Story and photos by Lawrence I. Charters
Seahawk, October 5, 1984, p. 9.
Living in the Kanto Plain is never boring. There are an endless number of things to do, places to go, and people to see. Of course, there are also times when you don’t want to go anywhere, do anything or see anybody. At times like these, you want to “get away from it all,” and, fortunately, that is easy to do.
Straight across Tokyo Bay to the east is Chiba Prefecture, formed almost entirely from the rugged Boso Peninsula. Seen from Yokosuka on a clear day, the dark, saw-toothed mountains appear to be part of another world. while the western edge of Tokyo Bay teems with cities and industry, only a few traces of modern civilization can be spotted on the opposite shore – and one curiosity: an immense white statue.
Reaching the Boso Peninsula is an adventure in itself. From Kurihama, in southern Yokosuka, large auto-carrying ferries make frequent trips across the Bay. (For many Navy personnel, riding the ferry might offer them their first real experience at “sea.”) Crossing the Uraga Shipping Channel, the ferry – by no means small – is dwarfed by the constant flow of much larger ships, ranging from container ships arriving from North America to enormous supertankers heading back to the Middle East for another cargo of oil.
Once there, the peninsula proves to be as rugged and rural as it looks from afar. Traveling north on Route 127, the mountains seem to march down right to the water’s edge and plunge into the sea. Dense stands of trees and groves of giant bamboo turn the entire world a vivid green. Every now and then, the wild vegetation gives way to flat, well-kept, terraced rice paddies, usually guarded by a scarecrow of definite Asian origin.
Several kilometers north of the ferry dock, just past Sanukimachi train station, is a paved road leading up into the hills. On a high point overlooking all of Tokyo Bay and, on a clear day, Mt. Fuji, stands a twenty-story tribute to peace: the Tokyo Wan Kannon (Tokyo Bay Goddess of Mercy).
Built of white-washed concrete, the statue is the work of one man, U sami Masao, who spent more than ¥300 million of his own funds for its construction. During World War II, Usami was in charge of an air defense and fire fighting unit in Tokyo, and was deeply moved by the incredible devastation of the war. Determined to, as he put it, do his part to “eliminate war forever,” he decided to build the statue as a tribute to all who died, regardless of nationality, in World War II. Completed in 1962 after five years of construction, it is the largest Buddhist statue in the world.
Running up the statue’s core, a spiral staircase of 314 steps leads to the top. Along the way, small port holes offer spectacular views of the outside, while inside numerous alcoves hold various images of Kannon, the only female incarnation of Buddha. True to its international flavor, one alcove also holds a Catholic Madonna.
Looking out over the Bay and the lush countryside from the top, it isn’t hard to see why Usami chose this spot to build his monument to peace. The rural atmosphere of the Boso Peninsula offers a gentle, quiet contrast to the frantic pace of life in the city. Equally gentle is the gaze of the Kannon, offering her blessing of peace each day to the thousands of sailors who pass her on ships heading for every corner of the world.
