Day 3: 摩周湖 or the Magic Hidden Lake

Bella and the Sea of Okhotsk 

 Yamagiwa-San was waiting for us outside the pension, a cigarette in hand. He'd been up since 4.30am as usual to walk the dogs in the dark.

We all drove together in convoy towards the Shiretoko Natural Park, a place so remote the road simply stops after 20km or so from Abashiri. The sea was wild and grey; the clouds low over the mountains. At each stop, we scurried from the car to the souvenir shops, too cold to stand outside and peer at the mountains for very long.

Salmon Chip Ice Cream. Everything was salmon flavoured.

There were signs in the toilet warning you not to feed the bears. Northern foxes darted out onto the road and vanished into the shrubs. A huge stag stood at the edge of the road and watched the cars driving towards him, before elegantly jumping the roadside fence and loping away.

A famous waterfall the name of which I've forgotten.

 It was cold. But the dogs were curious. Bill would tap the window with his tiny sausage-dog paw every five minutes or so and Yamagiwa-San would open the window so he could stick his nose outside. The wind blasted the back of the car where Ellie and I sat; the rain spitting on the edges of the seat. Sorry! Sorry! said Yamagiwa-San, but you'll have to grin and bear it, I'm afraid. For the sake of the dogs. As you can imagine, I spent most of the car journey glaring at Bill every time he raised his little paw to the window, muttering - don't you dare, don't you dare! But he did dare. And Ellie and I, wrapped in coats and scarves, were at the mercy of these tiny dogs. 

cold and windy

On the final sightseeing stop, we were driven up and up on winding mountain roads to a mysterious destination everyone referred to as 'Mashuko'. Apparently, it was not clear whether we would even be able to see Mashuko, as it was more often than note entirely concealed by fog and cloud, even on sunny days.

However, we were lucky.

The Magic Lake

It was a beautiful deep blue lake embedded within a Volcanic crater, perfectly hugged by sheer rock and cliffs. The sides of which were studded with bare trees - a landscape I'd never seen before.  

View from the other side, over towards Shiretoko Peninsula

After seeing Mashuko, I was calm and happy inside. Satisfied with what I'd seen, I suppose - a charmed and content tourist. We were dropped off at our guesthouse and said goodbye to Yamagiwa-San's student and her family - who kindly gave us gifts (we had none to give them, of course. Awkward) and invited us to visit them in Nagoya. 

The first thing I did was get into a (shared) hot bath and warmed my frozen bones. The guesthouse - a rustic hostel in the middle of nowhere - was full of men in their thirties and forties on their own, all hobbyists of one kind or another -  cameramen, horse-riders, bird-watchers, cloud-spotters - who proceeded to show us all the photos they had taken over the weekend over dinner. They were astounded at our use of chopsticks and our ordering of sake (Do you like Japanese sake? Yes, it's why we ordered it. Do you drink sake? Yes, it's what we're doing now. Do you like Japan? Yes. Can you eat Natto? Yes. This is Miso Soup. Do you drink Miso Soup? And so on.) 

But I'll complain about this another time. 

We were woken up at 6am by a hobbyist shamisen player who stood alone at the edge of the field outside, singing and plucking out quick melodies in his pyjamas.