Once the huts close for winter, Kamikochi empties.
During the summer, hikers form long, snaking queues along the valley trails, destined for their mountain of choice. Now, the area is more populated by less-evolved hominids: Japanese macaques crowd the forests casting their childlike calls across the valley, resolutely ignoring any humans they do encounter. In November, the upper slopes of the mountains are blanketed in snow, but lower down, things aren't quite so severe; skeletal silver birches still cling to their last leaves and the grasses are green with the autumn rain.
Through this stark landscape, a pair of hikers walk stooped beneath heavy packs, carrying their tent, food, crampons and clothes warm enough to nurse them through the cold evenings. A protein bar swaps hands, its frozen surface hard enough to crack teeth; "espresso-flavored" reads the label. Whatever relationship this might once have had to a coffee bean is long-lost to the dense, calorie-heavy mix.