Back in August 2013, the last day of the five-day trip to Yakushima had been planned by Mr. Hatanaka as a day for fun. Our shooting objectives wrapped up more or less, we went river kayaking, visited a hot spring, and went souvenir shopping before heading back to the airport. This time, under the directorship of Mr. Ichino, even with eight days we were busy shooting until the last moment. Had I not wandered out exploring one late afternoon between returning to the hotel and meeting for dinner and found a large souvenir shop, I would have had to do all my souvenir shopping at the meagre store in the tiny airport.
We’d had a lot of experiences already. After our four-day mountaineering trek, I had felt that we had already accomplished our prime objective and that the rest was just filler. However, the visit to Unsuikyo was a treat in itself and learning about the white pines as well as other aspects of the Yakushima forests and their problems confirmed that every day spent on the island was educational and fulfilling.
So, on our final day there, we were off round the east side of Yakushima and heading to the southern part. Our first two stops were for some views of rivers and mountains. Once more I saw the view of the Anbo River from the high bridge over the waters.
Next was Senpiro Falls, which I was eager to see. It is one of Japan’s 100 selected waterfalls (hyakusen no taki 百選の滝) and I hadn’t received the chance to see it on my previous visit. The waterfall itself is impressive as it plummets over a granite precipice, but more than that, there is a huge slope of exposed granite to the left side. When it rains heavily, not only does the waterfalls flush with white water but streams of white streak the face of the granite slope like ribbons. We were in for yet another day of fine weather as only a few small clouds scudded across a vast azure sky. As an added surprise, we found a cherry tree in bloom at the parking area!
In spite of the feeling of freedom that imbued my spirits, we were on a schedule still. I wandered down the path to a viewpoint of the falls and snapped a few shots only to find Mr. Ichino approaching from behind with the words, “Alright, let’s getting moving now.”
We next visited a seaside hot spring that is only accessible when the tide is out. I have had a few memorable hot spring experiences in Japan but this was a first – there was no bath house! I simply walked down a concrete walkway to where a line was painted and the instructions to remove footwear. Once my boots and socks were off I walked over to where several pools of varying sizes had been made with concrete between the rocks and boulders that comprised the sea shore. It was here that I disrobed – no screen or cover – and slide into the hot water. The view from the pool was unusual to say the least. In the near distance beyond the wavelets of the hot spring pool, the waves of the ocean crashed and foamed over the rocks. The tide was out for now. When it came in again, the hot spring would be submerged.
I tried to relax and enjoy the moment. The ocean thundered with restraint not far to my right. Black and grey rocks surrounded me and green coastal vegetation covered the slope nearby. In the distance to my left, green mountains with grey protrusions of stone made their skyline under the blue heavens. Mr. Ichino and Mr. Kurihara stood some distance away while Mr. Mori darted about here and there with his camera. Ordinarily, towels are not permitted in the hot spring water and swimwear is strictly prohibited. But for filming purposes, one may bring a towel to cover oneself. I had wrapped a typical white hot spring towel around my hips and was trying to be at ease in the hot water; however, buoyancy caused my hips to raise up and the towel came loose more than once. This required constant adjustment and an effort to sit in the water and still look relaxed without worrying about offering a peep show to the camera (was he using a zoom lens?). I closed my eyes. I opened them and looked thoughtfully at the sea and the sky. And when I looked at the greenery and rocks, I was sure to see a camera lens pointing my way.
After several minutes, two elderly men came to join me. They were local residents but retirees from Tokyo. They came to the hot spring daily, or at least when weather permitted. They explained that locals referred to the tide schedule to plan their visits. For those who didn’t like the water too hot, it was best to dip in shortly after the tide had receded and the water was still mixed with cool sea water. Those preferring hotter water could wait until the hot ground water had heated the pools more. My two new companions were supposed to have played tennis but the wind was too gusty that day and so they retreated to the relaxing waters of the seaside hot spring.
Next we were on a flower hunt. Our first stop was near a large hotel overlooking the sea. Along the road leading to the hotel there were hibiscus flowers blooming. Mr. Mori shot different takes of me walking past the red blossoms and then we each had time to shoot on our own.
Next we were off to a sunflower patch. Canola was also in bloom. I marvelled at the thought that we were experiencing spring scenery around here with all the blossoms: sunflowers, canola, hibiscus, and cherry, among a few others we had noticed from the window of the taxi van. Yet only a few days prior we had been tramping through snow beneath ice-encrusted trees in the mountains of the interior and seen leaves of yellow and red round the northern tip of the island. How remarkable to consider seeing three seasons in one week on such a small island!
Our flower session over, we were at last on our way back to the airport. I sat comfortably and felt satiated having seen and done so much. It had been a long time since I last enjoyed so many things on a trip of such length. But I had not had enough of Yakushima. For I understood that the mountains in spring were another sight to behold and there were still places of interest I had not yet visited. Could I hope to return again some day?
As our flight crossed the sky over Yokohama, I could see snow streaking past the window. The snow turned to rain as we descended to Haneda Airport. The hibiscus blossoms, the blue sky and green mountains, and the silver waves on the sea were now confined to memory. Our journey was over. We collected our luggage and parted ways. The three members of the TV crew would still meet again and possibly work together again. Meanwhile I thanked them and set off on my own, returning to my ordinary life. What a wonderful job it must be working for documentary television. Maybe I would be so lucky as to be asked to do this again someday.