Ghosts of the tsunami - a day of dark tourism

Ruins of Okawa Elementary School

The 11th of March, 2011. At 14:46 the earth began to shake violently in Japan's Tōhoku region 東北地方. The ground shook for six minutes as the magnitude of the quake was measured at 9.1 on the Richter scale, the most powerful ever recorded in Japan and the fourth most worldwide since the advent of modern seismography. And yet the earthquake would not be the worst part of this disaster. Less than an hour after the shaking began, the first in a series of devastating tsunami struck the region's Pacific coastline. The highest of these waves was determined to have reached an incredible 40.5 meters/133 feet, which struck the city of Miyako 宮古市 in Iwate Prefecture 岩手県. The death toll from the disaster was enormous, reaching close to 20,000 dead or missing. Misery was compounded by snow and freezing temperatures. And if the situation wasn't bad enough already, the tsunami was the direct cause of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster 福島第一原子力発電事故, the worst such since Chernobyl in 1986.

I was in living in Taiwan when the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami 東北地方太平洋沖地震 occurred, and I watched the famous helicopter footage of the waves hitting the Sendai 仙台 coastline live on the local news:

I was actually making plans at the time to visit the Tōhoku region later that year, including some places that would be among the worst hit by the tsunami waves (I ended up going to Okinawa 沖縄 that summer instead). I traveled the region two years later in 2013, but I stayed inland on that trip and didn't visit any locations that were struck by the tsunami (except for Sendai, but I stayed in the center of the city and did not see any evidence of the disaster while there). I found myself in Sendai again on this trip, with one free day built into my itinerary. I initially considered visiting Matsushima 松島 again (having spent a night or two there last century), but then it occurred to me that I wouldn't be far from some of the worst-hit towns. And so I rented a car, and planned a day of seeing for myself how much these places have recovered since that terrible day in March fifteen years ago.

Minamisanriku 南三陸 is no stranger to tsunami, having been repeatedly hit by them over the centuries, including by a large one in 1960. But no one there was prepared for the size of the 2011 waves, as they poured over the seawalls and swept through the center of the town, destroying 95% of it and leaving over 1200 residents dead or missing:

When the earthquake subsided, town officials assembled at the Crisis Management Department building 防災対策庁舎. Despite being three floors high, the water would inundate the structure. Of the 53 people there, only 10 would survive by desperately clinging to the antenna mast on the roof. You can see that mast in the bottom center of the photo below:

https://www.opb.org/news/series/unprepared/japanese-mayor-discusses-tsunami-earthquake-reponse-lessons-for-oregon/

More harrowing photos can be found here and here, including this frightening photograph of the tsunami sweeping over the roof:

Today, the rubble has been cleared away, and the level of the former town center has been raised by more than 10 meters/33 feet. After a roughly 90-minute drive from central Sendai I reached the town's memorial park 南三陸町震災復興祈念公園, which was opened in October 2020:

The park is centered around the ruins of the Crisis Management Center:

I walked to the top of the hill which marks the highest point of the tsunami:

The Monument of Elegy faces the sea which brought so much death and destruction:

The tsunami here reached a height of 16.5 meters/54.1 feet, a fact that is difficult to fathom even as you stand at ground level looking up to the top of the building:

In 2012 the San San Shopping Village さんさん市場, a recovery market of around 30 shops and restaurants, was set up in temporary buildings two kilometers/1.2 miles inland, targeting tourists as well as locals. The market was closed at the end of 2016, and the following year it was relocated to its present location just outside the memorial park:

I had lunch at one of the restaurants, ordering the seafood donmaru 海鮮どんまる set. The cloudy drink in the glass was a Calpis soda カルピスソーダ, an old favorite of mine (and apparently of Donny and Marie Osmond) and a substitute refreshment when taking into account the fact I had to operate a motor vehicle:

The sign describes the post-reconstruction and urban development projects going on in the area:

The Minamisanriku 311 Memorial 南三陸311メモリアル:

Inside is a museum focusing on the disaster and the town's efforts to rebuild afterward:

The special exhibition area was ¥200 ($1.25) to enter (the rest of the memorial is free). Photography wasn't permitted inside, where there were photos and videos of the tsunami and its aftermath. There were video interviews with three of the ten survivors from the rooftop of the Crisis Management Center, describing in harrowing detail how they desperately managed to hold on until the water slowly started to recede.

In the free area was this aerial photo of Minamisanriku before March 11, 2011, with the yellow circle indicating where the Crisis Management Center stood:

Looking out at San San Shopping Village from the rooftop terrace:

I was surprised the memorial didn't have anything (unless I somehow missed it, which is very plausible) on Miki Endō 遠藤未希, a 24-year-old employee of the Crisis Management Department. Her job in times of emergencies was to broadcast advisories and warnings over the community loudspeakers, which she continued to do as the tsunami swamped the building. Endō-san was not one of the ten survivors but her alerts and warnings were credited with saving many lives. Her story is told in the two videos below:

Returning to my Yaris, the same Toyota model I had rented earlier in Hirosaki 弘前 in order to drive to and from Lake Towada 十和田湖:

The area around the memorial park is still somewhat desolate compared to how it looked before the tsunami, but life has returned and there is some hope for the future. The same could not be said for the next spot I visited. For just over half an hour I drove along the coast and then inland, going in and out of tsunami inundation zones according to signs along the side of the road. I eventually reached a green steel bridge and used it to cross over the Kitakami River 北上川 to the other side. It was here that I came face to face with the saddest of all the sad stories that came out of the Great East Japan Earthquake 東日本大震災.

The Wikipedia article describes in more detail what happened that fateful day, but here's a brief summary: there were 108 students at the Ōkawa Elementary School 大川小学校 on the 11th of March when the earthquake struck. 30 of them would eventually be picked up by their parents, but the remaining 78 students and 11 administrative staff assembled in the schoolyard. It was there the teachers discussed what to do and where to evacuate. Some of the children suggested moving to the hill behind the school, but the adults dismissed the idea, arguing it could be dangerous due to landslides and falling trees. Lacking clear instructions as to what to do in the event of a tsunami, the teachers continued to debate what course of action to take. After about 40 minutes of dithering, it was finally decided to move everyone to higher ground at the base of the Shin-Kitakami Ōhashi Bridge 新北上大橋 (the aforementioned green steel structure) on National Route 398. What they didn't know was that the tsunami had arrived, overwhelming the weir next to the school. In the end, only four students and one teacher survived the deluge.

Today the ruins of Ōkawa Elementary School have been left as a landmark. Bilingual signs and English-language OR codes do an excellent job describing how the school used to look, as well as what happened on that fateful day fifteen years ago:

The hill behind the school. I have no doubt the path going up wasn't this clearly laid out at the time of the disaster, but seeing how close it was and how everyone could have safely evacuated is infuriating, and brought me close to tears:

Next to the school is a small museum:

Families of 23 of the children who died in the disaster sued Ishinomaki City 石巻市 and Miyagi Prefecture 宮城県 for compensation, being awarded ¥1.4 billion ($8.85 million) in October 2016:

This is where the victims were swept up in the tsunami. You can see the bridge in the background:

There was only one video taken in that area at the time of the disaster. It was recorded by an official from the local branch of the Ishinomaki city government. He and several colleagues had been driving in cars with loudspeakers mounted on the roofs, alerting residents of the tsunami that would be coming their way, when they saw the wave coming over the embankment. All but one of them managed to escape to the other side of the same hill that backed onto the elementary school, and it was here the short video was filmed. In it you can see the bridge and the traffic island. Near the end of the video you can hear someone ask if the school was okay: 

74 young children had to die that afternoon because the adults they trusted ignored the most obvious escape route, and then wasted precious time trying to agree on a course of action, only to tragically make the wrong decision. All of this is described in Richard Lloyd Parry's excellent though sobering Ghosts of the Tsunami: Death and Life in Japan's Disaster Zone. 

It was getting late in the afternoon but I still had time to head to the center of Ishinomaki, a port city east of Sendai that suffered the largest loss of life, with nearly 3100 confirmed dead and almost 2800 still missing. 29,000 residents saw their homes get washed away. This video shows how fast and powerful the tsunami was in this area:

I parked at the Ishinomaki Minamihama Tsunami Memorial Park 石巻南浜津波復興祈念公園, standing in a spacious park that was once a densely-packed residential area. In the center is a small museum with panels and video about the disaster, though most of it is only in Japanese:

Before and after:

This board showed what the area looked like up until March 11, 2011:

The museum:

My final stop of the day was at Hiyoriyama Park 日和山公園, which overlooks the memorial park. There are panels noting that Ishinomaki was once graced by the presence of the famous haiku 俳句 poet Matsuo Bashō 松尾芭蕉:

But what drew me to the top of the 56 meter/184 foot-high hill was its role as a refuge for survivors of the tsunami, who watched helplessly as their homes below were washed away:

These videos were taken from the hilltop park, this one as the disaster was unfolding below...:

...and this one later, showing the aftermath. The egg-shaped building below is an art museum dedicated to the artist Shōtarō Ishinomori 石ノ森章太郎, creator of the manga 漫画 Cyborg 009 サイボーグ009 and Kamen Rider 仮面ライダー (I only know of the latter). The collection was damaged by the tsunami but the building survived, reopening in 2013 after extensive restoration:

The park stands on the site of the former Ishinomaki Castle, and before leaving I stopped to see the Shintō shrine 神社 standing near the summit:

I made it back to the Toyota Rent A Car office in Sendai around 18:45, and after returning the keys headed off in search of something for dinner. I initially settled on Sukiya すき家, but the absence of beer on the menu and the presence of young Western tourists in the restaurant led me to conclude I could do better. And I did, with a loco moco and a bottle of Kona Big Wave at the Hawaiian restaurant Eggs 'n Things:

Both Sukiya and Eggs 'N Things are located in the busy Clis Road shopping street クリスロード商店街, about a ten-minute walk from Sendai Station 仙台駅:

 

My Sendai digs were located a further five minutes on foot from the shopping arcade:

I was originally intending to make a post combining the experiences of this day with what I would see and do on the day following. But the juxtaposition of the tragedies of March 11, 2011 with such innocuous activities as happily walking along a trail past some pretty ponds would've been too jarring. Though I wasn't in Japan at the time of the triple disaster (a former student of mine from Yokkaichi 四日市 had to be rescued by boat from the third floor of a building near Sendai Airport 仙台空港, where he was studying at a flight school; he lost his car to the tsunami, but fortunately not his life), the events of that afternoon and the following days and weeks affected me greatly. I suppose this day could be described as an example of dark tourism, but it wasn't my morbid intention to share photos of the tragedy on Instagram in order to generate likes and views. It's my hope that I acted with the utmost respect at the sites I visited, though looking back I wonder if I should've brought some flowers or perhaps even some toys to leave at the elementary school. In any event, I'm glad I took the day to visit these sites, but I don't recommend other gaijin do so. I only saw a small handful of foreign visitors at the San San Shopping Village, and it might be better to leave it that way.