Tottori to Shikoku

Tottori's biggest draw, and the reason for our visit, is the Tottori sand dunes. Covering about 15km by 2km, it's the closest thing Japan has to a desert. I wasn't expecting much, to be honest, but it was every bit as impressive as the picture here implies. I enjoyed both marvelling at the sand flowing at our feet and whipping over ridges and bounding down the steepest side of the dune like a big kid.




The camp site near Okayama was pretty strange. Free, and located on the spacious grounds of an out-of-the-way temple, we weren't greeted on arrival, but tiptoed around until an old lady who looked to be approaching a hundred slid open a window. We didn't get much out of her beyond that we could stay and the water was potable since we were communicating through a window and we thought it best to let her sit back down before she fell. The big black balding dog that trotted out craving our attention seemed almost as ancient, if a lot more mobile and prone to barking plainitively whenever he was locked inside. The whole place had seen better days, with stacks and stacks of moldy fibreglass canoes all over the place, and a large building with the sign 'Scout House' seemingly out of use. Inside we found cupboards full of utensils, two huge catering woks(?) to feed a hundred people, several fridges, sinks and old washing machines. One of the fridges was still running and full of beer, and the water was clean and safe to drink. The one problem was all the toilets were locked and had 'use forbidden' signs on them.


In the evening we met a biker I didn't like much, but he got on well with Hozumi since she's an expert listener. I have a bad habit of listening to only what interests or concerns me, but she can recognise when people want to talk and will lend an ear even if, for instance, she already knows the directions or information they're giving. She's also a lot more interested in people than I am. Anyway, if the guy wasn't so full of himself I might have enjoyed his tales of a year and half around Japan's mountain roads in his youth, his volunteer work in the aftermath of a typhoon and the depth and breadth of his knowledge regarding campsites, hot springs, and cheap petrol. He did rather helpfully give us an annotated map of free camp sites in Chugoku though, which was nice. We also met the solid, bald old guy who seemed responsible for the upkeep of the place, who gave us the tour and showed us the sparkly clean heated toilet built into the side of their house for camper use. Big relief for Hozumi.

From the temple we made a day trip to Inujima (dog island). A tiny island supposedly covered with art projects. In fact seven islands in the area had been linked together in a big art project, but we picked this, the smallest of the seven, on the recommendation of a friend. Eating noodles at a cafe by the port we heard about a 貝塚 (shell heap?) excavation that the mum from Hokkaido plus baby and the other two customers were going to see. 'More interesting than the art' said one, so we decided to check it out. Kind of weird experience. Aside from us there were about a dozen people, all with an academic interest in the site. We were the only tourists, and only there by sheer chance. After a classroom explanation of what were about to do we got on two tiny fishing boats and motored out to the teeny tiny island pictured right. A small team of students and professors were excavating a burial mound on top, and we saw some of the arrowheads, pottery and suchlike that had been unearthed there. I couldn't figure out if the main draw was the anthropological excavation or the shells, but apparently the conditions that led to the shells deposit were very rare. About 10,000 years ago the island wasn't an island, and freshwater met saltwater in just the right quantities to result in the two-foot thick layer of shell deposits spanning the island today. The mum from Hokkaido carried her baby all the way, and gave us four riceballs as an apology for inviting us so suddenly to the mini expedition(?!)

The art installations we saw on the way to the main site were pretty dull. The Seirensho project was awe-inspiring. The ruins of an old copper refinery were impressive enough, with mazes of bricks fired from the copper deposit dregs and crumbling brick towers piercing the sky, but the interior had been converted in a really ingenious way. It's impossible to put the images into words, but I'll give it a try. First you're greeted by an impossibly long corridor lit only by the shaft of light from the far end. Walking towards the light you hit the first corner and realise there's a mirror at a 45 degree angle. After half a dozen such corners you realise you are facing not the exit, but the blue sky and drifting clouds. The final mirror angles up from the floor and the true exit is an unlit tunnel to your right. The next two rooms are like exploded rooms, with walls and lights suspended in mid air, but the first is enclosed in a dark and cavernous room the second is airy and light. The next room is small, dark and cramped, with mirrors on opposite walls and projectors streaming melting waves of red letters, very Matrix-like, down each surface. Hard to read, but apparently comment on the change of role for the Japanese emperor from god to man, and how that signalled the end of the war for Japan. The final room again light and airy, with a massive iron bound dusty chest surrounded by phrases made from gold letters hanging from the ceiling, again related to the end of WWII.


The 3km bridge spanning the mainland and Shikoku was mighty impressive. In the hot spring baths an old guy next to me insists quite fervently that I should go to the 88 holy sites in Shikoku, and later seeks out Hozumi (waiting for me) to tell her the same thing, even as his family chides him for harassing strangers. We figure we might as well give it a try seeing as site 1 is nearby and the route would take us neatly around the whole of Shikoku.


That night we chat with three Harley Davidson riders, the first well-off people we've met at free camp sites so far. Sappa, the most talkative, is quite drunk, puffing on his pipe, and takes a shine to me while extolling the virtues of Western interactions and relationships. From his point of view the formalised gift-giving and work ethics of Japan are troublesome, and he prefers, for instance, the Western tendency to receive things freely given without then being obliged to give something of equivalent value at a later date. He apparently both circled and criss-crossed Australia by motorbike, an undertaking which I can't even begin to contemplate doing. Thousands and thousands of kilometres of dead straight roads through desert. He also called up a friend in Kyuushu and extracted a promise to let us stay there at some point. Be interesting to see how and if that works out, especially since the guy lives with a family of 12 in the one house.


The next day we found out the origin of Uzumaki Naruto, the protagonist of a wildly popular manga about the coming of age of a boy ninja. I don't like the series myself, but I'm told it gets better if you persevere through the first hundred or so books...

Anyway, 鳴門 'Naruto' or 'crying (as in bird) gate' is a town, next to which is a strait uniquely formed to give rise to 渦巻 'uzumaki' or whirlpools, at high and low tides. From the bridge viewing platform we didn't see anything quite as dramatic as the picture here, but learning what real life whirlpools are as opposed to the idea I had from stories was educational. Another soaking on the ride back to camp.


Next up, we start from holy site #1.