The autumn at Momijidani begins with a ferry. The park lies on Miyajima, in the valley that runs down from Mount Misen toward the sea, and its peak comes in mid to late November — a band that a decade of local observation lands in year after year.

About seven hundred trees colour here, and they are not one species: iroha maple, o-momiji, urihada maple, yama-momiji. Because each keeps its own schedule, the valley never turns all at once. On any given day in the season you walk past trees at different stages, red beside green beside gold, with the light off the sea coming in sideways through the trunks.

The valley also carries a harder memory. In 1945 the Makurazaki typhoon struck the island directly; the slope above failed, and a debris flow came down through the park. The stream you walk beside today was rebuilt after that, and the stone revetments along it are the quiet record of the work.

The ferry timetable, not the walking, is what shapes the day. November weekends fill the terminal on the mainland side, so take an early boat: the valley is quiet then, quiet enough to hear the stream running under the leaves. And on the crossing back, turn around once. The mountain you have just walked through is standing on the water, red.