Iwate Travelogue: a river, flying dumplings and a hall beneath the cliff

I took a bus from the airport to Hanamaki-Kuko Station, then travelled south by train. Rice fields spread out beyond the window, with houses and low mountains further away.

I based myself in Kitakami and went to Ryuen in Mizusawa for yakiniku, meat grilled at the table. The food here was genuinely delicious. I photographed plates of thickly cut meat, but looking back at them, it is the enjoyment of the meal that comes to mind first. Our order included tongue, short rib, skirt steak, offal and cold noodles.

Reservations at Ryuen can be difficult to secure. If you want to eat yakiniku in Mizusawa, it is worth enquiring when planning the trip rather than leaving it until the day. This is one of the meals from the visit I would particularly recommend.

A favourite series had helped determine where I would stay. The journey itself added other details: fields seen from a train and food shared around a table.

The next day I explored southern Iwate by car. After lunch at Ushi-ya Kakunoshin in Ichinoseki, I went to Genbikei Gorge. Water gathered between rocks before opening into broader pools. The shape of the river changed between the banks and the bridge.

The Iwai River, flowing from Mount Kurikoma, formed the gorge through erosion. Rock shapes and water changed with the viewpoint. Alongside looking at the scenery, I stopped for dango, rice dumplings served on skewers.

These were Kakko Dango from Kakkoya, a business dating to the Meiji period, with three skewers arranged in a box. A programme made on location explains the name through the founder’s skill at imitating a cuckoo. A person’s particular talent has become part of the place’s best-known food.

The other distinctive feature is the basket delivery across the gorge. Customers put money into a basket attached to a rope and signal with a wooden mallet; the shop sends back dumplings and tea. Iwate’s tourism account credits long experience with getting the tea across without spilling it. Behind the nickname “flying dumplings” is a very practical human skill.

A rope carrying food makes the far bank part of the experience rather than simply a distant view. The exchange between people belongs to the landscape. That is what I find appealing about this local speciality.

After the dumplings I looked back towards the water. My photographs contain the three skewers, the river among the rocks and a suspension bridge. They remain parts of the same stop, rather than separate memories of food and scenery.

From Genbikei I went to Takkoku no Iwaya Bishamondo in Hiraizumi. Beyond the torii gates, a vermilion hall stood beneath a cliff, with rock close above the roof. The building and its setting are inseparable.

Temple tradition says that Sakanoue no Tamuramaro founded the hall in 801 in gratitude to Bishamonten, a Buddhist guardian deity, after a military victory. It describes a design inspired by the platform at Kyoto’s Kiyomizu-dera and the enshrinement of 108 images of Bishamonten. Having travelled from Kyoto to Iwate, I encountered Kyoto again in this account.

The foundation story and dated historical evidence are distinct. The temple identifies an entry for 1189 in Azuma Kagami, a medieval chronicle, as the earliest record of the site. I read its account of defeating Akuro-o and his followers as a tradition associated with this place, rather than a straightforward description of the people of northeastern Japan.

The present hall has not stood untouched since the beginning. Date Masamune rebuilt it in 1615; that building was lost to fire in 1946. The current hall dates from 1961 and is counted by the temple as the fifth. Against the apparent permanence of the cliff is a history of wooden buildings repeatedly replaced.

The torii gates stand before a Buddhist hall. Takkoku Seiko-ji, which cares for the site, describes an enduring sacred setting involving both Buddhist and kami worship. A rigid distinction between a shrine gate and a temple building would miss something here.

At Genbikei I had looked at the ways water shaped rock. Here I thought about people placing a building beneath it and sustaining a place of worship. The two rock landscapes were part of the same day, but drew my attention in different directions.

Back in Kitakami, I sat down for dinner. The photographs show a blue bottle of wheat beer, dishes in small bowls, and courses arriving on individual plates.

Each dish came on a different plate or in a different bowl. After a day at the gorge and the cliff-side hall, I sat down for dinner.

The next day I took the shinkansen from Kitakami Station. I photographed the green train arriving at the platform, then the rice fields beyond the window. A stay prompted by Jujutsu Kaisen had become two nights of rivers, rock faces and meals around southern Iwate.