We’d just finished a six-day circumnavigation of the Shiretoko Peninsula. But we still had four days left before we all needed to be back in Sapporo, and the sea kayaking momentum was still coursing through our veins. Eastern Hokkaido had a number of spots that were still well on my radar for sea kayaking day trips, least of all Yururi Island.
Yururi Island had held my attention for a few years, ever since I had seen videos of the place by the enigmatic artist Atsushi Okada. The paddle promised to be a tough one, with no landings allowed in principle during the 20km circumnavigation. We weren’t even sure we’d be able to do a full circumnavigation – the thick Pacific swells were likely to be hefty on the exposed eastern side of the islands.
We discussed our options in the parking lot of the Rausu campground, and in the end decided we may as well just head west towards Nemuro, and see how the weather shaped up.
In the end, after a couple of days paddling in other locations on our way west towards Nemuro, we finally found our window. We’d slept in a parking lot in Nemuro City the night before, and were now ready to head to Konbumori, to the beach put-in for the paddle to Yuriri Island.
The put-in wasn’t a certainty, however. It was simply a best-guess based on Google Satellite imagery. Indeed, we’d not heard of anyone sea kayaking around Yururi Island, and couldn’t find any information about it online. The put-in turned out to be just the ticket though. Good access to a sheltered beach, and off-street parking nearby. From the beach, the island looked far away, but at only just under 4km as the crow flies, we were feeling confident. The islands were large enough to shelter us from the Pacific swell, and there was hardly any wind.
As we transported our gear to the shoreline, curious locals rubber-necked as they drove past. No one stopped to say hello, but it was generally friendly vibes.
Pushing off from the beach at Konbumori, we were all quietly hopeful for a full circumnavigation, but at the same time expectations low. We’d know the feasibility of going the whole way round once we got a look at the exposed eastern coast section of the islands.
Yururi Island stuck a beautifully aesthetic look in the distance. Perfectly flat on top, rimmed by cliffs, topped with manicured-looking grass, and a lone lighthouse.
As we paddled, it slowly got larger.
Instead of going straight to Yururi Island, we opted to go first to the sheltered western side of Moyururi Island, the smaller of the two islands. If the sea state on the east of the islands was not suitable, we’d then just meander south along the eastern sides of the two islands before heading back to the mainland. If, however, things looked good for a circumnavigation, we could commit to the loop around the smaller island first, before considering attempting Yururi as well.
Along the way, we passed Kamoshima カモ島 (literally Duck Island). Through her binoculars, Haidee could spot an island completely dominated by shags.
When we arrived in the sheltered northeast-facing bay of Moyururi Island, we were realised we were not alone.
Like stealthy spies, a couple of seals tailed us, keeping watch on the intruders. Less interested was a lone sea otter, bobbing on the surface of the sea, nibbling on a morsel it had deftly balancing on its stomach.
Conditions were looking good for a loop around Moyururi Island, so we carried on.
As predicted, the eastern side of the island, exposed to the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean, was livelier. Big swells, hitherto uninterrupted, careened into the rugged cliffs and rocks, sending up plumes of sea spray. The water’s surface was foamy and agitated.
We kept our distance from the islands, padding about 300m off shore.
The conditions were perfectly manageable this far off the shoreline, so we decided to go for the full circumnavigation.
Once we were on the east side of Yururi Island, we were once again paddling along the distinctive flat-top island feature, albeit with a much more dynamic, in accessible shoreline.
At about half way along the island, I heard an excited exclamation from Haidee.
“It’s an etopirika!” she yelled.
Haidee and Timbah saw it – an endangered tufted puffin (details here). Haidee, a keen birder, had never seen an etopirika tufted puffin before, so this was a special moment.
Further on in the distance, we could now see the tall obelisks of Nanatsu-iwa 七つ岩 (literally Seven Rocks), marking the southeastern corner of Yururi Island.
The heaving swell was bunching up at this congested point on the seabed, pushing us up and down, at times completely visually separating us from each other. We took a very wide berth of the rocks to seek shelter on the southern side of the island.
It was when we rounded the corner of the island that we first saw them. The majestic, land-lubbing mammalian inhabitants of Yururi Island.
The world-famous in far-eastern Hokkaido, Yururi wild horses.
These horses has somewhat of a folklore-ish presence. The last human inhabitants of the island left for good in the 1970’s. But they left their horses there. Since then, the horses (with very sporadic intervention by humans) have maintained a colony on the island.
See some footage of the beautiful beasts below, by Atsushi Okada.
We could see two horses up there on the plateau-like tops. One was mostly disinterested in us. The other watched us with detachment as we paddled by.
As we paddled around the southwestern corner of Yururi Island, we were now on chill-out mode. The swells were gone, and the sun was warm.
We’d now been out for about four hours.
And then, otters.
We daredn’t get too close, but we hung around for a bit, watching from about 50m away.
For the most part, the otters ignored us. But we kept moving.
We carried on along the sheltered western coastline of Yururi Island. Among the attractions was an archway through a small point. Given the right timing, it was a thrilling shortcut.
And there were more birds.
By the time we got back to where we’d arrived at the islands, it was getting relatively late in the day. This was no problem at all, apart from the fact that we were now coinciding our return to the mainland with the great daily exodus of the fishing vessels out of Hanasaki Port just north of the put-in.
The procession of vessels was long enough that we waited about 15 minutes for a gap.
In this 15 minutes, the tidal current in the Yururi Strait had drifted us about 200m northeast.
Once on our way again, the sun was low in the sky, staining everything orange.
Our return to the beach at Kombumori was perfectly timed to coincide with feeding time for the local sand flies. They were ravenous. Swarms of the little devils homed in on exposed flesh. Their ferocity was only matched by our fervour to get the boats and gear packed into the van, and for us to leave.
This would be our final paddling trip for this summer vacation two-week paddling journey. So, we decided to make the 1 hour drive west to Hamanaka Onsen, and the free Kiritappu campground for the night.
It was a well-earned end to a long, rewarding day on the water.
