Bear Accompany SARAH MARSHALL as she gets in touch with nature on a relaxing trip to ‘Japan’s Alps’
IN MOST places, bears make their presence known with a grunt or a growl. In the forests around Japanese town Karuizawa, however, the only audible evidence of their existence is a series of beeps. Holding a telemetry device beneath the crumpled Akaishi Mountains, wildlife researcher Tamatani Hiroo is tracking one of 30 collared Asian black bears being monitored in this area.
“That’s Ikaru,” he says, pointing to swathes of forest so dense they roll like emerald waves. “She’s been moving around that area for the last few years.”
Tamatani estimates the 23-year-old female is only 100 metres away, yet we don’t even catch a glimpse of her fur. Although black bears shift regularly through these woodlands, which run uninterrupted for more than 200km from the neighbouring Niigata Prefecture, they’re rarely seen – and the Picchio Wildlife Research Centre would like to keep it that way.
A 60-minute bullet train ride from Tokyo, Karuizawa is a retreat town in the Japanese Alps; a cross between Wimbledon and the Hamptons. Western-style villas nestle among its pine and larch forests, while its boulevards are lined with patisseries and boutiques. John Lennon spent time here with Yoko Ono in the 1970s.
A former post station on the Nakasendo Highway, which connected Edo – modern-day Tokyo – with Kyoto from the 17th to mid-19th century, its lack of arable land saw it fade out of favour.
But in the 1800s, missionaries moved in, drawn by the cool mountain air and promise of endless sunny days in winter, giving the town a cosmopolitan character.
Ornithologists were also attracted by the 80 species of bird found here, and in 1974, the Karuizawa Wild Birds Sanctuary became the first protected area of its kind in Japan.
For years, people were able to live in harmony with their environment but increasing human encroachment has had an impact.
“Until the 1990s, we never had a bear problem,” explains Picchio’s marketing director Masaya Kusube.
But when a lodge naively allowed the animals to rummage through their rubbish bins, pleasing camera-ready guests in the process, the animals became at best a nuisance, at worst a threat. In 2000, more than 200 public bins were travelled with Inside Japan, who offer the 14-night Japan Enchantment small group tour, which includes a stay in Karuizawa and some flying squirrel watching. The trip heads from Tokyo through the Japanese Alps to Kanazawa, Kyoto and Hakone national park, and costs from £5,975 per person. Click
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FLIGHTS are extra. British Airways flies to Tokyo from London from £822 return. See
Rooms at Hoshinoya Karuizawa cost from £434 with breakfast; rooms at Hoshinoya Tokyo cost from £496 with breakfast.
Visit damaged by bears. Some communities retaliated by forming vigilante groups.
Established in 1992 as an outfit offering eco-tours, Picchio has, in recent years, turned its focus to managing issues of human wildlife conflict in Karuizawa.
Masaya shows me one of 40 new public bear-proof dustbins he’s helped engineer, along with several metal drum “traps” used to safely capture the bears and transport them away from inhabited areas.
We end up at a kennel where Karelian Bear Dogs Elf and Rayla are being trained to “tree” bears. Feeling the boisterous pups’ spittle-coated teeth gripping rather too playfully around my wrist, I have the urge to shimmy up a trunk myself.
These encounters, along with Tamatani’s telemetry tracking, are all part of a new tour Picchio are planning for tourists, offering an insight into their work. Above:
Inset below:
Ironically, Japan has a longstanding connection to nature; it’s the focus of national religion, Shinto, with many deities symbolised by animals. But while hedgehog, cat and even lizard petting cafés have popped up in Tokyo, the idea of appreciating animals in the wild is still a fledgling concept.
“Perhaps because wild animals are natural, we don’t think they are so valuable,” muses Masaya when I quiz him on the subject. Crucially, he believes the key to changing attitudes lies with Westerners, whose activities have set trends since Edo times.
Later that evening, I join another tour organised by Picchio, this time watching flying squirrels, known as musasabi, make sunset glides from their nests.
We wait patiently underneath one of 12 nesting boxes for the creatures to appear and, as if on cue, they emerge 30 minutes after dusk, sailing down steep, forested slopes like enormous autumn leaves as sika deer look on.
Climbing into torchlight-fitted 4x4s, we drive to the top of the seasonal Prince Snow Resort, strewn token mounds of fake snow.
Perhaps more remarkable than the deer sightings is the city view, where only a fraction of the area dances with lights.
It demonstrates just how wild and gloriously untouched most of Karuizawa remains.