The Tama River and the Akigawa River—two waterways that quietly shape this part of Tokyo. It seems familiar on the surface, almost taken for granted. And yet, there is so much about them that remains unknown. This series follows Megumi Goto, who has spent thirty years kayaking the upper Tama River in Okutama, as she traces what the river carries: history, water, and the lives built around it.
Living alongside a river, I find myself drawn to the question of where it begins. I imagine that the Tama River finds its very first drop of water from the village of Tabayama, in Yamanashi Prefecture.
I made that journey a few years ago. That year, heavy snow had fallen in April, so I strapped on snowshoes and crunched my way through the white snow until I arrived. With the cold still in the air and the snowmelt beginning, I was able to watch the waterfall, drop by drop.
In ordinary conditions, you might wait some time before a single drop finally falls. And yet it is from that one drop that a stream is born, gathering water as it goes, becoming the Tama River.
The Tama is a relatively short river, which makes it easy to imagine the full journey a water drop takes from source to sea. When the water turns cloudy, you can usually guess why: an evening shower somewhere upstream, perhaps, or construction along the bank. Because the Tama is almost always clear, even a hint of murkiness catches your eye.
With longer rivers, it becomes much harder to trace where the murkiness comes from. The Shinano River, for instance, runs 367 kilometers (about 228 miles) from Nagano to Niigata, changing its name along the way before emptying into the Sea of Japan. Strangely, it seems to run cloudy no matter when or where you look. I once asked the locals why. What surprised me was not only that they didn’t know, but that they had never felt the need to find out. That was simply how the river was, and always had been.
The Tama measures 138 kilometers (about 86 miles). That difference in distance shapes how intimately you can know a river’s moods, and perhaps, how deeply you come to face it.
Megumi Goto, Owner of Gravity Canoe School and Shiromaru Café, Canoe Instructor
Megumi was born in Yamanashi Prefecture and first experienced river kayaking in 1986, becoming fully immersed in the sport by 1990. She competed in the early days of freestyle kayaking, including the Ocoee River World Cup in the U.S., and placed 7th in the women’s division at the 1994 Pre-World Cup held at the Augsburg artificial course in Germany. After gaining experience at a canoe school in Nagatoro, Saitama prefecture she founded her own school, Gravity, in April 1997, located in Mount Mitake on the upper Tama River. She also runs Shiromaru Café, open every Tuesday and on full moon days.
About Okutama
Okutama is known as a hidden gem in the vicinity of Tokyo, which has a rich natural environment where traditional mountain village culture remains intact. Numerous traditional performing arts have been passed down through the generations, and there are many intangible folk cultural assets, such as the Kashima Odori dance, Shishimai (lion dance), and Kuruma Ningyo (puppet theater). Additionally, many people enjoy mountain climbing, camping, cycling, and fishing in the area.
こちらの記事は英語で執筆されており、ブラウザの自動翻訳により氏名の漢字表記が正しく表示されないこと、不自然な日本語が表示されることがあるようです。お手数ですが、英語原文での閲覧をお試しください。