We set the coordinates for Sounkyo Gorge in our GPS, and then proceeded to frustrate the GPS Lady (a fragile-sounding thing with quiet desperation in her voice) to tears by heading in the opposite direction to check out some Marimo Balls at Lake Akan. Essentially, the Marimo are balls of algae that the Japanese are absolutely nuts for - they consider them kawai, and keep them as pets on occasion (I kid you not).
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| See? Don't you just want to hug these things? |
As difficult as it was, we managed to drag ourselves away from the Marimo (as well as the scalding, geothermal sands on the shore of Lake Akan - so inviting). Relief obvious in her voice (as well as a hint of reproach), the GPS Lady was once again able to direct us towards Sounkyo Gorge. We set off in a north-westerly direction, and were struck by the bleakness of both the landscape and dwellings, particularly as we entered the township of Kitami (named after the Japanese restaurant in Newcastle no doubt). It appears that the locals are content for some structures to just rot alongside brand new dwellings, more than once spotting an abandoned dwelling missing some walls in a built-up area. The architecture was utilitarian, a world away from the sophistication/western superficiality of Tokyo.
As we ascended into the mountains, the rain started sheeting down - and the natural landscape took over once again. We emerged from a tunnel over 2 kilometres long, into the village of Sounkyo Gorge. GPS Lady was not impressed, directing us onward for another kilometre or so - to a spot underneath a bridge in the middle of nowhere. Vengeance is a dish best served cold and in digital form it seems. We continued on for another few hundred metres to locate a spot to turn around, and came across a great fall-back accommodation option. The open plan layout would certainly overcome any potential smokiness within.
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| Our 'Plan B' |
Jenny popped into the Sounkyo Kanko Hotel (just to confirm it was the Sounkyo Kanko - as all signage was in Japanese). She came back (having braved the rain and 5 degrees Celsius temps) advising that the place was nearly in darkness, with one guy behind the counter gesturing at his watch to say, "Come back at 3pm". Not exactly the warm welcome we were hoping for.
We decided to take a look around Sounkyo to fill in some time, and stumbled across a cafe called The Happy Hippy. They taunted us with offers of real coffee, so we went in. The woman that ran the place was going for a kind of Rasta feel, and we were a little surprised to hear some Aussie hip-hop on the stereo. I braved the chicken curry (despite her warnings of near-lethal heat) and found it to be a mild affair, suitable for children or those recovering from surgery. Jenny had some pumpkin soup - and it was served with some home-made soda bread. Once Jen raved about the deliciousness of said bread, the owner lost her carefully construed new-age aloofness and grinned with delight.
All warmed up with our lunches, we grit our teeth and set out for Gin Ga No Taki falls. The wind-chill and driving rain not enough to dissuade us - we jumped out of the car for some happy snaps. Joshie was not amused, and dragged us into a nearby souvenir shop to thaw out. We decided to head back to the Hotel, as the rigidly-set 3pm check-in time had finally passed. The entire place had transformed, lights were blazing, there were 3 or 4 staff in the car park alone - handing out umbrellas and desperate to assist us inside. The grumpy guy Jen first encountered earlier in the day must have been shunted off into the basement - and replaced with the most earnest folk we'd seen all day.
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| Wet, hypothermic and looking smashing in our wet-weather gear. |
The room is amazing, with views of the Gorge and the rapids below. In the lift back to our room (after partaking of a scrumptious dinner at the in-house restaurant) the kids managed to kick off an international incident by greeting a Taiwanese couple with a friendly 'Konichiwa!'. After the pair tersely noted that they were not from Japan, I responded with an equally-serious, 'We aren't from Japan either." The ensuing pause, and subsequent big grin by the gentleman leads me to believe that dry humour is alive and well in Taiwan (and that our Ambassadors needn't be recalled).
