I found this beautiful old shrine after following an overgrown trail leading off from a small road in the mountains of central Japan. The shrine passed an old cemetery and stone statues of Jizo and followed the course of a very old stone water channel where small black salamanders swam lazily in the slow current. The shrine has two buildings including a small balcony structure at the front where community members likely gather during festivals as well as the main shrine structure in back. The shrine structure housed five separate wooden shrines enclosed beneath a protective structure which is open in the front. The inside of the shrine building was very dark and I do apologize for the poor quality of the video.

  

  

  

Yokosawa village is typical of the mountain communities of the Southern Alps in central Japan; most of which are situated in a setting of stunning natural beauty and inhabited by families who can trace their lineage into Japan’s distant past. However, like other mountain communities in this area, Yokosawa’s population is rapidly declining as young people move away to escape the perceived difficulties of rural life and to chase the glitter and dreams of urban Japan. After the old people are gone many homes are then left empty, often being abandoned by families who are unable to sell the property in a market with no buyers. Such homes slowly fall into disrepair or are abandoned altogether, often being reclaimed by nature and disappearing into the encroaching forest.

Visitors to Yokosawa will be charmed by the magical sense of peace and quiet which pervades the area, yet simultaneously unsettled by the notable absence of people. What I find most disturbing in such places is the conspicuous absence of children, from the empty playgrounds, abandoned school houses and even the laundry lines which carry only the shirts, pants and skirts of old men and old women. Farmers who have left the mountains and who reside in the city often complain that they miss the sounds of the hills: cascading water, the hum of insects and the warble of songbirds. However, those who remain in the countryside are more likely to lament the lost sound of human promise, which is carried best through the now absent voice and laughter of children.

Early morning in Kawashima village, Japan.

The Japanese village is a very old unit of community with true origins extending well into pre-history. However, during the long and peaceful Edo period (1600-186 the government of the Tokugawa Shoguns established a very well defined system of national and local communities which included defined hamlets (ooaza or ri), villages (mura), counties (gun) and fiefs which were controlled by regional samurai leaders called Daimyo (literally “big names”). Hamlets were further divided into smaller communities of associated homes called “buraku” which might be thought of as neighborhoods, though this English term falls short of capturing the true depth and association of this particular type of Japanese community. The buraku unit of community was never officially recognized by the Edo government and represents a natural community subdivision reflective of the social character of the Japanese people. The residents of Buraku may trace their lineage to a common ancestor, though intermarriage within the Buraku is uncommon with wives typically being brought in from nearby communities. Buraku in the past were sometimes organized around a leading family who often passed this role from one generation to the next. These leading families were sometimes the households of former samurai who were reduced to becoming farmers after their side lost during the wars of consolidation leading up to the start of the Edo period. These families are today often still prominent within the small communities of rural Japan.After the end of the Edo period the government under the leadership of the Meiji emperor re-organized the old feudal territories and effectively redrew the administrative map of Japan. One of the most extensive changes was the consolidation of nearly seventy thousand Edo-era villages (mura) into just fourteen thousand modern villages. The new villages were much larger than the old and included previously disparate communities. These larger village units are still in place today though the change has not caused the consolidated communities (at least those in the countryside) to merge in any non-civic way and most of the hamlets and buraku in Japan retain their original local character and unique sense of identity.

I found myself mesmerized and captivated by the sight and sound of water flowing and spilling down the face of this rock wall located in the dark recesses of a pine forest high in the mountains of Japan.June is the rainy season in Japan, and a time when water can be seen and heard falling, flowing and pooling everywhere. This is especially true in the mountains, canyons and valleys of the Japan Southern Alps. Deep in the forest the sound of streams and hidden waterfalls is a constant companion, while in the villages water is heard coursing through ancient canals and waterways cut along the side of mountains. This water is used to irrigate rice and wasabi radish fields where the water spills from one terrace to the next and then winds through village streets along stone gutters carved and set into place by ancestors long deceased and forgotten.

I met this animal in the mountains of the Japan Southern Alps and we gave each other quite a start before settling in for an extended staring contest. A nice viewer left a comment identifying this animal as a Japanese mountain goat or Nihon kamoshika as it is called in Japanese. I apologize for the low quality of the video which was shot just after dawn in a very dark forest and by a cameraman who just can’t learn to hold his camera steady.

I found this rusty old aerial tramway station along the side of a small farm road high in the mountains of central Japan. The tram was likely once used by farmers to access green tea field located on the opposite side of the rugged gorge. The tram includes two cars which may have been used to haul the tea harvest as well as equipment and possibly even the farmers themselves. The drop to the canyon floor was quite high and I could imagine the ride across the gorge would have been an exhilarating thrill!

Few young Japanese wish to live the life of a tea farmer in the beautiful and remote mountains of central Honshu. As a result, many farms are abandoned and left untended after the aging farmer dies or decides to retire. This tea field was likely abandoned within the last year as the shape of the plants is still distinct yet the rows are clearly overgrown and no tea has been harvested. Within another year the tea plants will likely be completely overgrown and the site barely recognizable as a tea field. I sometimes happen across such fields which have been completely reclaimed by the forest, with the only sign of man’s former presence being the distinct stone walls of the field’s terrace.

After I filmed this video I wandered down the road another 100 yards to a dead end where a lovely old farm house was found. The home was modest yet full of charm and life, all of which was the doing of a spry old woman who is the home’s sole occupant. I would not have troubled the woman had she not been outside tending her garden when I passed by. She was very happy and talkative and clearly delighted to have a visitor. Her garden was lovely with a modest vegetable plot and many potted plants and assorted bonsai. Water from a nearby stream trickled through pipes to fill a small carp pond. And a small cemetery plot could be seen above her home which is often a sign that the family has been living in this spot for a very long time. I was a bit uncomfortable as I feared I was intruding so I did not try to film or ask her any prying questions though I gathered that the abandoned tea field in this video may belong to her, and as it seems she was living alone I suspect that her husband may have passed recently and this may be the reason the field is untended. This is speculation to be sure though the pattern is one I have seen unfolding often in the remote villages of these high mountains.

Kadoya village is located in Japan near Shizuoka city in the low foothills of the Japan Southern Alps. This small community lies along a very ancient road which for millennia has been used to gain access to the deeper mountains along the Abe river. I visited this village at dawn to wander and explore and this video showcases a few of Kadoya’s many noteworthy sights.

Wasabi horseradish is used in Japan with sushi and sashimi as well as with other meals such as cold soba noodles. Wasabi is derived from the root of the wasabi plant which requires very clean, fresh water to grow well. The mountains of the Japan Southern Alps receive abundant rainfall and this area is perfectly suited for growing wasabi. Farmers in these high mountains have for centuries grown wasabi in terraced fields similar to rice paddies, however wasabi fields are normally situated much higher in the mountains than rice fields. While hiking in the mountains here it is not uncommon to find small wasabi farms situated along the narrow course of fast running streams or at the base of cascading waterfalls.