Exploring Sandankyo Gorge An autumn walk at Kurobuchi that made me put my camera down

At the end of October, I set off from Sandankyo Gorge’s main entrance toward Kurobuchi. What I was looking forward to most was looking up at the autumn leaves from beside the river. I wore a cropped white top with a khaki skirt and threw on a windbreaker. Among the trees, the air turned chilly, and I was glad I’d put it on. I tugged the collar a little closer around my neck.

As I walked, the rock walls ahead grew taller and taller. When I reached Kurobuchi, a deep pool of water opened up beneath the cliffs on the opposite bank. I’d come to see the trees, but the depth of the water took my breath away first. I stood on the riverside path and slowly traced the view with my eyes, from the cliff tops down to the water.

When I raised my little camera, I couldn’t decide whether to frame the autumn leaves on the cliffs or give more space to the water. Aim it up, and the river looked tiny; aim it down, and the tips of the branches slipped out of frame. I wanted both, so I stayed put and just changed the angle. With every shot, I found something else to love, and it took me forever to put my camera down.

At last I lowered my hands and looked at Kurobuchi again from behind the railing. The cliffs looked so much bigger than they had on the camera’s little screen. I could see everything now: leaves stirring in the breeze, tiny ripples spreading across the water. It felt good simply to have made it here and seen it in person; whether my photos had turned out well hardly mattered. I stood there for a while, holding the camera in both hands.

On the way back, the spots that had made me want to take photos on the way in now just made me want to stop and look. Under the leafy branches, I could hear the river mingling with my footsteps. Thinking of Kurobuchi’s cliffs, I found myself walking even more slowly than before. Finally, I tucked my camera away and walked the rest of the way back just looking at the trees ahead.

On the way back, I stopped for grilled dango near Roadside Station Raimu Togouchi. The sweet and salty miso glaze hit my tongue, and suddenly I realized how hungry I was after the walk. I savored each warm bite as I looked back through my photos of Kurobuchi. The dango was delicious, and there was still so much of the view my camera couldn’t capture. I’d love to walk here again next autumn.