"This area is a remnant of a great flood," Aya stopped to explain. Huge stumps and logs scattered over several hectares of fields near the river reminded me of traces of a battlefield. The previous year, Kanagi was hit by a huge flood unlike anything the eighty-eight-year-old grandmother in our family had ever seen.
"All the trees flowed here from the mountains," said a mournful Aya.
"This is terrible," I said while wiping off my sweat, "It looks like the ocean came."
"Yes, like the ocean."
We left the Kanagi River and climbed for a while along the Kanoko River and finally left the track of the logging railway. Where we turned a little to the right, there was a large pond more than a mile around. A lone bird chirped. The surface of the blue water filling the lake was still. The area was a deep ravine called Souemon-sawa. Kanoko River at the bottom of the ravine recently dammed creating this large pond in Showa year 16 (1941).
A large stone monument near the pond was inscribed with the name of my oldest brother. The red earth of the cliff left by construction around the pond was still freshly exposed. The so-called natural glory was missing. But the strength of the village called Kanagi could be felt. This sort of personal success must produce a pleasant landscape. The careless travel critic stops to smoke a cigarette and organize his haphazard impressions while looking all around. The confident me led the group on a walk around the pond.
"This is nice. This area is nice," I said and sat in the shade of a tree on the promontory of the lake, "Aya, please tell me, is this a sumac tree?"
I would continue with this trip even if I broke out in a rash although racked with melancholy. He said it wasn't a sumac tree.
"Uh, that tree…what is it? It looks suspicious. Please find out," I said. Everyone laughed but I was serious. He said that wasn't sumac either. Thoroughly relieved, I decided to open my bento box there. I drank beer and conversed cheerfully. I excitedly talked about the time in second or third grade when I went on a school trip to a placed called Takayama on the west coast about seven miles from Kanagi and saw the sea for the first time.
The teacher who led the excursion had been excited for some time, lined us up in two lines facing the sea, and made us sing the song Ware wa Umi no Ko (I am a Child of the Sea).
I am a child of the sea
In the pine grove on the beach
The whitecapped waves play
However, because this was our first glimpse of the sea in our lives, our singing of this song of children born on the shore was stilted. My child's heart felt embarrassed and uncomfortable.
I was zealous about my eccentric clothes for that trip. As instructed, I wore a straw hat with a wide brim, carried a plain wood cane cleanly branded several times at the temple and used by my older brother to climb Mount Fuji, received a pair of the lightest possible straw sandals from the teacher, was the only student wearing useless hakama trousers, and wore high-laced shoes with long socks. I started out playing the toady. Before we walked two miles, I was exhausted and first took off my hakama and shoes. One of the sandals was made from red cord and the other was straw. I had been given mismatched, worn out, miserable sandals. Soon I took off my hat and had someone else carry my cane. Finally, I was riding in the cart hired by the school for the sick. When I got home, not a speck of the brilliance I had when I set out remained. My shoes were dangling from one hand and I clutched the cane. When told about my condition, everyone laughed.
"Hey," a voice called. It was my oldest brother.
"Hey," we all called back. Aya ran to meet him. My brother appeared carrying an ice axe. Unfortunately, I drank every beer we had and was in bad shape.
My brother ate immediately, then we all walked toward the far side of the pond. We heard a loud rustling sound and a water bird took flight. The son-in-law and I looked at each other and for no reason nodded. Was it a goose or a duck? We asked with no confidence. At any rate, it was definitely wild waterfowl. We were struck by the energy of a ravine deep in a mountain. My brother walked in silence with his shoulders hunched. How many years had it been since I walked with my brother outside?
About ten years ago, my brother walked silently several steps ahead of me with his back hunched through a path in a field on the outskirts of Tokyo. I walked alone watching my brother from behind and sobbing; this may be the first time since then. I don't think he's forgiven me yet for that incident. It may be the worst event of my whole life. Nothing can be done about a cracked rice bowl. We can't go back. The people of Tsugaru, in particular, are a race that cannot forget a crack in the heart. After this, I thought I would not have another chance to walk outside with my brother again. I heard the sounds of water gradually getting louder.
At the edge of the pond was a famous local site called Kanoko Falls. Soon, the
