Mount Nokogiri, Nihon-ji Temple (Jigoku-nozoki, “Hell’s Peek”) From the winter summit, gazing far beyond the sea

The handrail felt cool against my fingertips when I wrapped both hands around it. It was a January afternoon at Jigoku-nozoki on Mount Nokogiri. On the way up, I'd been looking out at the distant sea, but when I reached the rock's edge, the valley below was the first thing I saw.

I carefully peered down from behind the railing. The mountainside dropped away far beneath me. It was higher than I'd expected, and I found myself holding my breath. I thought I knew what to expect from the photos, but standing there made my heart pound in a completely different way.

When I looked up, mountains rose in layer after layer beyond the valley, and the sea stretched away behind them. Oh, I could see so far! I'd been so focused on the rocks nearby that I nearly forgot the view I'd most wanted to see.

After I'd settled down a little, I looked out over the landscape once more from behind the railing. The line where the mountains met the sea seemed so far away, no matter how long I followed it with my eyes. I felt tiny there, and the pounding in my chest slowly gave way to the happiness of having made it here.

After a while, I realized how tightly I'd been gripping the handrail. I'd come to see the view, but somehow I'd been shaking hands with the railing instead. I eased my grip a little and took my time looking out over the sea.

When I looked up one last time, the distant mountains and the sea were still right where they'd been. Still, they felt much closer than before. I took one last, long look, trying to commit that vast view to memory before I let go of the handrail.