A Forest Breathing in the Eternity of Time

The entirety of Yakushima Island, located about 60 kilometers south of the Osumi Peninsula, is a mountain mass, or massif, 90% of which is forested. Most of the island is made of granite, which is said to have risen from the seafloor about 15.5 million years ago. The magma chamber that formed under the bottom of the ocean rose near the surface and solidified into a huge mass of granite. Because granite’s specific gravity is lighter than that of the sedimentary rocks on the seafloor, it broke through and thrust them upward, resulting in its current shape. The contrast between Yakushima and neighboring Tanegashima Island, also volcanic, but completely flat, is fascinating.

Miyanoura-dake, standing in the island’s center at an altitude of 1,936 meters, is the highest peak in Kyushu, and known for its day hiking and its scenic 360º views. On this island dotted with peaks reaching 1,800 meters, a humid environment develops from the moisture rising from the ocean, cooling on the mountaintops, then turning into rainfall. But as the majority of the island is composed of granite, its trees grow clinging to the thin topsoil, and at a slow pace, giving them a dense grain structure. They also store a large amount of resin to safeguard them against fungi and contribute to healing wounds. As a result, they live much longer. Those over 1,000 years old are referred to as “Yakusugi”.

I slowly hiked the round trip to Yodo River to see the forest. At an elevation of about 1,000 meters, there is a vast nature park known as Yakusugi Land, a network of trails allowing easy access to ancient trees and providing visitors with a chance to gain insights into the forest's lifecycle. Here moss grows on all manner of plants, including the stumps of giant trees that were felled in the Edo era (1603-1867) as well as on decaying fallen trees. The huge trunks of Yakusugi are coiled with layers of Trochodendron aralioide, commonly known as Wheel Tree, a slow-growing, broadleaf evergreen tree or large shrub native to mountain forests in Japan. One senses a kind of heroism in the sight of these giant trees that because of their kinks and deformities escaped being felled for lumber.

In addition to this landscape of majestic standing trees and fallen ones covered in moss, I was also really impressed by the refreshing mountain streams. An abundance of water collects in this forest of heavy rain and high humidity, then heads down to the sea in countless torrents and trickles. The water travels along over every terrain, stepping through the gaps in the huge crags, sending up white sprays on the way, and sometimes transforming into small falls. And then, just as you get used to this frenetic activity, it reflects the light in this forest rich with greenery, spreads into a wide pool, and cleanses the surrounding air with dignity. Indeed, water seems to flow cyclically through all life.

Takuya Tabira, who guided me around the site, moved to Yakushima 24 years ago, fell in love with the forests, and has been working here ever since. Initially, he worked as a logger for about a year. However, he found his true calling as a guide, conveying to visitors the depth and vastness of these forests. Today, he also works as a full-service coordinator for visiting film crews, photographers and videographers, and manages a photo gallery. The Shiratani-unsui Gorge, where Mr. Tabira guided me, is filled with regenerated trees from those logged 50 years ago, and it is a place filled with the vigor of a growing forest.

The first few days of the photo shoot were sunny and clear, rare for Yakushima. The scenery was truly mesmerizing, with the sun's rays shimmering through the trees, even in the heart of the dense woods. It seemed as if all the plants in the forest were responding to the filtering light, and I could sense a palpable movement toward the light, perhaps even photosynthesis itself. Yakushima is often pictured through rainy images, but plants produce their own food through photosynthesis; if a single tree falls, tiny trees and plants exhibit the most vigorous growth in the spot nourished by the sunlight that filters through the space left in the canopy.

I decided on a whim to stop into the Arimizu sawmill in Awa Village. We think of forestry as primarily concerned with lumber procurement, but it’s more about forest management, including preserving an environment in which the forest’s balance is maintained through periodic thinning. The Arimizu sawmill processes wood from these periodic thinnings, but also plants a Yakisugi seedling for every felled tree, by first gathering the pinecones of the unique Yakusugi and germinating the seeds at a nursery. This cycle protects the forests of Yakushima.

2023.6.5