The Gotoh Islands, Part I - Fukue Blue

The Gotoh Islands (五島列島) - a chain of islands off the far west coast of Japan. If Japan was Britain, Gotoh would probably be the Channel Islands.

With my time in Japan swiftly running out, I embarked on a final trip before home. I took the moonlit overnight ferry from Hakata (photos here), and after a hazy night spent photographing the moon and failing to sleep on the tatami floor of a boat full of snoring fishermen, I got up to the sight of islands drifting past our bows. We were heading for the main city of the Gotoh archipelago, Fukue. I ate my crummy rice omelette in the faltering company of a 30year old woman, whose shy smile had brought me over to say hello. The usual questions ensued, but the usual answers did not follow. Learning that she lived on the tiny island of Naru, I enthusiastically dug for recommendations, tales of life on the islands and the beauty of its nature. But even before I arrived, I would be shown the downside of island life. She repeatedly referred to her illness, which had trapped her in her family home, and given her a brutally simple daily routine - wake up, get the boat to the main island and its hospital. Come home, sleep. Wake up, get the boat to the main island and its hospital. Come home, sleep. Wake up...

I asked her for her favourite thing in the islands.

"No. I hate the Gotoh islands. There is nature, but I want shopping centres, life, hospitals."

Not what I had been expecting. All the things I was so looking forward to seeing on the islands - the simple lifestyle, countryside, sea, quiet - were exactly the things that made her life so unbearable. Trapped in a beautiful prison.

By 9am, we arrived in the port, and my rather unhappy companion helped me find the information office before rushing to catch her bus to the hospital.

And so I got myself on a bus out across the island, and trundled past the green hills , rusting iron, and blue seas.

Blue. My strongest memory of Fukue is blue. It was everywhere.

Moon Waves

I took a night ferry from Fukuoka to the Gotoh Islands, one day before the full moon.















These were taken on a slow shutter speed at night, turning the ship's wake into hazy brush strokes of light. See previous (and more successful) attempts here.

Butoh by the Sea

With the day off lessons, I went to the seaside to dance with a couple of Japanese friends. We swam in the water, and sat in the sun. We walked by the seafront, and found a suitable boulder for a stage. And we danced.

Dancer - Ikumi

Night Waves

These photos were all taken on ferries at night, some on the boat back from Sakurajima (home of Furasato Onsen - see previous post), and some crossing back from Miyajima in the Inland Sea.

Life's a Beach

Beach life, in late October. Life IS good.

We went up the coast to a tiny fishing village called Keya, and managed to find a beach that the civil authorities had managed NOT to ruin. The mile long concrete sea wall next to the beach was a tad excessive, but the beach itself was clean sand stretching into distance. A gorgeous sunny day, a slight chill in the wind, but the sea was easily warm enough to swim in. It seems local people rarely swim in the sea, especially at this time of year; any suggestion of the activity is met by shock and discouragement - "Too cold! Too dangerous!" Dangerous; surely not. But then, maybe so - there was rather more life in the sea than I am used to back home. First time we swam we were greeted by foot-long silver fish leaping a yard out of the water. At their closest, they were barely 5m away, throwing themselves into the air. They weren't actually Flying Fish, but 'fish that like to jump'. Anyone know why they do this? Answers on a postcard please...

They weren't the only sea inhabitants we found. After an impromptu skinny dip late at night, I had warmed up by the fire, and wandered down to see the stars and listen to the surf. At the foot of the beach, something bulked largely in the darkness. An absolute beast of a jellyfish...

It was about 3ft in diameter, and half a foot high at the peak of its dome. I tried to lift it with a couple of sticks, but it was far to heavy. As can be seen from this photo, it was about the size of a Dave. I'm rather glad I didn't swim into it while naked. Really very glad indeed.

Shudder.

There's a huge amount of light pollution in Japan, so I was relieved to find that the beach provided a rare chance to see the night sky. The Milky Way was out in force. The constellations are largely the same as in Britain, but as I'm a bit further south, Orion and co have all moved further up the sky than I'm used to.

We drove back on the Urban Expressway, an incredible motorway that flies over the dense centre of Fukuoka. It must have taken real chutzpah to build such a big road so high up in the sky, especially in an earthquake zone. It is lit by a mesmerising cacophony of neon, with blinkng multi-coloured cat's eyes, arrows with running red lights, flashing signs and policemen waving crimson light sticks. Best of all was the section side lit with evenly spaced, piercingly yellow lamps, which a high speed created a strobe effect sufficient to induce epilepsy in just about anyone. You cannot see road, car, or sign; all you see is light. Absolute chaos.