Since July of this year, I’ve been studying Japanese full-time and loving it even more so than the first time I was in the classroom (over 4.5 years ago). With more experience in Japan, I can see how there is an application for everything I am learning. Also, since my last experience studying Japanese, I’ve been lucky enough to marry a native speaker, he is always willing to answer my questions with homework and is a willing conversation partner. At the end of last semester, we were studying the kanji (Japanese characters) related to change, specifically climate change, and as part of our final exam, we had to give a 10-minute presentation on something climate-related. I was paired with some of my favorite classmates (I’m mostly in school with students in the late-teens, early ’20s, studying Japanese so they can go to graduate school in Japan) and we chose the theme of mass extinction (絶滅-ze-tsu-me-tsu). It was unnerving to learn about how much and how quickly the diversity of the living world is being lost due to the destruction of natural habitat. Post-final, Eiji and I flew up to Akan Mashu National Park in eastern-Hokkaido, extinction was still on my mind as we explored the vast, wilds there.
We flew from Tokyo to Kushiro, one of the closest airports to Akan-Mashu National Park. Kushiro is a well-known fishing port, so before making the journey inland we visited one of the fish markets to buy dinner. My favorite fish to eat in the fall is Sanma (Pacific Saury), its a long, sword-shaped, silverfish, and is a bit oily like salmon. When I went to purchase it though, I learned that the Sanma catch this year had been the smallest on record and the fish themselves weren't as big as usual (or as tasty). Since I love Sanma so much, I think I'll have to abstain from it for a bit and hopefully others will too, so the stocks can replenish. The overfishing aside, we cooked our purchases over preprepared charcoal and enjoyed a bit of late-season al fresco dining.
Hokkaido is roughly the size of Austria, it’s vast, and the not-so-busy roads, with vistas on either side make it a joy to drive through. To really immerse ourselves in the surroundings, we decided to rent 50cc scooters (which can be rented on an international driver's license). In six hours we drove all the way from Lake Kussharo to the northern outpost of Abashiri—you may remember this area when I visited a few years ago to go swimming in the sea ice—and back. From our scooters, we saw lakes with their own trademark blue color, rocks painted yellow by the sulfur boiling out of the ground, rolling hills, pastures, and the Ohotsuku Sea. It was gorgeous.
Lake Mashu was formed by a volcanic eruption. The blue of Lake Mashu is so striking it has been dubbed "Mashu Blue."
My trusty scooter! 50cc was all we needed to power up and down the mountains.
The pure sulfur coming out of the ground at Mount Iō, an old sulfur mine, has built up on the rock formations making them neon yellow.
Something I learned about scooter riding, is the direct contact with the wind gives you a big chill. Luckily for us, the Akan-Mashu National Park is rich with natural onsen to warm you up. My favorite onsen that we visited had to be the Kussharo Kotan, an open-air, community-run bath, right on the shore of Lake Kussharo. When we arrived there was a local monitoring the parking lot and we chatted with him for a bit. He was weather-worn, with a great smile and full-beard, when I asked him where to pay, he said “Not necessary!” The bath is an offering from the local community, it’s something they enjoy sharing with their visitors, for free. We arrived right as the sun was setting over the mountains and we got to relax for quite a while before other locals came for their evening dip. It would be amazing to go back in winter when swans migrate to the lake and can often be found swimming in the waters right in front of the baths because they are warmer.
The perfect place to watch the sunset, Kussharo Kotan Onsen Hot Spring.
Another highlight from our journey was the hike up Mt Meakan. For the indigenous people of Hokkaido, the Ainu, this active volcano is known as a female deity. With its male counterpart, Mt Oakan, on the shores of Lake Akan. The Ainu have an animistic religion and believe gods exist in all things around them from the lakes, to the mountains, to the owls, to the wolves, etc. Just hiking Mt Meakan I can see how they found it powerful, the ascent is almost straight up for about two hours. As you near the peak, the smell of sulfur gets very strong, and the steam coming from the crater is visible. From the peak, you are rewarded with a sweeping view of the Akan caldera and the surrounding mountains. The hike isn’t easy but is accomplishable as long as you are active. And it’s nice to have walking poles for the way back down as the volcanic soil near the peak is loose and easy to slip on.
The view from Mt Meakan's summit, looking down onto Lake Akan and Mt Oakan.
On our last day in Akan-Mashu National Park, we went to a showcase of Ainu dances and folklore. One of the dances featured the Ezo Wolf, which went extinct in 1889. For the Ainu, the wolf is a particularly powerful god. The Ainu believe that they are only on this earth because their gods are on this earth. And it’s interesting to me, that right around the time of Ezo becoming Hokkaido, and the Ainu being subjugated by the Japanese that one of their gods disappeared. It must have felt like an awful omen for them, a sign of what was to come for their own culture. It has taken years of protest and political action to finally have the Ainu recognized as the indigenous people of Japan (2019) and to win the right to practice their culture freely. Today, there are active communities working to revive the language, traditions, and festivals of the Ainu culture. Nibutani is one of them, and was recently featured in a documentary, ‘Ainu: Indigenous People of Japan’ by Mizoguchi Naomi—it is being screened online at the Native Spirit Festival through November 15th.
On my way back to Tokyo, I watched David Attenborough‘s latest film, “A Life on our Planet,” (Netflix) in which he explained how our planet was stable because of its biodiversity. And it is only a matter of time before we lose our biodiversity, destabilize the planet, and make it uninhabitable for humans (terrifying). It struck me that this fundamental truth, that we humans are only here because of the diverse array of wild animals who share the planet with us, is something that has taken modern-science years of study and research to discern. But it was innate wisdom for the Ainu—they’ve always known that their own survival depended on the prosperity of the living creatures around them.
When Isabella Bird, a very independent and industrious traveler of the late 19th century, visited the Ainu in Hokkaido in 1878, she saw them as 'savage' and underdeveloped. But I think if she were able to visit the community today with the backdrop of climate change, she wouldn't find them savage at all, but as a society with a developed philosophy around what it takes to sustain a healthy, balanced, life on Earth.
Thankful to all who worked tirelessly and continue to work to share the Ainu philosophy with the rest of the world.