1 June 2019

A Poetic Pilgrimage to Matsushima




Matsuo Bashō, 1644-1694
I first read about the beauty of Matsushima in the pages of Matsuo Bashō’s travel journal, Oku no Hosomichi (Narrow Road to the Deep North), written in 1689-1691. But it was only on my second trip to Japan over the Christmas and New Year period of 2003-2004 that I first came across a photograph of the place in a newspaper, and what I saw bowled me over. It looked stunning. I immediately reached for my guidebook, wondering how far away I was from the place, and whether or not I’d be able to add it to the itinerary of places I was hoping to visit during my trip – but, alas, on that occasion it was simply too far away. However, I finally got the chance to visit Matsushima three years later, oddly enough whilst I was working in Hong Kong, by making an unusual detour onwards to Japan, before heading back to the UK.

'Matsushima left poet Basho at a loss for words' - The Asahi Shimbun, 6th January 2004

Matsuo Bashō, Japan’s foremost poet and undisputed master of haiku (or hokku, as he would have called it), writes that: “Much praise had already been lavished upon the wonders of the islands of Matsushima. Yet if further praise is possible, I would like to say that here is the most beautiful spot in the whole country of Japan ...” – It is a regular conceit of newspapers and guidebooks alike to claim that Bashō was so stunned by the beauty of the place that “it rendered him speechless.” Usually what is meant by this is that, unusually for Bashō, he wrote no poems about the place (at least no poems that we currently know about). It is unusual because during his life Bashō travelled widely throughout Japan, and frequently wrote poems about the many places he visited, hence there are many towns which can find a connection to the nation’s foremost bard – some more famously than others. His travelling companion, Sora, on the other hand did write a poem while they were staying in Matsushima; which Bashō includes in his travel journal:

Matsushima ya
Tsuru ni mi wo kare
Hototogisu

      -    Sora

Clear voiced cuckoo,
Even you will need
The silver wings of a crane
To span the islands of Matsushima.

(translated by Nobuyuki Yuasa, 1966)

Bashō gives an evocative description of Matsushima in his journal, but confesses he’s at a loss to distil his feelings about the place into verse: “The islands are situated in a bay about three miles wide in every direction and open to the sea through a narrow mouth on the south-east side. Just as the River Sekkō in China is made full at each swell of the tide, so is this bay filled with the brimming water of the ocean, and innumerable islands are scattered over it from one end to the other. Tall islands point to the sky and level ones prostrate themselves before the surges of water. Islands are piled above islands, and islands are joined to islands, so that they look exactly like parents caressing their children or walking with them arm in arm. The pines are of the freshest green, and their branches are curved in exquisite lines, bent by the wind constantly blowing through them. Indeed, the beauty of the entire scene can only be compared to the most divinely endowed of feminine countenances, for who else could have created such beauty but the great god of nature herself? My pen strove in vain to equal this superb creation of divine artifice.”






The Boat from Shiogama


Like Bashō before me, I arrived by boat from nearby Shiogama. And the marvellously picturesque effect isn’t much diminished today either. Shiogama is fairly heavily industrialised with a hulking great power station overlooking the bay, but rounding the headland the boat enters a small enclave of rocky islets – each sculpted by the wind and the waves into remarkable shapes, and each is capped by a scrub of artfully ragged pines, reminiscent of the best bonsai displays. Fast fishing boats raced past us, heading back into land, whilst yachts and dinghies with elegant white sails glided silently past in the opposite direction. Hugging close to some of the islands and visible just above the waves there are great long rows of wooden stilts on which oysters and seaweed are traditionally farmed in these clean waters.






The dramatic process of geological formation of this stretch of the coast is quite interesting in itself. The bay is underlain by a seabed laid down during the Holocene era, made of sedimentary clays which sit over a Miocene era bedrock of limestone. It’s thought that the bay itself and the islands along with it were formed as the result of a massive landslide which sent a huge portion of this part of the coastline into the sea. Hence the age of the marine clay strata suggests the landslide occurred as far back as the early to middle Holocene, roughly some 6000 years ago (read more here). It’s also thanks to this topographical configuration that Matsushima was largely spared from the full devastation of a more recent massive natural disaster – the awful tsunami which struck in March 2011 following on from the Tohoku Earthquake, which also damaged the nuclear power station a little further south along the coast at Fukushima.

Hokusai's Great Wave off Kanagawa (British Museum)


As the boat from Shiogama motored through the span of some 200 or so islands everyone on-board seemed transfixed, pointing out the natural oddities of shape and size. One island very comically looked like the head of Donald Duck staring out to sea. Another had been sculpted by the elements into a shape which seemed to echo Hokusai’s famous print, The Great Wave at Kanagawa. Yet Bashō was just as moved by the charm of the town of Matsushima as he was by the bay and its islands: “I noticed a number of tiny cottages scattered among pine trees and pale blue threads of smoke rising from them. I wondered what kind of people were living in those isolated houses, and was approaching one of them with a strange sense of yearning, when, as if to interrupt me, the moon rose glittering over the darkened sea, completing the full transformation to a night-time scene. I lodged in an inn overlooking the bay, and went to bed in my upstairs room with all the windows open. As I lay there in the midst of the breeze and the drifting clouds, I felt myself to be in a world totally different to the one I was accustomed to.” – When I was there I too stayed in a ryokan hotel overlooking the bay. The ryokan had a large onsen, or hot spring bath. And, as so often when I stay at onsen in Japan, I found I was the only foreigner staying there; which feels both odd and a novelty all in one – invoking in me a rather detached sense of removal from the norm, much like Bashō perhaps felt.

Statue of Masamune Date at nearby Sendai

Exploring the old town and a few of the islands which can easily be reached by footbridges is a lovely way to spend a day or two, returning to the ryokan for a relaxing soak in the hot tub and a delicious evening meal before a sound night’s sleep is the perfect way to unwind Japanese-style. In the centre of town is the Zuiganji Temple, originally founded in 828 by Jikaku Daishi the current building was built in 1609 under the direction of the local Daimio, or feudal lord, Date Masamune. It is a Zen Buddhist temple with links to Engakuji in Kamakura. The three main islands to visit are Godaidojima, Fukuurajima, and Oshima.




Zuiganji

Godaidojima is a small island, named after a sacred hall built there again by Date Masamune in 1609, which houses five statues of the Mikkyo, Buddhist deities. These statues are only unveiled once every 33 years – the next occasion will be in 2039. The footbridge which connects this island to the mainland is curiously constructed like an arched ladder with large gaps between the beams underfoot. It’s thought that this was deliberately done because the island was meant to be off-limits to women (happily, not so today), and so this design would have made it more difficult for them to cross in their geta – which are a kind of wooden sandal set upon raised stilts, nowadays mainly worn by geisha as part of their traditional costume in Kyoto. That’s not to say geta weren’t worn by men sometimes too – in fact I was once given a pair to wear when staying at a traditional ryokan in Izu. They take a bit of getting used to, as they are quite disconcerting at first, but once you get the hang of them you can clack along on them at a fair old pace!





Godaidojima


Fukuurajima is a much larger island, reached by crossing a much longer bridge (252 metres long) which is one of the most picturesque aspects of Matsushima – often featured on picture postcards of the place. The island also has a couple of shrine buildings, one of which is dedicated to the goddess Benten, but it is mainly known as a kind of natural botanical garden, as it is home to some 250 species of plants.


Benten-do




Fukuurajima

Oshima is much more secluded and has a more mysterious air to it. It was once a place of retreat for Buddhist priests and monks. There are many time-worn Buddhist carvings in the rock-faces across the island, some are thought to be memorial stones. But there are also a couple of stelae dedicated to our old friends, Bashō and Sora, inscribed with their poems. There’s also a longish foot tunnel which is also said to have been carved by hand too. On the morning I visited the island was suitably deserted, hence it seemed a very peaceful and meditative place removed from the bustle of the town. Just the quiet sounds of the water all around and the fresh scent of pine trees filling the air.






Monuments to Matsuo Bashō and Sora




Oshima

There is a story relating to another of Japan’s most famous poets, named Saigyō, who also liked to roam the length and breadth of the country some 500 years before Matsuo Bashō. It is said that whilst Saigyō was en route to Matsushima he chanced to meet a young Zen monk meditating under a pine tree not far from the town. Their conversation evolved into an elaborate debate regarding the tenets of Zen Buddhism which ended with Saigyō eventually conceding defeat. And so, immediately thereafter, feeling rather, disconsolate Saigyō gave up on his plan to visit Matsushima and passed on by. – Personally I’d say it’s better to avoid disappointment and borrow a blank leaf from Matsuo Bashō’s notebook and be sure to see the town and its bay of many islands for yourself. It’s a place where literature, history, and nature all combine in the subtle poetry of the place itself.





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