この前の火曜日、山を歩くのは初めての女性と山へ行った。そこは、住宅街からそのまま山へと入っていくような、小さな町の裏山だったが、最初の登りがそうした山にありがちな長い階段だった。まだ暑い日だったこともあり、彼女は単調な階段にうんざりしてしまったのか、最後の一段を上がるとぐったりとして、口も利けなくなってしまった。
登りついた上はお寺になっていて、見晴らしもよく、風もよく通る。遠くには富士山が青く、海も平らに見えて、これが裏山かと思うほど気持ちがいい。しかし彼女はそんなものなど目に入らないらしく、お寺の庇（ひさし）の陰に座りこんで下を向いてしまった。この先は土の地面になり、より歩きにくい山道が続くのに、大丈夫だろうかと不安になる。それでもやめるとは言わなかったので、ゆっくりとまた歩き始めた。
ところが、山道に入ってしばらくすると、彼女は水を得た魚のように元気を取り戻し、「子どもの頃を思い出しますね。学校から帰るとき、冒険だって言って、こんなふうに近所の山のなかをわざと通ったりしました」と嬉しそうに目を輝かせて言う。ふだんアスファルトの舗装路ばかり歩いている私たちは、土の道になると喜ぶ人と、歩きにくいと嫌がる人とふた通りに分かれるが、彼女は意外や前者であった。先ほどまでの階段もコンクリートだったから、嫌だったのかもしれない。
あたりはうっそうとした森に囲まれていて、なだらかな木陰の道は思いのほか涼しい。途中休憩して、頭上に抜けた空を見ていると、彼女が突然、「あっ、あれ、あの実覚えてる！」と叫んだ。視線の先には、木の枝にからまるようにして紫の実をたわわにつけた植物がもうもうと茂っている。「あの実で色水を作ったんです、実を搾ると水が紫色に染まって、きれいなんですよ。でもお洋服につくと取れないんですよね」と言い、名前を忘れてしまったと考え込んでいる。私も彼女の言っている植物を目にして、それがなにかはよくわかっていて、今でも街の空き地などで時折見かけるもので、おまけに私も大好きな植物なのだが、名前が出てこない。こんな大事なときに名前が出てこないなんて、自分がいまいましくて気が遠くなりそうだ。まさに頭蓋骨のなかで脳みそを絞るようにして考えて、最後の三文字のゴボウが出てきて、ヨウシュヤマゴボウじゃないですか？ と私は叫んだ。彼女は満面の笑みを浮かべて「そう！ ヨウシュヤマゴボウ」と叫んだ。「20年ぶりに思い出しました！ ヨウシュヤマゴボウ！ 昔はあんなに毎日言っていたのに、忘れてた！」私たちはふたりで手を取り合わんばかりに喜び、笑い合った。
それからも、私たちは一緒に前になり後ろになり歩いていき、いろいろな木を見たり、花を見たり、蝶を見たりした。そして夕方になって下り着き、彼女は今日はとても楽しかった、ヨウシュヤマゴボウを思い出せてよかったと言った。私はその言葉が本当に嬉しかった。山登りなんて、それでいいのだ。それで充分なのだ。充分すぎるほどだ。山には忘れていた昔の友達がいる。
The other Tuesday, I went to a mountain with a woman who was climbing one for the first time. It was a mountain behind a small town that you can go to directly from the residential neighborhoods. The first part of the climb was a long staircase that is common of such mountains. It was still hot then and she seemed fed up with the tedious staircase, so that when she reached the final step, she collapsed in exhaustion, unable to say anything.
The top of the mountain we had just climbed was a Buddhist temple, the view was spectacular and the draft was good. Mt. Fuji in the distance was blue and reflecting on the surface of the ocean. It was so spectacular that I couldn't believe it was a mountain behind a town. However, the woman didn't view any of these things; she sat in the shade of the eaves of the temple with her head down. We had a ground of soil and an even more difficult mountain trail to walk ahead of us. I worried whether or not we'd be okay. Yet she did not say she had given up, so we started walking it again slowly.
Shortly after we had gotten on the trail, her energy came back like a fish that was put back into the water. “It reminds me of my childhood. On our way back from school we'd say we were on an adventure and purposely go through the mountains in our neighborhood like this,” she said happily with a glitter in her eyes. We normally walk on nothing but asphalt pavements so that when we go on dirt paths two types of people emerge: those who love it and those who hate it because it's hard to walk on. She was, to my surprise, one of the former. The staircase we had just climbed was concrete, which she might have hated.
The area was surrounded by a thick forest and the tree-shaded and gentle trail was surprisingly cool. We stopped for a break part way. We looked up at the sky above us and she suddenly shouted, “Oh, oh! I remember that fruit!” There was a thick plant with a purple fruit twining along its branches before her eyes. “I made colored water with it. When you squeeze it over water it dyes the water purple and is beautiful! But you can't get it out of your clothes if you stain them...” she said, caught in thought that she had forgotten its name. I looked at the plant she was talking about. I was very familiar with it, having occasionally seen it in empty lots in town, and I also loved it but I couldn't remember its name. I felt damned and overwhelmed that its name wouldn't come to me at such an important time. I racked my brains, the last three 'eed' came to me and then I shouted, “Pokeweed berries!” She grinned ear-to-ear and said, “That's it! Pokeweed berries! I haven't thought of them for 20 years. Pokeweed berries! I used to talk about them so much and yet I had forgotten their name!” We laughed with joy, about to join hands.
We walked on together in front and behind each other, looking at many trees, flowers and butterflies. In the evening we descended and she thanked me for today, saying that she had had fun and was glad we could remember the name of the Pokeweed berries. I was overjoyed by her words. It's enough just to go mountain climbing. It's satisfying. It's more than satisfying. I have an old, long-forgotten friend on the mountain.
