Today I’m in Sasebo, Nagasaki Prefecture, and there are mountains everywhere. I walk vaguely in the direction of Sasebo Yonkacho Shotengai, a shopping arcade so big that its kilometre-long length spans across seven different towns. It is actually the longest straight and continuous shopping arcade in Japan. Sasebo Tourist Information states, “The arcade is always crowded with shoppers. Some stores accept US dollars.”

As I begin to wander through the retro shopping arcade, I notice a complete lack of not just shoppers, but shops that are open. Everything here aside from stores like Seven Eleven and Family Mart are all but closed. The arcade boasts over 160 shops, including a multitude of restaurants, souvenir shops, clothing shops, as well as daily goods stores. This morning, however, shuttered down shops with no identity fill the margins of this shopping stretch. The shopping arcade does however offer free wireless Internet, and also offers a nice break from the low winter sun on what is a relatively warm winter morning.

At the other end of the arcade, Mount Yumiharidake hovers on the distant horizon.

As I further approach the mountain, a sign tells me that the summit is 3.4 kilometres away. Having just walked one kilometre through a shopping street with relative ease, I decide that this could be an enjoyable hike to the top. There is said to be an observation deck at the peak which offers some of the best views of Sasebo and its surrounding nature, so off I go.

It seems there are multiple ways up the mountain. The boring option is to hike the entire route by simply following the main road, or as I do, take some of the more interesting routes up steep steps and rocky intervals. As more and more of the paths begin to fracture and split into narrow lanes that scale upwards from the base of the mountain, interwoven homes across narrow streets littered with cats make up the first twenty minutes of the climb.

As I continue on with my ascent, and the route begins to snake more and more, light rain begins to fall. Hot from the day and the steepness of the climb I find the rain to be a welcome refreshment and decide to rest for a moment, allowing the rain to cool me down, and my heart rate to climb back down to a steady crawl.

I stop suddenly when I notice a sign telling me to watch out for snakes, but not just any snakes, mamushi, the most venomous snakes in Japan.

As I watch out for snakes, I pass under low hanging cobwebs that drift between trees across the many muddy paths. I don’t see any other people, and other than the cats, I don’t expect that I ever will. The track spirals around and into a clearing through the woods for a time, before becoming a path again.

A little later, I pass a rather small cave carved into the rocks, I’m not sure if this is part of the climb or not, but it looks ominous, as if some unnamed horror is lurking inside. I take out my phone to capture the cave, before turning on my torch. As I bring the light to the entrance, I hear something inside begin to rustle around, perhaps a snake, and my heart begins to race, its beats increasing and repeating, an octave at a time, like an endlessly rising Bach canon fit for a king.

After taking an alternative route, I eventually reach a road where bamboo stretches off to the side, bamboo so tall that it descends deep below the road, stretching off into a distant obscurity.

Further along the road I see a sign telling me to, “Keep Out!” and below the sign is a huge drop, and I wonder who this sign is even for. Eventually, I see another sign for a car park, 300 metres away, and breathe a sigh of relief in knowing that I’m almost at the top. A third sign explains that gun hunting is prohibited in this area, perhaps the reason for the abundance of snakes.

Finally the mountain path opens up, to reveal a stunning view of the city and landscapes beyond. Its US navy base below with its massive boats. Other mountains bulge up over the horizon, the view somewhat washed white by the falling rain. Over to the west, a large labyrinth of small islands, the Kujukushima Islands, its name meaning 99 islands, but also meaning too many islands to count (there are exactly 208).

A short stroll up some stone steps, and over a small bridge, and I arrive at the Yumiharidake Observation Deck. The deck offers a nice panoramic view from atop this 364-metre tall mountain. I stand for a while, taking in the view.

A sign tells me that I can enjoy the scenery during the day as well as at night, however, I would be more fearful of climbing at night, just because it would make it especially harder to detect the snakes. The night view though is apparently amazing, and really brings out the lights of the city. There is also a free shuttle bus to the top of the mountain at regular intervals throughout the day.

I head over to the bus stop and wait. After about ten minutes, I do finally see another human being, a Japanese man pulls up beside me in his car. “No bus today,” he says. I ask him whether that’s because today is Sunday, however, he just repeats himself and says, “No bus today,” for a second time. I feel a little disappointed but before I can reply, the man points to himself and says, “Drive my car.” I tell him that I can’t drive, but this is of course not what he meant.

I sit in the back, and luckily he drives. The open window offers a refreshing breeze. After a very brief conversation in English about whether or not I know King Charles, our chat abruptly ends, so I take out my book. Men Without Women, a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami. As we slowly descend, crawling down the mountain path, the free shuttle bus to Sasebo Station overtakes us from behind.