父不見山｜父を偲んだ人の いない今も 山だけがある

Mt. Chichibushimi. It's a mountain name that makes you want to check it. You can almost feel the scent of classical Chinese characters rising from the mountainside. This mountain straddles the border between Saitama and Gunma prefectures. It is located on the Jobu Ridge (Jome-Busan border ridge). It is commonly pronounced "tetemiezu," but on the Saitama side it is pronounced "tetemizu," and on the Gunma side it is pronounced "tetemieji (tetemeeji)." Even though it's the same characters, the sounds change softly depending on the region. It's amazing how such hard characters like classical Chinese can have such a simple sound that rolls around in your mouth. You might think this is the kind of mountain I'd be interested in. I had been interested in Mt. Chichibushimi for a while, and finally made plans to climb it, but I got caught in traffic on the highway due to two accidents that day. It took a full five hours from the time I left home to the time I arrived. If I'd left an hour earlier, this might not have happened (sob). Even though Chichibu seems close, it feels so far away. So, while I had originally planned to circle the area from Manba on the Gunma side, I quickly decided to drive to the Sugino Toge trailhead on the Saitama side and take a shorter approach. I was a little tired after five hours of driving. It didn't quite go as planned. Manba is a post town formed on the left bank of the Kanagawa River along the Jikkoku Kaido. It's a place that's also featured in a poem by poet Kihachi Ozaki. I had envisioned entering the mountains while feeling the atmosphere of the old road. So, although I've already decided somewhere in my mind that I'll revisit it from the Manba side, "First, I'll approach it once." (laughs) First, touch it. It's the initial greeting that starts a dialogue with the mountain. I don't think you have to walk everything in one go. I thought it would be enough to start by standing on this mountain of boundaries and holding its name in my heart. Mount Chifuken was a quiet peak with no view. That day, all I encountered at the summit was the sound of the wind and my own breathing. I didn't see a single person the whole time. The Chichibu mountains were peeking out from the sparse forest. The term "solitary peak" was a fitting description of its appearance. On my way back, I could see my footprints from the way there, continuing along the ridgeline where a thin layer of snow still remained. I quietly followed them as I left the mountain. My faint footprints would soon be washed away by the wind. But even so, that day I stood on that quiet peak. Photographed on: Saturday, February 14, 2026