At 78, the Path to Hakusan Okumiya—It Was a Pilgrimage of Prayer, Not a Fun Hike

When reading accounts of climbing Mount Hakusan online, many articles say, "The scenery was wonderful,"
"It was easier to climb than I thought," or "The flowers were beautiful."

Of course, I believe those things are true.
However, my experience of Hakusan was a little different.

The goal was not the climb itself.
To visit the Hakusan Okumiya and receive a goshuin (temple/shrine seal).
That was the purpose of this climb.

When I was 70, I climbed Mount Fuji with the goal of worshipping at the Fujisan Hongu Sengen Taisha Okumiya.

At that time, I thought, "I suppose that's it for big mountains."
However, after that, the term 'Three Sacred Mountains' began to weigh on my mind.

Mount Fuji.
Mount Hakusan.
Mount Tateyama.

I had climbed Mount Fuji.
I have visited Murodo on Mount Tateyama from both the Nagano and Toyama sides.
And that left Hakusan.

"I want to go to the Hakusan Okumiya on my own two feet."
That thought pushed me forward when I turned 78.

However, I am not a serious mountaineer.
My usual exercise is just walking around the botanical garden.
I had not undergone sufficient training for mountain climbing.

I think my prerequisites were quite different from the Hakusan climbing logs I see online.
On the ascent via the Sabo Shindo trail, I didn't feel much of a problem in terms of my heart and lungs.
However, when I arrived at Murodo and tried to take off my gaiters, my legs felt like they were about to cramp everywhere.

I was careful about hydration.
But I think I lacked replenishment of electrolytes, such as salt, lost through sweat.
After resting for a while, the symptoms subsided.

At that moment, I realized that "water alone is sometimes not enough in the mountains."
The next morning, I headed to the Hakusan Okumiya.
When I stood there and received the goshuin, I finally felt that I had truly made it.

This goshuin is not just a souvenir.

The long climb.
Tired legs.
The anxiety I felt along the way.
It was proof of my own summit, including all of those things.

And what was painful was actually the descent.

Especially the Kanko Shindo trail.

In online articles, it is often introduced as a "trail with wonderful views."
The scenery was indeed wonderful.
But for me, rather than having the luxury of enjoying the scenery, the tension of
"Where should I place my next step?"
"Will I lose my footing?"
"Will I fall?"

was greater.
On the rocky terrain, every step was taken with caution.
The ascent is a battle of physical strength.
The descent is a battle of leg strength and judgment.

In particular,
the strength to extend my legs while supporting my weight from a bent-knee position was reaching its limit.

I understood firsthand what it meant for the quadriceps to scream during a descent.
Therefore, my climb of Mount Hakusan is a little different from a 'fun hiking log'.

But that is precisely why I think it was valuable.
At 78, with limited mountaineering experience, I faced the sacred mountain of Hakusan.

It was not about climbing fast.
It was not about walking like young people.
It was about reaching the destination on my own two feet, at my own pace.

That was what this Hakusan trip was for me.
This might be the end of my major mountain climbing.

However, I was able to visit two sacred mountains, Mount Fuji and Mount Hakusan, on my own feet.

From now on, rather than journeys aimed at reaching summits, I want to think about why mountains became objects of faith and what the people who lived there felt.

I want to enjoy traveling around local shrines and ruins while thinking about such things.
The goshuin (shrine seal) from Hakusan Okumiya also marks a milestone for that new journey.