Contrary to what most folks think, Japan remains pretty much undeveloped. The southern island of Kyushu is too hot and the northern island of Hokkaido is too cold. It’s the middle island of Honshu that is considered just right. Unfortunately, most of Honshu is covered in volcanic mountains. So, what little space is left, essentially the bottom half in what is called the Coastal Lowlands is filled to the rim. This is where you will find Japan’s major cities.
- Tokyo – 8,956,000
- Yokohama – 3,690,000
- Osaka – 2,670,000
- Nagoya – 2,266,000
- Kobe – 1,544,000
- Kyoto – 1,470,000
That’s a lot of people crammed into a space the size of Great Britain. It comes out to 105,000,000 with a density of 1,170 people per square mile. So, Japan walks an environmental tightrope, trying to balance its spiritual imperative to live in harmony and beauty with nature while at the same time being an industrial powerhouse that’s home to many, many people, all jammed together in very confined space, surrounded and intersected by oceans, seas, lakes, streams, and rivers.
How well they accomplish this important mission depends on who you talk to. I let my eyes do the assessing.
For instance, I spent a glorious day at Miho no Matsubara Beach, south of Shizuoka, on Soruga Bay where the water was crystal clear. People were fishing contentedly with Mt. Fuji as their backdrop. And they kept the fish, so I assume they were safe to eat. The beach was pretty crowded but no one other than me was swimming, which seemed a little weird. The water was a refreshing seventy degrees and was very salty. But what was most amazing was that I never saw a single piece of trash. No plastic bottles — no plastic anything. It was the same for all of the lakes, streams, and rivers I visited around Japan — no trash in the water and none along the shoreline. As someone who has spent a fair amount of time in and around the waters of the world, I can honestly say that I have never seen a body of water without at least some trash. But not in Japan.
And they had a most intriguing shoreline project underway at Miho no Beach. They had dumped these ginormous mumbly peg-looking pieces of concrete in piles along the beach that protected the beach from washing away while at the same time fulfilling the aesthetic beauty so important to the Japanese. It wasn’t just performing a function, but it was also quite lovely.
In the urban areas, like in Kyoto, I stumbled upon some very interesting stormwater management techniques along the Kamo River that runs right through the heart of town. I was riding my bike across the Oike Dori Bridge over to my ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) in the Gion section (Geisha town) of the city when I stopped to take in the lovely sunset view. There were people of all ages riding their bikes along the paved river trails and many young people were sitting on the rocks with their feet in the cool water. Business people in suits were eating their steaming dinners from 7-eleven. The scene resembled one of those Japanese nature prints.
As I gazed more closely at the river I couldn’t figure out what I was looking at. The bottom of the river was inlaid with 5′ x 5′ blocks of tan-colored river stone. It was another one of those Japanese WTF’s. This seemed to be taking art to whole new level. But then I realized that the rocks were only placed at the bottom side of the rapids in order to prevent scouring. How clever! It was like functional art.
And along the shoreline they were creating wetlands by installing large pieces of cross-shaped blocks of concrete that fitted into one another like a jigsaw puzzle. The stones caught sediment which in turn created a home for aquatic vegetation.
And at strategic locations along the river there were overflow pipes from the street above so that when the streets were flooding they would release water directly into the river. Trash racks were installed at the ends of the pipes to catch any debris before it could spill into the river.
The Japanese have been building rain gardens for centuries, long before they even had a name. It was a natural way to contain the water that fell from the sky and create something beautiful.
In Osaka, I came upon an ingenious approach to watering street trees. They pump recycled rain water to a nozzle on the side of these white street tree planters so the trees get plenty of water. And there is a drain hole at the bottom so they don’t get too much water. Very clever indeed.
I don’t want to give the impression that Japan is some sort of idyllic environmental refuge. Because it isn’t. They have blasted and bored train tunnels through mountains. Electrical pylons march skyward across the landscape. There are bridges everywhere you look, and houses sit at the edge of every body of water. They have sculpted artificial lakes and ponds. Built motes around castles. Meandering rivers have been channeled into straight line canals. And every square inch of developable land that isn’t a shrine or a park has been built upon. The Japanese are masters of altering the natural world.
After a month in Japan I don’t know what to think about the environmental conditions. My gut tells me that when you put ten pounds in a five pound sack — and that pretty much fits the big cities of Japan — something’s got to give. That said, the water was great for swimming, the tap water tasted good, there was no garbage in the rivers, and we never smelled sewerage. So, all I can conclude is that they’re doing a pretty good job of dealing with — and maybe even hiding — the pollution. And I would have to rank it the cleanest industrial nation on earth.
