“I
have now completed arrangements for my first trip and leave by the 8:30 am
train in the morning for Kagoshima – a city in the extreme south of Japan. From
there I go to the island of Yakoshima where are said to be fine forests of wild
Cryptomeria. Dr Shirasawa has given me much interesting information about the
forests of southern Japan and I am all eager to see them for myself.”
These are the words of the
botanist, Ernest Henry Wilson, writing to his friend and colleague, Alfred
Rehder, from the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo on 13th February 1914.
Leaving his wife and daughter in the Japanese capital on Valentine’s Day to
make a remarkable journey of just over a month – in search of the ancient cedar
trees of southern Japan.
Wilson regularly took such photographs during his expeditions for the Arnold Arboretum, usually with an assistant or guide posing to give a sense of scale (Arnold Arboretum)
In late March 2019 I followed in Wilson’s
footsteps, making a trip of my own to Yakushima to see these remarkable trees.
Wilson is one of several explorer-scientist subjects of my PhD research, and,
whilst my primary interest in him is his journeys through the China-Tibet borderlands,
I was aware that he’d made a trip to Japan. I even knew he’d been to Yakushima,
but I wasn’t aware that he was still very fondly remembered there. So, having
walked in his footsteps in various out of the way parts of Sichuan it was
interesting to find myself again travelling vicariously in his company to a similarly
remote part of Japan.
Yakushima, as Wilson goes on to describe
it in another letter written to his boss, Professor Charles Sargent, a few days
later on 3rd March 1914: “…
lies 92 geographical miles south of Kagoshima, and is reached by steam launch
which plies three times a week. It is about 50 miles in circumference and
composed mainly of granite; the highest point is about 6,200 ft. above sea
level. Around the coast are a few small villages, a little cultivation, and a
narrow savannah belt; the extreme summit is said to be covered with bamboo
scrub. The rest of the island is covered with dense virgin forest of which 99%
of the constituent parts are evergreen. The government forestry reserve is about
43,000 acres and the forestry officials in charge rendered us every assistance.
[…] The forest floor mainly consists of rotten or rotting tree limbs – chiefly
Cryptomeria on which huge trees and a wonderful Cryptomeria flora luxuriates.”
Sakura-jima volcano, seen from Kagoshima Port
Getting to Yakushima today is a lot
easier than in Wilson’s day. There’s a tiny airport on the island, so it is
possible to fly there – but it’s much cheaper to arrive by boat, as Wilson did.
And the jetfoil boats that now make daily crossings from Kagoshima do so in around
two hours, much quicker than Wilson’s steamer. While waiting to board the boat
at the ferry port in Kagoshima the main sight that dominates the view from the
end of the ferry pier is a volcano which rises up over the water on the far
side of the bay. As I watched a tall plume of smoke was slowly, almost
imperceptibly, issuing from its summit. “The
volcano, Sakura-jima is still very active and has completely devastated the
island on which it is situated. Kagoshima suffered much damage from earthquake which
was apparently caused by the explosion of gases which vent the summit of
Sakura-jima. Though the loss of life has been very slight the outpouring of
lava, the pumice and ashes has been prodigious and the eruption is considered
amongst the worst in Japan.” It wasn’t that long ago that one of the
volcanoes in Kyushu decided to spew hot ash and pumice, disrupting
infrastructure and transport – one of my PhD supervisors was travelling in the
region at the time and had found herself stuck there for a while because of it.
I remembered this as I stood eyeing the plume of smoke and wondered if the
mountain might decide to wake while we were there – as I did so I found myself
murmuring a silent prayer to the mountain kami
(spirits): ‘ma da, onegai shimasu’
(‘not yet, please’). The volcano did erupt later that year on 12th November 2019, and the film footage of it is quite something to behold (see here).
Leaving Kagoshima
Most people who travel to Yakushima
do so for the trekking. Consequently, the boat was filled with people in Gore-Tex
hiking gear, wielding carbon-fibre walking poles and enormous backpacks.
Everyone kitted out with stout walking boots and waterproofs as it’s
notoriously rainy at this time of year on Yakushima. Wilson noted in another
letter to Rehder that his “whole trip
though marred by wet weather has been interesting and instructive.” We were
travelling only a few weeks later than Wilson, so the weather for us was much
the same. In fact, soon after we disembarked from the boat it began to rain,
and what began as a gentle drizzle slowly worked itself up into a prolonged
downpour which lasted the rest of the afternoon and evening into the night.
Luckily for us, though we didn’t know it then, this was the island getting all
the rain over and done with for the next two days. Not knowing this though the
weather that first day put somewhat of a dampener on our spirits, and so we
went to bed with great feelings of foreboding that night. We were due to be
picked up from our ryokan (hotel) shortly before 5am the next morning
for a ten hour trek to the famous Jomon-sugi – a mighty Japanese cedar tree
which is thought by some to be around seven thousand years old, still alive and
thriving to this day.
“There
can be no question about the Cryptomeria being truly wild. The adult trees
average 80-90 ft. x 15-20 ft. I saw none over 100 ft. high. The oldest trees
mostly have the tops broken off and the biggest of these measured 50 ft. in
girth. Of the dead stumps the largest I saw measured 50 ft. in girth seven feet
from the ground. I made a good set of photographs of these Cryptomeria which
are formed all over Japan as “Yaku-sugi.” This wood is noted for its close
texture and exciting qualities.”
Many of the giant cedar trees
growing deep in the interior of Yakushima have been carefully logged for their
timber since at least the Edo period, around 400 years ago. Some of Japan’s
oldest temples and palaces have been built using yaku-sugi wood from this
island. Yet the trees were always felled in such a way so as not to kill the
tree. A small portion of the live trunk was left so that new growth could
continue, eventually subsuming the old stump. It’s thought that this practice
was learnt by observing trees which had fallen naturally in the annual typhoons
which regularly pass over the island, sustaining themselves with new growth and
thereby recovering with indomitable tenacity. One such stump which we saw our
guide explained had been felled and re-grown three times – the first time
naturally, and the second two times by human wood-cutters over a lifespan of
nearly two thousand years, if not more.
The trail we followed is perhaps
the most well-worn one on the island, as almost everyone it seems comes here to
see the famous Jomon-sugi. Several hours before dawn a bus took us deep into
the interior of the island, winding its way along densely wooded mountain roads
until it reached the start of the Arakawa Route. The sun was only just
beginning to rise by the time we set out. The first part of the Anbo walking
trail is relatively straightforward as it follows the path of an old narrow
gauge railway track which was laid down for the purpose of logging in the
middle decades of the 20th century – now it’s less romantically used
for trains sent to empty the only two latrines stationed along the trail!
The early hours of the day meant
that we encountered a fair amount of wildlife, including deer (Yakushika) and monkeys (Yakushimazaru, a sub-species of Japanese
macaque), all in search of their breakfast amongst the lush green of the trees.
It had still been drizzling when we set out, but as the day got going so too
did the sunshine. Following the meandering train tracks which criss-crossed
ravines and streams of varying depth and size via wooden bridges accordingly
short and low, or long and vertigo-inducing, particularly those without any
side-rails. A couple of these bridges put me in mind of the boys crossing a
similar railway bridge in the film Stand
By Me – although happily there was no danger of us having to race an
on-coming train, it was quite unnerving in places, particularly on the longer
bridges which were more open to strong winds.
The Yakushima National Park is
quite strictly regulated. There are constant reminders of the correct “Park
Etiquette” which visitors are expected to observe at all times while walking in
the forested hills. Videos and recorded announcements on both the boat and bus
drum it home that in order to maintain the beauty of the natural parks all visitors
must treat the place with respect – no littering, no feeding or interfering
with wildlife, no picking flowers, no smoking, no lighting campfires outside
the proper designated areas, and no going to the toilet in areas not designated
to do so. On the walk to Jomon-sugi there are two latrines, beyond that there
are a couple of huts in which to do your business should you need to, but in
these huts you are expected to have brought your own portable toilet gear
(which you can buy at the camping stores in the main town) and to take your
waste with you once you’re done, where-after you can dispose of it at the
latrines or back at the start of the trail. These constant admonishments can
seem a little forthright, but when you see just how many visitors there are to
the park each day and how difficult it would be for park rangers to clean up in
this rugged terrain you can readily appreciate the need to rely on this being a
properly considered communal effort. It attests well with a more mindful
mentality of “taking nothing but photographs, and leaving nothing but
footprints,” in order to safeguard the natural environment from needless degradation.
Following the old logger's railway
At the end of the railway track, after
several hours walking, the real trekking begins in earnest. From here on you
are following the Ohokabu trail, which consists of rocky and root-strewn paths,
snaking up and down steep inclines, crossing small mountain streams, weaving
its way – sometimes skirting along sheer-sided precipices, or climbing elevated
(and in parts rotten) wooden walkways – up into the mountains. This is when you
realise that proper trekking gear is essential. One of our group suffered a
twisted ankle on this stretch, but thankfully after the guide wrapped his foot
up in a support bandage, he was able to go on without too much pain.
This part of the trail is where you
encounter the genuinely ancient yaku-sugi trees. They are truly amazing things
to see in terms of sheer size, and to contemplate in terms of their famed longevity.
In 2005 an upper limb of the Jomon-sugi naturally broke off from the tree. It
has since been taken to the island’s Yakusugi Museum, where it has been found
to be over 1000 years old – adding to the speculation as to how much older the
main trunk itself must be. If it is as old as some people suppose it’s
fascinating to think that this still living tree may have begun its long life
some 7000 years ago during the Neolithic era, older than Stonehenge in the UK! …
The secret of the Yakusugi’s longevity is partly due to the density of its wood
and the wood’s high resin content which combine to give it great strength and
make it highly resistant to decay caused by insects. I’m sure good situation and
favourable environment also play a part too. The dank and humid climate of the
mountain forest is particularly atmospheric. The intense green hues of the tree
canopy towering above and the lush carpets of moss underfoot, with water
constantly oozing and trickling between the rough granite rocks and the twisted
tree limbs and roots make for a genuinely evocative and other-worldly ambience
to the place. It’s this profoundly primordial atmosphere which has inspired
countless artists and filmmakers. Anyone who has watched an anime film, such as Princess Mononoke by Hayao Miyazaki for instance, will instantly
recognise it. At a café back in the port of Miyanoura we met a local artist,
named Miyuki Tomiyama, who sold us some postcards of her paintings which we sent
to friends and family back home as they managed to convey the misty and ancient
atmosphere of the yaku-sugi so well. I too was suitably inspired to write a
haiku to remember our trip:
縄文杉で冷たい水飲む泉から.
Drinking cool water from a spring – Jomonsugi
It was a long, and in places
arduous day’s trekking in the hills. But every step and the aching muscles
which came to the fore by the end of it was well worth it. Immersed in the
natural surroundings all day, with beautiful views abounding at each curve in
the trail. Stopping for lunch and chatting with our small band of fellow
trekkers over hot tea and miso soup was a really nice experience – food always
tastes better out of doors, amidst the fresh air, after a good amount of
physical exertion. Our guide, a genial but hard taskmaster, made sure we
adhered to our time schedule, keeping the pace up so that we didn’t miss the
bus back down from the hills at the end of it all. The promise of a good long
soak in the hot spring bath of our ryokan,
a traditional Japanese-style inn, also helped to keep us going.
All-in-all it was a wonderful and
memorable day out. For me though the most interesting place to visit along the
Arakawa trail was the so-called “Wilson’s Stump.” This is the hollow stump of a
giant yaku-sugi which is thought to have been logged around 1590 in order to
provide the timber used to build the Daibutsu-den, or Great Buddha Hall, of Hōkō-ji
Temple in Kyoto. A large hollow cave-like arch in the tree’s roots makes it
possible to go inside the stump itself. Within the stump there is a small
Shinto shrine to the genius loci. The interior is quite spacious and if
you know where to crouch down in a particular corner (opposite the shrine) and
look up you will see that the hollow roof of the stump is naturally shaped to
form a heart-shape, silhouetting the sky above.
Ernest Henry Wilson was a highly
proficient photographer who always took large glass plate cameras on his plant
collecting expeditions. Hence he took a number of photographs during his trip
to Yakushima. One in particular is a view of this enormous tree stump with
three of his travelling companions stationed at various points around the
vicinity of the stump in order to convey a clearer idea of the size of the old
tree. It’s a problem which still dogs modern photographers trekking the trail
today, as it’s only possible to photograph many of the larger trees from
designated viewing platforms which have been constructed because of (highly
justifiable) fears that too many people going too near the old trees will not
only damage the trees themselves, but also weaken the soil around their roots
as they are often found growing on very steep and potentially unstable hillslopes.
Hence, when photographing these mighty trees, it’s hard for the resulting
photographs to adequately show just how large many of them are. Without any
sense of scale it’s sometimes impossible to tell if the resulting photo is of a
yaku-sugi or a bonsai version of one! … That said though, I was able to shoot
at least one photograph of the stump from the same vantage point as Wilson had
– thereby recreating a modern view of his original photo, much as I did nearly
a decade ago in the China-Tibet border region around old Tachienlu
(Kangding/Dartsendo), see here.
Jomon-sugi
Jomon-sugi
It was interesting to find that
Wilson is so fondly remembered here in Yakushima. There is even a monument to
commemorate his visit set on a small hill overlooking the ferry pier in Miyanoura
Port. The monument is a large concrete recreation of the famous stump, inside
which similarly is a small Shinto shrine, with a tori gate fronting the path
leading up to the monument adding even more sanctity to the memorial. I have spent
a lot of time reading Wilson’s books and diaries as part of the research for my
PhD, and following in his footsteps in three countries it was rather nice for
me to discover that a fellow Englishman – almost, in a sense, a personal friend
from history – is honoured in such a way here on Yakushima. It’s not so
surprising though as many of his personal papers seem to attest to the fact
that he was a decent man who always dealt very fairly with the local peoples he
met during his travels. His correspondence shows that he thought very highly of
the Japanese colleagues he met at the Botanical Gardens and University
Herbarium in Tokyo, saying they were “most cordial and affable” towards him,
noting that they were keen to help in strengthening cooperation between the
botanical institutions of Japan and those in the West. Although he did lament
some of the disparities he felt between the two: “In dealing with this nation’s plants the Japanese botanists have, of
course, great advantages over western botanists, but at the same time they are
severely handicapped by want of knowledge of botanical literature and by the
poverty of their libraries not to mention ignorance of the floras of the
adjacent continent, more especially that of China.” These were connections
though which Wilson endeavoured to strengthen, not least with his subsequent
expedition to the island of Formosa (Taiwan), which was under Japanese colonial
administration at the time.
On his return to the mainland he
wrote again to Professor Sargent on 26th March 1914: “Two days since I returned to Tokyo from the
trip to southern Kyushu. The expedition has proved interesting and I think
profitable. I have collected about three hundred numbers of plants (in all
about a thousand specimens) and have taken ten dozen photographs. The specimens
are all of common plants, nevertheless they are not devoid of interest and
value. The information gained is of considerable importance and one or two
[botanical] problems have been settled.”
Arriving back in Tokyo, reunited
with his wife and daughter, he was just in time to witness the annual explosion
of cherry blossoms for which Japan is so famous: “Of Cherries I collected flowering material of five species. From all I
can learn, Tokyo, Kyoto and Yoshino are the places for Cherries and it is there
that many of the problems concerning them must be studied. The only kind in
flower at the moment in Tokyo is pendula, but the buds of many others are
showing colour and in a few days there will be plenty of blossom.” Arriving
back in Tokyo at around the same date ourselves, we too were just in time to
enjoy this phenomenal seasonal spectacle so characteristic of Japan – I felt a
further connection to Wilson, wandering beneath the flowering of dreamlike-clouds
of pink and white sakura.
