Can I Charge It?

There's a Mitsubishi car showroom near my office, and they've recently put a charger for electric cars outside in front, where they usually put a couple of display vehicles.
I'm not really sure if the charger--which looks a lot like a gas station pump, if you haven't seen one yet--is actually functional or just for display. I'm told that a "quick" charge takes about 30 minutes, though, and since that's longer than most motorists would consider spending in a gas station unless they're waiting for a wash and wax job, I rather doubt that it's intended for regular retail use. Maybe they use it to charge their electric car display models.

It got me thinking, though, about what happens if you're driving an electric vehicle and you happen to run out of power when you're not anywhere near a charger. I've known several people who ran out of gas out in the country somewhere, up in the mountains miles from a town, say, and had to walk or hitchhike to a gas stand to get a can of gasoline to take back and put in the car so they could drive to the station and get the car filled, or else had to call AAA in the States or JAF here in Japan, to get a road service guy to come bring some gas.

I don't see how it could possibly be that simple if your electric car loses the last of its charge in some remote spot. Do you have to push the vehicle to the nearest charging station? Since I have yet to see any charging stations other than the one in front of that showroom, that doesn't seem very practical.

High Risks

Earlier this week, I wrote my weekly article about the risks associated with climbing Mount Fuji. Just a few hours after I'd submitted it, the TV news began broadcasting the story of climbers trapped by sudden bad weather in the mountains of Hokkaido.

It sounded grim for the party of people, most apparently in their sixties but also mostly experienced mountain trekkers. Initial reports from guides by cell phone and e-mail were very discouraging, and with near-zero (Celsius) temperatures accompanied by 70 to 90 kph winds, that's not surprising.

Reports today when weather cleared enough for rescuers to reach them said a total of 10 people died, nine (including one of the guides) on 2,141-meter Mount Tomuraushi and one on another relatively nearby mountain.

Judging from the video clips, and statements from survivors and rescuers, it seems that the trekkers--even though some had as much as 20 years' experience--were too lightly dressed and insufficiently equipped to deal with unseasonably cold, wet, and windy weather, particularly after having already hiked for several hours. All of the details aren't in yet, and it's pretty pointless to reiterate all the statements of the many experts trotted out by the media every time some disaster takes place ("older people are more susceptible to hypothermia", for example). Older people climb Mount Everest, too, but they do it well prepared and well equipped.

I saw only a couple of small nylon alpine tents deployed in the middle of sweeping high altitude expanses with virtually no natural shelter, and Japan Self Defense Force rescuers mentioned that some of the climbers seem to have tried to stay warm with portable cooking stoves. It appears that the guides may have carried tents--they looked like one of my 4-person alpine tents--but not enough for all of the party, and apparently nobody had sleeping bags or even emergency "space blankets".

One of the survivors has been quoted as saying that the tour should have been cancelled, and he may well be right, but it does seem that the weather--often unpredictable and changeable in the mountains--closed in after they were well on their way. The guides apparently thought it safer to press on than to turn back.

I used to be a guide for mountain trekking tours, although both I and the customers were considerably younger and fitter then than these parties seem to have been. I sympathize with the guides,at least a little bit: it can be a tough call when you're trying to choose among bad alternatives for the most survivable one.

Hindsight's great regarding how one should be equipped, too, I know. They were on a pretty long trek in pretty high country, evidently intending to end up in an onsen (hot spring spa) rather than stuck up near a mountain peak, and carrying sufficient tents and sleeping bags for everyone would have meant risking debilitation of the customers...also not a real good idea on a long mountain trek.

But this still seems to have been a case of badly underestimating the potential risk, and I'm afraid that we're going to see more of this type of accident, since mountain trekking has become very popular, especially for retirees. Tour companies are naturally jumping aboard the trend train, and safety isn't always the first thing on their minds. Maybe this tragedy will cause some reconsideration of details--especially equipment and probably also time & distance planning--for future tours.

Incidentally, I don't mean to imply that the trekkers' age is necessarily the only--or even the main--risk factor involved. The only person I knew personally who died climbing Fuji-san was a young teacher, and the several times that the Grim Reaper's scythe gave me a near miss in the mountains were all when I was in my twenties. I was quite well-equipped, too, although probably insufficiently wary.

In any case, it's a bad idea to underestimate the mountains.

Thieves, Tanuki and Turtles

I see that last week a fellow named Kimura was arrested for trying to steal a ceramic tanuki (raccoon dog) from the garden of a home in Toyohashi, near Nagoya. 

It seems that a homeowner caught him with a ceramic frog in his hands, and the 70 centimeter tanuki in his bicycle basket, late last Wednesday night. When the police later searched Kimura’s home, they found 15 more tanuki statues along with some ceramic dogs and frogs, for a total of 30-odd items.

Kimura, who lives alone, claimed to police that he was lonely since the deaths of his father and brother, so he had been stealing the animal garden ornaments for the last year or so, to have someone to talk to.

In another country, I suppose it might have been garden gnomes, or maybe the flamingos that used to adorn many lawns in California when I was growing up.

I haven't been in Toyohashi for many years, but I doubt that it has changed much since my last visit. At the time, as is the case with many Japanese cities, there were plenty of stray cats around. Befriending one of them and caring for it would seem preferable to talking to garden ornaments.

Actually, my first reaction to the story was that he should be put in touch with the people who found an alligator snapping turtle in nearby Nagoya the week before Kimura's arrest. Maybe they'd let him keep the 37 kilogram turtle as a pet, or enlist his assistance in catching the other one that got away.

Dunder and Blixem

I've written elsewhere about the rainy season; the one that has just begun here in Kanto seems to have brought an unusual amount of thunder and lightning with it. I usually expect thunderstorms later in the summer, but there have been some pretty dramatic ones in the last couple of weeks, and some real downpours reminiscent of tropical squalls.

In the last couple of years the so-called "guerrilla rains"-- abrupt, violent, unpredictable, localized heavy rains--have caused several fatal accidents, and recently a lightning strike caused a fire that burned a house down. Not long ago I read of a fellow who was killed when lightning struck him on the highway as he was commuting by motorcycle.

So, although I'm not unaware that there's an..ahem...element of danger involved, in general, I really like thunderstorms. I like the feeling of charged tension in the air, and I like the flash and crash of the lightning and the rumbling of the thunder. If I'm inside, I like the pounding of the rain on roofs or the rapid-fire rattle of hail.

One of the most memorable experiences of my life was when, on one of many climbs of Mt. Fuji, I had the unusual opportunity of standing high up on the mountain, looking down into the top of a thunderstorm that was savaging the lower slopes. The grape-sized hail and the head-sized ball of electricity that slid down a mountain hut's phone line and destroyed the telephone came later that day, and were only slightly less memorable.

One of the most exciting experiences was driving over a pass from Aomori to Akita through a particularly aggressive thunderstorm, with frequent and close lashings of lightning making me wonder what would happen if one were to hit the four large, metal, full gasoline cans I had on the car's roof. The term "blaze of glory" came immediately to mind.

No matter how much I enjoy thunderstorms, though, I can't really say that I like riding a bike through one, particularly wearing only marginal rain gear. I usually try to avoid that, but I'm not always successful.

Yesterday the weather was forecast to have a 70% chance of rain in the evening. I decided to take a chance and ride the bike, because I wanted to have it available this morning for a doctor's appointment at a hospital that's really inconvenient to reach by train. When I left the office it was raining, so a couple of colleagues and I took shelter in a nice little wine bar/restaurant behind my office, to wait out the squall: I thought that it might stop later on for long enough to keep me dry until I reached my fairly close destination. It looked as if I'd made a good call, too, since after an hour or so it stopped raining and actually looked as if it was clearing, if you ignored some flashing and rumbling.

Regardless of the absence of rain, I should have paid attention to the flashes and rumbles. I only got about three kilometers down the road before the deluge began, and I was soaked through before I'd gone another klick. I almost made it, but almost isn't good enough. My waterproof vest (Why would anyone make a sleeveless waterproof garment?) kept out the water fairly well, as did the water resistant windbreaker I wore under it. This was no ordinary gentle shower, though, so water ran down the curve of my helmet and into my collar and down my back and chest. The rain also forced its way through the zippers on the pockets of the vest, soaking everything inside. My jeans were, naturally, drenched, as was everything in my pockets--my wallet looked as if it had gone through the washing machine--and as were my sneakers and socks.

This morning the weather was beautifully sunny and warm, and the air had that clear, clean quality that--in Tokyo, anyway--you only see after a major rain. As I rode toward the hospital, I admired all the hydrangeas in bloom (hydrangeas are a special favorite of mine), and tried to ignore the ominous rainclouds on the horizon. It's supposed to rain tonight, too, but I'm betting that I can get out of the office and to my destination before tonight's storm begins.

[If you don't understand the title, you might want to look here.]

Roundabout

My old friend and comrade in long-ago adventures centered around San Diego, California, and points south, is now a respectable retired naval officer working and living in the US Pacific Northwest. He astonished me by inquiring about the recent scarcity of my blog posts: I didn't think that anyone was paying attention.

Then my friend pointed me to a blog by a fellow here in Japan of whom I had been unaware, who mentioned my weekly column--a sort of quasi-blog--and whose post caused me further astonishment by saying that he'd read through most of the five years' worth of posts. He's good, and a much more prolific blogger than I am...and I'm sorry if that sounds as if I'm damning with faint praise.

There's no real reason for surprise, of course, but I still find it amusing that my old Navy buddy (who, by the way, lived in Japan for a while...a fact of which I was at the time unfortunately ignorant) on the other side of the Pacific came across a local mention of me before I did.

Not profound, I know. Nothing to see here. Move along...

Viking Bilking

There has been a Baltic Curry shop across the street and a little down the block from my office for years. I never bought anything there, although I often wondered how the logo of a viking and the Baltic Sea related to curry. Colleagues have said that the take-out curry's not bad for a change of pace lunch, but I never got around to trying it.

Now I see that they've gone out of business. The article makes it sound as if the owners of the chain were crooks, but it also makes me wonder how careless the investors in the 2006/'07 deal must have been, when Baltic already had a problem in 2003.

It's true that I hadn't heard about either of the problems, nor had I noticed that the chain failed six months ago. I did vaguely wonder why a completely different curry shop had opened last fall, right next door to Baltic. I rarely walk on that side of the street, though.

And I'm unlikely--even if I had the money--to invest in a chain of curry shops with a name like Baltic and a viking for a logo.

Surprise Birthday Present

I just received an e-mail message from an old and very dear friend with whom I'd lost touch for nearly 40 years. She came across my sister's name on classmates.com (they went to the same high school) and got my e-mail address from her.

I'd been trying unsuccessfully to find her on the 'net for years, and hearing from her today was one of the best birthday presents I've had in a very long time. :)