Tottori Sand Dunes When I looked back, my footprints stretched all the way down

When I got to the dunes, snow had settled across the slope in front of me. I was at the Tottori Sand Dunes, but the view was a little different from the dunes I knew. With sand showing through the snow here and there, I found myself taking it all in as if to make sure: this really was the Tottori Sand Dunes.

As I started up the slope, my footprints began to trail across the landscape. One step, then the next, moving forward little by little. Unlike when I drive, I could see every step I'd taken on the slope behind me. I wanted to turn and look back, but decided to keep going a little farther up.

As I climbed the slope toward the sky, I found myself spreading my arms wide. Something about the vast view made me want to stretch out, too. My arms didn't make me any taller, of course, but I felt bigger somehow, and took another step.

When I finally turned around, my footprints stretched all the way down the slope. I'd come farther than I thought. While I was walking, I could only think about the next step; looking back, I could see the path I'd taken stretching down the slope behind me. It brought a smile to my face: I'd really made it all this way.

I could see the Sea of Japan in the distance. Looking back and forth between the slope I'd climbed and the sea, I found myself not wanting to leave yet. My friend would probably laugh if I sent her a photo: ‘You even took a picture of your footprints?’ But today, I want to show those tracks just as much as the view.

Before leaving, I took one more look at the path I'd walked. I came to see the snowy dunes, but I hadn't expected to feel happy simply because I'd climbed them myself. I wanted the slope, the sea and my footprints all in the photo. It became a winter snapshot I could point to and say, ‘I walked all this way.’