Today I was lucky enough to experience a second natural wonder this year. During the rainy season, I was moved to write about the incredible appearance of Kaname Falls. Tonight, it was a late-summer thunderstorm that passed over our area and lit up the sky for nearly an hour.
I was sitting down to watch a movie when I noticed frequent flashes in the background behind my television set. On more than one occasion, a nearly perfect vertical strike was visible. The sound of the thunder filled the air like so many giant explosions. It made me realize how much I love a good lightning storm.
Still, I love a good movie nearly as much, and as it was still raining outside, I wasn't yet compelled enough to go out to the balcony.
Later, however, the rain stopped, as did the terrific explosions. I thought maybe the storm had passed, and continued enjoying the film, which was turning out to be one of the best I had rented this year. But still, in the background, light flashed continuously, and silently. It was beautiful - the light catching the cloud tops and turning the darkness into near daylight. When I realized that such a show was far rarer than the $1 movie rental on my TV screen, I wasted about two seconds before getting outside.
As I stepped out of my apartment, I saw that the rain had indeed ceased, and it was much quieter - peaceful even, perhaps a common observation after a violent heavenly outburst.
But the visual spectacle which was to follow was far from common, and by far the most incredible light show I have ever seen.
Once in the walkway outside my apartment, I moved to the stairwell that leads to the third story apartments, and ascended to the halfway point between the two levels. There is a small landing there which made a good lookout point with a panoramic view of the surrounding hillsides. From this vantage, I witnessed what ancient peoples might have described as a war of the gods.
Just above the line of hills dimly visible in the darkness there came periodic flashes which lit up the clouds. The flashes were frequently bright enough to illuminate nearly the whole sky. Usually the bolt was hidden from view, but every so often, a small arc would be visible in amongst the clouds. The thunder which before made the whole building shake was reduced to a rumble-in-the-distance variety.
After witnessing about three or four decent-sized arcs, I felt I had been moved enough and decided to head back in. I got about a third of the way before I turned back for more. This was a lightning storm after all, with nearly perfect conditions for viewing; how often does this happen?
Boy was I sure glad I turned back. Apparently the clouds over the distant hillsides had gradually been moving in our direction, because the modest-sized arcs I had been watching grew larger and more spectacular every minute. My eyes were glued to the ceiling of clouds for the better part of twenty minutes. I was not disappointed for ten seconds during that time, enjoying both the invisible bolts that set the clouds gently aglow, as well as the piercing, white-hot bolts that burned their images into my eyeballs and my memory.
The bolts seemed to develop in complexity as they moved closer. While the first long arcs set my heart leaping, soon that same muscle was gorging on various displays of shape and trajectory. I watched one arc travel across the sky from cloud to cloud, starting in the distance and ending nearly above our building. Other strikes formed deltas of light in the sky as they branched nearly identically like a terrestrial river. But perhaps the most moving spectacle was a circular arc that my gaze caught spot-on. The fact that scientifically it could not have been have been a circle dulled the experience of seeing a giant halo in the night sky by about 1/100 of a percent. It appeared to float amongst the clouds (for as long as a bolt of lighting may be considered to float) and its luminescence made the surrounding area seem nothing short of heavenly. It was the diadem of a perfect evening of natural splendor.
I turned back one more time before heading in for good, and when I did finally make it back indoors to write this account, I returned completely satisfied. Perhaps the only thing that could've made the evening more impacting would have been if I had been struck myself. Truly a night of nights, and a fitting companion to my day of days back in June.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
AMAZING!
Today I had the most spectacular experience of the past two years in Hitoyoshi. I must write about it while it's still fresh. Since I started riding a scooter this past January, I've developed an affinity for Kaname-machi (kah-nah-may). It's one of the more remote areas of Hitoyoshi, but has quickly become my favorite riding spot. It is famous for the 30-plus meter waterfall that bears the same name - Kaname Falls.
The route to the falls runs uphill from the Kuma River, along a lushly forested valley. To reach the falls, which cannot be viewed from the road, you have to park on the side of the street and then walk down the hillside to reach the small river that runs along the valley floor. The forest has an ancient feel to it, and makes a good prelude for the first view of the waterfall.
I fell in love with Kaname Falls the first time I went there. Love at first sight. The falls, which don't look so big when you first see them from afar, grow much more impressive as you move closer. And you can move fairly close, if you are adventurous enough.
Since I first started riding, I've visited Kaname maybe six or seven times. Only twice have I seen other people there. Its seclusion and majestic setting and appearance have made Kaname Falls my favorite getaway. I love to visit after a rainy day, to see how big the falls have grown. If there's been an extended period without rain, the falls are pretty delicate looking; a few days' rain will make them much fuller and more appealing.
Well, right now we are smack in the middle of the rainy season - good news for waterfall viewing. I'd visited a couple of times since the rainy season started, most recently three days ago. The falls were amazing - both shoots were full and the base frothed and sputtered with the weight of the water coming down.
Kaname Falls has two main shoots, a one on the left and one on the right. The left is the most steady; most of the water runs down there. The right shoot has a much lower flow, but a graceful air that the more powerful left lacks. When it rains, other flows become visible in between the two main ones, but typically they represent little more than trickles of water running down the rock.
The past two days, however, we have had torrential rain. Some of the hardest of the year. Today it started around 8 in the morning (just as I was on my way to work, sans rainsuit - uggh), and it rained pretty much all day, mostly in dumping fashion.
It just so happened that as I was coming home from work around 5, the rain waned and nearly stopped. I saw this was my chance. I made a quick stop to dump my pack at the apartment, exchanged my loafers for some old sneakers, and made a beeline for Kaname.
The ride up showed promising signs of the rain's effects. Streams and groundwater passed over the roadway in multiple areas, and the forest felt filled to the brim. The valley was amazing with mist hanging in the trees and offering spectacular views. I wanted to stop and look, but pushed forward. I parked my bike in the usual spot and descended toward the falls...
About a third of the way down I caught a glimpse of the river - it was frothing white. My pulse quickened. A little farther, I could see the spray was much larger than usual, and my excitement was heightened even further. And Kaname Falls delivered. The main event was even better than my anticipation. Breaking out of the hillside and onto the bridge, I laid eyes on a wall of whitewater thirty-nine meters high. I nearly jumped out of my shoes!
But of course I knew the best view could not be had from the bridge's relatively distant vantage point. So I made my way across the river and followed the last portion of the stone path to... a stream of water blocking the way.
I'd run into this problem before, the last couple of times I'd visited, and each time had simply crossed farther up the stream via a few prominent rocks. Now all those rocks were submerged. I made my way back to the stone path and looked at the falls, looked down at the water. Looked back at the falls and - off went my shoes! I stuffed my socks into a pocket and began wading through the swiftly-moving water. It was only a few inches deep, but the current was surprisingly strong. And the stone path was surprisingly slick. But nothing was going to keep me from getting the best view.
I came to the end of the stone path and slipped my sneakers back on, because from there on it was all rocky - pointy, fist-sized rocks that would make short work work of my uncallused soles. I was nearly there. I moved closer, climbed a few low rocks and BAM! - there it was. Kaname Falls. Had I ever seen Kaname Falls before? Today seemed like the first time, or perhaps, like an entirely different waterfall.
There were not two shoots - there were four! Four main shoots! Those trickles down the rock had become proper children of the left and right, gushing and blanketing the interior of the cliff face so that the whole of the face was alive with water. The left shoot ran thick and fast, and where it struck the water at the bottom it sent plumes of spray shooting to both sides. The smaller of the plumes ran almost horizontally into the forest, whipping trees and rushes 20 to 30 meters away with the force of its wind. The larger plume, which followed the river, pulsed like a shock wave. The mist, driven with explosive force, billowed high into the trees. The falls' right shoot maintained its artful appearance even as it had grown to five times its usual volume. It cascaded in a graceful arc that bounded the right side of the waterfall.
The voluminous and powerful left shoot, and the strong yet aesthetic right were two walls of water, between which flowed the son and daughter shoots. Though much smaller than their forbears, these smaller shoots (which had at last become shoots) engulfed the whole of the face in a beautiful veil of white. The water pulsed, had a rhythm. I could not look away.
I stood and watch the falls today for longer than I ever had before. I watched them in many ways. I scanned from side to side, taking in the whole of the falls. I ran my eyes up and down, watching the water move in slow-motion. This was the best way to see how much the left and right shoots were like walls, right out of Exodus. I would also gaze at the center of the falls and let my eyes and my brain relax, so that the whole of my attention was focused without focusing, on the water moving, water in motion, water with life and fully animated. It was a beast, alive and frothing at the mouth - it was water evolved, transformed from an element into a living thing.
After a few blows of spray to the face, I knew it was time to leave. By then, it was raining again, but thankfully not in droves as earlier. I walked back to the stone path, went wading again, and climbed the few stairs to the bridge. I turned and looked back for the last time on the Kaname family - father, mother, daughter and son. Four shoots, alive and dancing. A sight I will never forget. I turned, and headed back up to the road.
The route to the falls runs uphill from the Kuma River, along a lushly forested valley. To reach the falls, which cannot be viewed from the road, you have to park on the side of the street and then walk down the hillside to reach the small river that runs along the valley floor. The forest has an ancient feel to it, and makes a good prelude for the first view of the waterfall.
I fell in love with Kaname Falls the first time I went there. Love at first sight. The falls, which don't look so big when you first see them from afar, grow much more impressive as you move closer. And you can move fairly close, if you are adventurous enough.
Since I first started riding, I've visited Kaname maybe six or seven times. Only twice have I seen other people there. Its seclusion and majestic setting and appearance have made Kaname Falls my favorite getaway. I love to visit after a rainy day, to see how big the falls have grown. If there's been an extended period without rain, the falls are pretty delicate looking; a few days' rain will make them much fuller and more appealing.
Well, right now we are smack in the middle of the rainy season - good news for waterfall viewing. I'd visited a couple of times since the rainy season started, most recently three days ago. The falls were amazing - both shoots were full and the base frothed and sputtered with the weight of the water coming down.
Kaname Falls has two main shoots, a one on the left and one on the right. The left is the most steady; most of the water runs down there. The right shoot has a much lower flow, but a graceful air that the more powerful left lacks. When it rains, other flows become visible in between the two main ones, but typically they represent little more than trickles of water running down the rock.
The past two days, however, we have had torrential rain. Some of the hardest of the year. Today it started around 8 in the morning (just as I was on my way to work, sans rainsuit - uggh), and it rained pretty much all day, mostly in dumping fashion.
It just so happened that as I was coming home from work around 5, the rain waned and nearly stopped. I saw this was my chance. I made a quick stop to dump my pack at the apartment, exchanged my loafers for some old sneakers, and made a beeline for Kaname.
The ride up showed promising signs of the rain's effects. Streams and groundwater passed over the roadway in multiple areas, and the forest felt filled to the brim. The valley was amazing with mist hanging in the trees and offering spectacular views. I wanted to stop and look, but pushed forward. I parked my bike in the usual spot and descended toward the falls...
About a third of the way down I caught a glimpse of the river - it was frothing white. My pulse quickened. A little farther, I could see the spray was much larger than usual, and my excitement was heightened even further. And Kaname Falls delivered. The main event was even better than my anticipation. Breaking out of the hillside and onto the bridge, I laid eyes on a wall of whitewater thirty-nine meters high. I nearly jumped out of my shoes!
But of course I knew the best view could not be had from the bridge's relatively distant vantage point. So I made my way across the river and followed the last portion of the stone path to... a stream of water blocking the way.
I'd run into this problem before, the last couple of times I'd visited, and each time had simply crossed farther up the stream via a few prominent rocks. Now all those rocks were submerged. I made my way back to the stone path and looked at the falls, looked down at the water. Looked back at the falls and - off went my shoes! I stuffed my socks into a pocket and began wading through the swiftly-moving water. It was only a few inches deep, but the current was surprisingly strong. And the stone path was surprisingly slick. But nothing was going to keep me from getting the best view.
I came to the end of the stone path and slipped my sneakers back on, because from there on it was all rocky - pointy, fist-sized rocks that would make short work work of my uncallused soles. I was nearly there. I moved closer, climbed a few low rocks and BAM! - there it was. Kaname Falls. Had I ever seen Kaname Falls before? Today seemed like the first time, or perhaps, like an entirely different waterfall.
There were not two shoots - there were four! Four main shoots! Those trickles down the rock had become proper children of the left and right, gushing and blanketing the interior of the cliff face so that the whole of the face was alive with water. The left shoot ran thick and fast, and where it struck the water at the bottom it sent plumes of spray shooting to both sides. The smaller of the plumes ran almost horizontally into the forest, whipping trees and rushes 20 to 30 meters away with the force of its wind. The larger plume, which followed the river, pulsed like a shock wave. The mist, driven with explosive force, billowed high into the trees. The falls' right shoot maintained its artful appearance even as it had grown to five times its usual volume. It cascaded in a graceful arc that bounded the right side of the waterfall.
The voluminous and powerful left shoot, and the strong yet aesthetic right were two walls of water, between which flowed the son and daughter shoots. Though much smaller than their forbears, these smaller shoots (which had at last become shoots) engulfed the whole of the face in a beautiful veil of white. The water pulsed, had a rhythm. I could not look away.
I stood and watch the falls today for longer than I ever had before. I watched them in many ways. I scanned from side to side, taking in the whole of the falls. I ran my eyes up and down, watching the water move in slow-motion. This was the best way to see how much the left and right shoots were like walls, right out of Exodus. I would also gaze at the center of the falls and let my eyes and my brain relax, so that the whole of my attention was focused without focusing, on the water moving, water in motion, water with life and fully animated. It was a beast, alive and frothing at the mouth - it was water evolved, transformed from an element into a living thing.
After a few blows of spray to the face, I knew it was time to leave. By then, it was raining again, but thankfully not in droves as earlier. I walked back to the stone path, went wading again, and climbed the few stairs to the bridge. I turned and looked back for the last time on the Kaname family - father, mother, daughter and son. Four shoots, alive and dancing. A sight I will never forget. I turned, and headed back up to the road.
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