Our Hilariously Disastrous Trip to Mt. Rokko and Arima Onsen
Making the most of a chaotic hiking getaway
The gorgeous, Twilight-like descent from the ropeway station.
There’s a reason I don’t jive with overnight trips. For one, the endless laundry before and after the trip, and then there’s the daily battle of figuring out where to eat. Add a hiking excursion into the mix, and you have a recipe for two overwhelmed autistic travelers. Such was the case for my husband and myself during the last three days in Hyogo. Here’s how we managed to turn it around and enjoy ourselves anyway despite everything going wrong.
Miscommunication station
To put the blame solely on my husband is inaccurate, but I will say that he is the one who never clarified which XIV hotel location we were staying at, and it snowballed from there.
As it happens, we were not staying at the villa on top of the mountain, but rather in the center of Arima Onsen town. Based on my assumption, I’d planned to arrive at Ashiyagawa Station to the south and hike to the summit on the first day, leaving the last few kilometers into Arima Onsen for a second day of onsen-hopping and street food.
Upon learning that I’d gotten the hotel wrong, I quickly changed the itinerary to do the full 12.5-kilometer hike on the first day. A rather top-heavy itinerary, but whatever. The small matter of our luggage, however, thwarted that ambition.
Dramatically deleting the Notes app itinerary once more, I finalized the plan: drop off our luggage at the hotel, change into our hiking gear, and just do the final leg up to the summit on the first day, explore the onsen town on the second day, and chill at the hotel on the third day before departure.
Despite my husband leaving out this critical bit of information until the eleventh hour, we did stick to that last version of the itinerary, with only a dozen or so things going wrong in between.
“I’m a brave mountain man!”
These were the words my husband gleefully shouted as we walked to the trailhead that first afternoon. Outfitted with new hiking boots, Taka was ready to take on Mt. Rokko. Me? Not so much. There’s a reason why I prefer to hike or run in the morning after the pipes are clear. Post-unagi and seven train transfers, I wasn’t feeling so lightweight or springy.
Regardless, we struck out for the summit, checking our plans with the staff at the ropeway station along the way (yes, we learned from Mt. Katsuragi. Our route would take us through Momijidani, or Maple Tree Valley, to the summit.
With a name as cute as that, surely the path would be well-populated with hikers, no? While I normally enjoy solitude, my husband’s whimpering at the fact that the mountain had not somehow flattened to a height he was comfortable with dampened the vibes. Still, I tried to comfort him while simultaneously snapping pictures for this very blog post, which I had plenty of time to do because my husband was moving along at a pace that rivals only the centimeterworm (inchworm for my fellow Americans).
An hour and a half later, we came across a second group. Figuring we were somewhat near the summit, my husband asked how close we were to the ropeway. The man responded with an incredulous chuckle, explaining that the summit we were going to didn’t have a ropeway. Rather than an open field and beautiful views, this summit was more of a chains, spikes, and hope you don’t fall sort of deal.
So, who knew? A mountain can have multiple summits, and “Saikouhou,” the “saikou” part of which normally means “best,” refers instead to the highest peak.
At this, my husband insisted on giving up. It was nearing 2 p.m. and threatening to rain once again when the ground was already slick with the previous night’s heavy rainfall. My disappointment at not being able to reach the summit we were aiming for matched my disdain at having to go back down that treacherous route of loose stones and roots with tired ankles.
How did Taka cope with this news, you might wonder? By smashing his umbrella into the rock and crying for a minute. I can’t blame him, though I wonder if this falls under his definition of a “brave mountain man.”
The next morning, we “bagged the peak” via ropeway, which I’m still counting. After all that trouble, the summit was underwhelming, but the ropeway views were straight out of Twilight, which is, by the way, my barometer for autumnal scenery.
Looking at the map later on, we realized we missed a left turn at Totoya Sakanaya Road, which would’ve led us to our intended destination. In our defense, the trail was not well marked, but I apologize for all the curses lashed upon the grandpa at the ropeway station on our initial descent.
In the end, my favorite part of the hike ended up being much closer to home: Tsutsumigataki Park, the stunning waterfall just before the trail that we’d suffered so much on.
The gorgeous Tsutsumigataki waterfall.
Eat the (Japanese) rich
As I mentioned, we stayed in XIV, a members-only luxury chain resort. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not members, we just mooch off my husband’s wealthy friend’s family and pay more affordable prices than any Japanese ryokan nowadays.
This was my second time staying at an XIV location, and overall, it was a wonderful experience. The staff were all gorgeous, polite, and they made me feel like I belonged even as a working-class foreigner who obviously sticks out. It’s the old-money Japanese people who made me feel otherwise.
My other stay at XIV in Hakone is where I finally used the public onsen for the first time. With a nude sleeve to cover my tattoos and an inability to see all the nakedness without my glasses, I enjoyed the calming waters without issue and was excited to see the views of Mt. Rokko this time.
Alas, on my last day after a nice soak, some old hag must’ve reported me the second I took my wet arm sleeve off in the locker room because, while I was half naked, a staff member came up and scolded me. I didn’t have my hearing aids in at the time, but I figured it was about my tattoos, which were technically against the rules. I explained that it was my last day, and I’d covered them up the whole time as is the general rule of thumb in Japan, so I didn’t see what the issue was, after which I was asked for my name and room number. Maybe the old money last name of my husband’s best friend gave her pause to confront me further because she left after that.
Singled out in front of a bunch of old, rich, naked Japanese grandmas staring at me, I held back tears as I pulled on my clothes with shaking hands. And like a wet rat, I had to slink back to my room to style my hair because no one would give up a seat at the mirrors for me.
My husband, being Japanese and rather non-confrontational, did not bring the angry energy I wanted when he called the front desk and was told I couldn’t even use the paid private onsen with tattoos. But I did leave a one-star review in perfect Japanese, stating: “Why is one Japanese person who is offended by some covered-up drawings on my arm prioritized over me when we are paying the same fees? Do you think tattoos pollute the water? This kind of discrimination is unacceptable.”
I don’t anticipate a response, but I needed to say my piece before moving on with the rest of my day because we still had a few more hours in Arima Onsen and I wasn’t about to let some obaasan ruin it entirely.
Defeating the bad trip
The one area where I had success on this near disaster of a trip was in choosing the restaurants. From the crispy unagi at Ooyama to the aesthetic open-faced sandwiches at Sora Cafe to the spicy ramen and tteokkbokki at Rika, we ate well in Arima Onsen.
After the onsen kerfuffle, the pressure was on me to choose a delicious final meal that would lift my mood. And what better way to do that than to bring dogs into the picture? After all, it was Rocky Kanaka’s “Sitting With Dogs” videos that I’d binged in the comfy bed while I cried just that morning.
To call Fish House Cafe a dog cafe would be inaccurate, because it’s more like a cafe that happens to have three adorable mameshibas who, unlike at other animal cafes in Japan, aren’t pressured to perform for customers under questionable conditions.
In addition to the comforting presence of Rinchan, Fukuchan, and Burichan, Fish House Cafe offered a delicious-looking grilled sandwich of egg, cheese, pickles, and ham (removed for me), which was just what I was craving.
The decor and matcha latte with mameshiba art on top further cemented this as the perfect endpoint for our time in Arima Onsen. Stroking the soft fur of the sleeping Rinchan, it was easy to forget the drama on the trail and at the hotel. After one last walk through the beautiful town and across the iconic red Nene bridge, we said goodbye and headed home.
Because that’s how travel goes sometimes. You pay an arm and a leg, invest a lot of time and energy in planning and preparing for vacation, and you still end up stressed. In my case, I even forgot my expensive Gillette razor after three passes of the room, so now I’m using a disposable one I stole from another hotel. Shit happens, but you have fun anyway, and that was the motto of this trip, both a success and a hilarious failure at once.
Access:
Your access point to Mt. Rokko will greatly depend on which trail you’d prefer to hike, but this website has all the information you need to get started.
Arima Onsen is thankfully simpler to reach, albeit requiring several transfers.
From Osaka Station, take the Tokaido-Sanyo Line Special Rapid towards Himeji, getting off at Sannomiya Station. Here is where you’ll get a new ticket if you don’t have a rail pass. Then, take the Seishin-Yamate Line towards Tanigami, transferring to the Kobe Dentetsu-Arima line towards Sanda, and finally, the train from Arimaguchi Station to Arima Onsen Station.
From Nara Station, it’s the same logistics, except you’ll begin by taking the Yamatoji Line from Nara Station to Osaka Station. From Osaka to Arima Onsen takes about one hour and 13 minutes, while the journey from Nara to Arima Onsen is just over two hours.
The onsen town (which is, fun fact, the oldest onsen town in Japan!) is extremely walkable, with most hotels and restaurants located a few minutes walk from the station. As the area is quite hilly, wheelchair users will most likely need some assistance to safely maneuver around.
We visited from Monday to Wednesday, which was good for avoiding the crowds, but know that if you go on the weekdays like we did, fewer restaurants will be open.
The ropeway departs from Rokko Arima Ropeway Station at the 10, 30, and 50-minute mark every hour, so you’ll need to time your arrival accordingly. For the best view, sit in the red booths in front, especially on the way down. According to the announcer, during peak kouyou season, the wait time can be up to two hours. We just missed it this time, but the view was gorgeous nonetheless.
Regardless of whether you plan on hiking or going up via ropeway, I wish you safe travels and a less miserable trip than I had!
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