Since long ago, it has been counted as one of the three largest forests in Japan. From the Showa year 4 (1929) edition of the Japan Geography and Customs Survey:
First, the large forests in Tsugaru are linked to unfinished work of the founder Tsugaru Tamenobu at his death. Under the strict system in effect since that time, those luxuriant forests still exist and comprise the model forest system of our nation. Beginning in the Tenna and Jokyo eras (1681-1688), trees were planted over several dozen miles of sand dunes on Japan Sea coast as an investment to block sea breezes and cultivate wilderness in the downstream area of the Iwaki River. Since that time, the clan attacked that plan and worked earnestly to reforest. As a result, the mature trees of the so-called Byobu forest were seen in the Kan'ei era (1624-1644), and the cultivation of eight thousand three hundred hectares of arable land was seen. And the lands in the clan domain often underwent forestation and provided the large forests at over one hundred locations for the clan. Even at the onset of the Meiji era (1868-1912), the authorities heeded forest management and heard about the popularity of the cypress trees in Aomori Prefecture. Timber from this region is well suited as wood for use in various buildings and has the property of water resistance. The timber yield is abundant, relatively easy to transport, and valued at eight hundred thousand koku.
These data are from the Showa year 4 edition, so the current yield may be three times greater.
Above I described cypress forests throughout the entire Tsugaru region, but this alone cannot be the unique pride of only the Kanita area. The mountains thick with forests seen from Kanranzan are a belt of superior forests even for the Tsugaru region. A large picture of the mouth of Kanita River was published in the Japan Geography and Customs Survey. The caption for that picture said:
There are national cypress forests dubbed the three most beautiful forests in Japan near Kanita River. Kanita is prosperous as a shipping port. From here, the logging railroad leaves the coast, enters the mountains, is piled with a great deal of wood everyday, and carries the load back here. Wood from this area is known to be of good quality and inexpensive.
The people of Kanita should be proud.
Moreover, the Bonjusan mountain range forms the backbone of the Tsugaru Peninsula. Not only cypress, cedar, beech, katsura, and larch trees grow on the mountains. The Kanagi area in the western part of the peninsula is known to be rich with wild herbs. In the Kanita region, bracken, royal fern, ginseng, bamboo shoot, butterbur, thistle, and mushrooms are easily gathered from the foothills close to town. Kanita has paddy fields and crop fields, and is blessed with seafood and vegetables, wild game, and mushrooms from the mountain. The reader may think of a town like Kanita as a different world, a place of perfect contentment, but Kanita seen from Kanranzan shows signs of weariness. There's no vitality. Even now, I write with excessive praise of Kanita. Here is a criticism but not enough for the people of Kanita to thrash me. The people of Kanita are gentle.
Gentleness is a virtue, but the townsmen's lethargy makes the town melancholy and lonely to the traveler. The many natural blessings may be bad for the energy of the town. Kanita is a docile and quiet place. The seawall at the mouth of the river seemed half-built and abandoned. The ground is leveled to build a house, but the house is started but not finished, and pumpkins grow in the vacant lot of red soil. I could not see all of this from Kanranzan, but there seemed to be many buildings abandoned while under construction. When I asked N, "Does it mean, old schemers hampering the vigorous drive of the town administration?" this young councilman forced a smile and said, "Come here. Come here." The business method of a descendant of samurai and the political talk of a man of letters should be discreet.
My questions about the administration of Kanita ended in the idiotic result of only a smile of pity from the expert town councilman. The story I immediately recalled was a story of a failure of Degas. By chance, the master painter Edgar Degas in France's art circles sat on the same couch as the powerful politician Georges Clemenceau in the corridor of some dance theater in Paris. Without reserve, Degas embarked on a lofty political conversation with the powerful politician.
Degas said with passion, "If I became the prime minister, I believe in the importance of that responsibility and would cut ties to all loves; choose a simple, frugal life like an ascetic; and rent a very small room in a five-story walk-up close to the government offices. The apartment would only have a table and a humble iron bed. After returning home from the office, I would settle unfinished business on that table until late at night. When attacked by sleepiness, I would roll into bed with my clothes and shoes on. When I woke the following morning, I'd jump right up and enjoy eggs and soup while standing. Then I'd sling my bag over my shoulder and head to the office. That would be my life, I have no doubt!"
Clemenceau did not say a word. He only glared with scorn as if utterly appalled and looked hard at the face of the master painter. Mr. Degas seemed to wilt under his gaze and looked embarrassed. No one knew about that story of failure. Fifteen years later, he disclosed this to Mr. Bellelli, the closest of his few friends. Fifteen
