A Home For Pino

Hello everyone!

Here's a story of our time in Minamiise, with anecdotes about Japan and some good sailing moments. I had so much to say about this place. Hope you guys like it. If you want, you can also read it on our website.

As always, thank you for being so supportive. You guys are the best.

Enjoy.
- Rek

Departure from shimizu

We  left Shimizu on a sunny morning, pushing off the dock at 6am. Early. We  wanted to make sure we'd arrive at our destination on time. There was  126nm between us and Shima Yacht harbor, a distance we needed to do in  part at night. This wasn't ideal. We knew that. Many people warned us  about sailing at night in these waters, but as the Japanese say:  "Shoganai" (it can't be helped). We needed to cross a big stretch of  water called Enshu Nada, an area with a lot of traffic. In truth, the  entire coastline is full of ships, but it gets very busy north of the Kii Peninsula.

We had discussions about the transit with our  friends Masa and Shu from SY Dawntreader, they too recommended a  non-stop transit, because the ports between Omaezaki and Mie are few.  There is the port of Fukuda 福田, located at the mouth of Ota Kawa, but  the depth of the water is inconsistent, prone to silting. Locals also  warned us it wasn't very yacht-friendly, and so we put an X on Fukuda.

Shu  instructed us to stay 10nm from shore, to avoid the numerous nets  lining the coast and to avoid small fishing vessels idling there at  night. We did exactly this.

Coming  out of Shimizu port, we came face to face with a large container ship  named "One". A beautiful ship. Red, with a peculiar shape. The marina  had warned us about its coming, that its entrance into Shimizu port was  scheduled at 6am during our exit. Avoiding it was not a problem.

We  powered out of the harbor and into Suruga Bay. There was no wind, but  we raised the mainsail anyway. We wanted to test our new slugs (what  keeps the mainsail attached to the mast). It was the first time since  Fiji that we'd raised a full main. The black moon shook off its  wrinkles, presenting its belly to the sun.

Because it was winter  still, we chose a day without wind to leave. In the transition between  winter and spring the wind blows extra hard, as if it's trying to blow  itself out. This makes it difficult to go west, since the strong winds  come out of where we need to go. During that transition between season,  we saw daily forecasts of 40 knots, without end.

We eventually found our window.

We  moved past ships idling in the waters next to Miho, pointing our bow  towards Omaezaki. As we motored on, we remembered our arrival in  mainland Japan a few weeks prior. There were white caps everywhere.  Today, the sea had few ripples, it was calm, mirror-like. Mount Fuji's  snowed-in peak was visible. It faded gradually as we moved south, veiled  by a blanket of dust and humidity.

By  the time we rounded Omaezaki, light escaped the world and gave way to  darkness. Many Japanese sailors we spoke to admitted hating  night-sailing. We used to feel that way too — funny how things change.  Night-sailing is relaxing. You see the stars on clear nights, ships too,  a triangulation of lights describing their shape. During our shifts we  kept an eyes on the horizon, there were many ships, all around at all  times. If near enough to us, we'd open our phones to check their  positions on AIS. AIS permits us to see their course and whether or not  there is a chance of collision, with it we always had plenty of time to  diverge from their tracks. There are times where we'd pass between them,  sandwiched in the middle. This sounds worse than it is. We were at a  comfortable distance. Most ships we encountered were a 100 feet long,  smaller than cargo ships, Japanese tankers, ferrying goods up and down  the coast of Japan.

Come  morning, the wind came and filled the sails. There was a good breeze  coming out of Ise Bay, rising to 15-20 knots at times. Pino made good  speed. We aimed to sail through Fusude Strait, a pass between the  mainland and a set of offshore islets and rocks. The nets were marked  with sticks, easy to see, and the pass was buoyed with red and green  markers. We had no issue passing through here and encountered no one,  although we heard that it may be busy at times (wouldn't recommend  passing here at night).

Shima yacht harbor

We arrived at the mouth of Gokasho Bay, a body of water with many  small inlets contouring it. Shima yacht harbor was located inside one of  these arms.

As we neared land, the wind quieted, we proceeded to  lower the main and to roll up the jib. I stood at the bow, keeping an  eye on the various oyster and algae farms lining the channel. I had  placed markers on Navionics, of the locations of newer nets, some I had  researched online or grabbed off google earth screenshots.

When  the marina was in sight, I sent a message to the harbormaster Mr. Oka.  The marina manager at Hagoromosan marina had alerted Mr. Oka of our  plans to visit earlier. It's important to give constant notices when  arriving in ports in Japan, prior to departure, and when you're about to  arrive.

When we pulled into the marina, we saw a tiny figure, hurrying onto the concrete pier at the harbor entrance.

It was Mr. Oka, riding a grey folding bicycle. He went to stand in front of a large sign, a map of the marina, finger pointing to the visitor dock. We slid past rows of moored boats,  nets of aosa seaweed and made our way over to the dock. Mr. Oka took our  lines and welcomed us to Mie, our new home.

This marina was home to the VOC "Vivre Ocean Club", we spotted a few boats with the name on their stern. Most sailors in Japan are racers, you can tell by the design of the boats. They take their boats out on weekends in the spring  and summer, showing their guests of the moment a good time, they also  take part in local races.

The marina wasn't crazy big, but there  was plenty of room for visiting boats, in fact, most boats we saw had a double slip to themselves with their lines securing their yacht to the  opposing finger. Most of the boats here were sailboats, with a few motor  boats scattered around. This marina was open to the west, by means of a  channel, but a concrete pier blocks out most of the entrance, shielding  boats who lie east of it. The marina was equipped with a boatyard with a  trailer-lift, it had showers, internet, washer (shitty dryer) and  power/water at the docks.

In our best Japanese, we explained to  Mr. Oka of our plans to stay here for a month. He didn't mind that at  all. Some marinas in Japan don't allow visitors to stay longer than 7  days in a month, we're glad that this rule didn't apply here. Their  monthly rates were good, nothing like the prices at Hagoromosan marina.  The staff here was relaxed and friendly, no one asked us to pay up  front. All said hello as we walked past. Seeing as we were staying  longer, Mr. Oka directed us to a new berth, a spot with Pino's butt  facing toward the open west. We had a wonderful scene ahead, with no  boat or dock obstructing our view.

Tobi  (black-eared kites) circled overhead, their feather fingers like large  open hands hugging the skies. These birds are a common sight in Japan.  They fly with ease and turn with precision. We'd see them soaring  overhead, resting on mastheads in the marina. They have a distinctive  shrill whistle followed by a rapid whinnying call — a sound we came to  love.

The  marina had clear waters, was surrounded with trees and was quiet, so,  so quiet. We loved that. We knew that this was a small town with little  in, but there were the essentials: a supermarket, a pharmacy, a post  office, a kombini, a place for coffee and plenty of wildlife and nature.  We walked to town on the day we arrived, under a grey sky and light  rain, we wanted to explore right away. The road, initially, has a lot of  ups and downs, then it branches out onto a bigger road, adjoining the  towns at the end of the peninsula to the main roads in Gokasho. On the  way, was an open garden. In spring, butterflies would swarm the area,  some as big as birds, but now, was caterpillar season with many hanging  down trees from long threads. We'd always end up with a couple on our  heads and shoulders as we walked.

A day after we arrived we got a visit from two customs agents. They asked us a few questions in Japanese.

"Why are you here?"

"For fun."

In truth, we were here to just... be here. We did want to discover  the area, but not in a touristy-kind-of-way. We like to visit places and  stay a while, to fall into a routine and to pretend we live there. It's  hardly tourism.

We said we'd be here a month, to start. They couldn't understand why we wanted to stay here.

"You know there's no karaoke here....right?"

We don't care about that stuff, at all. For us, here was ideal, a  good place to get things done. We had projects to work on, a quiet area  like this would help us focus. We wondered if we'd be bombarded with  Omotenashi from the locals here too, we did, a bit, but it wasn't nearly  as invasive as in Shimizu. When I say invasive, I don't mean to say I  didn't appreciate it, but it was a bit much at times.

Mr. Oka was  quick to introduce us to Kako and Hiro san, two local sailors and  full-time cruisers — a rarity in Japan. Another plus, is that they both  spoke very good english. While we like to practice our Japanese, we  can't really go in-depth on certain topics. We were able to do that with  them, it was a nice change!

The two have many boats in the  marina, 3 in all. Their main yacht is in France. They spend a few months  cruising there, then return to Japan, they've been doing this for a few  years. They own two houses here in Minamiise, two wonderful properties  with amazing views. One of them has a window looking over the entrance  to Gokasho bay, when we came sailing in Kako saw us.

"Black circle yea! I saw you!"

Kako said, smiling.

The two were kind enough to invite us over  for dinner, they made a wonderful all-plant meal for us. Kako steamed  some tiny taro roots and made delicious rice with young bamboo and fresh  sanshou leaves (they had a tree outside). She also cooked some tempura,  some of the best I've ever had. Hiro insisted on driving us back, even  if the marina was only a short walk away...

"The forest is dark, there are wild boars and deer here. Don't want to get trampled."

We nodded, my mind conjuring images of giant boars 'princess mononoke  style'. We never did see boars, but in evenings, there are deer  everywhere. Walking around at night is scary, there is little light, and  plenty of rustling in the trees.

"Ya ok, a ride sounds good."

Both left to go back to France after that. We enjoyed their company and look forward to meeting them again next year.

Anyone home?

Minamiise is a beautiful place. Many of the houses in Funakoshi (our  sub-district) are abandoned, neglected, the steps leading up to them  covered in branches and green.

Some  houses were well-kept, with their owners coming by during holidays. It  appeared that few people lived here full-time. Many houses had black and  yellow rope tied around the property, as if to tell people it was  off-limits. All the nicer houses had this.

The town of Gokasho 五ヶ所  (a 30-40 min walk away) had many more homes, a few without owners — why  so many empty homes? Japan has an aging population problem, with a  growth rate that's going to bring its current population of ~127 million  down to 88 million by 2065. Within 20 years more than one third of its  residents will be 65 and older.

No  one will live in many of these houses, ever again. They will be  demolished someday, when/if they pose a threat — although it takes money  to do that too and is why many are left standing. The bulk of the  population in Japan chooses to reside in metropolitan areas. This is  true for the old and the young, people aren't interested in making a  life in rural areas. There are few businesses, and the few that there  are, are seldom open and we fear that they too, will die with their  owners.

We walked into a camera shop one day to try and get a film developed, the owner was asleep. 

Business was NOT booming.

We  arrived in Mie in late winter with the weather being nice and cool,  perfect for cycling. We explored much of the area, circling the small  town of Gokasho and the neighbouring town of Kirihara many times.  Kirihara is north of Gokasho, a town with few stores, much of its land  occupied by rice fields. At this point in the year, the fields were  completely flooded with few plants sprouting. During our time here, the  sprouts grew taller and taller, each stage marking the passage of time.

Minamiise  isn't particularly known for its rice, but it is known for its fish and  its seaweed. In late winter, we'd see locals drying out hijiki and  selling their wares (like green aosa) in stores.

Even  if we had the option of riding our bikes to town, we enjoyed walking  there too. The road was quiet, few cars used it. Every time we went out  to walk, we'd spot a different creature on the bark of a tree, or  scurrying across the road. During one of those walks we saw a mukade, a  very large species of centipede that can grow up to 20 cm long. They had  dark bodies, with the rest covered in bright oranges and reds —  striking colors. The way their legs moved in perfect synchronous waves  was hypnotic. While mukade were a rare sight, we'd see many crabs. All  sorts.

The  first time I saw a crab on land was in French Polynesia. At the time, I  didn't know crabs could live in forests, in my mind, crabs only existed  near water. There were many types of crabs on the roads here, jumping  into crevasses as soon as you came near. I would sometimes see some in  the marina bathroom stalls too...

"You have strayed, do you know where you are little one?"

I'd ask. In response, they'd inch deeper into the stall, eager to  disappear. Devine claimed to have seen a Huntsman spider in here, a very  large variety of spider. These, like mukade, are known to hunt  cockroaches.

Gokiburi hoi hoi!

Another less- fun variety of insect found widely in Japan are cockroaches, or gokiburi（ゴキブリ）in  Japanese. Japan's climate is ideal for gokiburi. As soon as winter  ends, they emerge, and frighten entire households. It doesn't matter if  your home is clean or not, if they find a crack in the door they'll get  in. We weren't careful in the beginning, not aware of their presence,  but soon realized we'd need to close every crack to avoid unwanted  lodgers. Japan is no stranger to these creatures, with many products on  the market to fight them. The most successful we tried being Gokiburi  Hoihoi (ゴキブリホイホイ). 

The name makes me laugh. "Hoi Hoi" means "Shoo!", or  "Shoo shoo cockroaches!"

When you buy a box, you get a folding  'house', a friendly motel, decorated with cute and colorful  illustrations. A dream house for goki and friends. The house has a  sticky flooring, as well as a bait inside it. On the first day I set up  one of these outside in the cockpit, where they tend to linger and I  caught 3 goki. The next day, an extra two. Soon, the motel was fully  booked. No vacancies.

I tried using capsules too as a first  tactic, little domes with a deadly treat inside (boric acid based), but  the goki didn't care for it.

While I loathe the sight of them  near my home, gokiburi are an interesting breed of extremophiles. They  can live without oxygen for 40 mins, without water for 1 week and  without food for even longer! Their diet is varied. They share our  interests in food, but if that isn't available they'll eat whatever else  they can find. Anything. Everything is food: tile glue, toe-nail  clippings, soap etc. They are true survivalists.

As much as I admire these pesky revenants though, I'd rather not find them in my kitchen.

A mountain climb

I  mentioned cycling to Kirahara before, it's a very nice route, not to  far. One time we continued north up a forested road, but didn't go up  all the way because we didn't know where it led. We weren't in the mood  to get lost on that particular day. Later, we learned that this road was  30km long and leads all the way up to Ise, by way of the Ise Grand  Shrine — the most popular attraction in Mie.

Perfect! We thought.  We were eager to do a long bike ride. Not long after after that, we got  up early one morning and cycled back over to Kirihara, going through the  forested path and up what turned out to be a... 300m high mountain.

Yes.  We cycled up this mountain on fixed-gear bikes. When we planned out  this ride, we failed to notice the steep incline on google maps.  Luckily, we had kombu and ume onigiri to give us energy to make it to  the top. But even with onigiri, I was in a foul mood, I was exhausted,  near death — I believed, at the time. I cursed as I pedaled up the  winding road, wondering if it would ever end, if it was anything like  that endless staircase to Bowser's lair in supermario 64.

We did eventually make it up there. My bad mood and thoughts of dying went away, like a passing storm cloud.

There  was a pass at the top of this mountain called 剣峠 (Tsurugi Toge), right  where the city of Minamiise ends and the city of Ise begins. There's was  sign at each end. We saw no one up there, maybe a car or two on the way  but that's it. We did see one Kuroneko truck, weaving its way through  the forest — a strange sight.

Cycling down the mountain was a  welcome change, although it was very, very steep. My hands hurt from  using my brakes too much, palms red and sweaty. Mid-way down, we  encountered a woman with plastic bins, standing by the road.

She was filling them with water from a tap on the mountain wall.

"Water. For sake."

She said, smiling. The water is filtered by the sediment in the  mountain. It's very clean. We had a drink and continued on our way,  passing through small collections of houses. No big villages. It's  during this downhill ride, that we spotted our first ever tanuki.

Tanuki

Tanuki are big racoon dogs, very popular in Japan. It isn't rare to  find tanuki statues in front of houses, standing there on two legs,  their giant testicles in view.

In  Japanese folklore, tanuki are very mischievous, fantastical creatures.  They use their ballsacks to create amazing feats of magic.

There  are many stories involving them, like one about a tanuki transforming  into a teapot. But of course, the strangest thing about them is  definitely their magical expanding scrotums. They're often depicted  using their testicles as balloons, sails for boats, nets for fishing  etc.

• "Tan-tan-tanuki's balls, even if the wind isn't blowing swing, swing."

A fun anecdote, an insight into the many wonderful stories and  aspects of Japanese culture. The tanuki we saw did not stay long, it  also didn't shape-shift into anything — or maybe we just missed it?

Whenever you see a lone teapot in the woods, ask yourself, is this a tanuki prank?

Ise grand shrine

Our bike ride led us over to the Ise Grand Shrine, the largest Buddhist shrine complex in Japan.

A  100m wooden bridge permits visitors to cross the Isuzu river, leading  the masses to the Temizusha, a small, roofed structure that contains  water to use as purification. We walked over, watching as other visitors  washed their hands and rinsed their mouths. This, we learned, is a  symbolic act of cleaning the mind and body of impurities prior to  entering. Beyond the Temizusha, lay a set of unpainted torii gates.

After  that, stood another roofed and fenced structure, inside, was a white  stallion — not something I expected to see here. It was a "Holy horse",  or "Shinme".  Shinme are considered to be 'mounts of god'. Shrines often  have pictures of them instead of real life ones, Ise jingu is an  exception. In the old days, people offered them to the deities in order  to ask that their wishes come true.

"Cows are too slow, dogs are too small, deer or wild boars are useless. The best for a ride, is a horse." - Nakamura, 1932

The  two main shrines of Ise Jingu are Naiku 内宮 and Geku 外宮. Every 20 years,  the shrines are disassembled and rebuilt on a vacant lot situated right  next to their current location. The reason they do this, is because of  their belief in the death and renewal of nature and the impermanence of  all things. They also do it to pass buildings techniques from one  generation to the next.

It  is forbidden to photograph the shrines themselves, visitors cannot lay  eyes on them either because they are hidden behind several gates. The  present buildings date back from 2013, they're the 62nd iteration to  date and are scheduled for rebuilding in 2033.

A skatepark

Okay,  not a real one. The marina lot became a skate park for us while we  stayed here in this harbor. In evenings, we'd practice on the concrete  pier, right near where Pino was moored.

During weekdays and most evenings, we had the marina to ourselves where we could play, undisturbed.

After  many months in Minamiise, the place without a karaoke or train station,  we realized we need very little to be content. All we need is each  other's company amongst trees, with the opportunity to bike or skate  every now and then.

Not being on pino

We  hadn't planned to stay here long, maybe a month, but when we looked at  the rates for long-term stay we began to consider leaving Pino here for  the winter. Unlike many marinas in Japan, the price doesn't increase  with time. They also don't require key-money or extra deposits for long  stays.

When we came into Japan with Pino, we knew our stay in  Japan was limited to 6 months in a year and that after those 6 months  we'd need to make a decision. All in all, we wanted to spend more time  in Japan. We had two options: going to South Korea with the boat, or  leaving it here, and returning for another season later — we chose the  latter. We've been away from our families and friends in Montreal for 3  1/2 years. This is an opportunity to see them and to return to Japan  afterwards. Unlike us, Pino can stay moored here indefinitely.

After  we informed Mr. Oka we were planning on staying a while, he moved us to  yet another berth, to a more secure location nearest to land. This is where Pino's going to stay.

Devine  & I are currently getting Pino ready, packing everything away in  bags and boxes. Humidity is a problem in Japan, we're finding solutions  to combat this, like making sure the boat has enough ventilation and by  putting everything away. We've also invested in bags of bamboo charcoal,  to absorb humidity and odors, as well as calcium chloride.

Another  concern, is typhoons. These storms can do a lot of damage. We'll secure  Pino as best we can and the rest will be out of our hands. We think  this harbor is safe, Pino is moored in the best possible spot. We've  invested in extra large snubbers for our lines, and will leave nothing  on deck that the wind can swoop up. The main and the jib are down,  folded and kept inside the cabin.

We are prepared.

It  does make us sad to think we won't be living on Pino for a few months,  but we're highly adaptable rabbits. We'll be fine. In the meantime, the  marina workers and our neighbors will keep an eye on our beloved for  us.

Here's to a little bit of time of not being on a boat. An ocean of grass and concrete awaits!

If you want to read more stories like this, check out our blog page.

Rek & Dev
SY Pino