The Pacific plate has ground into Japan for who knows how long. It'll continue, it's how the earth as we know it was formed and will continue to reinvent itself. It's interesting to me that the acceptance of the theory of plate tectonics dates to within my lifetime, 50s-60s. I love talking with my older brother Dale, the geologist, I show him rocks and other interesting features I've photographed on hikes into mountain canyons. Going into, say, Ten Sleep canyon, Crazy Woman canyon, both in Wyoming, driving through the Bighorns through layers of billions of years of geologic history is so fantastic. And then you run into recent human fussings, the Fetterman Massacre, for instance. How we fret on top of such an ancient rock here.
We do what we can, eh? I would hope that all of us would do what this man does: he lives in a small town, upriver from the coast, and in the disaster as the waters roared into their home, he gripped his mother's hand, tried to hold on, but lost her. Both his parents were carried away by the tsunami surges. Their bodies like hundreds of others were never recovered. To this day he goes out in his small boat looking for them. It was five years past the disaster when we met him, long past any realistic hope. He went out everyday to look.
Our bus had parked on a gravel lot. After introductions he spread a map on the ground showing his now-lost town. I asked, "Where was it?" and he replied, "Right here, where the bus is parked." I hope he has found some peace.
They've cleaned the land of hundreds of tons of debris. We were there five years after, and it was remarkable how clean it was. But you will see things when you get close.
There was an elementary school there. The waters rose, they sheltered in place. Like good administrators they did what they could, waiting for instructions on what to do next. The phones were out. The waters kept rising and they had to flee to what little high ground was nearby. They made it to a small hill, and it wasn't enough. They made a desperate dash to a bridge that was the highest point around, but it wasn't good enough. The administrators, teachers and students were swept away.
We saw some nice cultural sites, samurai castles and museums, fantastic gardens, and we ate like lords. There was good weather, and our guides kept us on track and moving through the incredible train stations to the right platform at the right time. If a train is leaving at 9:01, it will leave at 9:01, set your watch by it. And I got a day off to go fishing.
I hired Kato-san as a guide, my first guide ever. And he took care of me beautifully. Picked me up in Tokyo and drove me towards the sacred mountain, Mount Fuji. It was a sight in snow in the clear daylight. He told me it isn't always this clear, good day. The Oshino river was fairly good, though I'm more a mountain freestoner type, boulder hopping and pocket picking, and the Oshino was more a flat land river. But I have no complaints, my Duracane and Sunbeam were with me, and I caught rainbows on top. My last fish was a beautiful Yamame, with gently muted colors like a trout on an ancient silk screen.
Japan is a wacky place, self-regulated and so well-behaved it astounds. Theft is generally unknown unless, as it is said, "You go to cities where there are foreigners and tourists." In the cities, towns, villages and other areas that are away from things, your things are safe to leave out. Here, an airport shuttle crew bows to a departing shuttle.
These are folks who were living in govt housing. Their coastal cities and homes were destroyed. We sang some old songs for them, and often phonetically since most of the group don't speak Japanese (being 3rd generation Sansei, American-born and bred). Some of the folks were puzzled that we could not speak Japanese; knowledge of what happened to us in the U.S. during the war isn't well-known. As in America, that generation is almost all gone by now.
All these folks survived the disasters, and many lost much family. Their possessions and professions and homes are gone. The very land they lived upon on the coast will look far different when -- if -- they return: the govt has been bringing in untold tons of earth to build up the coast, I think I remember 30' was the goal. I saw earthmoving equipment building huge mounds that looked like the Mexican pyramids. I'd like to see what that looks like today, a coastline raised 30'.
Ten years, a long while in the life of a child. I hope they are all living a good life and are happy. If orphaned I hope their new family holds them close and warm. Ten years on the face of this earth? Life is like a cherry blossom, it flowers and is beautiful. Soon it falls. Live well, my friends.
