This month, we join Scott Lothes on his journey to northern Japan, on the island of Hokkaido (page 44). At first blush, this may seem like a trip to someplace wildly different. From a North American perspective, Japan may seem to be a dense, deeply urban place, simultaneously futuristic yet ancient. To bring this to a more railfan-centric perspective, Japan is also knit together with a network of high-speed “bullet trains,” the likes of which we can only envy. Yet, as I think Scott’s story helps show, there are many ways that the Japanese railway landscape is surprisingly familiar.
One thing we must keep in mind is that Japan’s railways were heavily influenced by North American practice. Early Japanese railway projects were designed with the assistance of foreign consultants, most of whom came from either the United Kingdom or the U.S. The result is that the Japanese system exhibits certain telltale signs of both railway traditions, from the predominance of 42-inch gauge (typical of British colonies) but also of a dense, weblike network of lightly built branches more typical of North America. Early equipment was UK-built, but by the turn of the 20th century, the most powerful locomotives in the country had been built by America’s Baldwin. Later, domestically built equipment showed such hybrid roots, with proportions and aesthetics that recalled British equipment, but other spotting features — such as tenders, cylinders, and couplers — being distinctly North American.
Nor are these influences found only in the past. Today’s Japanese rail network in many ways echoes our own, especially at the margins. Like our continent, Japan experienced a wave of so-called “deindustrialization” starting in the 1970s, with industrial modernization and increased global trade radically changing the nature of the economy. As in the American “rust belt,” many steel mills, coal mines, and power plants shut down, and rural populations steadily relocated into larger cities. The northern island of Hokkaido, for example, was once one of the world’s most important coal-mining regions, but much like the Appalachian region of the U.S., it is a place that seems more and more hollowed out, steadily emptying of traffic and of life.
For the railways that served such regions, the options were few but also familiar. Many lines that once belonged to Japanese National Railways or its privatized successors were, in essence, “spun off” into what Japan calls “third-sector railways” — what we might label “short lines.” Some of those companies have survived by reducing service, cutting overhead costs, and chasing new markets, much as our own short lines do, and likewise, not all of them have met with sustained success. It is not unusual, for example, for a small third-sector railway to turn to tourism as a means to generate traffic, and it is not at all unusual to find dinner trains, beer trains, scenery-viewing trains, and sometimes even steam locomotives to attract those tourists to the rails.
And then there’s the railfan world. If you go to YouTube, and search for “Japanese train videos,” you will find plenty of results. One of the more amusing aspects is to watch, say, a beautiful shot of a distant steam-hauled train, and then hear the distinctive click-click-click of a camera motor drive from some other railfan standing just out of view. If anything, there are probably more railfans in Japan than in North America, and yet many of their conventions are ours, too — from the “photo line” to spotter’s guides to rare-mileage trips. Perhaps Japan is an ocean away, and certainly it has its own distinct geography, culture, and history, and yet the more I have learned about its railways, the more I am impressed not by the differences, but by what we share.
—Alexander Benjamin Craghead is a transportation historian, photographer, artist, and author.
