I might have finally worked out how to upload photos to my computer. I am very proud; it reminds of the day I graduated from index finger-only typing.
Anyway, I am in Aokigahara, a haunted forest growing on the lava from an old eruption of Mount Fuji. The forest keeps gaining new ghosts. According to this Vice video, 100 or so people kill themselves there every year.
The forest did not scare me, and not just because I am one tough bastard. For a place of death, there was so much life, amongst all the birdsong there was so much green determination to live. Trees were contorted into all kinds of shapes in the fight for space in the sun. And what the trees couldn’t cover, the moss did; every inch of chilled magma seemed to have some variety of soft green moss on it.
My body wandered straight along the trail but my mind went off at all angles. I have no idea where it will go next: ‘Volcanoes of the Mind’ I call it. I will write a book about it one day.
Completely unconnected, I have finally finished that book called Mountains of the Mind. It is a kind of history of the idea of mountains – mostly about people who take their minds with them on walks rather than letting them go off on sojourns into memories of bitterly contested Under 12’s football matches. It was not a foul. I definitely got the ball first.
Anyway, I am coming to the end of the walk now so I will try and reel my mind back in so we can cross the line together and say something relevant to the overarching theme of the post. No, I can’t. My mind is back, but it has forgotten to what it wanted to say in the first place. I am sure it will remember at some point, probably when I am back on those green and bare forbidding hills. Until then, enjoy the photos, the last for a long while I suspect. I’ll have forgotten how to upload them next time I post.