How far do those stripes go? A March afternoon walking beside the rock layers on Izu Oshima

On a sunny afternoon in March, I walked alongside the Great Road Cut. I had on a pale purple hoodie, a teal skirt and sneakers. To my left was the road, and beyond it the towering layers stretched on and on. I’d stopped here while driving around the island, but this was a place I wanted to explore on foot. I wanted to follow those wide stripes one by one.

Almost as soon as I started walking, I spotted a section where the layers rose like a mountain. Pale and dark bands were stacked one on top of the other, the same lines rising and dipping. I picked one and followed it with my eyes, wondering if I could trace it all the way through. The layers were much finer than they’d looked from a distance.

I learned that the stripes had formed as volcanic material piled up over the original terrain. So they hadn’t been folded into shape later by pressure. Looking again with that in mind, I started noticing every rise and dip. Until then, I’d only been looking at the pattern; now I wanted to imagine the terrain that lay underneath.

I followed the handrail-lined path a little farther. When I looked up, I could see grass and trees above the rock layers, and the road still in use ran alongside them. It’s fascinating that today’s island road runs right beside layers left by eruption after eruption. I kept shifting my gaze between the rock face and the road as I walked.

By the time I headed back, I wanted another look at the mountain-shaped pattern I’d seen at first. I followed the lines from the opposite direction, then started thinking about my next stop. I’d love to try Oshima Milk, too. After seeing a little of the island, the chance to taste something local felt like another part of the fun. My afternoon still had more in store.