Fukuroda no Taki: Ibaraki's Famed Waterfall
Japan has a long list of famous threesomes -- something I'm still trying to compile. On that list are the three great waterfalls: Kegon-no-taki, nestled in the mountains of Tochigi Prefecture near the picturesque city of Nikko; Nachi-no-taki, Japan's tallest waterfall, down in the mountains of the Kii Peninsula in Wakayama Prefecture; and, much to my surprise, Fukuroda-no-taki, in the northern part of my very own Ibaraki Prefecture. Upon learning this morsel of information, I made a point of taking a drive up into the mountains to see the sight for myself. I think I timed things rather well.
My school had had a festival on Sunday, November 14, so that meant I had the following Monday off as a compensatory holiday. The leaves were just starting to change color down by the coast in Taiyo, so I figured it would be a good time to see Fukuroda-n-taki up in the mountains. Also, since it wasn't a holiday for many people besides me, I was hoping to avoid the flocks of weekend drivers and tour buses that flock to the mountains in the fall. [The Japanese have a keen interest in taking note of the change of seasons, and trips to the mountains to see the fall colors is almost like a pilgrimage. All of the travel offices had brochures to special tour packages all over Japan -- they have all been conveniently replaced with the customary skiing/snowboarding pamphlets of winter.] So, I gathered my things and started off on my trip late in the morning of Monday, November 15.
Daigo is a town in northern Ibaraki, on the border with Fukushima Prefecture. Famous for its hot springs, it waterfalls, and its seven shrines each housing statues of the Seven Gods of Good Fortune, Daigo is mountainous. Steep, jagged mountains, completely tree-covered, but not very high in stature. I had to brave the traffic of Mito and wind my way up a little country road. It was actually a fairly major prefectural road, but it was only two lanes and backed up pretty easily. When I hit the mountains, things changed. The trees were all brilliant. I think I had timed the trip perfectly :) . I kept thinking what an arduous climb it would be for my little car to get up to the waterfall, but I kept waiting for the incline. It was very slow and gradual, as the road basically followed the narrow valleys, crossing the same rivers numerous times. The mountains, while still relatively short looked impossible to climb. I was amazed that trees and soil were clinging to the sides of them. Finally, I came to a little bend in the road, and the signs for the waterfall started. I kept following them until I suddenly came upon a throng of parking lots. I soared into one of the first ones I saw, the little man at the entrace wildly beckoning me with his glowing baton to enter his parking lot. I wandered through the little clump of shops, inns, and restaurants, all hemmed in by mountains, climbed some steps, and was graced with the gaping entrace to a tunnel. A little lady was in a flimsy-looking ticket booth beside the entrance. I payed my 100 yen and walked into the darkness.
Even before entering the gloom, I had heard the waterfall, but inside the tunnel, the sound echoed ominously. The tunnel banked left and upwards. I followed it, and at what looked like a dead end, I made a sharp right and was suddenly staring at a wall of water. I walked out on the balcony/observation terrace, and took in the sight. I had been taken completely by surprise. I had no idea that a waterfall of such a scale (120 meters tall and 73 meters wide) could exist in what seemed to be such miniscule mountains. A cascade of water tumbled down a bulge of rock worn smooth by centuries of grinding water. The falls have about 4 stages -- the Japanese also call it Yondan-no-taki, of the Four-stages waterfall.The water tumbles, collects in pools, and then tumbles again. It actually doesn't tumble like so many other waterfalls. The water hugs the curving, bulging rock on the way down. It's a very unique waterfall, or series of waterfalls... elegant and powerful. I just stood there, looking at the water, admiring the fall foliage, glancing up at the cliffs towering around me, and getting disturbed ever-so-often to take a picture for any number of Japanese tourists.
Fukuroda Falls is tucked away in a little valley. Without the tunnel drilled into the mountainside, it would be impossible to see the falls. I'm trying to figure out how the first people got up there. The valley sides are sheer. Any path would be thin and fragile, and the river bottom is strewn with massive rocks and swift, cold water. You can actually see remnants of the old, pre-tunnel observation path along the riverbank -- steps carved in the stone. It is quite weathered though, and I'm hoping people weren't on it when massive sections of it were washed away years ago. The observation platform gives you a very limited view of the falls. But other, more picturesque views are virtually impossible thanks to the topography. You can take a hike along the Fukuroda Falls/ Mt. Nantai nature walk which runs along the side of the falls, and you can catch glimpses through the trees over the cliff you walk along. It's the first nature trail I've been on that starts with about 200 feet of metal steps ascending the side of a mountain which would otherwise require a rope and harness. And the views over the edge aren't that rewarding... at least not of the waterfall. By the time you are able to see much, you are at the level of the uppermost tier, and can't really see back down the falls. I still like the picture I've included from the nature trail. The foliage helps though.
Fukuroda-no-taki was a really nice day trip for me. It's also something in Ibaraki Prefecture that I can boast about. While the Japanese environment on the whole is ina pretty sad state of affairs, you do come across some areas, and some features, which completely take your breath away. As I stood at the falls, using up several rolls of film, I realized how happy I was to be in Japan seeing something like the spectacle before me. Feeling satsified with my adventure, I walked back through the town to my car, and I couldn't resist stopping for a nice fish on a stick and some balls of warm rice paste coated sweet, fermented soybean (I could have said ayu and miso dango, but people wouldn't have understood). Ah the pleasures of life!
Here are some of the photos I took during my visit to Fukuroda-no-taki on November 15, 1999:
click here for a photo of me at Fukuroda-no-taki. (I'm a little stiff, standing there in my 'outdoorsy' garb).
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
