山陽電鉄：神戸から姫路までの歴史的な旅

山陽電鉄：神戸から姫路までの歴史的な旅

Good morning. I’m still Jeremy and I’m here at a station called Nishidai which is in the western part of Coobe City here in Japan. And uh right now as I’m uh recording this there’s a little botch on with cart and I’m going to be riding the Sano railway today. This is not the JR Sano line which runs parallel to it most of the way. This is a private railway which goes from here to Himi and there’s a little branch line. So, I’m going to ride this train for all of it pretty much and check out some of the stations. Get off at some of the stations and look around and just see what it’s like. The great seaside railway of Sano. Nishidai station is the start of the Sano Electric Railway. But in a strange twist, the station isn’t really that big of a deal. No trains actually start or end their trips here. That’s because all trains continue through to the tracks of the Honin Railway towards Coobe. I should be seeing both Sono trains and Honin trains today until I go far enough west that only Sono trains run. By the way, I’m using a day pass today. 1,700 yen for unlimited rides between Sanomia on the Henshin line in Coobe and everywhere on the Sano Electric Railway. As of 1888, there was a separate but similarly named train line in this area called Sano Railway going from Coobe all the way to Shimon Noosei, hundreds of kilometers away at the end of Honchu. But it was a fast long-distance train and stations were far apart. Locals in southern Hilgo Preerfecture wanted a more useful local service and they finally got it on March 15th, 1910 when the Hyogo electric tramway opened a line between Hyo Station and Suma. It struggled immediately and out of desperation the company extended the line piece by piece to Ichinoani in 1912, to Shioya in 1913 and finally to the bigger city of Akashi in 1917. And it worked. revenue jumped. Today, the Sono Electric Railway is made up of two lines. The Sono main line runs from Nishidai west and ends at Himeiji. A few stations before that, there’s a small branch line called Aboshi, which I hope to ride as well. So, when you get on a train at Nishidai station, it will already have people on it, unlike the supposed endpoint stations of other train lines. Still, this is a densely populated part of Japan, and about 4,000 people a day do board trains here, although only a quarter of those are going west on the SO line. Like me, there are various express trains on the SO network, and not all even stop at Nishidai. The first one that arrived here was indeed a SO train, not a hunching one. I could tell by the emblem, which is three sets of five crisscrossing lines. The three pieces represent gratitude, trust, and challenge. And the five lines represent the five types of businesses that Sonia engages in. One being transportation. That emblem was introduced in 2007, replacing the older 1983 version, which was simply two train lines. I kind of prefer the older one and its less convoluted symbolism. And this train is an express, but I need a local, so I had to wait. Trains come every 5 to 15 minutes or so, depending on the station and the time of day. I was glad to see that the SU trains had nice private sets of forward- facing seats. [Music] 4 minutes later, mine was also a Sono train, but with a different design. I like it. It reminds me of the color scheme of my Atari 400 computer from the 1980s. Unfortunately, this one has bench seats. [Music] The Sano mainline is 54.7 km or 34 mi long. Including the end points, there are 43 stations. The first two are underground and after it station, the train emerges into the light. [Music] In the 1920s, extending the line all the way to Himeiji was the obvious next step. But it wasn’t the Hyo Electric Tramway that was able to do it. Instead, a separate company, the Coobe Himei Electric Railway, opened in 1923 between Akashi and Himi. Both companies, the tramway and the railway, got electric power from Ujigawa Electric. And in 1927, that company bought the two train lines and merged them. After figuring out all the hassles with different gauges and electrical needs and things like that, an unbroken line between Hyo and Himi finally opened in 1928. Finally, in 1933, Ujigawa split its electric business from its transportation business, and the train line was renamed to what it still is today, the Sono Electric Railway. It’s complicated, but the Sono Electric Railway is unrelated to that earlier Sano railway, which became the current JR SO line, and to the Sono Shinkansen, which also runs in this area. It actually took until 1968 to fully convert all the street running tram sections to fully separate train tracks. And those 1968 tracks are what we’ll be riding today. [Music] I stopped here at Samoa Coen Station. Except for the ropeway, Samoa Coen Station has nothing around it but the noisy highway and something called the Suma Fishing Park, but I still like it. The area has a good mixture of raw wildness and friendly approachability. West of Samoa Coen is a turning point in the line, a lot more Sano than Honi. My plan is to get off at a station right down the line with a nicer view of the water, but it still won’t be in my own forward- facing seat. I didn’t know if this was just bad luck of the draw or maybe local trains never have those seats, but whatever. Right after Samura Coen is where the Sano line truly reaches the coast for about 7 kilometers over 4 miles, you frequently look out over views of the Sto inland Sea. If you’re lucky, it’ll be a sunny day with sparkling water like today. This is also where the line starts running along the JR SO line. The stations of the two lines are sometimes in the same places with similar names and often not, but they don’t really intersect except sort of at a certain few stations where it’s relatively easier to walk between them. The JR line is down below. It’s usually closer to the water’s edge, but the Su line is up higher for better views. That land you can see out there in the distance is Aaji Island. The fifth largest island in Japan, not counting the main four. So I mean the ninth biggest in Japan. Getting off the train. Station number S9. [Music] [Music] I got off here at Taki Nochaya station just because it’s one of the ones that’s closest to the actual sea here, the Isetto Inland Sea, and I wanted to see the ocean view here and maybe look down on some JR trains passing. Takino Chaya is another local only station, so I have to watch for both express trains on the Sano line whizzing by and the JR trains below. And up ahead is another key feature along this line. If you can see it out there, here at Takino Chaya is my first view of the big big Aaji Bridge. And we’ll be visiting that bridge pretty soon eventually on this trip. today. [Music] I tried to find a better view of the bridge ahead upstairs in the station. It looks like you have to go out the ticket gates maybe to see the view. And I forgot I had a day pass and could just come and go as I please. So, I stuck to the inside of the station. Back down to the platform to wait for my train. [Music] My next stop is actually not the bridge, not yet, but a huge majestic construction from so far back in pre-Japan history that nobody knows even why it exists. And the train goes right by it. [Music] [Music] Okay, I just stepped off the train again here at Kasumiga station which leads It’s so important they put it on the sign. It leads to Goshiki Zuka burial mound which is just about 300 m this way. This is going to be the oldest thing we see on today’s uh trip except for the ocean I guess. Kasumiuka station opened in 1917, part of the final push to Akashi, undertaken by the struggling Hyo Electric tramway. It was called Utashiki Yama before being renamed in 1964. It was also originally a few hundred meters to the west. [Music] further we get down the line here. um the less often the stations are manned or staffed. And this is as good a time as any to talk about the Honin Aaji earthquake. On January 17th, 1995, just before 6:00 a.m., a magnitude 7.3 earthquake struck in the sea off the northern tip of Aaji Island, just about 3 miles from here. Being shallow and amid huge population centers, the earthquake was a huge disaster for Japan. It killed as many as 6,400 people, injured and displaced, maybe $350,000 more, and cost $200 billion in 1995. It was the first earthquake ever to be officially recorded as a seven on the Shindo, which is Japan’s official seismic intensity scale, which only goes to seven and which had only had a seven added after an earthquake in 1948, couldn’t be fully described by a six. Shindo 7 is described as quote brutal. Standing or even moving is impossible except maybe by crawling. The ground is distorted by cracks and landslides and topographic features are forever altered. The 1995 quake damaged train lines in the area. One Honen underground station collapsed causing the road above it to collapse as well. JR, the Shing Kansen, the Hungu Railway, and the Coobay subway all had damage to trains and tracks and stations. The Honin Railway lost two dozen trains being stored at a depot. The trains were running at about 80% again within a month, impressively, although it took several months for the Sono line to be back at 100%. But the Goshiki Zuka burial mound survives, as it has since it was constructed around the year 400. Actually, what’s here now is a reconstruction from the 1960s, but it’s still as imposing as ever. If you can find your way there. I got a little lost while trying to follow the signs, but if you keep going long enough, you’ll end up somewhere. And there it is. There’s no entrance fee to the burial mound called a tumulus in English and a kofoon in Japanese. There is a little shack on the edge though with some artifacts from the mound and the area in a glass case. These plaster casts of actual footprints found nearby are from the Joan period, hundreds or many thousands of years older than the burial mound. The sign points out that the person’s feet weren’t actually this big. It’s just that the mud was pushed out as they stepped. Let’s go see the tumulus itself. Luckily, part of the restoration includes stairs for us modern visitors. This mound was first mentioned in historical records in the 8th century, but modern scholars disagree with that record’s assertion that it was Emperor Chuai that’s buried here. According to the English language leaflet that the lady gave me, we don’t actually know, but it’s assumed that it was a man who was a clan leader who ruled over this part of Honchu as well as part of Aaji Island. It’s a keyhole-shaped mound in three levels with the round part being the highest level. The sides are paved with rocks, cobblestones from the media area on some parts and stones from Aaji Island on the upper levels. What’s certainly true is that it’s the largest known burial mound in Hyo Perfeure and is of a similar size to mounds in N to be for major figures such as kings. So, it was somewhat of note to put it mildly. The mound was always known of and visited by various enthusiasts and scholars over the centuries, but it wasn’t maintained. In World War II, trees growing on it were cut down for ship building, and then it was used for farming after the war. This picture shows it around 1960, scarred and neglected. It was in a sorry state, but right around then, efforts to restore it began. The restoration project found that the farming hadn’t damaged the mound as much as thought, so more extensive excavation was possible, resulting in the place as we know it today. The actual burial chamber has not been found. Of particular interest is the clay pots that surround the entire structure. They’re called honeywa. These are all reconstructions. An alternative name for the mound is sensuba, which means 1,000 clay pots. In fact, there are more than twice that here. [Music] The leaflet shows a CG image of what it looked like when it was built. No buildings or highways or railroad tracks. That river isn’t even here anymore. The smaller round mound to the side is Kotubo, by the way. Today, it’s across the road, and there’s no access to the top for the public. I like how it mimics the great bridge in the background, though. We’re lucky, I guess, that this much of the mound and its area still exists to be restored like this. Roads and buildings and the train lines really encroach on it. JR trains pass right by the edge of the bottom of the rectangular part. And the Sano railway is even worse. Its tracks slice through what used to be the wide, flat, dry moat surrounding the keyhole. Then again, the station that I got off at and where I’m returning to to catch another train is the best way to access the mound. The nearest JR station is farther away. So there. And it’s time to go visit the beast that’s been lurking in the background for several stations. The great Akashi Kaiko Bridge. Well, I think that [Music] Well, I got to the station and walked up the stairs to the platform and missed my train by about 4 seconds, just leaving. It happens when you didn’t check the schedule. The train guy gave me a pitying but shrugging look as he shot by. [Music] It was 15 minutes until the next train, so I got a further little look at life on the Kasumigoka train platform. [Music] In this train is a poster for something I’m hoping to see up close myself a little later. First though, a closer look at this bridge. [Music] Obviously, a lot more infrastructure here. as impressive as the burial mound in a different more modern way. I guess [Music] this is Michael Cohen station pretty much right under the end of the bridge. The thing I’m looking for is called the Michael Marine Prominade. I hope the way there is shaded. Here’s a map of the area. There’s my tumulus. I don’t see the prominade, but it’s just south under the bridge. The bridge is called Pearl Bridge in English on this map. I think that’s an occasional nickname, but I never actually hear it called that. Then again, I never really hear that bridge talked about in English. The official Japanese name is Akashi Kaiko Ohashi, which translates directly as something like Akashi Strait, Great Bridge. As if Japan didn’t have enough natural disasters to worry about, the Akashi Strait and the whole Setto inland Sea provide more. A series of ferry accidents of the 1940s and50s culminated in May 1955 when two fairies collided in foggy conditions leading to 168 deaths, mostly school children, on a field trip. This caused great public outcry and citizens were calling for a bridge over the difficult waters. It also led incidentally to a demand for greater swimming lessons in schools which is said to have contributed to the modern-day presence of pools at many schools in Japan. Authorities decided to link the islands with series of bridges in three places and across Aaji Island is the easternmost one. It would be many years before any of them were completed. Construction didn’t begin on the Akashi Straight Bridge until 1988. The bridge has three spans and is nearly 2 and 1/2 miles long. It’s the central span that makes it so famous. When the bridge opened in 1998, it was the longest central span in the world. Nearly 2 kilometers, over 1.2 miles of roadway, just suspended in the air with nothing underneath it. There’s all sorts of stuff around here. Nice little park to eat your lunch. Getting hungry myself, but hoping to find something in the prominade area. So engineers had to make the two towers really big and strong and use the best steel cables. The bridge has to withstand the violent waters of the straight where a bunch of flowing water is squeezed into a narrow channel as well as earthquakes and typhoons and the massive weight of the traffic. In fact, when that earthquake struck in 1995, only the towers were built, not the road yet. But the quake moved the towers 1 meter further apart. So engineers had to scramble to recalculate everything and make the span 1 meter longer than originally planned. I wonder what happens when another quake hits. Does the road stretch or does it just snap apart? I hope we don’t find out. Certainly not while I am on it. For now, it’s the pride of Japanese bridge engineers. The long central span means container ships can pass by underneath and give the towers a wide, safe birth. In 2022, a bridge with a longer central span opened in Turkey. So, Akashi is number two in the world. Now, I’ve been over the bridge a few times, most recently in a bus on my way to begin my circumnavigation of Shikoku Island using only local trains, which I’ll link to in the description, and which I humbly and highly recommend. For today, though, I’m not going on the bridge. I’m going under it. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the bridge from underneath it. I’d say it’s every bit as impressive from here. 250 yen to get in. Not bad. Can cut it out from [Music] nice to be indoors finally. I have to go up to the eighth floor, she said. 90. [Music] That’s nice. [Music] So this prominade is a walkway 47 m about 154 ft over the water and was opened on the same day as the bridge itself opened to traffic April 5th 1998. So let’s see this prominade already. Very glad to see that the walls are just open mesh, not sealed windows, so you can hear and feel the outside air and commotion all around. So the road is above. The whole structure is shaking and rumbling whenever vehicles go by. Here’s the view looking back east towards Osaka where I came from. That castle-looking building on the right is a memorial forsunat, a revolutionary revered in both mainland China and Taiwan who spent several years in exile in Japan. This corridor on the left leads to more facilities and more walkway. To be honest, the Akashi Strait doesn’t look so forbidding today. I guess I caught it in some of its calmer conditions. This other half of the prominade has a feature where you can look under your feet and see the water below. Here it is. I’m not sure what the deal is with the piece of wood. Like, are you supposed to walk on it or alongside it? Either way, pretty cool. I saw a cafe. F back in the middle part. Hope they were open and had actual lunch for me. Instead of spending my 1,200 yen on an octopus lottery game, even if everyone’s a winner, as it says on that upper right corner, octopus. In fact, there’s lots of ways for kids to gamble here. The reason for all the octopuses is that the nearby city of Akashi is famous for akashiaki, which are fried balls of dough with bits of octopus inside. Betto. I ordered a set meal with those octopus rice and seaweed rice and hot black soybean tea. I don’t know. It flew hot pepp. It’s nice to have good hot local food in my stomach. And while eating, I’m able to look out the window to the west where I can just make out the next destination I want to see on the SO line. There’s a freight train on the JR line down there. The Sano line is behind that from here. Guess I have to pull myself away from the goofy but very enjoyable touristiness of the prominade and head back to the rails. At least the rails are warm and welcoming. [Music] It’s here that the Sano line and the JR lines cross. The Sano line is from now on closer to the coast, but really both move inland just enough that you can’t really see the water anymore. It is kind of cool how close the JR tracks are though. Talk about two railways in direct competition. [Music] Goes my train. I just got off it at here at Hito Marumay Station. It’s because of this and because of this. That tower is right on the 135th East Meridian, which is right here. And it goes down right across the platform here. And this is why we know what time it is right now in Japan. I’ve been by this tower uh several times on trains. It’s even featured in a couple videos throughout the history of my channel. But I actually kind of misunderstood what this tower really is. So, I’m actually going to go exit the station here and see if I can get close to it. actually go walk up to it and see how close I can see it and then explain what it is. In the 1800s, every place in Japan set its own local time based on when the sun was highest in the sky there at noon. By the 1880s, this was causing so much havoc with communications and transportation that something had to be done. So, in 1886, the Maji era government decreed that there would be a National Japan Standard Time, and it would be based on the sun right here at exactly 135° east. This is the same line that goes down and splits Australia in half. By the way, the sun was carefully observed. Then at the second that 1887 became 1888, midnight between December 31st and January 1st, a telegraph signal was sent out from here. The signal was received at major telegraph stations around Japan who then passed it on to local telegraphs in their area. And so forever more, this line represents Japan’s standard time. There is no daylight savings time here in case you’re wondering, which makes calculating the time in, say, the Eastern time zone in America where my family lives really annoying because I have to keep track of daylight savings time there. Don’t get me started. Hito Marumi, where I got off the Sano train, is the only train station in Japan where the 135th meridian passes right through it. There is no JR station close enough. This tower, though, is not official. I thought it was somehow, but it turns out that the actual official time is kept with highly sensitive modern means in Tokyo somewhere. This tower was built in 1960 and is part of the planetarium maintained by the city of Akashi. It’s an impressive tower and I guess the number 135 is the star attraction around these parts. I could do this all day. But what is a day? Behind the tower is a mysterious path up some steps into the woods. I got curious. What might be lurking in here? Or is this just some ruse to lead me into the plague of locusts? Actually, this is the grave of one Matsu Daida Nitsugu, a feudal lord from Akashi. This isn’t related to the planetarium or Japan standard time, but this guy did have an interesting sense of time. He died on October 23rd, 1868, the very day that the Maji era began. and Japan became an open country. The back side of the tower not as impressive as the front really. Okay, let’s go back and find the next train. Actually, on the way from the planetarium, something caught my eye in a courtyard. Speaking of big steel cables. Oh, and after all this, I finally remembered to actually check my phone’s time against the clock. Looks good. Watch my ride along the Aboshi line and my exploration of the quiet community around Tenma Station in the extended video at patreon.com/t1dworer. [Music] The entire Aboshi line is only 8 1/2 kilometers, 5.3 mi long, and it serves seven stations. It opened in 1940. Maybe it’s just that it’s been a long day for me, but I can tell you that it feels like Aboshi station is a long way from everywhere. A far-flung dead end where there is no connection to any other train line. [Music] Okay, here we are in Aboshi, the final stop. So, that’s my look at the Sono Electric Railway today. Thank you very much for coming along with me. And uh if you ever get a chance, come see it and look at some of the same stuff or different stuff because there’s lots of things that you can’t get to. Every station has something. Anyway, here is the list for today. Abandoned bicycle, interesting statue or figurine, motor scooter, obachon with cart, notable bird, cartoon drawing on sign, graffiti, hair salon, tree cut in the circles, car elevator, and beer vending machine. All right, there you go. Thanks for watching and I will see you on the next adventure. Watch extended videos, plus more exclusive travel logs, video diaries, and other stuff as a paid or free supporter at patreon.com/t1der. Thanks this week in random order to Lever Wong, Michael Fedor, Samantha, Will Phillips, Russell Davis, Calvin Ferrer, Ray Nichols, Darcio Toronto, Lars Steenberg, David Richley, and Matt Kaine. Thanks for wandering around the Sano Electric Railway with me. Everywhere is worth exploring. Station number A13. After leaving 4 minutes, we only started with sound.

I explored the Sanyo Electric Railway in southern Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, stopping to see modern and historical sights along the tracks.

0:00 Intro
0:39 Railway history
5:27 Sumaurakōen station
6:58 Takinochaya station
9:02 Kasumigaoka station
10:41 1995 Kōbe earthquake
12:09 Goshikizuka Tumulus
16:43 Back to Kasumigaoka
18:32 Akashi Bridge/Maiko Marine Promenade
27:00 Octopus lunch
28:36 135ºE clock tower
33:49 Patreon
34:00 Aboshi station

▶︎ *Extended 43-minute version* → https://www.patreon.com/posts/135064758
Watch the full-length video, ad-free. Includes my experience on an express Sanyo train (finally), the more-rural countryside to the west, riding the Aboshi Line spur all the way, wandering the streets of the decaying Tenma community, and a few other bits throughout.

▶︎ *Newsletter* → https://www.patreon.com/posts/135121988
Read the issue of my free newsletter about this video.

▶︎ Shikoku on local trains → https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdt1zbrcOjs

*About T1D Wanderer*
My name is Jeremy. I make videos about traveling and discovering obscure places. Everywhere is worth exploring when you wander the world out of curiosity. If you enjoy the work I put into my videos, please consider joining my travel community and signing up for my free weekly newsletter at https://patreon.com/t1dwanderer