Vermont Public
Radio Commentary
by Chester H. Liebs
© 1999 by
Chester H. Liebs
,
Aired 7/13/99
Made possible by: The Alma Gibbs Donchian
Foundation and the Preservation Trust of Vermont
Yanetsuki Bashi
Of the 31 states that have them, like Iowa with only 15, most
have barely a few left, except for Pennsylvania with 220, Ohio
with 145, and Vermont with about 105. While in third place,
however, The Green Mountain State is the most famous place for
covered bridges, or so I thought.
Recently when I was teaching in Japan, I accepted an
invitation by that nation’s leading bridge expert, Takashi
Itoh, to see Yanetsuki Bashi (Japanese for bridges with a roof).
You mean there are covered bridges in Japan, I said? Itoh
explain that roofed bridges can be found around the world
including China. Russia, tiny Buhtan and yes, Japan, especially
in rural Ehime prefecture, our destination.
Two weeks later Itoh and I and several Japanese
yenetsuki-bashi enthusiasts set out in a brand-new, giant
four-wheel-drive sport-utility vehicle, glistening with chrome,
and bristling with gadgets like a global positioning television
and an outdoor barometer. This metal behemoth seemed out of
scale in a place where everything is compact like Japan. It was
so wide that we barely avoided several head on collisions in the
narrow mountain passes.
Finally we beached the “sport utility” and got out to
look. There, in the middle of a rice field, across a little a
stream, was a small covered bridge, built not of massive timbers
like our covered bridges, but of thin and graceful wooden
strips. As long as the roof remained tight so rain could not rot
them, its seemingly frail parts, like the ribs of a paper
umbrella, would remain as strong as they needed to be. Built for
access to a farmhouse, occasional equipment storage, and as
place for farm animals to get out of the rain, “ Its a daily
bridge” Itoh said.
Off again in the road barge, and after climbing many hills
laced with fluffy green bamboo trees like the landscapes seen in
old Japanese prints, we stopped to see a second Yanetsuki bashi,
even more delicate and graceful than the first, curving over a
beautiful pond. It led to a Shinto shrine, towered over by
ancient cedar trees. We took off our shoes at the entrance and
walked into a little room and clapped. A eerily soft echo
answered back. Itoh explained that pilgrims have been seeking
out this echo since a shrine was first built here over seven
centuries ago. The covered bridge leading to this shrine was not
a daily bridge. It’s a passage to the eternal spirit.
Near day’s end we took in one more bridge. Unlike the
others which were delicate, this massive structure, built of
thick new timbers held together with large shiny steel bolts,
bore an awkward resemblance to our covered bridges back home. I
asked Itoh why this bridge seemed so different than the others?
“Its not the work of traditional Japanese craftsman. It was
recently built by Government engineers as a tourist attraction,”
he said.
Then one of our entourage, a Mrs. Tanaka, chimed in how the
government is building Yanetsuki bashi like this one to please
the tourists because covered bridges, once little appreciated in
Japan, are now becoming very popular. (I suddenly had a
premonition of what was coming next) It’s because of a movie
that just played here, she explained, the Bridges of Madison
County. I can’t wait to tell the folks back home about this
one. I retorted. She answered. “Sensei, I didn’t realize you
are from Iowa.
Credit: Author, and observer of the everyday landscape,
Chester Liebs is Professor Emeritus of History and Founder of
the Historic Preservation Program at the University of Vermont
