A drive to Cape Sata A summer evening walk to a view from the southernmost tip of mainland Japan

I was in the third week of my spring trip around Kyushu, after getting off the ferry at Shinmoji, and had made it down to the southern tip of Kagoshima. I drove to the Cape Sata car park in the red convertible I’d brought over from Ariake. I’d read that Minami-Osumi’s official guide recommends spring and autumn for walking, so at this cape I wanted to explore the trail before I even looked out to sea.

Cape Sata is the southernmost cape on mainland Japan, and you reach the lookout on foot. Once I stepped out of the car and into the entrance tunnel, the journey began to slow down to walking pace. It was cool inside, and it took me a moment to adjust to the brightness outside. From the plaza at the far end, I could see the lookout across a valley, with the southern sea beyond it. I hitched my bag strap onto my shoulder, thinking, “So I have to walk all the way over there.”

From the exit, the path slopes down to Misaki Shrine, then climbs and ramps up toward the rest area and lookout. Sago palms and banyan trees line the trail, and I kept catching myself looking up at them, then ahead to the next bend. If I’d only been focused on the distant sea, I wouldn’t have stopped so often along the way.

I’d read that this grove of sago palms is designated a Special Natural Monument of Japan under the name “Natural Habitat of Sago Palms in Kagoshima Prefecture.” Looking up at their huge fronds layered over one another made me feel that I really was in southern Japan. It would’ve been a shame to walk past them thinking they were just trees beside the trail.

At the foot of the slope, I stopped at Misaki Shrine and put my hands together. I offered thanks for getting this far safely and asked for the rest of my trip to bring more good drives. When I looked up, the spring light filtering between the trees seemed brighter than before.

The climb beyond the shrine felt longer than I’d expected. Once I was a little out of breath, I looked back from midway up the slope and spotted the path I’d descended, threading through the trees. The roof of the observation complex was getting closer, so I took a photo of it and the forest trail together on my phone.

The trail is about 800 m one way. On paper, that distance had just been a number; after walking the bends and stopping along the way, I found myself looking forward to the return, too. When the sea opened up from the lookout, its brightness felt even more intense after walking through the forest.

I’d just been looking up at the sago palms; now the sea was spread out in front of me. I wanted to remember not just one or the other, but the order of the walk that brought me here. On the way back downhill, I took another look at each clump of sago palms I’d admired on the way in.

On the way back, I stopped at Nejime Roadside Station and looked around the local products shop for specialties from Minami-Osumi. I was planning to look for Dede Cola made with Hetsuka daidai, too.

After that, I stopped by the monument marking the 31st parallel north. I parked in a small parking area and stood in front of it, amused to find myself right on a line I’d only ever seen on a map. I pretended to step over the invisible line: one step north, then one south. After checking no one was watching, I made one more round trip.