Mogami Gorge The river flows slowly, mirroring the pale branches.

At midday in January, during snow season, I took the red four-wheel-drive sedan. The drive from Shinjo Interchange took about 30 minutes. I kept my eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel as I drove slowly along the national highway, where snow still lingered. I parked at Mogami Gorge Kusanagi River Station and walked down to the river. The trees on the opposite bank were white all the way to their tops. I drew my down coat closed and rubbed my hands together in front of my chest. Dark green conifers showed through beneath the snow-laden branches, and the mountain seemed to stretch farther back than I’d expected.

My driving friend had come with me, but once we started watching the river, we went quiet. Blue-green water flowed right below the snowy bank. I’d come to see the snow, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the moving water.

The white branches stretched into thin reflections across the surface. Each time the water shifted, their shapes broke apart, then joined again. When my friend said, ‘I could watch this forever,’ I nodded, my hands still held together for warmth.

The snow near the bank was soft, and the toes of my long boots sank a little. I tested each step as I made my way toward the railing, and at last I could see the whole river. It was quieter than in the other seasons; all I could hear was water flowing. In that still scene, the river was the only thing moving.

I’d heard that the regular winter boat service runs as a snow-viewing cruise. The boat with a kotatsu, apparently, can be hired separately as a private charter. Just then, I saw a boat slowly making its way between the snowy mountains. I couldn’t help watching the little boat set against the white bank and moving water. In summer, I’d ridden a boat surrounded by fresh greenery. I wonder what it’s like in the snow.

I’d heard that Mogami Gorge stretches 16km from Furukuchi to Kiyokawa. The mountains close in on the river, and that scenery continues farther along the river. Instead of rushing through the whole stretch, I want to remember a little more of the bank I can see now before I head home.

When I breathe in the cold air, I notice the warmth inside my coat all the more. I shifted my feet and looked across the river again. My breath came out white, and my fingertips were getting so cold that I decided it was time to head back to the River Station.

On the first floor of the River Station, I bought freshly steamed manju. Outside, I cupped the steaming bun in both hands, and warmth slowly spread through my chilled fingertips. I took a bite, and the soft, fluffy dough and gentle sweetness made me close my eyes. I never knew a bite after looking out over a snowy river could taste this good.

‘You were thinking about manju the whole time you were watching the river, weren’t you?’ my friend laughed. I answered in all seriousness, ‘I wasn’t thinking about it while I was watching the river,’ but really, I had been thinking about it just a little. I’m glad I came to see these white mountains and moving water today—and that bite afterward is part of winter at Mogami Gorge, too. Back at the car, I turned on the heater, and my hands, already warmed by the manju, relaxed all over again.