Kanazawa Castle Park — Part 5

After finishing my morning visit at Oyama Shrine, I began walking toward Nezumitamon Bridge. Around that time, snow began to fall—more heavily than I had expected. Holding my umbrella, I walked slowly beneath the unsettled winter sky.

Earlier that morning, the sky around Tsuzumi-mon Gate had been clear and blue. Yet now, snowflakes were drifting down softly and quietly. The forecast had mentioned snow, but I hadn't imagined the weather would shift this quickly. With that thought in mind, I stepped across Nezumitamon Bridge, where the snow had piled up even more than the day before, pressing forward with each careful step.

Passing through the gate, I entered Kanazawa Castle Park. Yesterday, I had walked the route from Kuromon Gate to Oyama Shrine. Today, I chose the opposite direction—starting from the shrine, crossing Nezumitamon, and heading through the park toward Kenrokuen.

The park opens at eight in the morning, which was perfect timing. Stepping into the deeper snow, I felt a quiet anticipation as I entered a world even whiter than the day before.

Because the news had been reporting heavy snowfall since the previous night, there were hardly any people around. I walked on, my snowshoes crunching, crunching through the fresh snow, the sound echoing softly in the cold air. The snow would stop, then start again, repeating in an unpredictable rhythm. Aside from the steady crunch beneath my feet, the world felt almost silent.

After walking for a while, the view suddenly opened up. Before me spread the breathtaking winter landscape of Gyokusen'inmaru Garden. I stopped in my tracks, captivated, forgetting the cold as I gazed at the scene. Rows of black pines protected by yukitsuri stood gracefully, and in front of them, the still surface of Haya-no-ike (Haya Pond) blended seamlessly into the white world. The sky and the snow seemed to merge into one. I took a photo, but I knew the moment could never be fully captured. It was simply, quietly beautiful—nothing more, nothing less.

Nearby stood the remains of an Edo-period well and a bench covered in snow. The view from here was stunning, no matter how many times I looked at it— a sight that lingered quietly in my mind.

As I slowly returned to myself, I noticed a small building to the right. It was Gyokusen-an, an information office, where I received a map. “The Takigino-maru course is wonderful too,” the staff told me. I nodded, thinking I should take a look, and continued on my way.

When I started walking toward Ninomaru Square, a sign at my feet caught my eye. It was the same one I had noticed yesterday— “Kanazawa Castle Stone Wall Tour — Takigino-maru Course.” So this was the place they had mentioned earlier. I finally understood.

I had wondered what scenery lay beyond this point, and now I was standing right in front of it. There was only one choice— to go. With each step crunching through the snow, I followed the path into the Takigino-maru course.

At some point, I realized the snow had stopped. The sky was beginning to brighten, hinting that the weather might clear. I looked up the snow-covered steps of the mountain path, then let my gaze drift toward the distant landscape.