Dear Tales from Tokyo Readers: Let’s take a little field trip away from Tokyo this week. I want to share our outing this past Saturday to see a whole lot of cute monkeys. You with me?
For many people, hiking the rustic mile-long path to where the snow monkeys of Nagano live is part of the fun. For me? Not so much. I’m more inclined to agree with the people who named the area Jigokudani Yaen-koen, or Hell’s Valley, because it is home to hot mountain springs and steep cliffs. The monkeys were fantastic but the walk there made me very, very nervous.
The slick path was packed with three to five inches of snow and frosted by a layer of ice. My husband, Wil, held our son Liam’s hand, keeping him on the inner edge of the hill, and I trudged behind them. Snowfall had deposited a crisp layer of white on the mountain side, a thick blanket draped beneath the forest of upright pine trees. The air was cool, but not sharp. We walked in silence although my heart kept up a steady banging in my chest, clanging louder every time I stupidly glanced sideways at the slope beside us.
The path wasn’t dangerous. It was wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Middle-aged, overweight American women were shuffling along it. Small kids, even smaller than my child, were traipsing along it. A few silly Japanese teen-agers did it in heels. But still, it was beyond my usual comfort zone. I’m leery of heights. Plummeting off of a mountain-side in Nagano, Japan, is not on my bucket list.
But seeing the monkeys was on my list. So, trudge on I did, taking small, careful steps until the path wound its way to where the monkeys play. I’m fearful, but stubborn, and when I’m in travel mode, I’m a lot more inclined to face my fears.
We Americans like to call them “snow monkeys” but more properly, they are Japanese Macaques. They congregate in the Yokuyu river valley and relax in hot springs. You’ve probably heard of them. These are the wild monkeys that aren’t afraid of the tourists who visit them each winter. We were warned by our tour guide, forcefully, to follow a few rules. One: Don’t touch them because they will bite and scratch. Two: Don’t bring any food with us. Three: Don’t stare directly into their eyes unless you feel like issuing them a challenge. (Please see Rule One for why that’s a bad idea.) Otherwise, we weren’t restricted in any way.
That means, folks, no enclosure. Just us and the monkeys with nothing between us. (Plus a lot of other people: It’s not exactly a private, unvisited, wilderness.)
Remember that little issue I have with fear? Yup. Wild animals tend to make me nervous, too. Especially ones scampering around near my feet or over my head. At first, at least, I was a little freaked. I know the monkeys aren’t known for jumping on people, but a little part of my brain was saying, on repeat: “What if one jumps on me? What if one jumps on me?”
Good news: None of the monkeys jumped on any humans on Saturday. They did a lot of jumping. On each other. On boulders. On the mountain side. But not on me. Or Wil. Or Liam. (Thank God!)
Okay. So past the fear, how was it? Awesome! They’re beautiful creatures and I couldn’t help but feel in awe of them. Those faces are so like our own, it’s almost unnerving. I stood just a foot away from a mommy monkey as she cuddled her baby monkey. Two other monkeys curled up around each other and spooned, each closing their eyes in oblivion to the humans a step away, snapping pictures of their nap. We knelt down and watched them as they swam and lounged in their hot pool onsen.
Liam was enthralled. We call him “Monkey” quite a bit, so one could say, he was in his element. What 5-year-old kid wouldn’t love to spend nearly two hours in the company of monkeys? His father and mother were pretty psyched as well. We both took tons of photos and marveled not only at the beautiful monkeys but at the landscape where they live.
Ah, yes, the landscape. Knowing I’d be taking my baby steps and that we have our kid in tow, we left a little early for the walk back along the snowy path. We didn’t relish the idea of missing our tour bus for the three hour drive back to Tokyo. I took a deep breath and off we went. You know the good thing about facing your fears? Once you’ve done it, it gets easier. On the walk back, instead of watching my feet so much and gulping every time I looked down the steep hillside, I relaxed. I basked in my new status as the kind of woman who hangs out with snow monkeys and hikes a mountain in the winter. My heart was quieter, and happier, for our return trip.