The mountain burns

Catching up now, after a wonderful week of holiday with the Bear.

What a day! We got up at 6am to speed across the bottom of Aso caldera and up one of its smooth slopes in time to catch the rising sun. Arriving just in time, it rose in the time it took me to change lens. I would have blipped it, and indeed had a sore time choosing today's blip, but for what happened after the sun had climbed into the sky.

Today we were meant to go to Takachiho gorge, but, after a late night of origami and bumbling Japanese (on my part) at our hostel, Asobi Gokoro, we were convinced to stay behind in Aso and witness the festival of Noyaki. This annual rite of Spring has been adhered to for the past 1000 years, and is essential to maintain the grasslands of the area and prevent large trees from leeching the soil of moisture (for six out of nine of Kyushu's main rivers flow from this volcanic region). All over the slopes, huge fires climb into the smoky air, leaving behind blackened ground, ready for rebirth.

Luke and I were lucky enough (the theme of the holiday!) to catch a ride with a local man - dangerously! - close to the flames, which was very exciting. It all felt very surreal, cruising along whilst the radio crooned 'Baby I'm Stuck on You' and burnt grass rained down around. Everywhere was smoke and fire, and in the air the sweet smell of burning hay. The light through the darkened day was a curious shade of luminous yellow, unlike I'd ever seen before.

Afterwards, I introduced Luke to the joys of Tommy Cooper, and missed my Dad lots. An evening bus ride to Kumamoto once more, and a long search on a Sunday night for Karashi Renkon, a mustard-filled lotus root dish that is the speciality of the city, and for which Luke had suddenly developed a powerful and all-consuming passion to sample. To sleep in a tiny tatami-ed room, ready for the next day.