Driving the Shirotai Skyline Past the pastures, a view of Mount Hakodate and the Ōno Plain

I could feel every bend in the road through the steering wheel. On a summer afternoon, I kept my eyes on the road and followed the curves, deciding I’d take a proper break once I reached a lookout. I love the drive itself, but the view waiting at the end is a different kind of pleasure. I eased into a paved roadside bay and switched off the engine.

When I opened the door, the air felt a little cooler after the climb. Beyond the pasture fence, the fields and the town spread across the plain. Beyond them lay the sea, with Mount Hakodate stretching low along the horizon. This is what it feels like to climb one mountain and look at another in the distance. Mount Hakodate looked smaller than I’d expected, and I caught my breath at the sheer breadth of the view.

In my hands was a little box of apple mini pies I’d just bought at Nanairo Nanae Roadside Station. They’re made with apple juice from Nanae and rice flour. I could’ve left them in the car. Instead, I brought the box down with me, so the view came with the promise of a treat waiting for me at home. Somehow, even before I’d tasted them, the box felt like a little piece of today’s trip in my hands.

I hugged the box with both arms and lingered a little longer. From this distance, the field boundaries and rows of rooftops looked like tiny patterns. I could imagine people going about their lives down there, with the sea stretching beyond them. The view was so wide I didn’t know where to look first. Every time I spotted something, something else caught my eye, and I couldn’t find a reason to get back in the car.

Shirotai Farm dates back to Taishō 9 (1920), when it began as a town-run farm. I also learned that the road passing through here links central Nanae with Onuma, and realized there’s more to this place than a good view. The route crosses the hill where the farm sits, linking the town with a tourist destination. Next time I’m heading to Onuma, I want to come this way and see this view again.

The afternoon light fell across the grass, and whenever the breeze picked up, strands of hair brushed my cheek. Since I was holding the box, I had to shift it into one hand before fixing my hair. I felt a bit clumsy and laughed at myself without taking my eyes off the view. Maybe it was time to go. I’d wait until I got home to open the mini pies and remember how wide the plain looked today.