Country Ramblings – meeting the wasabi field

Posted By on Mar 3, 2017 in Columns |


“What kind of person would take this on?” Leg-weary on the last leg of a mountain trek, an hour or so above the nearest road, my wife and I were gazing at carpets of brilliant green wasabi plants. They covered stony terraces carved into a gully beside a pure, tumbling stream. Who smashed rocks to build this? Who carted nets, poles and sheeting all the way up this hill? Is it worthwhile, trudging such a rugged slope? Is this all they do? How crazy and how determined must they be?

This was my kind of magazine story. The head of the Okutama Wasabi Growers Association, Takeuchi-san, proved exceptionally helpful. He arranged a visit to a first-grade wasabi farm operated by three elderly gentlemen who had had installed a simple monorail by which to haul materials and themselves up and down the steep and treacherous slope.

As a courtesy we sent a copy of the story, with Japanese translation, to Takeuchi-san. The wasabi growers evidently appreciated the gesture. They began inviting us to such regular functions as their AGM and year-end party. Before long we were also making the 90-minute trip from urban Tokyo to participate in volunteer activities such as hillside beautification. Toiling side-by-side at shrub planting or weed control, chatting during breaks, sharing the sun and the breeze, friendships developed easily. The locals certainly appreciated a helping hand.

“There are not enough of us. We’re getting old. People are dying and young people are leaving,” they complained.

Our response was another question: “Does that mean there is cheap housing available?” We are forever in the debt of Takeuchi-san, who forthwith launched a house-hunt on our behalf. Before long we had agreed to rent a rundown house with about 300 square metres of potential vegetable garden attached.

In February of 2014, freakish snows closed both the road and rail between Ome and Okutama, delaying our move for a full week. Our local friends repeated: “What? You really want to live out here?” We certainly did! In a very real way, we were already part of the community.

Our home was a minute or two from the Tama River. The air was fresh and the surroundings peaceful. We had mountains in view and a mountain of work ahead of us. Our new neighbours were more than welcoming.

Fellow tree-planting volunteer Ohno-san, for example, had previously offered to advise us about gardening. We called him to ask about what kind of fertilizer to use and where to get it.

“Wait right there,” he said, and 15 minutes later arrived in his little van, bearing a large sack of vegetables from his own garden, plus a large gardening tool.

“These are for you,” he insisted. “Now I’ll show you where to shop for gardening things.” He drove us several kilometres to a store (we lacked a vehicle of our own at that stage), helped us choose materials and brought us home again.

Though Okutama seems a different world, it is far from isolated. Friends from the city were soon visiting to enjoy a day in the countryside, with a barbecue or a swim in the river. One such visit included a short hike, and our first exploration of a nearby mountain gully in which a picturesque stream flowed. It was a pleasant day out, with a twist that would change our lives dramatically once more. By the creek, just 20 minutes from the main road, we discovered a wasabi patch that seemed to have been neglected for some time.

We chatted to locals about the find, and after some months learned that our friend Ohno-san had been the operator and that another acquaintance, Harashima-san, was the owner.

And so the pieces clicked into place. Harashima-san accompanied us to the site, just to make sure we were all talking about the same thing, and a deal was struck. We would pay a token ¥3,000 per year rent.

By now we were well aware of a key factor in our new lives: the prime importance of relationships. We had left behind the city of a million strangers and entered a village. We had things in common with everyone we would meet. Every important development since our magazine story about wasabi occurred because of relationships. Of course, it is well known that relationships are important in Japan, but this factor is multiplied several-fold in a village community.

Takeuchi-san visited and gave plenty of advice, plus a valuable ploughing instrument and a bag containing a mass of tangled wires. Other experts visited and gave us plenty of advice on such topics as netting (to keep out deer and wild boar), water flow and preparation of the planting surface.

Except for the main walls and terrace structure, we were starting from scratch. Ohno-san’s nets had long since collapsed into tangled, mouldering masses. Layers of weeds, moss and forest detritus covered the entire surface.

Wonderful friends from the city helped with the cleanup. After that it took months to gather, cut and install poles from the mountainside, throw up nets, then plough the entire surface by hand, twice. We planted about 1,000 seedlings in mid-2016 and can begin harvesting toward the end of 2017.

Meanwhile, with a new lifestyle, and many friends richer, I now know what kind of maniac tends a traditional wasabi patch.