Linger in the East

Shosenkyo Gorge & Mount Yasaburo: Easy Scenic Trail in Yamanashi

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Fri, 20 Mar 2026 13:13:00 +0000

What?
Shosenkyo (昇仙峡) is widely considered one of Japan’s most beautiful gorges, located just north of Kofu City (甲府) in Yamanashi Prefecture (山梨県). Carved over time by the Arakawa River (荒川), the gorge is known for its dramatic granite cliffs, unusual rock formations, and tranquil forest scenery. A well-maintained walking trail follows the river, making it accessible to a wide range of visitors—from casual strollers to more dedicated hikers. Rising above Shosenkyo, Mount Yasaburo (弥三郎岳also known as Mount Rankaji 羅漢寺山) offers one of the best viewpoints in the area. Though at 1058 meters not particularly high, the peak is famous for its panoramic views, which on clear days stretch all the way to Mount Fuji (富士山). The summit itself is a small, rocky outcrop that gives a slightly adventurous feel without requiring serious climbing skills. Many visitors reach the area via the Shosenkyo Ropeway, making it an easy addition to a casual trip.
Where?
Located a little bit out of the center of Kofu City, but still within the city limits, Shosenkyo is a breeze to get to. Buses depart in front of Kofu Station regularly and go as far as the cablecar. To get to the trailhead we used to climb Mount Yasaburo, get off at the Shosenkyo-guchi (昇仙峡口) bus stop. We however took the car and use the free parking lot near the bus stop.
URL
Japan Guide Hiking Around Tokyo

This weekend, I planned two hikes with a friend of mine who’s still at a beginner level. We were blessed with near-perfect weather, which, somewhat ironically, made me a bit anxious. I feared that the Shosenkyo Gorge might turn into a tourist circus like Kawaguchiko where I visited earlier during the week. To stay ahead of any crowds, we left the hotel early and approached the peak of Mount Yasaburo from the quieter side of the mountain.

As it turned out, my concerns were unfounded. On the way up, we encountered only one other hiker, and together the three of us paused to admire a Japanese serow that seemed completely unfazed by our presence. Spotting wildlife is a rarity for me, so this was an early highlight. Even so, the hike never lost its appeal afterward. I enjoyed it from beginning to end.
Although white clouds obscured views of Mount Fuji, the vistas we did get from several points, including the summit, were impressive. The ascent was gentle, making it feel more like a relaxed forest walk than a demanding climb. On the way down, we passed moss-covered stone walls whose origins I couldn’t quite place, but which sparked my curiosity and imagination. Afterward, we enjoyed a peaceful stroll through the gorge itself, where a few trees had already begun to bloom.

A peak appropriately named "White Sand".

Not a peak, but a stunning view nontheless.

Not shy. Not shy at all.

I don't know. I thought this had something.

Naturally, both the summit area and the gorge were a bit busier, thanks to the ropeway and the area’s popularity. Still, it never felt overwhelming. Even the gemstone shops and small eateries, so typical of Japanese tourist spots, never detracted from the experience. The gorge itself was just as beautiful without the autumn colors it’s famous for. The only minor drawback was that the walking path eventually gave way to a concrete road, but that did little to diminish what was otherwise a thoroughly enjoyable hike.

Maybe a remnant of an ancient settlement?

Too bright for a good shot, too good to be left out.

The gorge is getting rich this way.

30 minutes of this beautiful scenery.

>>More pictures<<

A Lazy Half Day in Kofu

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Thu, 19 Mar 2026 11:39:00 +0000

What?
Kofu (甲府) is the capital of Yamanashi Prefecture (山梨県) and is surrounded by mountains on all sides, most famously by Mount Fuji (富士山) to the south. As such, it serves as a hub for several hikes, but the city itself also offers a modest array of sights and attractions. Right next to the station lies the spacious Maizuru Castle Park (舞鶴城公園). Kofu Castle (甲府城跡) once stood here, and while only the walls and some reconstructed gates remain, the layout and sheer scale of the grounds still spark the imagination. As Japan’s premier center for gemstones and jewelry production, the city is also home to the Yamanashi Jewelry Museum (山梨ジュエリーミュージアム), located not far from the castle park. If that’s not enough, Yamanashi is also known as Japan’s most productive wine region, with several wineries offering tours and tastings.
Where?
Kofu can be reached from Tokyo (東京) by limited express trains on the JR Chuo Line (中央線). Alternatively, highway buses connect it to major cities such as Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka. Maizuru Castle Park and the Yamanashi Jewelry Museum are both within walking distance of Kofu Station, while the Sakaori Winery (シャトー酒折ワイナリー) and the Akariya Thermal Spa (源泉湯燈屋) can be reached on foot in about 10 and 30 minutes respectively from Sakaori Station (酒折駅), one stop away from Kofu Station on the JR Chuo Main Line (中央本線).
URL
Japan Guide Visit Kofu

I like hiking. I like packing my vacations full so I don’t feel like I’ve wasted any free time. But of course, that gets tiring. And mentally, I know that relaxing is not the same as wasting time.
So today, I decided to take it slow. No busy schedule. Just head out – or not – and try to relax.

I took a short train ride from Kofu Station to Sakaori Station and headed toward the Sakaori Winery, about a 10-minute walk from the station.
I love beer, I love sake. But wine (and distilled beverages) has never fully convinced me. Still, the region takes pride in its wine, so why not take a look? The winery offers a free self-guided tour with a small tasting; there’s really no reason to skip it.
I took my time exploring the three floors of the winery. I was impressed by the pamphlet and its English version. Working with beer and sake myself, it’s always interesting to see which steps in the production process are similar and which are different. I was already happy with the tour, but the best part was saved for last. You can enjoy your tasting set or any other wine on the terrace, a relaxing space with a stunning view over Kofu and the surrounding mountains. On a beautiful spring day like today, it was exactly what I needed to unwind. Despite not being much of a wine drinker, I ordered a white wine tasting set and simply enjoyed the scenery.
I took out my e-reader, read a page or two, took a sip of wine, gazed into the distance for a minute… and repeated. And repeated. And so on.

By the time I left the winery, I was already thoroughly relaxed. Still, I knew there was a large onsen (or maybe a sento, I’m not entirely sure) about a 30-minute walk away, so I decided to head there for a soak and, most importantly, a massage. The place was rather pricey, but it offered three different outdoor baths, individual tubs, a few indoor baths, a sauna, and what I can only describe as a “waterfall bench with a footbath.” I came out even more relaxed than I went in.

I walked back to the station, and just meandering through the residential area, past the many sports facilities of the local university and the small grape vineyards… I absolutely loved it.

Is 10 o'clock too early for a wine?

Ok, tour first, drink later.

Time for tasting!

Tasting, with a view.

Back in Kofu, I extended my stroll through the large Kofu Castle grounds. The walls, one tower, and a few gates still stand – or rather, have been restored – but otherwise the area has been turned into an absolutely lovely park, free for anyone to explore. I bought a sandwich and ate it on one of the many benches, though bringing a picnic sheet and settling on the grass is just as appealing, as many junior high school students were doing. With some of the early sakura varieties starting to bloom and a bright blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds, it was yet another perfect moment to unwind.

Feeling good, I decided to check out the nearby Yamanashi Jewelry Museum, equally free and open to everyone.
The museum has three rooms showcasing jewelry, tools, and raw materials. I found it mildly interesting, but then again, I don’t have much of a feel for jewelry. I did enjoy the videos at the end of the exhibition, especially those showing the production process. Watching artisans at work always fills me with awe and respect. Unfortunately though, despite the decent English signage throughout the museum, the videos are only in Japanese.
On weekends and holidays, you can watch actual craftsmen at work, but since today was a regular weekday, the workshop was empty. There’s also the option to try making your own jewelry, though that didn’t really appeal to me. It seemed to require a reservation anyway. All in all, I found the museum quite nice. If you’re interested in the subject, you’ll probably enjoy it even more.

It was a pleasant way to end a – not even full – day of slowing down in Kofu.
The weather certainly helped, but I really like this city. It has a bit of a Matsumoto vibe to it. And that’s still my favorite place in Japan, so that’s a big compliment.

And to finish off my lazy day: a nap at the hotel!

No pictures allowed.

Aerial view of Maizuru Castle Park.

And way more up close.

No pictures allowed, bis.

>>More pictures<<

Half a Panorama at Mount Panorama

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Tue, 17 Mar 2026 12:08:00 +0000

What?
Mount Panorama (パノラマ台) is located northwest of Lake Shoji (精進湖), one of the Fuji Five Lakes (富士五湖). It features a wide open space offering clear views of Mount Fuji (富士さん), as well as Lakes Shoji and Lake Motosu (本栖湖). It peaks at 1,300 m, but when taking the approximately 9 km loop via Mount Sanpobunzan (三方分山), you will eventually climb to 1,421 m. There is also a viewing point at this peak, although Mount Panorama’s is the better one.
Where?
Located in Yamanashi Prefecture (山梨県) near Lake Shoji, the trailhead can be accessed by the Blue Line sightseeing bus departing from Kawaguchiko Station (河口湖駅). The bus stop to get off at is Kodaiki Fuji View Point (子抱き富士ビューポイント). The timetable has changed multiple times over the past few years, and many outdated versions of routes and schedules are still circulating online, often without timestamps. Make sure to check the correct departure times at the bus information center at the station, or consult the official site of Fujikyu (富士急), the bus operator.
URL
Hiking Around Tokyo

With just one look at the weather forecast, I knew Mount Fuji would probably not show herself yesterday. Today, on the other hand, the chances were better, so I decided to go for a “Mount Fuji viewing hike”.
What better choice than the aptly named Mount Panorama? (Well, technically speaking, it’s Mount Panorama Platform, but hey.)

Planning to take the first Blue Line bus toward Lake Shoji, I was greeted by the same grey weather as yesterday. To make matters slightly worse, the timetable had apparently changed, and my bus wouldn’t depart for another half hour. I took out my e-reader and tried to pass the time peacefully, even though the Kawaguchiko Station bus stop was already bustling with people.
Most tourists stay around Lake Kawaguchiko, though, so the bus ride itself was quiet and peaceful. And as if Mount Fuji approved of that, she revealed her peak above the clouds just as I got off the bus.

I quickly took a few pictures and hurried toward the trailhead. You never know when she’ll hide again, so I practically raced to the summit of Mount Panorama. Halfway up, the occasional viewpoints showed that Japan’s highest mountain was revealing more of herself. Encouraged, I pushed on and reached the top in just about an hour.
…
But alas, as these things go, Mount Fuji had already wrapped herself in clouds again.
I sat down and watched the clouds roll by. Every now and then, a part of the peak appeared, but never quite enough. Unfortunate, of course, but that’s the risk. At least I had seen her from below and halfway up the mountain.
So I decided to continue the loop toward Mount Sanpobunzan and then on to the Onnazaka Pass for the descent. Maybe, just maybe, I’d get another glimpse of Mount Fuji from the higher point.
From the base of Mount Panorama to its peak, the ascent is gradual and the trail very clear—accessible to just about anyone. Aside from a few viewpoints, the climb itself doesn’t offer much, but it’s short enough that it doesn’t matter.
Beyond Mount Panorama, however, things become more of the same, with only a viewing point at Mount Sanpobunzan to break the monotony. The forest lacked the vibrant greens of the Aokigahara Forest, and there were no snow-dusted sections like on yesterday’s Mount Ashiwada.
It turned into a long, somewhat monotonous ridge hike.

Halfway up I had good hope to have a good view of Mount Fuji.

The weather was fine, but it's still winter.

A rare change of scenery.

Unfortunately, that's only the very tip of Mount Fuji...

I did enjoy the solitude, and any day spent in nature is better than one in the office, but I wouldn’t strongly recommend this hike. Perhaps in another season, when greenery brings the landscape to life, it would be a different experience. As it was, I was glad to be back on lower ground.

Mount Fuji still refused to show herself, so I boarded the first bus back, ready to return to my hotel and do some laundry. And lo and behold, there she was!
While it’s far from a natural viewpoint like Mount Panorama – where on a clear day you’d have an unobstructed view over Lake Shoji, the Aokigahara Forest, and Mount Fuji – the view from the Kawaguchiko Ohashi Bridge isn’t bad at all. Tourists around me clearly agreed, judging by the smiles on their faces as Mount Fuji revealed herself in full.
A mere half hour later, the clouds rolled back in, proving once again that while she may be Japan’s biggest attraction, Mount Fuji is a very shy lady.

But I had seen her, and isn’t that why everyone comes to the Fuji Five Lakes?

Those are some funky heads.

The way down.

Interior of a dilapidated house at the bottom.

At last, she showed herself!

>>More pictures<<

Walking Away from Kawaguchiko Tourist Trap – Part 2: The Caves and Mount Ashiwadayama

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Mon, 16 Mar 2026 10:30:00 +0000

What?
The Narusawa Ice Cave (鳴沢氷穴) and the Fugaku Wind Cave (富岳風穴) are two of three volcanic caves near Lake Kawaguchiko (河口湖). They are located at the edge of the vast Aokigahara Forest (青木ヶ原) and are connected to the center of Fujikawaguchiko (富士河口湖) by a small mountain ridge. Highlights along the way include Koyodai (紅葉台) and Sankodai (三湖台), with Mount Ashiwada (足和田山) as the highest point at 1,355 m.
Where?
All Fuji Five Lakes (富士五湖) are located in Yamanashi Prefecture (山梨県). I took the Green Line sightseeing bus toward the Fugaku Wind Cave, from where I walked to the Narusawa Ice Cave and then all the way back to the Katsuyama bus stop in Fujikawaguchiko. Alternatively, if you are not interested in the caves, you can start the hike by taking the Blue Line and getting off at either Koyodai or Narusawa Ice Cave.
URL
Japan Guide Ridgeline Images

There are three caves near Lake Kawaguchiko, of which the Bat Cave was still closed. Of the other two, it is only the Fugaku Wind Cave – described by Japan Guide as the least exciting one – that is directly accessible by bus. According to every sign, the Narusawa Ice Cave is just a 10 to 15-minute walk away. So I bought a combination ticket and entered the cave. First good point: there were people, but just the right amount.
Second good point: thanks to Japan Guide I expected the worst, but it wasn’t bad at all.
Sure, I’ve seen far more interesting caves in Japan – Akiyoshi Cave, Ryuga Cave, Ryusendo Cave, to name a few – but I must have come in the right season, as some ice still fills much of the space.
I exited the cave and, to my delight, noticed a sign indicating that the Ice Cave was indeed a 15-minute walk along the concrete road, but also that there was a route through the Aokigahara Forest. It would, admittedly, take twice as long, but would let me enjoy some nature.
Because with all the tourist development, you tend to forget—but when you’re here, you’re in a beautiful natural part of Japan. Aokigahara Forest may have a somewhat dark reputation, but it is a gorgeous forest, overgrown with vibrant green moss even in this grey winter weather. It was a 30-minute walk that made me crave more. I seriously considered throwing away my combo ticket and turning toward Lake Shoji, but I had no idea how long it would take.

And so I arrived at the Ice Cave.
The Ice Cave is short. Seriously short. It’s in and out.
And still, I recommend it.
The way down almost feels like crawling through the space beneath your house. Other people in the cave—young, fit visitors—were exclaiming, “What on earth is this?!” That’s how low the ceiling is.
And when you finally can stand up, there is a sea of crystalline ice shining in all directions. It’s only a few meters, but I was mesmerized, I have to admit.
And then I left.

I loved the scenery between the two caves.

Moss on moss?

The ice cave needed some crawling.

Lots of ice in the ice cave.

…
I had pretty much done everything I wanted to do. Of course, I’m a sucker for a boat trip, but on a cloudy day like today, what’s the point of going out onto the lake on a tourist boat?
Then I took out my phone, checked my hiking app, and discovered a nice trail nearby leading back toward the Kawaguchiko Station area, ending at one of the sightseeing bus stops.
Perfect.

And so I took the path to what I had only learned moments before was the peak of Mount Ashiwada.
With these clouds, I didn’t hike for the views. It would take a miracle for Mount Fuji to appear. I just wanted to walk in the beautiful nature I had already experienced between the two caves. Not many others seemed to think the same, and I can understand that. Hiking isn’t for everyone, and with Mount Fuji hidden, why bother?
And truth be told, the short, flat trail through Aokigahara Forest was more mesmerizing. Still, I think this hike is worth it.

First of all, this is terrain suitable for anyone with basic fitness. There are no difficult sections and no steep climbs. At many points, two paths run parallel, and if you take the one closer to Mount Fuji, the difficulty level is practically zero. The lakeside path lies a bit higher and offers some nice views over Lake Saiko and Lake Kawaguchiko, though never completely unobstructed; in other seasons, foliage might block what little view there is.
But where the paths merge, there are cleared viewpoints to enjoy. Some are meant for admiring today’s very shy Mount Fuji, but most offer views of Japan’s highest peak and the surrounding lakes. I especially loved the view from Sankodai, with its sweeping perspective over Lake Saiko. The viewing platform on the peak of Ashiwadayama also provided some beautiful sights of Lake Kawaguchiko.

When I arrived at the roadside station marking the end of my impromptu hike, I was in a completely different mood from that morning.

I wonder if Mount Fuji will show itself in the coming days. With its majestic presence, the natural beauty around Kawaguchiko would shine even more.

Walking Away from Kawaguchiko Tourist Trap – Part 1: Saiko Iyashi-no-Sato Nenba
Walking Away from Kawaguchiko Tourist Trap – Part 2: The Caves and Mount Ashiwadayama

Sankodai had picture-perfect view over Lake Saiko.

The path is very well maintained,

and easy to follow.

Some stubborn patches of snow.

>>More pictures<<

Walking Away from Kawaguchiko Tourist Trap – Part 1: Saiko Iyashi-no-Sato Nenba

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Mon, 16 Mar 2026 01:00:00 +0000

What?
Kawaguchiko (河口湖) is one of the Fuji Five Lakes (富士五湖) located north of Mount Fuji (富士さん). People flock here – of course – to catch a glimpse of Mount Fuji as a backdrop to the lakes. On cloudy days, there are still plenty of attractions, of which the Saiko Iyashi-no-Sato Nenba Traditional Village (西湖いやしの里根場), the Narusawa Ice Cave (鳴沢氷穴), and the Fugaku Wind Cave (富岳風穴) are just a few.
Where?
Kawaguchiko Station (河口湖駅) can be reached by train in about an hour via the Limited Fuji Excursion Express (富士回遊) from Shinjuku (新宿). Alternatively, highway buses also depart from Shinjuku. They are cheaper but take around two hours. Transport around the lakes is quite well organized, with sightseeing bus lines (red, green, and blue) serving as the main way of getting around. The Green Line serves the Saiko Iyashi-no-Sato Traditional Village, while the Blue Line goes to the Narusawa Ice Cave. Both the Green and Blue lines stop at the Fugaku Wind Cave, but I recommend the Green Line.
URL
Japan Guide

Continuing with my island-hopping challenge, the next goal on the list was Mikurajima – perhaps the hardest Izu Island to reach after Aogashima. But my preparation was flawless! Ferry, accommodation, and mandatory hiking guide booked, plus an extended stretch of vacation days in case my return ferry wouldn’t depart.
Only… given that I am usually quite lucky with these things, I didn’t account for my ferry to the island being canceled.
Well, nothing for it. And looking at the weather forecast for the next few days, maybe it was for the best that I could walk away without any costs thanks to the cancellation.
But I suddenly needed a Plan B, one I hadn’t prepared.

After Mikurajima, I was supposed to meet up with a friend in Kofu, so I decided to make part of the journey in advance. In other words, I chose to spend a few days in Kawaguchiko, in the vicinity of the Fuji Five Lakes.
These lakes were high on my list during the corona years, and for good reason.
I know this place is extremely popular with tourists, and that period would have been the perfect timing, just like my few visits to Kyoto. Tourism itself isn’t a bad thing, but overtourism is. And with a government whose only economic plan seems to be boosting inbound tourism… well, it can ruin what would otherwise be perfect experiences.

While rain and waves battered Mikurajima Island, Kawaguchiko was spared from all this. It was cloudy, though, so the town’s main attraction – perfect views of Mount Fuji – was unlikely to appear today. I decided to buy a two-day bus pass and visit some attractions away from the center. Somewhere online, I had read that Saiko Iyashi-no-Sato Nenba was a great place to experience an old Japanese atmosphere without too many tourists. This small park gathers thatched-roof houses where traditional crafts can supposedly be admired.
People who have read my blog more than once know that I’m not the harshest critic. Despite my somewhat dark character, when traveling I try to focus on the good rather than get stuck and angry on the bad. There are, of course, some notable exceptions – Tojinbo comes to mind – and this place ranks right up there.

I should have realized that this one too was a prisoner of the tourist trap.

Immediately after opening when pictures without people was possible.

I took the earliest bus possible and arrived at a place that was indeed fairly devoid of visitors. Nonetheless, a small group of tourists felt the need to laugh and shout across the entire area. And if that wasn’t enough, they went on to bother other visitors, including me. I thought they’d quiet down after a few minutes, but they kept shouting and annoying anyone even remotely within eyesight.
Now, apart from maybe asking them to keep it down, this isn’t something the park can fully control. But that wasn’t the only issue.
Where were the crafts I had come to see? Every single thatched-roof house was a shop. Even the one labeled “museum”! After maybe twenty minutes, I felt I had seen enough. Or so I thought.
As I walked toward the exit, entire busloads of people started pouring in, and welcoming them, a sea of overpriced food stalls and souvenir shops. I had planned to wait at the exit for the sightseeing bus, but I needed to get away from this horrible tourist trap. Instead, I walked back to the previous bus stop just to find some quiet.

I calmed down a bit when the bus finally came. I hopped on, and to my surprise it was empty apart from me. Even at the next stop – the thatched-roof-town-of-all-that-is-evil – no one got on. At that point, I probably should have realized I had boarded in the wrong direction… But truth be told, those fifteen minutes alone on the bus were exactly what I needed to come back to my senses. At a transfer point between several lines, I got off and then took the correct bus toward the Wind Cave and Ice Cave, two small caves not far from each other. Still touristy, yes, but in a much more acceptable way, and for me, more importantly, my way out of that first incredibly bad impression of Kawaguchiko.

Walking Away from Kawaguchiko Tourist Trap – Part 1: Saiko Iyashi-no-Sato Nenba
Walking Away from Kawaguchiko Tourist Trap – Part 2: The Caves and Mount Ashiwadayama

Carrots. I mean, corn.

The backside of one of the roofs. They don’t care to make it look good?

A cute detail.

Angry birds?

>>More pictures<<

Osaka Getaway: Kisen Alps Part 2 – Iimoriyama and Mount Gakumonji

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 24 Jan 2026 00:40:00 +0000

What?
The Kisen Alps (紀泉アルプス) is a range of low altitude mountains separating Osaka and Wakayama Prefectures. There is a plethora of hiking trails that give you the chance to tackle this area multiple times without doubling back on your tracks. Iimoriyama (飯盛山), or Mount Iimori, is a 384 m peak and the highest point on the hike from Misaki-Koen Station (みさき公園) to Kyoshi Station (孝子). The path takes you through unspoiled forest, with the occasional view over Osaka Bay. From Kyoshi Station, it is possible to extend the hike over Mount Gakumonji (学文字山・216 m) to Fukecho Station (深日町).
Where?
While the Kisen Alps are located on the prefectural border between Osaka and Wakayama, today’s hike lay completely within Osaka territory. Misaki-Koen Station on the Nankai Main Line (南海本線) can be accessed in less than an hour, without transfer, from either Nankai’s Nanba (なんば) or Shin-Imamiya (新今宮) Stations. Both Kyoshi Station and Fukecho Station are neighboring stations to Misaki-Koen Station, but as the latter lies on a different train line, you need to transfer at Misaki-Koen. All very easy, very accessible.
URL
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Despite being an early riser — especially when I want to go hiking — I am also a very grumpy person in the mornings. And today, for reasons unknown, I was even grumpier than usual. So it didn’t help when I got off the train and realized that, against all weather reports… it was raining! True, it was only a drizzle, but it was not the welcome I had expected the Kisen Alps to grant me.
I decided to prepare slowly under the roof of the station: let’s see now… grab an onigiri, take my camera, affix the rain cover to my backpack, open my glasses case… only to discover they weren’t in there. I was getting grumpier by the second.
I really was tempted to just jump on the next train back. On the other hand, with weather like this, why would I need glasses anyway? To see the grey drab spreading out before me?

Just like the drizzle, all that grumpiness disappeared very quickly. After a short approach, the trailhead — surprisingly — started before the highway. And even more surprisingly, despite the noise from the highway and nearby Kansai Airport, I was impressed by how suddenly I found myself in pristine nature.
Should I have been impressed? Maybe not really, as these were exactly the same impressions I had last year while climbing Unzanpo.

Today’s trail didn’t overlap with last year’s at all, but the good things about it are exactly the same. Here and there, there is a moderately interesting view over Osaka Bay, but it’s the virgin forests that are an absolute delight.
I did have the impression that the going was slightly tougher, as some of the inclines felt like hitting walls — albeit not very high ones.
This forest bathing had completely chased away my bad morning mood, and in a similar way the weather had completely cleared up. Once at the top of Iimoriyama, the remainder of the hike was a fairly easy slope to walk, occasionally going up and down. During the descent, Kosen-ji Temple is a nice change of pace.

You can see how close the highway is.

Color in winter is always beautiful.

Gorgeous forest trail.

My onigiri spot at the top of Iimoriyama.

I initially planned to head back from Kyoshi Station near Kosen-ji Temple, but with the weather completely cleared up and quite a lot of energy left, I decided to go the extra mile by climbing Mount Gakumonji and then descending towards Fukecho Station.
From Kyoshi Station, the trailhead was a drab 20-minute walk along a national road. There is really nothing interesting along this road, until I noticed — in the middle of nowhere — a 24-hour DVD rental shop ruin. I found its location intriguing, but if you hit this landmark, it means you’ve gone too far. The trailhead starts a mere 10 meters before this shack.

The trailhead is very easy to miss because, despite the season, it is quite overgrown. And it’s easy to see why: even though the mountain is not that high, the ascent is simply brutal. Not only is the climb nearly vertical, it is littered with dry leaves that make it a very slippery slope. I was puffing and wheezing when the toughest part was behind me, happy there was no one around to see me on this “outskirt” of the Kisen Alps.
The hiking here was the same as on Unzanpo or Iimoriyama: beautiful nature with the occasional view.

Afterthought: In recent years, the government has been using this general area for the installation of huge fields of solar panels, which scared me the first time I saw them from a distance. It’s not that bothersome, though.

Rich lizard.

One of 2 approaches to Kosen-ji Temple.

Coming to my senses after my puffing and wheezing episode.

Detail on Mount Gakumonji.

>>More pictures<<

Mount Arechi: Scrambling into the Rokko Range

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 17 Jan 2026 01:52:00 +0000

What?
Mount Arechi (荒地山) is a 546 m peak in the Rokko Range (六甲山地). Although almost half the height of its more famous neighbor, Mount Rokko, the approach is quite different: instead of sandstone paths, the trail features large boulders that need scrambling, along with a pleasant forest walk. A little farther on lies Mount Higashi-Otafuku, or Higashi-Otafukuyama (東お多福山・696 m). It is the only mountain in the Rokko Range with open areas covered in Japanese pampas grass (susuki).
Where?
The Rokko Range in Hyogo Prefecture (兵庫県) is one of the most easily accessible mountain ranges in Japan. Simply take any train line connecting Osaka (大阪) and Kobe (神戸) and get off at a station with “Ashiya” in its name. Hankyu Railway’s Ashiyagawa Station (芦屋川) is the closest to the mountain slopes, but JR and Hanshin’s Ashiya Station (芦屋) are almost as convenient.
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Drawing inspiration from my “new” second-hand book Kansai Day-Hikes, I woke up very early and headed for the Rokko Mountain Range.
The Rokko Mountains are hugely popular in Kansai thanks to their extreme accessibility, so on a beautiful day like today I expected big crowds – hence it was still dark when I left home.

I wouldn’t be heading for the peak of Mount Rokko itself. Frankly, there isn’t much of interest up there, as it’s desecrated by a road, an ugly building, and a relay station. The slopes and neighbouring peaks, however, are a playground for outdoor lovers. This time I would head for the summit of Mount Arechi, then push through to Mount Higashi-Otafuku.

Pretty much any peak in the Rokko range is within walking distance of three railway lines running between Osaka and Kobe (JR, Hankyu, and Hanshin). Getting out at Hanshin Ashiya Station, the roughly 15-minute walk to the foot of the mountain gave me a chance to warm up a little. Still being dark outside, my arrival at the first viewing point – just meters from the trailhead – was perfectly timed to witness the sunrise. On previous hikes in the Rokko range I’d always had picture-perfect clear views, but this morning Kobe was shrouded in a thin layer of mist, offering a different yet equally beautiful image of the city. This sunrise view would also be my last glimpse of Kobe for the day, as any look toward the sea resulted in blind spots due to the strong backlight of the sun.

The early hour had its advantages too. Even though the approach from the station to the trailhead overlaps with the route toward the peak of Mount Rokko, there were barely any other hikers around. Even so, I soon left the two hikers I did see behind when I took the path toward Mount Arechi.

Many people act condescendingly toward the Rokko Mountains, but they often forget that this is an ascent from near sea level to almost 1,000 meters in just a few kilometers. On previous hikes to Mount Rokko and Mount Maya, I was surprised by how tough things could get. So it came as a surprise how gentle the initial incline was today, with plenty of switchbacks making progress easy. It almost felt like having a picnic.
But then, out of nowhere, the path turned into a bouldering course. At first the rocks were medium-sized and the trail was still recognizable, but soon it became nothing more than a wall of stones. There were no markers whatsoever. At one point I drifted slightly off route, unfortunately skipping one of the more iconic rock formations on the way up. Still, I had a lot of fun scrambling upward – though I know plenty of people who would freeze on the spot. I knew I was back on the trail when I spotted a chain and a very rickety ladder.
Still no signage, though, so up here you’re left with only your gut and your map. I’d strongly suggest holding on to that map.

Near the rickety ladder lies a huge slab of stone known as Table Rock. When the light isn’t too harsh, it offers beautiful views over Kobe, famously in the company of stray cats that come up here. While their little bowls were neatly tucked away in a visible spot, the cats themselves must have gone hunting, as there was no sign of them.
As suddenly as they had appeared, the huge rocks then disappeared again. The remainder of the trail toward the summit of Mount Arechi and a little beyond followed an easy forest path, immersed in lovely nature.

Rarely do I arrive on the trail so early.

I can assure you: this is the trail.

This reminded me of the tree in the HBO series Carnivale.

A slab of rock. Start climbing.

Up to this point, I was having a great time. The only drawback was a constant, irritating background noise. Like a lawn mower. Up here, I thought it couldn’t possibly be that… but then the trail cut straight through the local golf club, and that’s where the noise came from. I found the signs asking hikers to be quiet rather ironic, given that the sound was at its most annoying right here.
Even more irritating than the industrial grass cutters were the fences erected to separate the hiking trail from the golf course. Fences made from what I would call rusted, deformed garage doors.

Once the noise faded away, the trail widened and the surroundings shifted from forest to small open plains. I had arrived at the top of Higashi-Otafukuyama, though here too there were no markers whatsoever. Any remaining background noise had disappeared long ago, leaving me completely alone to enjoy a break in a small patch of trees, offering both shelter from the blinding sunlight and decent views into the valley. There’s a lot of susuki grass here, so it must be beautiful in autumn.

After a relaxed break with an onigiri, it was a straightforward descent toward the bus stop that marked the end of today’s hike. I especially enjoyed the bouldering section, though the forest paths were lovely as well. With its countless trails and incredible accessibility, there’s still plenty left for me to explore in the Rokko range.

Many rocks were bigger - why a rickety ladder here?

Fun.

Enjoyable.

And then suddenly an open plain.

>>More pictures<<

A Beginner-Friendly Hike up Arima-Fuji

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sun, 30 Nov 2025 01:24:00 +0000

What?
Arima-Fuji (有馬富士) is conically shaped, and that’s pretty much where the comparison with Mount Fuji ends. At just 374 m, it’s more of a hill than a mountain. Still, despite its low altitude and fairly short trails, it offers surprisingly varied scenery, including a park, a lake, a forest hike, and a short rocky section. Perfect for beginner hikers or for anyone with half a day of good weather to spare.
Where?
Located in Sanda (三田) in Hyogo Prefecture (兵庫県), Arima-Fuji is extremely easy to access. The walk starts from Shin-Sanda Station (新三田駅) on the JR Fukuchiyama Line (福知山線also labeled the Takarazuka Line 宝塚線), and you can get there directly from Osaka Station (大阪駅) in under an hour. Easy peasy.
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Journey through History with Hyogo Hokusetsu

Picking a hike for a bunch of people with widely different fitness levels is tough. I thought I had nailed it with this conic-shaped, low-altitude hill, its gentle approach through a park and around a small lake, and its pleasant vista from the top.
I should think again.

From the station to the actual start of the trail, we meandered through farm fields, a short forest stretch, a shrine, and a man-made park with a lake. At my usual pace it wouldn’t take more than half an hour, yet it was still very pretty and relaxing.
For me, hiking is all about getting out of the city, breathing fresh air, and if possible, being as alone as I can be. Despite being close to civilization and part of a group, this short approach already ticked many of those boxes.

The hike itself also was very easy. Hiking guru Wes Lang from Hiking in Japan always states, “never judge a mountain by its height, but by its shape”. And indeed, I have climbed more than one small mountain with ridiculously steep slopes. But no so with Arima-Fuji. Arima-Fuji has a prolonged gentle incline until a little before the peak, where some rocks and boulders require a bit of scrambling.
It’s here that I failed to grasp how somebody with no experience might feel. Most of our group climbed this short stretch without any trouble, but a few found the clambering - and specifically the potential drop - pretty scary. But of course, when you hike as a group, you move as a group, so with some guidance and patience we all safely made it to the top, from where we all could enjoy the nice panorama. Really fun about the top is that from the boulders you have a neat view over the lake and the city of Sanda, while just a few steps away you’re treated to a sweeping view over part of eastern Hyogo Prefecture and its rolling, hill-covered landscape.

After reaching the peak so early in the hike, the remainder was a refreshing forest walk. Here and there it required climbing a few dozen meters up or down, but nothing out of the ordinary. The fall season treated us to some funky colors, a slippery carpet of fallen leaves, and to what we believed – to the horror of one of our group - were bear scratch marks on several trees.

The approach from the parking lot of the nearby park.

Funky colours.

Standing on the rocky section.

We reached the top early in the hike.

The sudden appearance of a concrete road to our left surprised me a bit, as the forest around us was still quite dense. But considering the overall length of the hike, the timing was probably just right—not too long, not too short.
The loop trail brought us back to the lake, where we took a moment to soak in the peaceful atmosphere, with ducks splashing around and turtles being their usual lazy selves.

I would still recommend Arima-Fuji to absolute beginners, but be aware that there’s a short stretch of rocks and boulders that requires steady footing. Otherwise, enjoy the time outside!

This stretch was called the "forest and wind path".

Bear marks?

Also some nice green.

Funky colours part 2.

>>More pictures<<

Surrealism in Kurashiki

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sun, 23 Nov 2025 13:18:00 +0000

What?
Kurashiki (倉敷) is a city in the south of Okayama Prefecture (岡山県) most famous for the Bikan Historical Quaerter (倉敷美観地区), a canal area that is preserved like it was in the Edo Period (1603-1868). The city is also famous as the center of jeans in Japan. It is less famous though for the Washuzan Highland Brazilian Park (鷲羽山ハイランドブラジリアンパーク), an absolute oddity in the world of theme parks.
Where?
On the JR Sanyo Line (山陽線 ), Kurashiki is a 20 minute train ride away from Okayama City (岡山市) in Okayama Prefecture. The historical canal area can be reached on foot from the station. The Kojima (児島) area with its jeans street and Washuzan Highland is more difficult to reach. There are trains connecting it with Kurashiki and Okayama stations via the Setoohasi Line (瀬戸大橋線), but they are far and in between. Buses run slightly more regular between Kurashiki and Kojima stations, however they take around 45 minutes.
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Website of Sightseeing in Kurashiki - Bikan Historical Quarter Website of Sightseeing in Kurashiki - Kojima Quarter Washuzan Highland Brazilian Park

Kurashiki is one of those destinations of which I’m not sure what to think. The city’s claim to fame is a well-preserved district from the Edo period around a canal with original storehouses. On one hand I like these old buildings, and the willow trees around the canal have both an awe-inspiring and relaxing effect. I could stroll around and find peace of mind here. On the other hand, this only works when there aren’t many people around. On a beautiful sunny holiday like today, the streets were crowded with tourists – me being one of them – and all the magic of the place disappears.
Some of the storehouses have been transformed into museums, but most are now shops and restaurants. In other words, it kind of felt like I went to a shopping center with an admittedly very impressive setting.

One of the things you can shop for is jeans in a small street called Denim Street. But the stores find their origin elsewhere in Kurashiki. Pretty much out of the way, the Kojima Jeans Street is a quarter with an impressive amount of jeans shops. Most of these shops make their own jeans, meaning they are all made in Japan, and some really have very original creations on sale. If you fancy jeans, classic or creative in style, this is the place to be.
What I did not understand, though, is that the Betty Smith Museum is again way out of the way. There is a special “jeans bus” that connects the jeans street with the museum, but combining everything with Kurashiki was quite a mission impossible.

All boat rides were fully booked.

Near the Kurashiki Ivy Square.

The hugely popular "Sumikko Gurashi" in Kojima jeans.

No shortage of jeans in the jeans street.

Another attraction in Kurashiki, and very much at the top of my list, is the Washuzan Highland Brazilian Park. One look at the antiquated website already lets you guess what to expect: an absolutely surreal rundown park.
The park has a good number of attractions: three roller coasters, a ferris wheel, a “sky cycle,” a bungee-jump installation, and some other basic attractions, some of which require an extra fee. The one thing they all have in common is that they are in dire need of maintenance. I boarded a very simple swing ride and while I am sure the rides are tested, I was not really comfortable in the cables affected by rust and the chairs seemingly made in the period when they were just inventing plastic. That doesn’t mean you can’t have a whole lot of fun.
One of the things I enjoyed the most: my first roller-skating experience in more than 25 years. Even here, though, the free rental skates were so worn down it bordered on the irresponsible.

So what does this all have to do with Brazil? Beats me…
They have a center stage where around five Brazilians perform the whole day through. They are clearly as puzzled as I am about why they are here, and it shows in their performances. At one point one of the dancers – and I’m very generous in using this word – was just watching his cellphone while performing. I couldn’t even blame him after the sixth time of the same horrible theme park song.
Watching these performances is similar to watching a train wreck – you know it’s horrible but you can’t avert your eyes.
The one big exception: at 13:00 when the Brazilians announced a game of bingo, the national sport of Japan. It was all so surreal, which contributed to the fun though.

What does set this park apart are the absolutely gorgeous views you get on a beautiful day like today. The park is located on a small peak — Washuzan — which looks out on the many tiny island of the Seto Inland Sea, the Seto Ohashi Bridge, and Shikoku in the distance.
Don’t come to this park for the rides or the food or the performances. Come here with people with whom you can be your childish self, and don’t take it all too seriously.

I suppose the designer was on vacation.

#rust bucket

People did have fun, there's no doubt about that.

Especially during bingo!

>>More pictures<<

Osaka Underground

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 12:51:00 +0000

What?
The Maishima Incineration Plant (舞洲焼却工場見) in Osaka (大阪) is a waste treatment facility that looks more like a castle from a fairy tale than a factory. The building was designed by Friedensreich Hundertwasser and has a sibling standing mere meters away in the form of the Maishima Sludge Center (舞洲スラッジセンター). The incineration plant can be visited free of charge; the only thing you need to do is make a reservation. And then stick to it. A guided visit does not happen in large groups, but rather in the number of people you made the reservation for. You will be taken both outside and inside the building, allowing you to admire the aesthetic look as well as the internal workings of the plant. The Osaka City Sewerage Science Museum (大阪市下水道科学館) stands a few kilometers away and is a cute little place where kids can learn more about sewers, water treatment, and its importance. Equally free, the biggest hurdle is how to combine it with the plants.
Where?
The Maishima Incineration Plant, the Maishima Sludge Center, and the Osaka City Sewerage Science Museum are all located in Osaka’s Konohana Ward (此花区), better known for having hosted the recent World Expo. There are a few options to reach the incineration plant. Once an hour, a bus departs from near Nishikujo Station (西九条駅) on the JR Loop Line (環状線). Hop on bus No. 81 towards Maishima Sports Island (舞洲スポーツアイランド) and get off at Konohanaohashi-Nishizume (此花大橋西詰). Alternatively, you can take the Maishima Active Bus — which is barely promoted and does not show up on Google Maps — from either USJ or JR Sakurajima Station (桜島駅). This bus runs three times an hour and stops right in front of the incineration plant’s entrance (the Kankyo Shisetsu Kumiai-mae 環境施設組合前 bus stop). The Osaka City Sewerage Science Museum is a 7-minute walk from Yodogawa Station (淀川駅) on the Hanshin Line (阪神戦). If you’re trying to combine it with a guided tour of the plant, head back to Nishikujo and then take bus No. 82, alighting at the Takami Itchome bus stop (高見一丁目).
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Japan 2 Earth IF Design

The first time I laid eyes upon the Osaka Incineration Plant while driving past it on the highway, I—like apparently many others—mistook it for Universal Studios Japan. It sounds more stupid than it is. Driving on that highway, the chimneys are the first thing that catches your eye. The thing is: they don’t look like chimneys, but rather resemble towers from a Disney movie (Rapunzel springs to mind).
On that same highway, in the exact same spot, if you just turn your head 180 degrees, you might notice a roller coaster tucked away somewhere between green and concrete. That’s the real USJ.
But back then, more than USJ, the incineration plant piqued my interest, and I vowed to take a closer look.

And lucky me! All you need to do is make a reservation and you can get a free tour of the plant. Because the tours only take place on weekdays, and because spots get filled rather quickly, it took me longer than I had in mind—but eventually the day had come!
I invited some friends and together we headed for the plant. Well… one of the two plants. Both are located right next to each other, and the website wasn’t really clear about which plant to go to. They also both look equally fantastic, so we just headed to the one closest to the bus stop.
It’s a task to enter the building. Not because the entrance is difficult to find or anything, but because the building looks so whimsical that you want to keep staring at it. The first floor (ground floor) was equally uniquely designed, with a large display of what looked like a sewer system. We went to the info desk on the 3rd floor—where a startled employee in an incredibly plain-looking office informed us that we were in the sludge plant, and that the tour would take place in the other plant across the road.

We hurried over there, not without again staring at the fascinating exterior of the—this time correct—plant. I was very surprised to notice the guide waiting outside for us. I was even more surprised that we received a private tour for our small group of four—other, bigger groups all got another guide for themselves.
The guide was laid-back and took his time, partly because the group scheduled behind us had canceled—so we had ample time.
I didn’t know what I was expecting. Not much, I suppose. Maybe a short video on how the plant works, maybe a short introduction of the architect… but this was an extensive two-hour tour where the whole workings of the plant were not only explained, but also shown, as it was built with tours like this in mind. Additionally, apart from some of the pictures in the entrance hallway, everything was very well maintained and up to date. I found this tour extremely interesting and was glad my companions thought likewise. It is actually something I would really recommend to anyone visiting Osaka!

View from the mistakenly visited Sludge Center.

In and out its fantastical entrance...

...and then heading for the correct Incineration Plant.

The workers wait for visitors to move garbage around.

…
Only… the tour is only in Japanese. The guides are retired plant workers and, while very friendly, do not speak a word of English.
Also, as the tour is free of charge, many apparently abuse the system by booking and then failing to turn up. So if you are interested, make sure you bring someone who can interpret, and by all means, don’t waste anybody’s time by not showing up!

As an aftermath, I also visited the Osaka City Sewerage Science Museum, equally in Osaka’s Konohana-ku, but pretty much out of the way and difficult to reach.
It’s a great little modern museum, though it is aimed mostly at children. Still, if you’re in the neighborhood, feel free to drop by; as with the incineration plant, it’s totally free.

No straight lines for architect Hundertwasser.

He also wanted green to grow abundantly.

The modern Sewerage Science Museum.

Now that's a huge manhole cover!

>>More pictures<<

Chiran War Memories

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 01 Nov 2025 03:08:00 +0000

What?
The Chiran Peace Museum (知覧特攻平和会館) in Kagoshima Prefecture (鹿児島県) commemorates the young tokko (kamikaze) pilots who departed from Chiran during World War II, never to come back. It displays their letters, photographs, and personal belongings, offering a moving insight into their lives and the tragic reality of war. The nearby Kyomizu Magaibutsu (清水磨崖仏) are ancient Buddhist reliefs carved into a rock cliff within the vast yet peaceful Iwaya Park (岩屋公園). Dating back to the Heian period, they depict serene Buddha figures and reflect the area’s long spiritual history. The Mizonokuchi Cave (溝ノ口洞穴) is an enigmatic cave formed over thousands of years of erosion by spring water from the Kirishima Mountains (霧島山). It’s deeper than it looks like – although unmanned, flashlights are at your disposal.
Where?
The Chiran Peace Museum and Kiyomizu Magaibutsu are located in southern Kagoshima Prefecture. To reach the museum by public transport, you can take a bus from either Kagoshima-Chuo (鹿児島中央) or Tenmonkan (天文館) in Kagoshima City and get off at Tokko Kannon Iriguchi Bus Stop (特攻観音入口 - around and hour and a half drive). For the buddhist carvings, get off at Kawabe Yasuragi no Sato Bus Stop (川辺やすらぎの郷) and walk for 30 minutes. Alternatively, traveling by car is more convenient—and you can also enjoy the many scenic viewing platforms along the way. The Mizonokuchi Cave is located in eastern Kagoshima and is only accessible by car.
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Discover Kagoshima - Chiran War Museum Discover Kagoshima - Kiyomizu Magaibutsu Discover Kagoshima - Mizonokuchi Cave

War museums that call themselves peace museums… I understand why they do it; learn from the past, to avoid repeating the same mistakes, and to help build a peaceful future.
While that’s exactly what the pamphlet says, this museum is, first and foremost, about young pilots as victims, not aggressors. It briefly acknowledges the other side in a small exhibition room dedicated to Americans who were attacked by tokko pilots, but overall I felt it glossed over the question of why.
Why did they need to fly to their deaths in a war that was all but lost? Especially for younger visitors, more context could make a real difference.

However, these were mainly afterthoughts. In the moment, I found the museum deeply moving.
It is located on the former air base from which many tokko pilots—better known as kamikaze pilots—took off for their final missions toward Okinawa. The exhibits focus on their last days and the letters they wrote to their families. The museum also portrays the people of Chiran, who were asked to make these young men—some even boys—feel at ease despite their fate.
The displays are real. Every letter is real. Whether the authors believed the lies they wrote in their goodbye letters or not, they are the actual voices of the dead. While many of their words echo wartime indoctrination, some of the films reveal how not all accepted their fate easily. One scene I can’t forget shows a former mechanic recalling a young pilot who struggled silently, unable to express his thoughts and his feelings until the very end.
Equally unique are the testimonies of the high school girls assigned to keep the pilots company in their final hours; young girls who were asked to send letters to the pilot’s families to avoid censure.
Silencing witness reports… Who will keep their stories alive when all who experienced this are gone? A question to which the answer freighters me.

The main feeling that remains afterward is one of smallness, one that made me silent. It’s difficult to leave here and immediately jump back into a cheerful mood or resume a road trip as if nothing happened.

Outside the museum.

Both in- and outisde there are some planes on display.

Grieving mother in war attire.

One of the more recent additions to the carvings.

That’s why I recommend visiting the Kiyomizu Magaibutsu afterward, which is only a ten-minute drive away. These rock carvings are located in a large park, perfect for a reflective stroll. In another season, you could quietly enjoy the many blossoming cherry trees. It’s a park that feels deeply peaceful, even when imagining kids running around, adults drinking and families barbecuing. A celebration of life if you want – a sharp contrast to the museum I had just left.

The rock carvings themselves are only moderately impressive. I always find it fascinating to see centuries-old carvings still visible on a rock face, but here the figures are somewhat shallow. Still, their number is remarkable, and the serene setting of the park makes it worth a stop.

Feeling somewhat recovered, my friend and I drove back toward Kagoshima along the Ibusuki Skyline. This winding road has several observation decks offering clear views of the Sakurajima Volcano. They all served their purpose: pick one as you please; on a clear day, the view never disappoints.

It was still very early, so we made a long detour to the Mizonokuchi Cave. I worried it might be just another overhyped Instagram spot, but while it is indeed just a single site, it’s deeper than expected, with few visitors—and that “Instagram shot”? It’s real, and it’s beautiful.

Of course I wondered whether a 20 minute visit was worth the hour and a half drive, but with a nearby viewpoint of the Kirishima Mountains, a tasty black pork cutlet (kurobuta tonkatsu) along the way, and good company, I had no complaints.

Hopping over the river that separates the carvings from the park.

Any observation platform on the Ibusuki Skyline gets you this view.

One for instagram?

The Jumonji (十文字) observation "deck" and its view of the Kirishima Mountains.

>>More pictures<<

Kagoshima Road Trip – Art, Waterfalls & Ruins

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Fri, 31 Oct 2025 12:26:00 +0000

What?
Kirishima Onsen (霧島温泉) is a small resort town at the foot of the Kirishima Mountain Range (霧島山). Apart from its onsen to soak in, there is also an onsen waterfall — the Maruo Waterfall (丸尾滝). The Kirishima Open-Air Museum (霧島アートの森) is a short drive away and focuses on art that blends in with its surroundings. The Sogi Falls (曽木の滝) and the Sogi Power Plant ruins (曽木発電所遺構) are linked to each other, as the roaring water once served as the source for electricity generation. The falls likely still look as they always have, while the power plant now remains only as ruins — though still quite enigmatic.
Where?
Kirishima Onsen and the Open-Air Museum are located in the eastern part of Kagoshima Prefecture (鹿児島県), while the Sogi Falls and ruins lie farther to the north. Kirishima Onsen is fairly easy to reach by bus from either Kagoshima Airport or Kirishima-Jingū Station (霧島神宮駅). Take a bus in the direction of Kirishima Onsen and alight at the Maruo Onsen bus stop. The Sogi attractions are only accessible by car.
URL
Discover Kagoshima - Kirishima Open Air Museum Discover Kagoshima - Sogi Falls Discover Kagoshima - Sogi Power Plant Ruins

What to do on a rainy day?
Earlier this year in Saga, I opted for complete relaxation in a spa with a massage. Today, however, I chose to go for a drive to explore a few spots that would otherwise not have caught my attention.

The first stop was the Maruo Waterfall in Kirishima Onsen, where I had spent the night before. This waterfall is extremely easy to access from the onsen town – no need for a car even. It’s special in that it’s a waterfall of onsen water, so in addition to the steam rising from it, the water has that enchanting emerald blue-green color. If you’re in town, definitely check it out.

And then it was time for the actual drive.
It wasn’t until the last moment that I decided to visit the Kirishima Open Air Museum. I had wanted to go, but since it’s an open-air museum… well, you know, the rain and all. Still, I figured not many people would visit in such sad weather, so I saw it as an opportunity. And rightfully so.

The museum isn’t that big, especially compared to the Utsukushigahara Open Air Museum. But where that one left me puzzled, the installations here at Kirishima seem chosen with much greater care. Most of them fit beautifully into their natural surroundings. Take, for example, the fun “mirrors” by Choi Jeong Hwa (You Are the Art). They’re placed in an open field where, in good weather, I can imagine kids running and playing. It’s exactly where they should be. By contrast, Antony Gormley’s mystic stick figures (Insiders) are a short walk away, tucked into a thick patch of trees where they blend seamlessly with their environment.

Equally impressive should probably be Dani Karavan’s tunnel (In the Beginning), though it doesn’t fare well under clouds, as the mountainous backdrop is an integral part of the piece.

After taking a quick look at the small indoor collection, I sat down with a coffee, gazing through the huge window of the museum’s art-like main building. Compared to when I arrived, there were now a few dozen more people wandering the grounds, all seemingly having a good time. And I completely understood; I was very happy I’d made the drive.

I was in no hurry.
Next, I wanted to visit the Sogi Waterfalls, but I decided to split the drive and make a brief stop in Yusui. This very small town doesn’t have much to offer, but it does make a bit of a fuss about its pretty man-made lake next to the local train station. The Mt. Kirishima Foothill Spring Water Pond — or Maruike Pond, as it’s better known locally — is a clear patch of water with a lovely color. Locals were filling up their tanks with spring water while I took a leisurely stroll. Truth be told, though, there’s absolutely no reason to go out of your way to see it.

Onsen water gushing down.

Yayoi Kusama is everywhere!

It's all about visibility.

It's all about invisibility.

So, my next destination was the Sogi Waterfalls. The rain had called it a day, and as I stepped out of my car, I thought it was the perfect time for some waterfall viewing: rain just stopped, cloudy skies, few people around. And let me start by saying that the falls really are impressive in such conditions. The water roared down across the rocky terrain. It looked more like a wild water attraction at a theme park than a natural waterfall, but impressive nonetheless.

That made it all the sadder that the locals have found a way to almost ruin the spot. A few years ago, I visited the Tojinbo cliffs in Fukui Prefecture, which I’ll always remember for their huge, ugly viewing tower and the constant noise it emitted. The people here in Kagoshima haven’t built a tower — luckily — but they have built a huge park. That in itself isn’t bad; it’s spacious, kid-friendly, has a small shrine, and connects to the nearby hydroelectric power plant ruins. There are two observation decks, though the upper one feels completely unnecessary — still, nothing unforgivable.

There’s also a row of eateries and shops along the edge of the park. Not what I would have done, but since they don’t interfere with the waterfall view, I can accept it. The real problem is the noise. Just like at Tojinbo, they’ve attached big speakers all around the park, blasting the loudest, most annoying music imaginable for such a magnificent natural spot. Please, please, remove these speakers — or at least turn down the volume.

I walked away a bit, following the trail past the power plant ruins, hoping — against better judgment — that it might lead to the actual building remains, my second goal in Sogi.
“Against better judgment,” because while it was technically possible to follow the path all the way to the ruins (I saw a small group doing so), it seemingly required a reservation. So instead, I got back in my car, drove about four minutes to a viewing platform on the other side of the river, and admired… the ruins. Or rather, the ruins of the ruins.

Something immediately looked off. A huge steel platform was visible behind them.
The nearby signboard confirmed what I suspected: the entire front wall of the building was gone. Not far behind me, a small group with a guide arrived at the viewing platform, and I eavesdropped on the explanation.

Every year, the ruins are flooded, leaving only the very top of the roof visible. This year, when the water receded, people discovered that the entire front brick wall had collapsed. They found the bricks downstream and plan to rebuild the wall — hence the giant steel platform that will be used for the restoration work in the coming years.

It was a pity, of course, but not entirely unexpected. These are ruins, after all; exposed not only to the elements but also to man-made flooding. So, while I did curse a little under my breath, I had to accept that I was simply too late to see the ruins at their best (how’s that for irony). The remaining parts still looked beautiful, as did the few deer I spotted while looping my way back to the car.

I still had a few hours left, so I drove all the way to Izumi (出水) and its crane observation site, fully aware that it would be closed. The seasonal facility was set to open the next day, but I hoped I might get a sneak peek while preparations were underway. As it turned out, I couldn’t — and the weather was still too warm for any cranes to have arrived yet. Well, I kind of expected that, so no biggie.

From Izumi, I drove back to Kagoshima Airport to pick up my friend, and from there we went straight to the hotel. While not everything had been perfect, I had no regrets about my trip and enjoyed the drive thoroughly.

A lonely visitor under an umbrella.

The Sogi Waterfalls eagerly dispensing the day's rain.

The path along ruins, towards the ruins.

The Sogi Power Plant ruins without its collapsed wall.

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Mount Karakuni, Lake Onami & the Enchanted Forest

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Thu, 30 Oct 2025 04:38:00 +0000

What?
Mount Karakuni (韓国岳) is with its 1700m the highest peak in the Kirishima Mountain Range (霧島山). Starting from the nearby Ebino Plateau (えびの高原), there are many hiking paths with impressive views of both the mountain and the surrounding scenery, including vistas of nearby Mount Shinmoe’s (新燃岳) smoldering crater and Lake Onami (大浪池). Due to volcanic activity, several paths have been closed off since 2021 though.
Where?
Although both the Karakuni peak as the Ebino Plateau (which serves as starting point for most of the hiking routes) are technically located in Miyazaki Prefecture (宮崎県), most people including me approach the top from Kirishima on the Kagoshima Prefecture (鹿児島県) side. It is possible to take a bus from Maruo Onsen (丸尾温泉) in Kagoshima Prefecture towards the Ebino Plateau, bus as service has become spotty since corona, check before you go. I took a rental car and parked it at one of Ebino Plateau’s big parking lots.
URL
National Parks of Japan

Mount Karakuni has been on my to-see list for what feels like forever.
I remember two failed attempts — the most recent one during a trip to Miyazaki, when I ended up switching plans and visiting Yatogi Falls instead due to a bad weather forecast.

And this time too, the weather almost ruined my plans. Out of my five days in Kagoshima, I had originally picked Friday to climb the mountain, but it turned out only Thursday promised grade-A weather.
So today was Thursday. I usually prefer to take it easy on travel days, but I had no choice this time. After waking up at 4:30 a.m., I flew from Kobe to Kagoshima, picked up my rental car, and drove straight to the Ebino Plateau. I reached the trailhead around 10 a.m., which meant I had to shorten my planned hike — I had hoped to include loops around the smaller lakes on the plateau. Instead, I decided to head straight up the mountain, descend from the summit to Lake Onami, circle it, and take a forest path back to the parking lot. Even though it was a shorter route than planned, I was not disappointed!

Mount Karakuni is a popular mountain, so it can get crowded. But in Japan, if you avoid the weekend, you’re usually fine — something my recent visit to Mount Norikura reminded me of.
The first part of today’s hike was straightforward but steep. It was all about finding a good rhythm, glancing back occasionally to admire the view, and persevering to the top. I arrived just before noon, around the same time other hikers began to reach the summit. Fortunately, it wasn’t too crowded — enough people to share the fun, but not enough to spoil the scenery. Most hikers stayed around the summit anyway, leaving the rest quiet and peaceful.

Most of Mount Karakuni’s crater rim is closed due to volcanic activity, but it’s still possible to walk about a quarter of it. No one else seemed to bother, so I had the spectacular views all to myself.
Well, “views” — Mount Shinmoe’s smoldering crater was constantly covered in clouds, so there were really only two clear vistas: one of Karakuni’s dried-up crater, and one of Lake Onami with Kagoshima’s iconic Sakurajima volcano in the background. Only two, yes — but both absolutely stunning, and worth every step, even without seeing Shinmoe’s iconic peak.

After a quick lunch break, I headed down toward Lake Onami to circle its rim.
The descent started well, with some scenic wooden walkways, but I soon understood why some hikers say the trail is in dire need of maintenance. The walkways consist of many stairs, and in several places they were either wobbly or outright broken. Sometimes a step looked questionable but turned out solid; other times a firm-looking plank wobbled alarmingly under my weight. Let’s just say a small heart attack was never far away. Crews were actually working on repairs — a team from a landscaping company, with a helicopter flying in materials — but for now, it was a risky descent. The rickety stairs reappeared here and there for the rest of the hike, though never as bad as on that stretch between the summit and the lake.

Glancing backwards on the way to the top.

Most people stopped at the very peak.

The crater of Mount Karakuni.

Quietly.

Circling the lake was an entirely different experience. I chose to go clockwise, starting with the eastern rim. I didn’t realize it at first, but the lake’s rim has two distinct characters: the eastern side, though higher, is densely forested and feels like a quiet woodland walk, while the western side is more like a ridge hike, with low vegetation and open views toward Mount Karakuni — and the helicopter, still buzzing back and forth.
There are several viewpoints along the rim where you can stop to admire the lake and its backdrop.

Finally, there was the descent from the lake back to the parking lot.
I wanted to see the summit, and I wanted to circle Lake Onami — but I only chose this forest route to make the hike a complete loop. As it turns out, this section outshone both the spectacular summit and the charming rim walk.
The forest path was breathtaking from start to finish. It’s not untouched — the occasional wobbly staircase, signpost, or safety rope shows that people do come here — but the nature around it feels undisturbed, even sacred. I slowed down deliberately, trying to walk as silently as possible. The setting felt like something straight out of Princess Mononoke, perfect for an ethereal encounter with forest spirits. Of course, the sound of the helicopter made sure I wouldn’t encounter any wildlife – real or spiritual, but I was still completely enthralled. The autumn colors hadn’t quite arrived yet, but I can only imagine how stunning this place will be in a few weeks.

I was honestly disappointed when the forest gave way to the road, but I’d enjoyed it to the fullest.
The road led me back to my car in about ten minutes, though I made a short detour through a field of Japanese pampas grass (susuki). Autumn may not have reached southern Japan yet, but the pampas grass was already at its golden best.

And so, I drove on to my room for the night in Kirishima Onsen. Mountains, lakes, forests, an onsen, and a beer to close it all off. Tomorrow’s rain can’t bother me anymore.

The eastern rim of Lake Onami.

Autumn showing on the western rim.

Not a soul in sight in the forest on the way down.

The clouds seem to have gone.

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Mount Mikami, Mount Bodaiji, and the Beauty in Between

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 27 Sep 2025 13:09:00 +0000

What?
Today’s hike was a route I planned myself, connecting various walking and hiking stretches with local parks and quiet neighborhood strolls. After climbing Mount Mikami (三上山432m) – also called Ohmi-Fuji (近江富士) because of its conical shape – the hike continued through sandstone ridges and unspoiled forest. It offered a kind of solitary forest bathing and some beautiful views over the surrounding valleys and neighboring peaks. After a short walk through a picturesque neighborhood, the peak of Mount Bodaiji (353m) was the last challenge of the day.
Where?
The hiking area lies on the eastern side of Lake Biwa (琵琶湖) in Shiga Prefecture (滋賀県). The route starts at Yasu Station (野洲駅) on the JR Biwako Line (琵琶湖線) and ends at Ishibe Station (石部駅) on the JR Kusatsu Line (草津線). Both stations are easily reached from Kyoto (京都) and Osaka (大阪) on one side, and Maibara (米原) and Hikone (彦根) on the other.
URL
Shiga Blog Hiking in Japan

Today I finally walked the first route I had ever planned entirely by myself. I pieced it together from Yamap reports, some local routes, a mountain map, and then created the course on RideWithGPS.
I had originally planned to climb in June, but the weather — too much rain or too much heat — kept me away. But today! The sky was blue and crisp, the temperature high but balanced by a constant, gentle breeze. Perfect hiking weather!

Section 1 – Mount Mikami: the Perfect Cone

You can’t miss it. From the train, this almost perfectly conical mountain stands out in the landscape despite its modest height. It also makes clear what the ascent will be like. Up. Straight up.
But first, you need to reach the trailhead. A bus runs between Yasu Station and the trailhead, but I didn’t mind walking the half-hour on paved roads. Consider it a warm-up.
From the station there are two ways up: the Omote (“front”) route and the Ura (“back”) route. The Omote route is advertised as steeper, but honestly, on a cone-shaped mountain like this, every path is steep.
The climb isn’t too strenuous, but it’s best not to rush — no need to blow your engines this early on.
Mount Mikami is modest but fairly popular. It’s not overcrowded, but I couldn’t find a quiet spot to sit and enjoy the rustling trees. A few benches were set at the top, but when I passed in the morning, most were already taken. At lunchtime I can only imagine it being packed. Since the summit offers no real views, I quickly began the descent on the far side.

Mount Fuji. I mean, the modest Mount Mikami.

Detail on the way up.

Section 2 – Unexpected Sandstone Ridge to Mount Tenzan

When planning, I decided to link Mount Mikami with Mount Tenzan (天山 303m). There are again many paths to choose from, but I decided to take a detour because there was a boulder construction I wanted to see on the north side of Mount Mikami. The boulder itself was fenced off for safety and as such a bit disappointing. The approach however was stunning.
The climb up Mikami and much of the descent passed through dense pine forest, with firm, rocky ground and tree roots as steps. Vistas were rare. Then, suddenly, the forest gave way to pale sandstone ridges with low vegetation and sweeping views of the surrounding hills and Mikami itself. In hindsight, given the nearby Konan and Konze Alps, it shouldn’t have surprised me. Still, it caught me off guard.
The path led toward a lower peak called Tokoji Biyozan (東光寺日陽山 – it could be it is pronounced differently). From there, the trail dropped into Karyoku Park (花緑公園), a broad, well-designed park that was pleasantly busy with strolling families, picnics, and campers.
The park’s walking trails wound through the surrounding forested hills. Signs for “walking rallies” popped up here and later in the day, making me wonder if I was still on the right path. At the back of the park, the trailhead for Mount Tenzan started.
The stretch between Mikami’s descent and Tenzan’s trailhead was gorgeous. I almost abandoned my hiking plan, tempted to spend the afternoon wandering the sandstone ridges, eating onigiri in the park, and reading a book.
But I continued. The ascent toward Tenzan began with sandy paths and clear views of Mikami, before easing into unspoiled forest. The climb was gradual, the footing sure, and before long I reached the peak. From there, both the beginning and end of my hike were in sight: Mount Mikami to the east, Mount Bodaiji to the north. A perfect spot for an onigiri.

Vibrant green on a sandstone path.

Looking back over your shoulder is always rewarding.

Section 3 – Kibogaoka: The Spider Hell

The peak of Tenzan was just a very short detour, a sidestep really. To continue toward Bodaiji, I returned to the ridge, turning right into forested slopes belonging to Kibogaoka Cultural Park (希望が丘文化公園). From above, the park looked as delightful as Karyoku Park, just larger.
Then came the spiders.
Not unusual, but not ideal when the first step forward tangles you in silk. I hit one web, then another, then armed myself with a long stick and began sweeping the air as I walked. It reminded me of similar experiences on Mount Kokuzo on the Ibusuki Kyushu Olle trail.
The ridge rose and fell. Higher points opened onto rocky lookouts with breathtaking views; lower stretches offered fern-filled solitude. Both were wonderful, if only they hadn’t been laced with spider webs. Progress was slow.
I was yearning for relief, and then out of nowhere the trail spilled into a vast, empty parking lot with only a sleeping guard inside a hut. Surreal, but a relief. At least I thought so. The ridge resumed on the far side, and with it, the webs. I wished spiders could sense where humans would walk through so they wouldn’t make the efforts of building their web there. But of course, if they did, we as humans might be in real danger…
I know I would be walking for at least the same distance again until I would loop around in the direction of Mount Bodaiji. It was my understanding that from the point of the loop, I would be walking an old forestry road, so my hope was that this last stretch at least would be spider free.
But until then…
Now don’t get me wrong, I loved the ridge hike. It had lush nature, beautiful ferns, rocky lookout points with amazing vistas, and the solitude was on par with the oldest stretch of the Shikoku Pilgrimage that I had walked a few years earlier. If only the spiders – or more correctly their webs – weren’t there!
I persevered. There was nothing else to do.
And then suddenly, the forest spat me out onto a road. I laughed out loud at the sudden change, only to smack face-first into one last web just before reaching the asphalt.

One of the "lookout rocks" along the ridge hike.

Ferns - a spider heaven.

Section 4 – The Forest Road’s Mercy

My relief at getting out of the spider webs, and my annoyance at that final faceful, distracted me. Instead of crossing the road, I wandered along it for a few dozen meters, then had to backtrack.
Backtracking the little distance, my heart sank when seeing the sign that accompanied the entrance that would lead to the forestry road. It said “Beware of the bees!” and “Rickety stairs so keep track of your footing!”. I wasn’t sure whether bees were better than spiders, and I almost cried when I thought that I saw the first spider web appearing in front of me. However, this time I was lucky. The descent from the asphalt road to the forestry road was only 10 meters or so. And so, finally, I arrived at the looping point. A spider-web free, old forestry road that would take me back to civilization.
Walking this road was a breeze. It followed a small stream. I hadn’t met anyone since the top of Mount Tenzan, and while the wind was still my only companion I could hear, signs of human presence started to show here and there. Signs that warned cars not to enter, a small dump of garbage like a stroller (why on earth at this particular spot was a mystery to me), and the usual, small and useless man-made dams.
The forest eventually opened behind a chemical factory in a small town. From there, I strolled through rice paddies and quiet houses toward Bodaiji’s trailhead. The stretch wasn’t as picturesque as the Yagyū Kaidō or the Osaka–Nara border hikes, but it was harmless. If you fancy a bite or if you are low on water, there a convenience store here where you can resupply.

The forestry road's safe haven.

Where would this gate lead to?

Section 5 – Instagrammable Bodaiji

The approach to Bodaiji began with a large cemetery. At its far end, before crossing a stream, I turned left onto a pleasant enough path. A strange “theater” of fake tree trunks as stage and ample bench seating stood along the way.
Soon after, I heard shouting. I first thought of kids playing, but it turned out to be a couple arguing – the arguing only performed by the woman. Aside from the nuisance, I was surprised to see neither was wearing any suitable gear for walking or climbing. I knew that Mount Bodaiji had a spot that I qualify as “Instagrammable”, so there was a real risk that people like this would flock to that spot and then just turn back, spoiling the fun. I started to fear a little bit.
However, at a certain point the road stopped and the real climbing began. While not too strenuous, I couldn’t imagine the couple having climbed this path in the clothes they were wearing. I also didn’t meet anyone else – I again was alone. Much earlier than expected I hit the instagrammable point. A very rickety bridge between the rocks I was standing on, and some big boulders a meter and a half away. A girl posing cutesy on the bridge with the blue skies and far away views in the background would sure get some views on social media. As it was though, I was all alone here.
I was surprised, but happily so. I enjoyed the view, look behind me, didn’t see or hear anyone approaching from either side of the path, so I planted myself down for my second onigiri of the day, enjoying the picture-perfect view.
This spot is not the top of Mount Bodaiji, but it’s really not that far. I continued to the unassuming peak, enjoyed the view, and prided myself for finishing the hike.
I knew I still had to descent the mountain and then walk towards the station, but still: the hard part was over, and despite way too many spider webs, I was very satisfied with the route that I concocted. As it turned out, I was a little too early to congratulate myself.
I had chosen a straight line down from the top of Mount Bodaiji to what I thought was a small temple. There was a path there, but it was steep, quite overgrown and dangerous. And from a certain point – at this point I was cursing to myself – spiderwebs.
The path was clearly getting out of favor, and that would probably be the reason why it did not figure on Yamap. The temple that I thought I was heading to were the ruins of one; 3 religious statues and a kind of pagoda structure. Behind it, there were several small jizo statues and carvings to be found in the forest. They were connected to the path I took with some very unstable looking wooden bridges, but were the prettiest part of this last stretch off the mountain.
From there, it was another 20 minutes on asphalt to the small Ishibe Station. Fun fact: the last few hundred meters, from the highway stairs to the station, follow the old Tōkaidō route. You’d never know though.

Should I pose for SNS?

Still easy to walk stretch on the way down.

Conclusion

I was very satisfied with the route I created. It struck a balance between mountain hiking and quiet neighborhood strolling, much like the Yagyū Kaidō.
Next time, though, I’d take the safer descent route from Bodaiji, via a slightly longer but definitely safer route that was depicted on Yamap. The jizō statues could still be visited as a short detour.
As for the spider-web-infested ridge in Kibogaoka Park — well, I actually liked the route. The forest was pure, the solitude refreshing, the views at times gorgeous. I think I was a bit unlucky being the first to pass here today. True, it was a beautiful Saturday at 10:30am, so being the first at this time does say a lot about the popularity of the trail, but I did find out on Yamap that someone else passed this route after me. They certainly wouldn’t have made a big deal about the webs. I just hope they thanked me in their heads when they saw the web covered stick at the end of the path.
If, before taking the small detour to Mount Tenzan, you notice webs right from the start of the Kibogaoka ridge, you could cut it off entirely by descending Mount Tenzan directly. You’d still connect to Bodaiji, but you’d miss some amazing views and a truly solitary forest-bathing experience.

Mount Mikami, recognizable from every direction.

There really was no ither direction to go...

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High-Speed Tracks Don't Change Slow-Paced Town

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sun, 21 Sep 2025 12:41:00 +0000

What?
Tsuruga (敦賀) is a sleepy town that was recently more or less awaken by the arrival of the Shinkansen. As the (temporary) new terminus of the Hokuriku Shinkansen (北陸新幹線), the station area has been completely renewed with a fine looking green square, a modern yet too big looking bookstore-slash-café and a bunch of fancy shops and restaurants. Further away from the station though, Tsuruga is still quite sleepy with a few moderately interesting spots: a few museums, a few shrines, a pretty coastline stretch and some nostalgic reminders of an era where Tsuruga’s railways had a very different importance.
Where?
Tsuruga is located centrally in Fukui Prefecture (福井県) and is easily reached from whichever big city in Japan, as it is now the terminus of the Hokuriku Shinkansen. The station is a little distance away from the city’s attractions, but a convenient loop bus connects all the necessary dots. Unfortunately, the loop bus will be discontinued in March, 2026, so after that you will need to figure out which bus to take from the regular network. Difficult, but the people at the tourist center were extremely helpful so I suggest you hop in before exploring town.
URL
Tsuruga Tourism Association Japan Guide

As a resident of Osaka, I have been to Kanazawa many times. The limited express train Thunderbird went in a direct line up and down – super easy. With the extension of the Hokuriku Shinkansen between Kanazawa and Tsuruga though, the Thunderbird only goes as far as Tsuruga and a transfer is necessary.
So in coming back from our 3rd pretty much failed trip to Kanazawa – as we needed to get off the train anyway – we stepped out of the station to take a stroll and see what Tsuruga had to offer.

Tsuruga’s station area is modern. It has recently been completely renewed. The station has received a major facelift and must have grown three times in size to accommodate the shinkansen. Apart from the station there is a newly looking hotel and some new fancy stores and restaurants. They all seem very much modeled on success stories from metropolises like Tokyo or Osaka, with that huge difference that there aren’t near as many people strolling around and actually buying things. It makes me wonder how long this area will keep its shiny looks. One store that piqued my interest was a shop full of (new) retro stuff. They had a small decorative corner built like a kitchen of the 70’s, but the products on display were also diverse, funny and interesting.

The town has a few museums and shrines, but I cannot tell you anything about them as we skipped them in favor for stroll along Tsuruga’s coastline. We hopped on the town’s loop bus and got off at Kehi no Matsubara. It’s a stretch of beach that is buffeted between the ocean and a - for Japanese standards – large pine tree park. Walking along the trees made me immediately understand its beauty. The winds were strong and the water was wild and murky – courtesy of the big storm that had passed a day before – so we didn’t see the beautiful clear water that the brochures promised us. Yet the place was full of charm. Not in the least thanks to many locals enjoying picknicks (while their cutlery was blown away) and fishing.

From there we continued walking along the coast. We wanted to see the local fish market, but like many things in this sleepy place it was closed. We instead decided to hop into a restaurant which had some delicious rice bowls topped with fresh raw fish.
Continuing our stroll we arrived at the harbor. For the biggest part this port is industrialized and plagued by rust, but a small part is touristy and a reminder of a more glorious past.
It starts with the very small but free railway museum. There is a bunch of stuff for train aficionados, but I was more interested in why this museum was located so far away from the current station. Apparently, before flying became the preferred long-distance way of traveling, Tsuruga was the port of connection between Europe and Japan. In peacetime, the Trans-Siberian express would still connect Europe with the far eastern city of Vladivostok, which in its turn was connected by ferry with Tsuruga. So this today pretty unknown port was connected by train with the big Japanese cities. You wouldn’t notice it in the present day, but it’s an interesting piece of past nonetheless.

Retro stuff on sale near the station.

One of the many paths in the pine tree grove.

The brochures showed calmer water.

The seafood was great though!

Next to railway museum you can enjoy some views over the bay, and if you walk just a few hundred meters further there are the red brick warehouses, equally a reminder of a busier past.
Like many red brick warehouses in Japan it has been renovated and now houses a diorama show, a craft beer brewery and a few other shops, mainly handling in things that only became popular once you could add the word “craft” to it. Certainly nothing to dislike, but a little bit generic.

We did enjoy our stroll through town, but the question is whether it is because of the sights or because of each other’s company. My conclusion though, is that Tsuruga is sleepy for a reason. No amount of passing shinkansen tracks or artificially funded renovations can change that.
Kehi no Matsubara however might be worth getting off if you yearn for some quiet afternoon in a natural setting.

The tiny railway museum.

A random spot along the coastline.

Oh yeah, Fukui dinosaurs!

Recently installed train.

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Kanazawa: Love, Loss, and Lightning

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 20 Sep 2025 10:56:00 +0000

What?
Kanazawa (金沢) is a mid-sized city with many sights to offer. Most famous is the Kenroku-en garden (兼六園), considered by many as the most beautiful in Japan. The historical Higashi Chaya (ひがし茶屋街) and Nagamachi districts (長町) remind one a bit of Kyoto, while the reconstructed Kanazawa castle (金沢城) is somewhat different from others. The 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art (金沢21世紀美術館) is a modern spot for art-lovers, and even casual visitors line up to see Leandro Erlich's Swimming Pool from downside up. The Omicho Market (近江町市場) teems with life in the morning and throughout the day while the Katamachi (片町) district has enough to keep you going all night long. There are myriad attractions in this city. Even its gateway – Kanazawa Station (金沢駅) – is worth a detour. And that’s without mentioning the city’s culinary richness; I’ve never once tasted anything I didn’t enjoy here. Most of all, the city has an intangible charm and mysterious allure that keeps me coming back.
Where?
As Ishikawa Prefecture’s (石川県) capital, Kanazawa has been connected with Tokyo since 2015 via the Hokuriku Shinkansen (北陸新幹線), which previously only ran as far as Nagano (長野). From Kyoto (京都) or Osaka (大阪), you can take the Limited Express Thunderbird (サンダーバード) train to Tsuruga (敦賀), where you transfer to the Hokuriku Shinkansen. The line is planned to be extended all the way to Osaka in the future.
URL
Japan Guide

Sometimes you just know when a place doesn’t want you to stay. My feelings for Kanazawa have always felt like a one-way street.

The first time I visited was way back in 2007. I was living in Matsumoto at the time, not sure where I wanted to go with my life, so instead I just went somewhere—physically. It was my first trip on my own, whether in Japan or anywhere else. I hadn’t chosen Kanazawa for any particular reason. Back then, there was still a direct bus connection between the two cities, so that’s where I ended up.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time there. Of course, there’s the gorgeous Kenrokuen, but I also loved just strolling through town, soaking in the atmosphere. Kanazawa wasn’t exactly a big city, yet it had a metropolitan feel without the suffocating crowds and noise of the giant metropolises.
I didn’t have a camera or even a phone. I bought a disposable Kodak on the spot to capture some of the sights, but I eventually lost it—probably took the “disposable” part a bit too literally.

When I got back to Matsumoto, I told my friend about Kanazawa and my plan to return with a camera. And so, not much later, I went back—this time with both a camera and my friend in tow. He felt the same way I had. We explored the old neighborhood, a trickster temple, and some gardens, but more than the attractions themselves, it was the city’s atmosphere that drew us in.

Years later, I landed a job near Osaka, and I was thrilled to get another chance to visit my old love—this time through work. Beyond the city’s vibe, I discovered its incredible food: the seafood, the sake, the oden, the shochu, the curry… literally everything was amazing. Unfortunately I didn’t have any chance to get out and around – Kanazawa always seemed to have rain to welcome me.

In 2017 and 2020 during the corona crisis, I finally returned as a tourist again, this time with my wife. I wanted to show her why I thought it was only natural that the Nagano Shinkansen had been extended in 2015 to this city of wonders. We visited the garden, the castle, and the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art with an impressive special exhibition by Michael Borremans and Mark Manders. Kanazawa had become noticeably busier—thanks to the Shinkansen—but some of the old magic was still there. Not all of it though, as both times relentless wind and rain spoiled much of the fun.

The reconstructed Kanazawa Castle does not comprise the tower.

Beautiful Kenrokuen garden in good weather.

Beautiful Kenrokuen garden in good weather, Part 2.

Tricky stuff at the Tentokuin temple.

This year, I thought it was time for revenge. My favorite football team Matsumoto Yamaga FC had an away game at the new stadium of the local Kanazawa team. We arrived around noon to perfect weather and enjoyed strolling through the Omicho market. There were plenty of other Yamaga supporters, and so much good food around. It was a great start.

We headed back to the station to catch the free shuttle bus to the stadium, which was already buzzing with fans. Both groups of supporters were loud and lively during warm-up. The atmosphere was electric, and I thought, “Well, it can’t get any worse than last year when Yamaga lost here 6–1.” The players disappeared inside for a quick change and final pep talk before kickoff.

And then we saw a flash in the distance.
Then another.
The whole right side of the sky turned pitch black while the left side was still clear.
Another flash. A rumble. Then another series of flashes.
A light rain started, but it was mostly thunder and lightning raging across the sky.
The officials delayed the game. Supporters were told to move higher up the stands where the roof provided more protection. Half an hour later, it started pouring—rain so heavy it would have soaked you to the bone in seconds. Thunder and lightning never stopped.
After another half hour, the game was officially canceled. We had to leave the stadium and queue outside in the open for the shuttle bus back. The weather gods never once showed mercy.

Eventually, we made it back to Kanazawa Station and grabbed a bite near our hotel. When we left around 10 p.m., thunder and lightning were still raging—four straight hours without a break.
So yeah… maybe Kanazawa is telling us not to come back. A pity though given its natural charm.

Kanazawa in rain.

Kanazawa in heavy rain.

The gateway to the city.

Canceled.

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Mount Norikura: Crowds Can’t Spoil the Fun

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sun, 14 Sep 2025 23:52:00 +0000

What?
Mount Norikura, or Norikuradake (乗鞍岳), is a 3,026 m peak in the Northern Japan Alps. It is one of Japan’s 100 Famous Mountains and arguably the easiest to access. Although the last known eruption was around 2,000 years ago, it is still regarded as an active volcano, with its many crater lakes as a witness to that. The highest point, Kengamine (剣ヶ峰), offers sweeping vistas of the surrounding Alps and valleys.
Where?
The summit lies in Gifu Prefecture (岐阜県), but while it can be approached from Takayama (高山), most climbers begin their journey from Matsumoto (松本) in Nagano Prefecture (長野県). Trails to the top start from the Tatamidaira bus terminal (畳平) , which cannot be reached by private car, making it the highest bus stop in Japan. From Matsumoto, take the Kamikochi Line (上高地) train to its last stop, Shinshimashima (新島々駅). From there, board a bus toward Norikura Highland and transfer at the Norikura Tourist Center for a bus to Norikuradake. Be aware that seats on this final bus must be reserved in advance. (Buses from Takayama, on the other hand, cannot be reserved it seems.)
URL
Japan Guide Alpico

Climbing an easily accessible mountain from Japan’s top 100 on a sunny national holiday… Since we decided rather late to climb Norikuradake, we couldn’t book spots on the earliest bus departing from Tatamidaira. We wanted to book that bus for two reasons: to avoid traffic (as Norikura and the hugely popular Kamikochi share the same access road) and to avoid crowds on the mountain itself. In the end, the road was clear, but the mountain was teeming with activity. That’s no surprise; considering the bus stop sits at 2,700m, the climb to the 3,026 m summit takes only about an hour and a half. With such an easy ascent for a 3,000-meter peak, just about anyone can make it, as the many children and elderly hikers showed. The crowds, however, never felt overwhelming like for example on Mount Fuji. We were still able to climb at more or less our own pace, though a few sections required waiting for foot traffic from the other direction. The most crowded spot was near the summit though, where a 30-meter line had formed for a picture perfect.

Up until the top I had mixed feelings. As often in Japan, there were a bunch of ugly buildings. Why, for crying out loud, do you need a souvenir shack just 30 meters below the peak if you already have a shrine with a shop at the summit? The good news: an old observatory building was being dismantled. Not gone yet, but when it is, the mountain will be better for it.
Despite the crowds, I loved the views from near the summit: the crater lake and the cloud-filled Kamikochi Valley in the distance. Everybody on the mountain realized the beauty of what they were seeing, and then sharing the impressive scenery becomes all the easier.

Not much visibility at the start of the hike...

...but after only a few minutes in, we got views like this.

Don't let the easy approach fool you - it's still a volcany.

Many people lining up for a perfect picture.

After climbing Kengamine, the highest peak of Norikuradake, we backtracked and took a detour via Fujimidake (富士見岳), which lies along the way. From there, my friends returned to the bus stop, calling it a day, but I pressed on to Daikokudake (大黒岳). I’m not sure why they stayed behind as it was only a ten-minute climb, and the reward was just what I needed: sweeping views and far fewer people. Many hikers head straight for the highest peak and ignore those that lie beyond. My near solitude made me want to continue, but I needed to return to the bus stop as our return bus was already booked. I would have loved to climb more of the surrounding peaks, like nearby Maodake (魔王岳) or the more distant Ebisudake (恵比須岳), which must have been almost deserted even on this national holiday. Of course, I needed to board this bus as otherwise I wouldn’t be able to get back to Osaka…

In the end, that last peak tipped the balance for me: I definitely recommend this mountain. It’s beautiful, accessible, and rewarding. Still, I suggest visiting on a regular weekday. It will make all the difference.

Taking a small detour towards Fujimidake

Heading on alone to Daikokudake.

A little bit of solitude-with-a-view on Daikokudake.

An easy loop.

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Matsumoto Beneath the Clouds

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 13 Sep 2025 13:30:00 +0000

What?
Mount Gotenyama (御殿山) in Matsumoto City (松本市) has a peak elevation of 885 meters. This easy hike offers a path passing 2 historic shrines and an observation deck with a sweeping view of the city and the surrounding valley. Pushing on to the summit is a hike of around 40 minutes, while the nearby Asama Onsen (浅間温泉) area can serve to refresh the body and mind.
Where?
Located in Matsumoto in Nagano Prefecture (長野県), we used our car to access the trailhead next to the Gotenyama Tenmangu Shrine. There is however a bus from Matsumoto Station that goes to Asama Onsen which is a 10 minute walk to the starting point of the hike.
URL
Visit Matsumoto Visit Matsumoto

Matsumoto is a city in a basin surrounded by mammoth mountains. Whichever way you look, they’re there. It’s a Walhalla for hikers in Japan who want to tackle the country’s higher peaks.
On the other hand, it often happens that, even though the city itself is relatively free of clouds and rain, the weather gods are wreaking havoc in that same Walhalla.

On those days, you can either stay at home or choose to climb one of the many lower mountains. Especially around the Japanese Alps, these smaller peaks are more or less ignored due to the presence of their loftier neighbors. But they have the advantage of not being battered by torrential rains and of sitting beneath the cloud deck, still offering a decent view of the city and the valley it lies in.

And so, my buddies and I set off for the virtually unknown Mount Goten, near Matsumoto’s more famous onsen district, Asama Onsen.
It’s so unknown that my friend, who had already climbed it once, completely missed the trailhead and we had to backtrack before finally starting the hike. We were already 30 minutes in. After backtracking, we soon got on the right path: a little wild and overgrown, yet easy to tread. A small bridge and unspoiled nature were the highlights until we arrived at the mountain’s viewing platform. Even though we were far from tired — it’s really an easy hike — we sat down and enjoyed the view. It was cloudy, so the spectacular vista of the Alps as depicted on the sign was nowhere to be seen, but the peculiar game of light and clouds above the city made for a wholly different enjoyment.

While not really what's on the sign, the view was beautiful anyway.

Matsumoto through the trees.

Truth be told, if you climb this mountain for the views, you’d better turn around here. We pressed on for the top, but it’s about as unspectacular as things get: just a stone next to a forestry path… bummer.
As a sucker for loop hikes, I led us down a different trail back to the trailhead. This side was much more overgrown and at points slippery. There were a few nice rock formations, but nothing spectacular. Eventually, we exited the forest in Asama Onsen. We passed the oldest onsen of Matsumoto, and while entering and soaking in the healing water might have been a valid option, we instead went to eat soba in a seemingly authentic restaurant before checking into our hotel and heading out to watch a game of my favorite football team.

Mount Goten is not a place you need to include in your travel schedule. However, if you’re in Matsumoto near Asama Onsen and fancy a short walk in nature, there’s nothing wrong with hiking its little trails.
And even in cloudy weather, Matsumoto’s vistas are great from any angle — whether it’s the viewing platform on this small peak, the terrace of your hotel, or the seats in Matsumoto Yamaga FC’s quaint stadium.

One of the rocks with a sign.

Almost crushed this little one.

Matsumoto from our hotel's terrace - a beautiful view.

The home stadium of Matsumoto Yamaga FC with a beautiful view.

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Okinawa Revisited Yet Again – History, Indulgence & Waterfalls

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 14 Jun 2025 13:43:00 +0000

What?
The Former Japanese Navy Underground Headquarters (旧海軍司令部壕) is a wartime site located near Naha (那覇), Okinawa (沖縄). It consists of a network of tunnels constructed by the Imperial Japanese Navy during the final stages of World War II. The facility served as a command center and shelter for naval personnel during the Battle of Okinawa. After the war, parts of the tunnels were preserved and opened to the public as a historical site. The location includes a small museum with documents, artifacts, and explanations about the site's role in the conflict. American Village (アメリカンビレッジ) is a commercial and entertainment complex located in Chatan (北谷), Okinawa. Developed on former U.S. military land, it features shops, restaurants, a cinema, and various leisure facilities. The area reflects American cultural influences and caters to both locals and tourists. Ta-Taki (ター滝) is a small waterfall located in northern Okinawa. Reaching it requires walking through a shallow river and over rocks. The site is managed with an entry fee and is popular for short hikes and river trekking.
Where?
The easiest way by far to get around Okinawa is by car. There are countless rental car companies concentrated around the Naha Airport, and 99% of them have shuttle buses, so take your pick. If you lack a license or want to avoid traveling by car, it is possible to visit the navy tunnels and the American Village by bus. For the tunnels, take either bus nr 143 at the airport and transfer at Koen Mae (公園前) to a nr.55 or nr.98 bus. Get off at the Uebaru Danchi Mae bus stop and walk for about 10 minutes. For the American Village, take bus nr 120 and get off at the Kuwae (桑江) bus stop. For Ta-taki, there’s no other option than a car, taxi or very long walk.
URL
Okinawa Hai Japan Guide Travel Awaits

Visiting friends is always a joy—relaxing, heartwarming, and grounding. But when those friends are based in one place, it doesn’t exactly make for compelling blog content. That’s why, despite having visited the Nago area in Okinawa five or six times and collecting some beautiful memories, I haven’t had much to share here on Linger in the East. To keep things interesting, I try to sneak in a side visit or two when I can.

This year’s detour had less to do with travel and more with timing. My favorite football team happened to have an away game coinciding with the day of our arrival in Okinawa. I had mistakenly assumed the match was in the afternoon, so when I realized it was an evening kickoff, we suddenly had half a day to spare.

After picking up our rental car near the airport, we set out for a place that had long been on my to-see list. Okinawa’s tragic wartime history is well known, but compared to Europe, it has relatively few visible reminders. There are some memorial parks, certainly—but little else to confront the past directly.
One striking exception is the Former Japanese Navy Underground Headquarters. This maze of tunnels, dug by the Japanese navy during the final days of the Battle of Okinawa, was built as a last stand. Not all of the tunnels are open to the public, but enough are accessible to get a real sense of the claustrophobic, desperate conditions the soldiers endured.
Well-translated signs guide visitors through the tunnels, offering a glimpse into those harrowing final days. Bullet holes still mark the concrete walls—silent and shocking reminders that this was where many officers took their own lives. It's a deeply sobering place.
I’ve always had complicated feelings about how Japan remembers the war though. There’s often a narrative of victimhood that glosses over years of imperial aggression. But Okinawa tells a different story. The local people had little to no say in the conflict and were essentially dragged into a brutal war by a distant government. In many ways, they too were victims—of a colonial relationship and a merciless frontline.
In that sense I appreciated the adjacent museum which not only showed documents of the officers staying in the tunnels, but also the heartbreaking fate of many regular Okinawans – people with no food, no shelter and no way out—caught between two relentless military forces. Even more than the tunnels, it was the museum that stayed with me.

We left the site quietly, reflective. But as the car radio played some bright poppy songs, the mood lightened and we let the island’s laid-back spirit slowly seep back in.
The next stop couldn’t be any more contradictory: the American Village, a sprawling shopping complex near the football stadium. Now, shopping isn’t usually my thing, but it had been high on my wife’s list for a while. I have to admit—I loved the food. It was pricey, sure, but classic American indulgence: massive portions, unapologetically greasy, and totally satisfying. We snacked, strolled, got ice cream, watched the waves, grabbed another bite, and capped it off with a long browse through a board game shop.
Later that evening, we witnessed a rare victory for my team. Spirits high, we headed toward our final destination of the day and celebrated with a few well-earned drinks.

Pictures in the small museum.

People died at this very spot.

The pictures were a huge help to imagine the situation how it used to be.

A completely different set.

The following days brought back the familiar joys of Okinawa: beachside relaxation, snorkeling in brilliant blue coves, beers with friends, and leisurely barbecues. These simple pleasures never get old.
One new experience, though, was a visit to the Ta-Taki Waterfall. Our friends were planning a trip there with a Finnish family and their young children, and we were happy to tag along. The waterfall itself isn’t particularly majestic, nor does it carry some mystical aura. In fact, the entrance fee felt a bit out of place in Okinawa, a land where nature usually comes freely. But somehow—maybe it's the Okinawan magic—it still turned into one of the highlights of the trip.
Getting to Ta-Taki involves wading through a shallow river, so river shoes are a must. There are a few rocky sections to climb before you reach the main waterfall. Along the way, there are natural pools perfect for a quick dip, but the real gem is the basin right beneath the falls. With good company, clear skies, and a (yes, artificial) vine hanging like something out of a Tarzan movie, it felt like the perfect slice of summer.
As always, Okinawa gave us space to breathe. Proof? Even my usually stiff body ended up swaying to an impromptu shamisen performance in a cozy local bar.

The entrance to the tunnel network.

Ta-taki Waterfall atmosphere.

River walking!

An image at every corner in the American Village.

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Ikeshima’s Fading Testament

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sun, 30 Mar 2025 12:33:00 +0000

What?
Ikeshima (池島) is a small island with a current population of just 93 people. Not so long ago, however, the local coal mine attracted thousands, with around 8,000 permanent residents at its peak. Today, the island is known for its abandoned state. Part of the mine was used until recently to train Indonesian miners, but most of it has collapsed and lies in ruin—just like the many apartment blocks now slowly being reclaimed by nature. The draw for tourists is the haunting landscape of ruins and the chance to join a guided tour of the mine and town, organized by the few residents who still call Ikeshima home.
Where?
Not far off the coast from Nagasaki (長崎), the island is part of the prefecture (長崎県) with the same name and can only be reached by boat. Despite its small size and aging population of merely 93 people, transportation to the island is remarkably good with multiple daily connections per day to 2 different ports on the mainland. From Konoura Port (神浦港), there are six daily departures—split between a ferry and a faster boat. I personally departed from Seto Port (瀬戸港), which is served five times a day by ferry. There are also two ferries a day on Tuesdays and Fridays from Sasebo Port (佐世保港).
URL
Travel Nagasaki Offbeat Japan

Many people know about Hashima—better known as Gunkanjima, or Battleship Island—a haunting relic of unchecked industrial expansion. Thousands once lived on that tiny rock, stacked in concrete towers above the coal mines beneath the sea. Now abandoned and a designated World Heritage Site, it’s partially accessible through official tours—although some adventurers still attempt unsanctioned nighttime visits.

But few know about another island just off the Nagasaki coast: Ikeshima.
Admittedly, you can’t fully compare the two. Hashima’s eerie charm lies in its fully concreted surface and crumbling apartment blocks, mute witnesses of a once-bustling community. Its mine was older and includes a darker chapter—forced labor during the war—an aspect often underrepresented.

Still, the similarities are striking. Both islands saw a population boom driven by coal mining, and both were quickly abandoned when the mines shut down. Now, nature creeps back in, overtaking the ruins and leaving ghost towns in its wake.

While I’m comparing the two islands, Ikeshima definitely stands on its own as a destination.

The 93 remaining residents are welcoming and resilient, embracing the island’s fate with dignity. They eagerly share its rich past with those who visit. Unlike Hashima, Ikeshima can be visited freely by anyone. There are no shops or restaurants, but you can stay overnight in the community center and explore the island at your own pace.
While entering buildings is considered unsafe and trespassing, walking along the many overgrown apartment blocks can be done at your own pace without anyone or any signs telling you off.

This might be good enough for some, but I highly recommend the guided tour offered by locals. There are two options: a tour through part of the mine (conducted regularly for around 20-25 people) and an extended tour that leads you through some of the streets and buildings (conducted only sporadically and for maximum 9 people).
Tickets for the latter tour go on sale approximately one month in advance and get sold out rather quickly, so I was lucky when I got hold of the final open spot for today.

First of all, the guides are extremely friendly and bombard you with a huge amount of interesting information. However, while they try to communicate using hands and feet, they do not speak English. They have a thoroughly prepared translation of their guidance though, so be sure to ask for it if you do not speak the language.

The mine tour starts with a video from the 1980s. Aside from its retro soundtrack, it’s a powerful look into the real lives of workers—no CGI or reenactments, just raw documentary footage. After the movie, we boarded a small train and rode into a shallow mine shaft. The guide enthusiastically demonstrated machinery and explained working conditions, even letting us try out some equipment ourselves.
Until recently the mine was used to train miners from Indonesia, so while clearly abandoned, the signs of recent activity amidst decay made for a surreal experience.

Collapsed mine buildings greet you upon arrival.

The inside of the mine still shows signs of life.

Pearing into an abandoned apartment room.

The first mine elevator - stately yet forlorn.

After the mine tour, most visitors left, but a few of us stayed for the second part—the island walk. Our guide, born and raised on Ikeshima, blended historical facts with personal anecdotes. He described how the now-silent slope from the harbor to the mine was once lined with five snack bars and a yakitori stand.
The bowling alley, now a dusty ruin, once hosted his first (and only) date with a girl he fancied. The forbidden shoreline became vivid in our minds as he spoke of his soon-to-be wife, wearing a straw hat there years ago.
As for the highlight? On this tour, you’re allowed into one of the abandoned apartment blocks, all the way up to the roof—and you even approach the old mining elevator, bypassing locked gates and warning signs.

It struck me how un-Japanese this experience was. Normally, anything remotely dangerous is heavily regulated or sealed off to avoid any kind of risk. Yet here we were, riding through decaying tunnels, bypassing “no trespassing” signs, and walking on rooftops likely not inspected in years.
This freedom probably won’t last forever — eventually, authorities might step in, or the last residents may leave — so I highly recommend visiting Ikeshima while the ferries still run regularly for everyone and while the locals still have a free hand in how to conduct their tours.

The full tour takes about 3 hours. If you’re truly into offbeat destinations, I recommend catching the first ferry in and last ferry out, giving yourself time to explore solo. Or better yet, stay the night and experience the island at your own pace.

Highly recommended.

A bus still runs the island, serving desolate streets.

The second mine elevator.

Despite lively anecdotes from the guide, this made me quiet inside.

Nature doesn't stop.

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Okawachiyama - Hidden Porcelain Village

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 29 Mar 2025 14:02:00 +0000

What?
The history of Okawachiyama Village (大川内山) is an interesting one. After discovering the necessary materials for porcelain production, local lords decided to hide skilled craftsmen in a remote valley to protect their techniques—techniques originally brought over by Korean artisans from the peninsula. Even today, road signs still call it the “Hidden Porcelain Village,” a nod to its secluded location. The village still quietly rests in the same valley, surrounded by small peaks that provide a picturesque backdrop. Porcelain manufacturers line the narrow streets with their shops. While I imagine the furnaces have evolved over time, many still proudly display their traditional brick chimneys.
Where?
Okawachiyama Village is tucked away in some remote countryside of Saga Prefecture. It’s accessible by bus from Imari Station (伊万里駅), but with only one departure every two hours, it’s not the most flexible option. Renting a car is definitely the easier choice.
URL
Japan Guide Visit Kyushu

Ceramics, porcelain,… let me be honest and say that I do not get its beauty. It’s just a matter of interest; I’m sure other people will understand its appeal.
But I did want to check the hidden Pottery Village. I mean, while the end product might not really speak to my imagination, the kilns and their chimneys do, as well – I think – the use of the kilns. So as the town was not far away from Mount Kurokami I decided to give it a short look.

Village is a euphemism – the town is not bigger than two streets where ceramic shops are lined up next to each other. With the Sakura trees in bloom, the dramatic mountain peak in the background and the static kiln chimneys, I could find some charm in the looks of the town. I even entered a few of the shops but found little that piqued my interest – again, it’s just a matter of personal taste.

I wandered around a bit but was slightly disappointed in the absence of anything else than ceramic shops: no small museums, no workshops, no videos of kilns in use, not even any eateries apart from one – closed – café.

Porcelain map of the village.

The chimneys are important to the look of the village.

I wandered back to the parking lot, took a few pictures of the Nabeshima Kiln Bridge and headed for the Imari Village Aritayaki Traditional Industry Hall of which I hoped it would learn me a bit more and as such increase my interest in the matter.
Unfortunately, the rather big building wasn’t anything more than 2 rooms of boring exhibits, and one room where you could practice a hand in decorating the ceramics. I didn’t try it out, but it might have been that thing that separates the village from being just a big outdoor ceramic mall. There was no English signage whatsoever and I wasn’t in the mood to decipher technical Japanese, so in the end, I didn’t really learn much at all.

Too bad. I think I would have enjoyed it more if my wife was with me – she tends to notice the little details that I overlook and brings places to life. But even she would fine the lack of eateries a big drawback.

The town looked pretty, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to get here, that’s for sure.

"I don't care if you want to take my picture.".

Picturesque detail.

Display.

The porcelain bridge as entrance to the town.

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Mount Kurokami

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 29 Mar 2025 03:00:00 +0000

What?
Mount Kurokami (黒髪山), a modest 516m peak, stands out from the surrounding hills with its striking cliffs and exposed rock faces, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape and the Arita Dam. During cherry blossom season, Chimachibo Park (乳待坊公園), located at one of the trailheads, provides a picturesque vantage point to admire the mountain from below.
Where?
Mount Kurokami is a small peak located in Saga Prefecture (佐賀県), Kyushu. I chose to start climbing from the trailhead near the Chimachibo Park which is only accessible by car. You can however reach the peak from the other side, by starting at Arita Station (有田駅). You will however have a longer approach and will not be able to enjoy the simple beauty of the park.
URL
Sagamichi

I had been dragging a stubborn cold with me for almost a month—not severe, but lingering far longer than I’d hoped. The sudden drop in temperature, a week of relentless rain, and a reckless evening of drinking with a long-time-no-see buddy only made things worse.
Blocked sinuses and shivers running through my body forced me to scale back my original plan. I decided to keep it simple: ascend Mount Kurokami, then head toward Hanabusa Rock, skipping the nearby peak of Mount Seira to avoid overexertion.

Just like the day before, rain poured relentlessly during my drive to the trailhead—then, as I opened the car door, it suddenly stopped. Thank you, fickle weather gods.
The approach to the peak followed a crumbling road, which soon gave way to an overgrown series of broken stone steps, weaving through boulders both small and massive. The damp landscape only added to the eerie atmosphere, with unseen frogs croaking in the shadows, their guttural calls echoing through the forest.

This steady ascent led me to the Mikaeri Pass, where the misty, almost ethereal surroundings gave way to a proper mountain trail.
I first headed for the peak of Kurokami. Given my lingering cold and my memory of Mount Nagusa, I was surprised at how manageable the climb felt. It was a steady incline, but never too steep or exhausting. Although boulders and tree roots dotted the path, footing was rarely an issue.
Just before the summit, a short exposed section featured a few chains and ladders—adding a little thrill, though nothing too daunting. Many hikers were resting near the top, but when I arrived, the broad, bald summit was mine alone, offering a breathtaking 360-degree panorama.

Mount Kurokami is a small but popular peak, and on this relatively dry Saturday, I encountered plenty of fellow hikers. However, as I continued toward Maekurokami, the crowd quickly thinned. The hike became a peaceful ridge walk through the forest, punctuated by large rocky platforms that opened up stunning views—Arita Dam spread out below, and just behind me stood the peak of Kurokami, where I stood mere minutes before.

You can't hear the frog concerts on this picture.

Small thrills.

Perfect view from the top.

The view on the way down was a little bit more scary.

I pressed on toward Mount Hanabusa, with Hanabusa Rock as my turnaround point. Up until then, the trail had been well-marked with ribbons, but between Hanabusa’s peak and the rock, the markers became sparse. I wondered why—until I reached the rock itself.
The final approach was a massive, exposed rock slab with a sheer 50-meter drop. No ropes, no chains—nothing to offer a handhold or a sense of security. I stepped forward a few meters but ultimately decided against continuing. I wasn’t feeling particularly courageous nor foolhardy. I imagine many others think the same, which might explain why this short 10-minute stretch between the peak and the rock sees far less foot traffic.

Originally, I had planned to return to Mikaeri Pass and continue toward Mount Seira—an additional hour and a half, by my estimate. Though the hike had been easier than expected and I wasn’t feeling especially drained, I didn’t want to risk running out of energy mid-trail or being too exhausted to safely drive back to my lodging for the night.

While not reaching Hanabusa Rock was a slight disappointment, Mount Kurokami more than made up for it. The hike offered breathtaking views, a few chains and ladders for fun, a tranquil walk through the forest, and, ultimately, a fantastic day out.

I kind of had the feeling the word "not" was missing.

One of the exposed rocks.

It's like "where's Waldo?".

A detour past the peaceful Saikomitsu Temple.

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Ureshino Kyushu Olle

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Fri, 28 Mar 2025 10:17:00 +0000

What?
Kyushu Olle (九州オルレ) is a network of walking routes that seamlessly blend serene nature, rural life, a few tourist spots, and a completely relaxed atmosphere. Ureshino (嬉野), a rustic town in western Saga Prefecture (佐賀県), is home to a Kyushu Olle course that showcases its most charming highlights: Arita porcelain, picturesque tea fields, the Todoroki waterfalls (轟の滝), and a historic onsen district.
Where?
The starting point of the course is near the Kamisaraya bus stop (上皿屋 mistakenly listed as "Ue-saraya" on the Kyushu Olle homepage). To get there, take a train from Saga Station (佐賀駅) to Hizen Kashima Station (肥前鹿島駅), then transfer to a local bus on the Yoshida line (吉田線 one departure every 1–2 hours). Alternatively, you can drive to the finish point at Ureshino Onsen (嬉野温泉) and take the same bus in the opposite direction, alighting at Kamisaraya bus stop.
URL
Kyushu Olle

I have walked many Kyushu Olle courses, and so far, the starting section always reflects the overall quality of the route. This time was no exception. The journey begins through a quaint little street lined with a porcelain shop, an old brick furnace and chimney, and a colorful, charming shrine. Despite the previous day's relentless rain—and my entire drive up being under gloomy skies—the weather gods showed mercy. As I entered the forest just beyond the shrine, the misty air and damp greenery created an enchanting atmosphere.

Already captivated within the first kilometer, I was surprised when the apparent highlight of the hike appeared so soon. The Nishi Yoshida Gongen and 13 Buddhas — a skull-like structure with giant teeth seemingly ready to devour a cluster of dignified Jizo statues — was both eerie and awe-inspiring.

As the trail meandered through lush forest paths and rolling tea plantations, I was relieved that the rain had stopped. The scenery, already soothing, was further enhanced by clouds drifting off the surrounding hills, creating breathtaking views. Feeling carefree, I started humming a tune—only to be startled by a rare fellow hiker chuckling as he passed me.

Right of the bat - an old porcelain furnace.

Shutomeshazan Daijo Temple after the rain.

Much of the way follows forest paths.

Creepy but fascinating.

Roughly three-quarters of the course leads through peaceful forests, tea fields, and small hamlets, with almost complete solitude. Eventually, I emerged back into civilization, transitioning onto paved roads. This stretch was brief, merely serving as a bridge between the rural landscapes and the more tourist-friendly side of Ureshino. The next stop: the Todoroki Falls.

These falls frequently appear in tourism brochures, but truthfully, they are neither grand nor unique. However, they fit perfectly within the understated charm that defines Kyushu Olle courses. The many cherry trees in bloom along the riverbanks were an added bonus, attracting both tourists and locals alike.

Until this point, the signage had been flawless—perhaps the best-maintained course among the Kyushu Olle routes I have walked. But for some reason, the last stretch from the falls to Ureshino Onsen lacked clear direction. While the trail generally follows the river, signage completely vanished in places where the route detours onto an asphalt road. The final two roads before the finish were also missing markers. While it was nearly impossible to get lost, it was a little disappointing to see the guidance fade just before reaching the end.

Still, this was another fantastic, easy-going Kyushu Olle course. A perfect blend of nature, culture, and relaxation.　

The typical Kyushu Olle markers.

One of the many tea plantations.

That beautiful season again.

The Todoroki Falls in the distance.

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Nagusa's Steep Peak and Nonexistent Waterfall

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Sat, 25 Jan 2025 11:32:00 +0000

What?
Mount Nagusa (七種山) is a 683m high peak and chosen as one of Kansai’s 100 best mountains. The hike up is continuous struggle along ropes and protruding rocks, but is rewarding in that it has stunning views over central Hyogo’s mountain all along the way. Nagusa Waterfall (七種48滝) is actually a collective term for a string of smaller and bigger waterfalls on the mountain’s slopes. The tourist association recommends visiting them in the rainy season. And rightfully so, as during this dry winter there was not a trace of the falls to be seen.
Where?
Located in central Hyogo Prefecture (兵庫県), the trailhead is located behind a camping ground. The nearest station is Fukusaki Station (福崎駅) on the JR Bantan Line (播但線) (connected with Himeji 姫路), and while it is possible to walk from here, it takes over an hour of your time. There are a few buses that run from Fukusaki Station to the Taguchi Shuraku Center (田口［集落センター］) bus stop, from where the walking distance is reduced to an acceptable 20 minutes. Otherwise, a rental car or taxi service is your only option.
URL
Fukusaki Town Tourism Association

What a beautiful day. The perfect opportunity to try out my new flashy orange-brown boots and my new flashy mustard-yellow backpack. But as it is winter, I would also need my age-old flashy poison-green jacket.
Anyone who passes me would think I am colorblind!

More than colorblind I must have been google blind. Even though I checked, I severely underestimated the distance between the station and the trail head. Instead of the half an hour that I had in mind, it took a little more than an hour to just arrive at the start of the hike.
Already then, I felt a blister coming up on my heel - courtesy of my new shoes and some bad shoelacing.

The first 20 minutes after arriving at the trailhead were absolutely brutal. After that, the path flattened out for a more enjoyable experience.
On this trail you need to continuously look out behind you otherwise you would miss an absolutely mesmerizing scenery. The mountains of central Hyogo are a beautiful rolling tapestry that seemingly stretches as far as the eye can see. The gentle rolling is only perceived from afar though; when climbing, this Mount Nagusa is a real challenge. As I have heard Hiking in Japan guru Wes Lang say: judge a mountain not on its height but on its shape.

And rightfully so. Even though the path flattens out, early on there are already the occasional bumps in the road. To be taken pretty literally.
Big boulders can only be conquered with ropes or chains. Even though you will only advance a few meters, you would have climbed a dozen. It keeps the hike trilling of course, however it is not for the faint hearted.
And then the real challenge still needs to come. The first brutal 20 minutes were only an appetizer, a sign of more to come. To reach the summit of the lower Nagusayari mountain, it’s necessary to conquer an almost vertical climb. I actually saw a descending hiker almost losing his balance and dangerously drop a few meters.

Until then, the hike was a continuous ridge hike on a rocky underground. Thrilling but dangerous in places. After the Nagusayari though, the trail strangely turns into a forest hike - after of course first a very steep descent.
And then it’s just “repeat” for the real summit. A grueling way up followed by a neck breaking descent.
In between, there were the absolutely gorgeous views from the top. Even though the cold northern wind was far from comfortable, I ate my onigiri right then and there, because there’s no way I would pass on that view.

Incredibly scary mascot greeting visitors at Fukusaki Station.

Fellow hikers enjoying the first stretch of ropes.

It's as narrow as it looks on this picture. Don't look down.

If you wonder where the arrow points to: down.

From here, the next highlight of the trip should have been the Nagusa waterfall.
Unfortunately, with this year’s dry winter, there wasn’t even a trickle to be admired. It made the big stone staircase and viewing platform look a little bit silly of course.

My initial plan was to make yet again a steep ascent and continue my loop hike over several ridges of some lower mountains. I didn’t expect any spectacular views or anything, but any path in the forest is better than a boring asphalted road, as I learned from my hike on the Ikuno plateau.
But my feet in the new shoes, and especially that blister made me go for the easy forestry road that connects the waterfall with the trailhead.

On this road I saw many a sign pointing to smaller waterfalls. In a different season this road might still have its charms; now however even the river was completely dried up - I didn’t hear the slightest dripping of water. What a bad season to be a waterfall.

Anyway, as there was still more than an hour to walk to the station, my decision to take a shortcut was a correct one.
Choosing Mount Nagusa to walk in my new boots might not have been one though, but that does not spoil the great image I have of the mountain.

Views like this all around.

But also ropes like this: all around.

Finally nearing the full 683 meters.

Luckily the sign says it's a waterfall.

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Osaka Getaway: Kisen Alps - Unzanpo

noreply@blogger.com (Yoris) — Fri, 03 Jan 2025 08:24:00 +0000

What?
The Kisen Alps (紀泉アルプス) is a range of low altitude mountains separating Osaka and Wakayama Prefectures. There is a plethora of hiking trails that give you the chance to tackle this area multiple times without doubling your tracks. Today’s hike took me from Yamanakadani Station through an unspoiled forest with occasional views over Osaka Bay and Wakayama City, over the top of Unzanpo (雲山峰489 meters) to Kii Station.
Where?
The trail starts at the small Yamanakadani Station (山中渓駅) and ends at the next-door Kii Station (紀伊駅), both on the Hanwa Line (阪和線). These are incredibly easy to access with direct links to Osaka and Tennoji Stations. A little more than an hour on any Kansai Airport/Wakayama bound rapid train will take you there. Make sure you board one of the last 4 cars though, as the train gets uncoupled at Hineno Station. For a description of the hike I refer you to Hiking in Japan which has a detailed description, or you can use the map below.
URL
Hiking in Japan

2024 for me was a year with an incredible number of social obligations, giving me the impression that even on weekends and holidays I rarely had a day off. And those days off, I tended to stuff with travels or meeting up with friends. Very nice and fun, but tiring nonetheless. My good intention for the new year was to simply save some time for a regular lazy afternoon.
Point in case, during this unusual long winter break that saw most people – including me – having a string of 8 to 9 days off, I had planned as good as nothing. Sitting in the couch, reading a book, playing a game; absolutely lovely. And so it was already very soon that I found the energy to do an impromptu hike. Nothing too fancy; one of those hikes I kept in reserve just for a day like today.

The incredible easy access is key here. Living in Osaka, I woke up, bought some breakfast at the local convenience store, boarded the train and an hour and a half later I was already up in the mountains.
I expected a pretty lonely hike, but I immediately met 3 other hikers in the first 15 minutes. It wasn’t a sign of what was to come though – only towards the end of the hike I would see another human being again.

Funky entrance gate.

These leaves made for a slippery slope at times.

Evergreens.

Many ups and downs, but in general the trail is easy like this.

The Kisen Alps might become a regular getaway for me. It’s not that I consider today’s hike a must do – I will not oversell. But the unspoiled forest was pretty, even in winter, the panoramas of Osaka Bay and Wakayama were nice, and again – the area is so easy to access.
In the middle of the hike there are three areas with benches for a short break. While a weak but frisky wind reminded me of the season, when it wasn’t blowing the sun gave enough warmth to just relax on of the many sturdy benches and enjoy the surroundings.

Apart from the first 20 minutes or so when the trail leads you to a mountain ridge, the hike is also quite easy, with many ups and downs but no real tough parts – perfect to stretch your legs on an impromptu hike.

Not all is great though. The track is prone to seasonal pitfalls: A short part during the latter half of the trail can become a muddy slug after a little bit of rain (incredibly soft ground), while autumn and winter can transform the trail in a river of leaves making footing unsure even during dry streaks like this week.
And then of course: during the first 40 minutes or so you will be bothered by constant traffic noise of both the highway nearby as the distant rumbling of planes using Kansai Airport as their base.

That being said, there is so much more to explore in these low mountains, and again – they are so easy to access, that I will surely be back.

The peak of Mount Unzanpo.

Overlooking Wakayama City.

Clear blue skies - what great weather.

The trail ends abruptly, dropping you in a tunnel undertneath a highway.

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