Day 2: Abashiri or 木漏れ日

The mountains in the background are a married couple - the left is the wife, the right the husband.

The rain lifted and the sun came out, filtering through the Autumn leaves - a scene which the Japanese call 木漏れ日 or Komorebi.

Lake Onneto

Now we could really begin to praise the Kouyou - the sun bringing out the red of the maple tree, the yellows of the white birches. Beautiful! Beautiful! said Yamagiwa San, peppering the car journey with history lessons, explanations of names, town populations and the relative heights of mountains.

Arriving at Abashiri - the famous roadside scene as seen on numerous postcards

At the Notoro Coast line we were assaulted by rough wind and angry waves and a rough grey sky. On the other side of the sea, I could make out the line of the Shiretoko Nature Reserve, the huge rolling mountains. A column of black cloud seemed to lead there in an otherwise white sky. At Cape Notoro, with nothing but ferns bent back with the wind and a lonely lighthouse, I felt like I had come to the end of the world.

But at the same time I felt like I had come back home. Because, as we walked, wind beaten, along the coastal trail, memories of walking along coastal paths in Wales and South England came back to me so strongly I forgot where I was. The dogs were excited, weaving in and out of our legs, barking and stopping to hide in the long grass before jumping out again. The sheer cliffs and roaring white waves brought back half-made-up visions of sitting in the car and looking out at the sea; of styles and kissing gates to be climbed; of taping down raincoat hoods with velcro straps.

Not Really Japan?

Apart from wakening my imagined British nostalgia, driving to the fishing post of Notoro reminded me of how lonely a place this must be for the handful of people stationed here. Especially in winter, where the roads are unpassable because of the heavy snow.

Pointing things out

Of course, no visit to the fishing town of Abashiri is complete without seeing the Abashiri Prison. The first prison in Japan, after they decided not to deal out capital punishment for everyone who went against the law. The old prison is a rather eerie place, set on a long sloping hill, and filled with dolls. Some of them actually move. On entering the prison, the prisoner must walk across a bridge and look down into the water where they 'reflect on their crimes'. The lake now is filled with lily-pads, so you can no longer make out your reflection. 

The scary dolls. Sleeping on wooden benches.

Shamefully taking part in a 'fun reconstruction' of the prisoner's terrible ordeals

In the early 19th Century, the prison was effectively a forced labour camp. The prisoners' built all the major roads in Hokkaido. And the prison grounds themselves were the largest farming operation in the whole of Japan - making and pickling, for instance, over 8,000 Daikon roots every year. It was said that 1 out of 6 prisoner's would die from overwork in their time in the prison. Gradually, however, conditions improved as prison reforms were introduced.

Prison cells in the late 19th Century.

In sharp contrast to the terrible physical suffering of Japanese prisoners of the Meiji period, we spent the evening having a six course Italian meal in the pension we were staying at, in the company of Yamagiwa-San's former student and her family. 

The former student is the lady sitting down at the back, left. Her husband sits opposite, her son on her right, and the two girls are her daughter (left) and niece (right). 

 It turned out that the son and daughter had done various homestays in New Zealand and/or Australia and could speak English - a secret English that would never come to be actually spoken, though. We ate and drank and were merry and no one asked us if we could eat natto or use chopsticks, for which I was truly thankful. The evening was passed with lots of stories about Yamagiwa-San - how he was her 'first love' or 初恋 at school, for instance. I can't imagine ever going for a weekend holiday with my secondary school teacher, but then again I was never lucky enough to be taught by Yamagiwa-San.