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April 25, 2000 Kirifuri Kogen, Kinugawa River
Fermata drove out of Utsunomiya and headed towards the mountain range that marks the northwest border of the Kanto Plain. Our destination was Kirifuri Kogen*, a pass between Nyoho Peak* and Tochigi Prefecture's highest mountain, Nantai-san*. In the far background the snowy cap of Mt. Shirane* stood stark and pointed like an icy tooth. From Nikko we ascended the seven-mile toll-road to the pass. Since it was late afternoon bird activity had dropped off to almost zero; our only sightings were a hawk–probably a Goshawk–and a Black-faced Bunting. This amazing bird we had seen two days earlier at sea level on the Chiba Coast, and here he was, equally comfortable in a radically different montaine habitat at 5500 feet. The road from Nikko to the top of the pass is the second most challenging cycling route in the prefecture. The gradient, which regularly exceeds ten percent, the length of the climb, and the elevation change qualify this particular route as a lung-buster of the very first magnitude. On the other hand, anyone who ventures up this road on human power is rewarded with an incredible vista of the entire Kanto Plain and of the mountains that continue off to the West towards the Sea of Japan. Early summer mornings, when the sunbeams have started the tiny engines of the most numerous endemic dragonfly species, the Akatombo, you can pedal through a soft, moving cloud of these gentle, beautiful creatures and even take on passengers: your bike will be moving slowly enough for them to alight on the handlebars and stare at you with their large, magical eyes.
The only attempts the logging-based community of Kuriyama* has made to compensate for its dependence on a dying industry are predictable, attraction-based tourism. The pass has an aged, short and narrow ski run. Someone built a golf course midway up the pass, ruining the water quality of the watershed with the pesticides and chemical fertilizers needed to prop up the naturally non-viable grass. There is a motor camp for summer tourists. After crossing the pass and descending to the first plateau we ran into a ranch, Ozasa Bokujo*, that sells fresh milk, dairy products and beef to tourists. Kawaji Dam*, the upriver reservoir that supplies water to the industrial city of Utsunomiya*, should have been a nature-lover’s delight. Instead we saw the emerald, deep green water color that bodes death for marine life and birds that depend upon it. Why had the river authority allowed this potential mecca to become an abiotic deathtrap, an algae-infested pool? We could only wonder. The web link to Kawaji shows the dam filled with living, deep-blue water that is plain, old-fashioned deceptive advertising. From the dam we descended onto the national highway
that follows the Kinugawa River, a road dotted with bush-league, cheeseball
theme parks and tourist gimmicks of the worst sort. Western
Village*, with a fake Mt. Rushmore. Edo-Mura*,
where you can watch fake ninja and
Fermata’s meticulous surveys of resources and market segments repeatedly confirm, and local communities believe it when they see the numbers, that revenue from nature tourism is just as good as revenue from fake, ugly eyesores. No, that’s not right: money from nature tourism is better. It’s better because the community can hold onto its traditions and culture and historical flavor. It’s better because, when done right, it isn’t associated with factors that degrade the locale’s quality of life. It’s better because your community becomes known for its natural beauty, not for being the world’s premier graduate school for apes. It’s better because it provides a critical link in the Fermata cycle of "conserve what you value, and value what you conserve." It’s not a vicious cycle; it’s a joyous one. Fermata has bicycled up this stretch of roadside in an early morning rainy season mist and been awed by the deep greens of summer foliage in the river gorges, the coruscating blue of the rushing rapids, the infinitude of greens that shimmer in the falling rain. Why do communities want to promote fake rather than nature’s art? This entire stretch of highway is a museum! And it’s a museum in which every work a masterpiece by the greatest artist of all. Local communities are swayed to traditional attraction-based tourism because they don’t know the numbers and they don’t have access to anything other than attraction-based tourism models. One of the most common, and ridiculous expressions of this creatively bankrupt approach is the town that throws up "The World’s Biggest -------." Fill in the blank with the dumbest thing you can think of! "World’s Biggest Ball of Twine!" "World’s Biggest Arch!" "World’s Biggest Leaning Windmill!" These demented idiocies have not only been given life, but their proponents actually see them as tools for development. Forget examining what your community may already naturally have, let’s make something–no matter how dumb–and market it because it’s unique. Anyone can see how the world is made a better place by having more natural beauty. How has our natural, our cultural, our historical value been increased by having the world’s biggest ball of twine?
With all of these thoughts running through our heads, we returned to Utsunomiya for a quick dinner at a family restaurant. There, next to the cash register, was a discount ticket for…The World’s Largest Wooden Dog-Shaped Observatory*, a theme park that has a dog petting arena, dog races, grooming seminars and–perfect for the person who wants contact with an animal minus the responsibility–daily dog rental. Should we laugh? Should we cry? Neither. We should continue to show, and continue to tell. From TokyoTake the Tohoku Expressway* for about 100 kilometers north. When you see the Kanuma Exit, your exit is next, about five kilometers up the road. It’s a clearly marked expressway for Nikko. Go through the tollbooth; it costs about \3000 yen. Take the expressway all the way to the first Nikko exit. You’ll go through two tollbooths on the way, and feel like you’re really being gypped. But that’s driving in Japan…short distance, high cost. Go out from the Nikko exit, turn left, and then turn right at the next stoplight. This will take you into downtown Nikko on Highway 119, Utsunomiya-Nikko Kaido. Landmarks will be the JR Nikko Station on your right, and immediately after that the Tobu Nikko Station. After the train stations turn right at the very next signal. There’s a sign in Japanese that says "Kirifuri Kogen." Follow that road over the Kinugawa River and continue straight on up the mountain. The road has a left fork at one point and a right fork later on; ignore them and follow the yellow stripe in the middle of the road. You’ll come to a tollbooth (Surprise! Not!), shell out \930, and continue along for about eight kilometers. At the pass there’s a pullout, below that there’s a very scenic view at Roppozawa Bridge, and on down the back side of the mountain you will run directly into Ozasa Bokujo, as the road hits a T-intersection. You might want to stop here and have a cup of café au lait. It’s not Starbucks quality, but the milk is dairy fresh and tastes good, especially if you’re doing this on a bike. Otherwise, turn left at the T-intersection and continue six km to the bottom of the mountain, and turn right. This road winds along the river that feeds into Kawaji Dam. The town of Kuriyama is economically depressed but authentic, and one or two of the roadside noodle shops sell bear meat, steaks or jerky, if you’re inclined to sample the flesh of a beautiful, intelligent, and incredibly adaptable animal. The road winds through three narrow tunnels, the last of which is short and has a nasty left turn just at the exit, so drive slowly. The road continues along for another couple of clicks and hits the main highway, 121, which runs along the Kinugawa River into the towns of Fujihara and Imaichi*. You’ll see green signs from time to time along 121 that indicate the direction of the expressway, which is straight ahead, and which will take you back to Tokyo. By train from Tokyo: You have two choices here. From Tokyo Station you can take the Tohoku Line or the Tohoku Shinkansen to Utsunomiya. In Utsunomiya, change to the JR Nikko Line and run straight into Nikko; time is about one hour. From JR Nikko Station* you’ll have to get the bus schedule up to Kirifuri. Buses are infrequent and lumbering. Second option is the Tobu Railway*, from Asakusa Station in Tokyo. It goes direct to Nikko, and is pretty much a no-brainer. Once in Nikko, hunt out the bus stop, which is right in front of the Tobu Station. Detailed bus and tourist information is available from the Nikko City Tourism Council*. Phone: 0288-54-2496. They have English language materials, and the person I spoke with on the phone assured me that they have people who can also answer your questions in English. Weather:Check on the local weather* before you go. Seasons:Kirifuri is high up and therefore cold. The name "Kirifuri" means "falling mist," so that should give you some idea of what to expect. Take a light jacket even in summer. In early spring you can expect snow on the roads, and won’t get to the top without chains or snow tires. Fall has exceptionally beautiful colors, especially at Kirifuri Falls, the righthand fork before you reach the tollbooth. Go on a weekend during the fall season and expect to sit in your car the entire day. If you’ve never experienced road rage, traveling in this area during Golden Week (first week of May) or mid-October will bring it boiling to the surface. The traffic jams are legendary and guaranteed to take six to ten years off your life in aggravation. Other times during the year it’s not so crowded, but check the calendar to make sure you’re not coinciding your trip with a national holiday. You will see Japanese Macaques* on this road, and many others, if you drive it early in the morning during a weekday. The tourist trade has destroyed the macaque’s traditional occupation–living in the woods and feeding off its natural habitat–and turned this beautiful primate into a streetside beggar. Don’t give in to the temptation to feed them, though it’s damned hard when they’re sitting there with their babies on their backs. Trip du Jour, April 25, 2000
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