Overnight by rail in winter

Denise Stephens takes the slow train to Tokyo.

On a chilly February evening, people gathered on the platform at Matsue station waiting for the Sunrise Izumo to Tokyo. The overnight journey of more than 11 hours seemed very popular, despite there being faster ways to travel. Our train arrived punctually, the driver just visible through a window high in the locomotive. It was a solid train, made for travelling across mountains, unlike the streamlined shinkansen trains that speed between Japan’s major cities.

I boarded and searched for my berth in the nobi nobi car where two levels of carpeted sleeping platforms were divided by partitions giving partial privacy. My compartment was up a few steps and contained a padded blanket, a cloth to lay my head on, and a plastic cup wrapped in paper. There was a ceiling light, a reading light, and a vent blasting out air, but no Wi-fi or power point. I began to doubt my decision to book the most basic accommodation and looking around me, other passengers had prepared for the trip with sleeping bags, foam pads, and rugs.

One guy was stretched out under his blanket, appearing to be asleep already, even though it was only 7.30pm. He would have boarded the train at Izumoshi station, its starting point half an hour down the line. I’d been there a couple of days before to see Izumo Taisha shrine, one of the oldest Shinto shrines in Japan.

Shinto gods travel from all over Japan each autumn to meet at this faraway shrine. I joined other mortal visitors walking up a long path through a series of sacred torii gates to the main shrine buildings. Strung across the entrance of one was a shimenawa, a sacred straw rope, the largest in Japan. While some visitors were tourists taking photos of the shimenawa, other visitors were there for spiritual reasons. In the background I could hear the faithful clapping hands and ringing the bell before they prayed, a constant reminder that Izumo Taisha is a place of worship.

Once the train got under way, I went to explore the other cars. I’d bought a bento meal from a department store food hall in Matsue, and I looked for somewhere to eat it. Walking along narrow corridors, I could see inside some of the private compartments. They were slightly bigger than the bed, with just enough space for the extra luxury of a pair of slippers.

Car 3 had a compact seating space with just enough room for eight people. As I sat on a high stool eating my bento, the next stop, Yasugi, appeared outside the window. I’d been there earlier that day to visit the Adachi Museum of Art.

The museum’s garden has been voted the best in Japan for 20 years running. The garden is designed for looking at, not walking in, with manicured shrubs and perfectly placed rocks visible through picture windows in the galleries. I bought coffee and cake in the elegant tearoom so I could admire the vista over the pond garden for a while, and watched the koi carp swimming slowly around in their heated pond.

After stopping for only moments at Yasugi, the train moved off again. Car 3 was not a social hub, with only two other passengers there. The Sunrise Izumo didn’t offer any meal service or bar, only a vending machine with a limited selection of cold drinks — tea, Coke, water, and a ginseng energy drink called Real Gold. A machine dispensed cards for the nearby showers, but I decided against paying $4 for six minutes of water. Showering in a confined space while trying to keep my balance didn’t appeal to me.

I headed back to my compartment, awkwardly squeezing past the two women in the neighbouring berths as they headed towards Car 3. They were young, like most others in the nobi nobi car. More passengers had unrolled their bedding and were lying down. The conditions seemed less than ideal for sleeping, as overhead lights shone in the corridor and local trains clattered past, their passengers gazing out the window.

THE Sunrise Izumo is an express, only stopping at selected stations. An ascending chime followed by an announcement in Japanese and English marked each one. Yonagu, Niimi, Bitchu-Takahashi — the names were familiar from my journey to Matsue three days earlier on the Yakumo Express. I’d looked out the window at snowy landscapes as the train wound through the mountains. Even though it’s close to the coast, there was still snow on the ground when I arrived at Matsue.

My first stop was Matsue Castle, more than 400 years old and one of only a few original castles still standing in Japan. My thigh muscles ached after climbing the well-worn stairs to the top. The commanding view over Matsue showed a landscape crossed by rivers and canals, leading from Lake Shinji to the sea. Below the castle, small wooden boats ferried tourists along canals through the historic district.

Now retracing that journey at night, I glimpsed snow gleaming on station platforms and lit by cars flashing by. I felt the floor tilt as the track curved and a slight increase of pressure in my ears as the train entered tunnels. The conductor drew the window curtains in the corridor, and I drew the privacy curtain at the end of my compartment. I unrolled my bedding, deciding to sleep on top of the padded blanket for extra comfort, and placed the cloth over my puffer jacket to make a pillow. Underfloor heating made my bed comfortably warm. Over half my fellow passengers were sleeping, or attempting to, even though it was only 10pm. There were no more whispered conversations, only a few reading lights still on.

Half an hour later the train arrived in Okayama, a major rail junction and shinkansen stop. Despite the cold, there were a few train geeks with their cameras ready, awaiting our arrival. They were there to see the Sunrise Izumo join with the Sunrise Seto from Takamatsu, the only other scheduled sleeper train in Japan, to form a single train travelling to Tokyo. Our train eased along the platform until a sharp bump marked its coupling with the Sunrise Seto.

The station announcements ceased after we left Okayama and when we stopped at Osaka after midnight, the station was almost deserted. The last passengers boarded our car, a family with two primary school-aged children. This surprised me, as the shinkansen takes less than three hours from here but the Sunrise still has almost seven hours to go, so it would be a long trip for them.

I managed to sleep during the night, occasionally waking when we stopped. Cleaners and maintenance workers were busy in deserted stations.

A flurry of activity woke me the next morning as people folded their bedding and sorted out their baggage. I joined the queue for the handbasin in a small alcove at the end of the carriage so I could tidy myself up, ready to face the big city. The chimes and announcements started again — Yokohama, Shinagawa, and finally, Tokyo where we arrived shortly after 7am. I emerged into the rush hour crowds, far away from the tranquillity of Matsue.