A few days ago, I started planning a fun little road trip for Ayumi and me to embark on. The original idea was to get in the car around noon on December 31st and drive to the observation deck at 久須夜ヶ岳 (Kusuyagadake), a small mountain standing 618m over the western shore of Japan. From there, we would watch the sun set on 2024, recording the moment with multiple cameras. After dusk, we’d drive to 御前崎 (Omaezaki), a cape on the eastern shore of Japan, to watch the sun rise and signal the start of 2025—also capturing this moment with multiple cameras. Later, the footage would be edited together with an appropriate music track and shared on YouTube and Twitter for others to enjoy.
But then that ever-present voice in my head asked: “Sounds great. A 24-hour trip requiring a tank and a half of gas, plus $140 in highway tolls, to make a video that will receive a dozen or so views and zero feedback.”
Indeed.
In the end, I decided to skip the sunset and focus on just the sunrise. Omaezaki is about a two-hour drive after midnight, and this schedule would be much easier on Ayumi. For reasons I’ve yet to uncover, my trusty canine companion is less keen on travel lately. Perhaps it’s the cold. Perhaps it’s because she dislikes all the bumps in the road. Perhaps it’s something else. Sometimes I wish she could talk.
At one o’clock, we left the house. The roads were much busier than usual, as many people were still heading home after New Year’s celebrations with friends or family. Oddly enough, I didn’t spot a single police cruiser. Regardless, as we pulled onto the Tomei Expressway, the traffic thinned out further. The highway was nearly empty for much of our trip to the eastern shores of Shizuoka.
Our plan was to stop at the Shiei Shiosainozoka parking lot, a place familiar to both Ayumi and me. This is where I like to come for expansive photos of the night sky, given the minimal light pollution, and this first day of the year did not disappoint. Not a single cloud was in sight, revealing an endless vista of stars stretching millions of light years away. A handful of other visitors sat in their cars, awaiting sunrise, passing the time by napping or looking at glowing screens. Every so often, an engine would start for a few minutes to warm the passengers before going silent again.
I took the opportunity to climb the nearby mountain path leading to the first observation deck. A strong, cold wind was blowing in from the ocean, draining every last bit of heat from my hands as I fumbled with the camera and tripod. Still, the discomfort was worth it: I captured some of my clearest images of the night sky.
Ayumi waited in the safety and warmth of the car, and I quickly returned. Late-night New Year’s photography is clearly something best enjoyed where it’s warm!
For the next two hours, Ayumi and I napped, waking whenever another car pulled into the lot. Dawn began showing itself a little before six o’clock, prompting more activity on the road and in the parking lot as people gathered their cameras and blankets to find the perfect spot to record the first light of 2025. Judging by the license plates, some people had come from as far as Nara Prefecture for this once-a-year event.
As we made our way up the mountain, several people asked to pet Ayumi. Her ever-present smile and youthful energy act like a magnet, drawing kind words and friendly hands. About twenty minutes before the sun was expected to appear, we found a spot next to the iconic lighthouse. Families and couples milled about with cameras at the ready, and a few had brought dogs of their own for Ayumi to greet.
A band of clouds on the horizon tried to delay the 6:55 a.m. sunrise and, for a few minutes, succeeded. At 6:57, happy voices cheered as the first sliver of our star broke through, signalling the natural start of the new year. For many of us, 2025 was now official.
As the sun continued its skyward journey, the spectators began to move again. The cold wind had calmed considerably since the wee hours, but 2°C is still chilly when you’re standing still. Families trekked across the lighthouse park toward their cars or hotels. Couples snapped selfies with the sun behind them. Photographers jogged with their gear to spots offering dramatic contrasts between approaching light and receding shadows.
This is the second time Ayumi and I have traveled to the ocean to witness the first sunrise of the year. Both trips have been marked by bitter-cold winds from nature and warm smiles from onlookers hoping for good fortunes. I’m glad we abandoned the idea of rushing from place to place with cameras in search of the “perfect” vantage points and colour palettes. Far too often, I overthink things and forget that the point of going somewhere is to actually be there. Documenting events is fine, but when I’m constantly looking through a camera screen and worrying about composition, I’m not fully present. That’s something I need to keep in mind for 2025.