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Minami Alps NP, Yamanashi
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Jizodake’s “Obelisk” is natural rock, not a monument, and pale granite makes the summits look snow-covered even in summer. Walter Weston is credited with the pinnacle’s first recorded climb in 1904.
At Jizodake’s Sai-no-Kawara, families carried one Jizō home while praying for a child, then returned with two if the wish came true. Since the 1980s, Hakuho-kai climbers have carried about 20 more statues uphill to sustain the custom.
Around May, snowmelt on Kannon’s east face reveals a dark bull called Nōushi. Farmers around Nirasaki watched for its appearance as a cue that rice-planting work should begin—a natural seasonal calendar.
Hōō-goya’s curry dinners began in 1961. Before helicopter resupply, each overnight guest brought 3 go—about 540 mL—of rice; busy nights meant cooking 15 or 16 mess tins at once over a wood fire.
In 1906, climber and oil chemist Tsujimoto Mitsumaru found Hōō-shajin, an endemic flower of this range. Its purple, bell-shaped blossoms droop from granite rocks—a botanical treasure among the pale peaks.
The trio’s names carry distinct meanings: Jizō is associated with protecting children and travelers, Kannon with compassion, and Yakushi with healing and medicine. The ridge’s names read like a small Buddhist pilgrimage.
The 1814 Kai Kokushi describes pilgrims purifying themselves at a waterfall before climbing Hōō. It records the belief that ignoring this rite could bring bad weather or a poor harvest—not a forecast, but a striking old mountain taboo.
Nirasaki shrine priest Ikuyama Masakata climbed Hōō in 1824 and left an account titled “Ōtorigatake ni asobu ki.” This local record of a mountain climb predates Walter Weston’s 1904 ascent of Jizodake’s pinnacle by 80 years.
Old records variously used “Hōōzan” for one peak, two peaks, or all three. In 1902, a government surveyor noted that even today’s highest summit was called Kannon, Yakushi, Naka, or Nōushi by different local informants.
One traditional explanation sees Jizodake’s rock spire as a phoenix’s beak and the ridge as its wings. Another legend links “Hōō” to “Dharma King”; local mountain historians identify that as folklore, not settled word history.
A flash flood swept away Hōō-goya in 1959, just as 18-year-old Koichi Hosoda joined the hut. The crew rebuilt it the next year without helicopters or chainsaws, hauling a 60 kg engine uphill to power a circular saw.