lake Kussharo. Unlike Lake Mashu, this area was more geared for visitors looking for packaged experiences. Swan boats helped meet the need.
Sulphurous vents provided plenty excitement for visitors.
I headed for quieter places, including quiet roads running through farmland.
Despite the commercialism, everybody, including me, got to experience a lovely lake. Here, a family enjoys a footpath in the hot spring water percolating through the beach.
The view was wonderful for the family and me.
I deferred my footbath for Kawayu Onsen Station, while waiting for the train to take me part-way to my next national park.
I was the only person to board the first train to arrive at this station since the September 6 earthquake.
Shiretoko National Park
Shiretoko National Park is probably the most isolated park in Japan. It occupies much of a peninsula that sticks out into the Sea of Okhotsk.
Scheduled buses run through the parks, so I was able to explore some of the more accessible parts. Roads end several miles before the end of the peninsula, so much of the park was out of reach for a day tripper like me.
Shiretoko Pass
I got off the bus at a mountain pass, Shiretoko Pass. After taking obligatory snapshots of the clouds swirling below, I walked about half an hour along the side of the road to the trailhead for the Lake Rausu Trail.
Lake Rausu Trail
I was a little apprehensive I might meet a brown bear, as they have been growing in numbers on this peninsula. I hadn’t picked up bear spray, and wasn’t carrying a bell, a common accessory for Japanese hikers
The beauty of the trail calmed my fears. Plus, there were a few other hikers to scare away any bears.
The trail was an in-and-out, and took several hours. It was muddy in places, but that just added to a feeling of connection with the environment.
Half-Mile Elevated Boardwalk
I had time to reach other parts of the park using scheduled buses.
A half-mile elevated walkway provided a different experience from my muddy hike to Lake Rausu. “Electric hedges” on each side of the deck were ready to repel bears.
People could safely look at nature, while being detached from nature. To be fair, this boardwalk gives most people, including people in wheelchairs, a chance to see something.