写真・構成：岩崎量示
The English translation follows after the Japanese text.
〈霧氷の森を抜け、春へと近づくタウシュベツへ〉
5年前の今日、2020年3月4日の朝はよく冷え込んでいた。タウシュベツ川橋梁に向け、霧氷をまとった木々が並ぶ森を抜けて、糠平湖に出る。湖の水位が大きく下がったことでできる、キノコ氷などの氷の造形を眺めながら歩いていく。
強い冷え込みと強い日射し。近づいてくる春の気配を感じながら、厳寒の名残りを楽しめる時期だ。切り株の上に乗った厚い氷が割れているのを、下から見上げる。こんなアングルは春先ならではだ。
冬を越しつつあるタウシュベツ川橋梁は、やはり前年よりもコンクリートが削られて、わずかに細くなったようにさえ思えた。このころは、側壁が一カ所崩れた状態とはいえ、まだ橋全体がそれなりに整った姿を保っていた時期でもある。それがこの2020年4月以降は、ほぼ毎年のように崩落がつづいている。いま振り返ると、形を留めていた最後の冬だということで、感慨深いものがある。
Five years ago today—March 4, 2020—was a really cold morning. Heading toward the Taushubetsu Bridge, I walked through a forest where the trees were covered in frost, then stepped out onto Lake Nukabira. Because the water level had dropped significantly, there were interesting ice formations like “mushroom ice” scattered around.
It was a day of strong cold and bright sunshine—right at that time of year when you can still enjoy the tail end of winter while sensing that spring is on its way. I remember looking up from beneath a thick slab of ice that had cracked on top of a tree stump, realizing it was a viewpoint only possible in early spring.
As for the Taushubetsu Bridge itself, it looked a bit more worn than the previous year, like the concrete had been further chipped away. At this stage, only one section of the side wall had collapsed, so the overall shape was mostly intact. But starting in April 2020, the bridge has lost more and more sections almost every year. Looking back, it feels like this was the last winter in which it still held its form, and that memory now holds a special meaning.
Ryoji Iwasaki