In the early afternoon, after dropping a friend off at the airport, I suddenly found myself with some free time.

Using a photo on a poster at Ago Port's reception as a guide, I decided to look for a lighthouse. The only car I could rent was a dark blue Subaru Sambar. Since Miyakejima is part of Tokyo, the license plate was Shinagawa. The odometer already read well over 200,000 kilometers. I pressed the brake. It felt well-worn but seemed like it still had some life in it. For taking photos, a car this small, that could easily pull over onto side roads, would be more convenient.

Miyakejima apparently has two lighthouses, one to the east and one to the west. However, it's said to be difficult to see them from the main road that circles the island. Which lighthouse was pictured in the reception photo? Would I be able to find it before nightfall?

On the island, my smartphone signal often cut out. I usually rely entirely on navigation, so when my current location stopped showing, I suddenly felt lost. A modern affliction, I suppose.

It seemed I would have to rely on road signs and a map to find it myself.

Soon after setting off, I regretted not bringing my own car to the island.
　

Endless ups and downs. Sudden hairpin bends. Surprisingly long straightaways. And the scenery of the sea and exposed rock faces. For a while, there wasn't another car on the road.
　

After passing the airport, the signal had been lost the entire time. But the feeling of isolation from information wasn't bad. The entire island was like one big mountain pass. Was there any other circumferential road so perfectly suited for driving an MT sports car?

As I approached an uphill slope, the Sanbar's engine roared.

"Keep going, keep going,"
I muttered, as we went on to the next hill.
I couldn't complain.

After passing Miike Port and driving around Cape Satado, I faintly saw a small lighthouse at the tip of a rocky cliff.

Is that it?

But it was only visible for a moment. After passing it, there was no sign anywhere indicating the entrance to the lighthouse. I relied on the blue signs to look for the road to the cape, but couldn't find it at all. Did I miss it? I drove past it once, then turned back.

As I slowed down and looked around, a narrow path peeked out from a dark gap in the shadows of the trees, along with a stump-like sign for the cape.

The lighthouse at Cape Satado was not the one pictured at the reception desk. However, climbing the rocky coast revealed a breathtaking view of the beautiful sea from a dizzying height.
　
Looking back, something like steam rose from a gap in Mt. Oyama, located in the center of the island, and connected directly to the clouds. The scenery once again reminded me that Miyakejima is an island born from a volcano.

Outside, it was scorching hot. The unfamiliar sound of cicadas was pleasant. I turned the air conditioning in the Sambar to full blast and drove towards the next lighthouse.

After passing through the dense foliage, a coastal road appeared before me.

A gentle winding road descended as if sliding from a small hill to the sea. This was probably the most beautiful road I drove on the island.

Further along, another lighthouse, the Izumisaki Lighthouse, came into view.

Repainted pure white during last year's renovation, the lighthouse was so beautiful it was hard to believe it had stood there since the Meiji era.

It was this lighthouse that was in the photo posted at the Ako Port reception. What started as a quest to find one lighthouse turned into almost a full circuit of the island.

The next time I come to Miyakejima, I won't need to search for lighthouses anymore.

Instead, I'd like to drive my own car along this road again.

PHOTOGRAPHS & TEXT
SHUHEI MIYABE / NEGRONI