Date: 2006-07-21.
Tags: gullivers, japan, suicide, themepark
The most well known abandoned themepark is Gulliver's Kingdom. It's rad. Super rad. Raddah than rad ever was before. Kuroneko took us aside to smack some good sense into us and explain the difficulties of gaijin exploring. Assuming the grandmaster persona he delivered the following inscrutable wisdom: "Make sure you've got no gaijiness about you. Think you are Japanese". With all this zen mind mastery ninja shit going down we nabbed a hire car, button mashed the Japanese only GPS into submission and busted the hell out of Tokyo on the Chuo Expressway, destination: motherfucking Gulliver's.
Gullivers is about 2.5 hours west of Tokyo, nestled into the darkside of Mt Fuji. The mountain areas are beautiful and lush. Dense waves of green cascade through the clouds, into the mist filled valleys below. Bizarrely golf courses and urbex pair up. Spot a golf course or driving range and surely urbex lurks nearby. The three themeparks we've exlored have been adjacent to golfing establishments. Gulliver's provides an old culture mash of European fairytale in the Japanese mountains. It's well worth the day trip for the surreal atmosphere, just watch out for people on the golf course.
After poking around Gulliver's there's time for a quick detour to the Sea of Trees aka Kawaguchi. This isn't a tourist destination, it's famous as Japan's number one suicide spot. Those with nothing left wander into the forest labyrinth, to be consumed by the creeping vines and moss and return to the earth. Yearly the police sweep the same path through the forest with the aid of GPS scouring for fresh bodies. It's not uncommon they find bodies missed the year before. This is the maze of Kawaguchi.
Such is the danger of the undulating mass of trees, rocks, pitfalls and mist Kawaguchi is no longer marked on the maps. It's unsigned, and there are few places to stop or even turn around as the narrow road winds its way through the forest. Slowly the forest encroaches as the ancient boughs close over and above to consume the road. The treacherous volcanic ground was formed by cooling lava which settled around the trunks of the biggest trees. Over time the trees rotted away to create dark gaping graves to swallow careless explorers and those seeking an 'honourable' end. The humid air has spawned minature seas of moss which spread across the rocks, mirroring the canopy above. The Sea of Trees is aptly named, the trees and moss stretch endlessly in all directions.
To wander just a dozen steps from the path between the gnarled trunks invites despair, the path behind seems to simply vanish. Walking a straight course is made impossible by the uneven ground which forces you upon a path of its choosing. The forest appears to shift around you, it's easy to be turned around without realising it. We tied our string securely at the path and stepped hesitantly into the forest. We wound through the trees, peeked into the crevices and clambered over the mossy rocks. Most depressingly we found short sections of string limply hanging from the lower branches. The lost lifeline of another wanderer weighed heavily upon us. I think we all shared the terrifying thought of our line breaking, or worse someone finding and undoing it. A recurring thought plagued me: how many had come this far, without a line to follow, resolute upon ending their lives but faltering as the light faded between the trees. How many starved at the bottom of a pitfall they couldn't climb? How many frantic wildeyed souls ran until they collapsed exhausted, to begin their slow death by starvation? We traced our string back to the path, probably all thinking the same thing.
Japan is undersexed - hard to believe I know. In 2003 the birth rate dropped to 1.29 (average births per woman during her lifetime), and 26% of 600 married women interviewed had no sex with their husbands in the past year. What bearing does this have on urban exploration? Themeparks gentle reader, themeparks. Less kids = less revenue for part operators = more urbex for us. My algebra teacher is having a mild seizure right now.
The most well known abandoned themepark is Gulliver's Kingdom. It's rad. Super rad. Raddah than rad ever was before. Kuroneko took us aside to smack some good sense into us and explain the difficulties of gaijin exploring. Assuming the grandmaster persona he delivered the following inscrutable wisdom: "Make sure you've got no gaijiness about you. Think you are Japanese". With all this zen mind mastery ninja shit going down we nabbed a hire car, button mashed the Japanese only GPS into submission and busted the hell out of Tokyo on the Chuo Expressway, destination: motherfucking Gulliver's.
Gullivers is about 2.5 hours west of Tokyo, nestled into the darkside of Mt Fuji. The mountain areas are beautiful and lush. Dense waves of green cascade through the clouds, into the mist filled valleys below. Bizarrely golf courses and urbex pair up. Spot a golf course or driving range and surely urbex lurks nearby. The three themeparks we've exlored have been adjacent to golfing establishments. Gulliver's provides an old culture mash of European fairytale in the Japanese mountains. It's well worth the day trip for the surreal atmosphere, just watch out for people on the golf course.
After poking around Gulliver's there's time for a quick detour to the Sea of Trees aka Kawaguchi. This isn't a tourist destination, it's famous as Japan's number one suicide spot. Those with nothing left wander into the forest labyrinth, to be consumed by the creeping vines and moss and return to the earth. Yearly the police sweep the same path through the forest with the aid of GPS scouring for fresh bodies. It's not uncommon they find bodies missed the year before. This is the maze of Kawaguchi.
Such is the danger of the undulating mass of trees, rocks, pitfalls and mist Kawaguchi is no longer marked on the maps. It's unsigned, and there are few places to stop or even turn around as the narrow road winds its way through the forest. Slowly the forest encroaches as the ancient boughs close over and above to consume the road. The treacherous volcanic ground was formed by cooling lava which settled around the trunks of the biggest trees. Over time the trees rotted away to create dark gaping graves to swallow careless explorers and those seeking an 'honourable' end. The humid air has spawned minature seas of moss which spread across the rocks, mirroring the canopy above. The Sea of Trees is aptly named, the trees and moss stretch endlessly in all directions.
To wander just a dozen steps from the path between the gnarled trunks invites despair, the path behind seems to simply vanish. Walking a straight course is made impossible by the uneven ground which forces you upon a path of its choosing. The forest appears to shift around you, it's easy to be turned around without realising it. We tied our string securely at the path and stepped hesitantly into the forest. We wound through the trees, peeked into the crevices and clambered over the mossy rocks. Most depressingly we found short sections of string limply hanging from the lower branches. The lost lifeline of another wanderer weighed heavily upon us. I think we all shared the terrifying thought of our line breaking, or worse someone finding and undoing it. A recurring thought plagued me: how many had come this far, without a line to follow, resolute upon ending their lives but faltering as the light faded between the trees. How many starved at the bottom of a pitfall they couldn't climb? How many frantic wildeyed souls ran until they collapsed exhausted, to begin their slow death by starvation? We traced our string back to the path, probably all thinking the same thing.
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