What to pack on a trip to the Alps

In every guide to packing, there is the disclaimer that you will always forget to pack one thing you really should have, and pack one thing you really shouldnt have. For me, here were the two:
I definitely should have brought a toboggan
I definitely should not have brought insect repellent

I wake up bright and early for my trip to Japan`s hiking Mecca, Kamikochi. Well, I wake up bright, with the sun shining through my room, but not exactly early. The night before (at the `big piss up`), my phone ran out of batteries, and I was forced to use my iPod as an alarm clock instead. It did seem to have an alarm function, and putting every bit of faith in it, I set the alarm for 8am. I knew it wouldnt let me down, that somehow it would wake me up at the time I wished to be woken up, the trusty little iPod that it is. However, it never occurred to me that to use an iPod alarm, you need to leave the headphones in your ears...

I wake up at 9 30am, and stumble out of bed rushing to put some clothes on, then onward toward the bus stop in a sleepy haze. Unfortunately, I miss the 9 40 bus, and have to wait another hour for the next one. Damn you iPod!
However, the weather forecast as of yesterday was cloud and rain, so I was not overly fussed about getting there quickly, as I figured the hiking conditions would be below average anyway. Of course, now that I am running late, the Gods of Irony quickly play their part, and I sit on the bus for an hour and a half watching the beautiful blue sky and sunshine out the dirty bus window.

Arriving at 12 30, I am determined to get a full day of hiking in before the last bus leaves at 5pm. Buried about 50km into a national park, and unreachable except by special buses, Kamikochi has indeed earnt its reputation as one of Japan`s most beautiful places. With the sun shining down upon me, it is indeed heaven. The waters are tinted an alluring turquoise, and I fill my water bottle up along the way with water so crystal clear you can see the bottom of the lake several metres below without a trace of murkiness, and so cool and delicious I wanted to take it home and sell it to myself for $5 a bottle. And when you look up, you are completely surrounded by massive snow-covered alps, the kind of rocky mountains you see on advertisements for SUVs. Basically, anywhere you look, it is breathtaking.

As lovely as the scenery on the ground is, I did not come here to amble along the riverside like most tourists do. I have an insatiable desire to be at altitude, to be looking down at everything that surrounds me from a craggy mountains peak. I positively bound up a mountain track, sometimes even literally running up the steep inclines, powered by an unquenchable energy in my legs that I can only call youth. Two hours later, I am indeed very, very high up. Having reached the snowline long ago, I am now looking down at the turqoise lakes in the distance, and the tiny little model town where I came from. The alpine scenery of sharp rocks and perfect white snow, where not a single tree grows...all of a sudden I am there, amongst it. The clouds rush by not too far from my head...I feel satisfied with the altitude I have reached, and though I am only halfway up the massive 2900m peak I decide I have gone far enough. It is not so much the time constraint, or the pain in my legs, as the fact that the gradient has become far too steep, and climbing on icy snow at such an incline is becoming very, very dangerous. I knock a rock off and it falls...and just keeps falling, gaining speed as it goes down the slope. My shoes do their best, but simply cannot get a grip on the snow, and any time I do get a decent foothold the snow collapses beneath me and I fall knee deep into it.

There is one thing you should know about snowy inclines - they are twice as difficult to descend as they are to ascend. After a few unbelievably difficult steps, attempting to keep myself from falling down the mountain, I decide that simply walking down is literally impossible. I do not wish to attempt a different route down either, as there are bears on this mountain, and I do not wish to meet any of them. Of course, there is an ovbious, simple solution - use my backpack as a makeshift toboggan!

My first run is not particularly succesful. Having padded my valuables within spare clothing, I jump on my backpack and point down the steep white slope, and begin to gain speed. And gain more speed. And gain more speed. I had neglected to think of any way to brake, or steer, and as I rocket down the slope my backpack decides that it is only fair that we swap places halfway. Suddenly I am the toboggan, and the backpack is on top of me as I skid down in a dirty, snowy mess. I eventually do come to a stop, but only by plunging my hands into the freezing snow as a form of braking - it is many, many hours before my hands forgive me for this, and they sting the whole way down.

However, I soon learn the basics of makeshift tobboganing, and come up with a method of securing my backpack to myself. I still have absolutely no control of steering, and I just head in whichever direction the bag wants to go, as it always ends up going downhill in one way or another. Braking is relatively simple - I gain speed until I run into a tree or bush, which quickly brings me to a stop. The snow is forgiving, soft and powdery, and even the tree branches are springy enough for me to avoid injury, and at some point the whole experience does indeed become quite fun. The birdsongs are mingled with an unfamiliar sound - `Wheee!`

Eventually my ride ends, and I make it to the rocky trail again in one piece. However, another suprise awaits me when I open my bag...DAMN YOU INSECT REPELLANT! I had put my sunscreen tube in a plastic zip lock bag, but didnt bother with the insect repellant as it was still unopened, and was foil sealed with the lid on tightly. The foil seal did indeed remain intact - the repellant simply came out the other end when the entire tube exploded. All my belongings were now covered in a sticky fluid resembling clag glue, and smelling far, far worse. I hadn`t even had a chance to use it on the hike; though there were vast clouds of insects, it seemed they could be repelled by stern looks alone.

Luckily though, my snacks remained intact (a local concoction resembling biscuits of caramel and peanuts), and I had something to munch on my way down. I arrive at the bottom, bag covered with snow and emitting a strange smell, and my pants covered with mud and dirt from my tumbles down the slopes. But looking back up at the mountains, I feel satisfied with my stupidity, and happy with my adventure. I treat myself to a local beer, then hop into the local onsen for a blissfully hot bath (snow is cold, and after a day of snow hot water is heaven). Soaking in the volcanic waters with the mountains in the distance, I look on the bright side - no bugs will ever come near any of my belongings again.