Karuizawa, being a mountain town, is cloudy and mist-shrouded at the best of times, so a sightseeing visit during Japan's rainy season would normally not be a good choice. We had all been advised to pack our rain gear before we came out, and in truth, the surrounding area was almost devoid of people. No one comes here in June; it just isn't smart.

The view from the hotel restaurant. Yes, really.

Thanks to global warming, however, the rainy season's been a little unpredictable over the last few years, and as the photos in the previous entry show, we lucked out, weatherwise. But we did catch the edge of a passing typhoon while we were out touring pagodas.

Rain, fog or shine, pagodas always look great.

Longtime readers will remember what always follows a typhoon in Japan. That's right—sunshine! Clear skies as far as the eye can see!

Taking advantage of our good fortune, we headed off to Mt. Asama, the active volcano that graces the Karuizawa skyline.

It's no Fuji, but the red crest is still pretty striking.

Our destination was Onioshidashi, a temple built on the site of a catastrophic eruption in 1783. The lava flow solidified into a carpet of jagged rocks that now serves as a forbiddingly beautiful backdrop to this peaceful place of worship.

I assume my love for ishidoro needs no further elaboration.

Roughly translated, Onioshidashi means "Demonic outburst." It's kinda cool to visit a temple with "demon" right in the name.

Finally, we were off to Shiraito Cascade, a lush waterfall with a quirk that my brother gets credit for noticing—the water comes out of nowhere! It's true. Mountain springs push their way right through the porous volcanic rock, creating wide sheets of water that emerge from the forest walls.

In Japanese, it's known as the "silk thread falls." Thanks for the lovely weather, typhoon-san!