The 'contrast' I alluded to in my previous blog was a reference to the Saturday after Friday's visit to Sapporo. After eight hours of unrelenting urbanity, my sensitive soul cried out for the high mountains and blue skies of Muroran.
Kind of.
It was a nice morning, I didn't have much else to do and Sanae felt guilty after her day of department store indulgence, so she let me head to the hills for a couple of hours. So up Mt. Muroran I went. I wasn't alone. According to the register kept at the hut at the start of the climb, there were 42 other fellow climbers wending their way up and down the mountain. Of these 24 were over 60 years of age, with the oldest a sprightly 82. And he started off at 7.30 in the morning when the twinkly TV weather woman told us the temperature in Muroran was -4. Now, that was down at sea-level, so up here it would have been closer to -8. And he got up and down in just over two hours, which, if you consider Mt. Muroran is only a 120 metres or so lower than Carrauntoohil, was pretty impressive.
Anyway, not only did I enjoy the climb, the scenery, and the fresh air, I also enjoyed being the third youngest person on the mountain.
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