Bitchu Matsuyama Castle Sea of Clouds Observatory Two alarms, one castle above the mist

I kept wondering what lay beneath that white mist on mornings with a sea of clouds. The question stuck with me every time I saw a photo, so I decided to find out in summer, when there wouldn’t be any mist. It was the second day of my 2-night trip to Okayama in August. At around 10 am, I drove up the mountain road from Kayo IC—about 15 minutes away—in my convertible with the top down. Then the wooden steps and the grove beside them came into view.

The moment I got out of the car, the summer air clung to my arms. I’d come in a white tank top and khaki cargo miniskirt, and I was still hot. In the shade at the foot of the steps, I took a sip of water and looked up along the handrail to see how far I had to climb. The woods were full of cicadas. It felt like a completely different place from the quiet spring morning.

The deck has 2 levels, so I compared the view from the lower and upper ones. Just a slight change in eye level changed how the foreground trees overlapped with the castle keep. I went up and down the steps over and over, looking for the clearest view. I wanted to check my spring guess, too, but the summer leaves were thicker, so it was even harder to tell where one peak ended and another began.

I lowered my gaze and caught my breath. The Takahashi River ran below the deck, with the rooftops of Takahashi stretching along its banks. In photos of the sea of clouds, this whole view is hidden beneath the white mist. From up here, a sea of clouds looks like a dream—but for the people in town, is it just a misty morning? Somewhere in town, someone might be eating breakfast under one of those rooftops. Someone else might be heading to work along a road where the fog hides whatever lies ahead. Thinking of that made the photos of the sea of clouds look a little different to me.

Bitchu Matsuyama Castle is the only mountain castle among Japan’s 12 castles with original keeps still standing. When I looked at that little roof across the way, I couldn’t stop wondering how they’d carried stone and timber all the way up there. How many trips did that take, hauling it all on their shoulders? By the time I’d thought it through, the mountain road I’d driven up seemed incredibly easy by comparison.

I took a photo of the roof, then retook it in portrait orientation to include the river and the town. Castle at the top, river and town below. If I took the same photo on a morning with a sea of clouds, the mist would fill the lower half of the frame. I decided to save this one for my autumn comparison.

Looking down at the riverside road from the deck made me want to drive it myself. I went down the mountain and followed the Takahashi River. The rooftops I’d just seen from above passed by my window in the same order. It felt like driving through a map I’d just seen from above. A breeze from the river drifted into the open car, and I turned the music down a little.

For lunch, I ordered Bitchu Takahashi Indian Tomato Yakisoba in town. It’s a local fried-noodle dish with curry flavour and Takahashi’s specialty tomatoes. The tomato’s tartness cut through the curry and cleared my head, which had gone fuzzy in the heat. By the time I finished my plate, I’d stopped sweating. I’d already bought yubeshi in spring, so I was only going to drive past today—but before I knew it, I was turning the wheel toward Higashimachi.