Kamakura area is a great place for hiking, especially during the colder months. The trails are easy to walk, the surrounding nature is lush even in winter, and it’s just one hour from Tokyo by train. My previous visit was in February last year, when I hiked the Miura Alps. Since then, typhoon Hagibis had wrecked several of the trails in the area, and I was concerned whether I could complete my hike as planned. Fortunately, the path I had chosen was open from start to finish. On the other hand, the very popular Ten-en hiking trail 天園ハイキングコース, which I had done a few years earlier, was closed due to fallen trees. It’s supposed to reopen in June.
The Ten-en hiking trail is closed…
Since most hiking trails around Kamakura are quite short, I had to cobble together 3 of them to get a full day of hiking (about 6 hours). I arrived at Kamakura station around 10am, and walked to Hokokuji Temple 報国寺. It’s also possible to get there by bus. There is a beautiful bamboo forest inside, but I skipped it since I had been there before and it was getting late. I found the entrance of the hiking trail a few meters further up the street. It was already 11am and I was finally ready to start hiking!
A well-hidden hiking trail…
Almost immediately, I went from a suburban neighbourhood to thick forest – the transition always amazes me. After a short climb, the path became level for a while, before reaching a park bordering a suburban community on the border between Zushi and Kamakura cities. Even though it was a Saturday, the park was nearly deserted, probably due to the overcast weather, despite the sunny forecast.
Surrounded by nature only ten minutes from the start of the trail
The hiking trail resumed at the end of the park. After some up-and-down over a couple of minor peaks, I reached the top of Mt Kinubari 衣張山 just before noon. It’s a low mountain, but since it’s right next to the ocean, the view was quite spectacular. I could see the Miura Peninsula stretching away to the South, and Kamakura City opposite Sagami Bay to the West.
Miura Peninsula near the top of Mt Kinubari
Shortly after, a group of a about a dozens hikers arrived. They were on some kind of guided tour – I had encountered the same thing when hiking the Miura Alps. It seems like guided hikes are quite popular in the Kamakura / Zushi area. I finished my early lunch and took off quickly. The trail heading down was short and enjoyable, but there were many fallen trees lower down. It’s not often that I see multiple fallen trees blocking the trail…in succession. Hopefully the trail will get cleared up in the future.
Evidence of the destructive power of typhoons on the way down
The trail soon ended a short way from my starting point of Hokokuji Temple. From there, I walked along roads to the start of a minor trail leading to the Ten-en hiking trail, which I would cross but not follow. Kamakura is pleasant and laid-back, and thus a nice city to stroll through – there are plenty of sights to check out. On the way, I decided I had enough time to pay a short visit to Sugimoto-dera Temple. According to the sign at the entrance, it was founded in the 8th century and is the oldest temple in Kamakura. It was a quick visit (costs 200 yen) but I was able to get some nice views and pictures. After that, I walked past Kamakura-gu shrine, turned left at Tsugen Bridge, then continued past Yofukuji ruins without visiting either since it was getting late. After 1pm, I was hiking on a trail and surrounded by nature again. It’s possible to skip Mt Kinubari and walk directly from Kamakura station (about 30 min)
View from the highest reaches of Sugimoto temple
First, the path followed a dramatic narrow gorge along a small stream, then climbed through some nice forest that still had some red and orange. Some steps brought me to the highest point: the intersection with the now-closed Ten-en hiking trail. It was 1h30, and I could hear many people talking and having lunch at the rest area just above, so I skipped it and continued in the direction of Kanazawa-Hakkei station 金沢八景 (not the final destination), through a short but beautiful bamboo forest. The trail was mostly level and thus easy to walk. It’s probably one of the flattest hikes I’ve ever done in the Kanto area. There was a fallen tree here and there, but it wasn’t too troublesome to get around. I was amazed that there were so few people hiking this great trail, but then it was a cold cloudy winter day.
Some minor obstacles on the way…
…but mostly easy hiking
The path was now running alongside and above a huge cemetery. Later on, it passed above another suburban community. I could get occasional glimpses of both through the trees. On a clear sunny day I suppose you could see all the way to Yokohama city to the North. There were good information boards (with English) along the way, showing the extent of the local hiking trails: they connect several community woods, a nature sanctuary, and even a small zoo. There is also a pond in the middle of the forest, but trails leading to it were currently closed due to typhoon damage. I will certainly return in the future to hike more in the area since it’s so close to Tokyo. I couldn’t decide what was more amazing: that the city had penetrated nature so deeply, or whether nature had survived the invasion of the city.
Hiking a narrow green ridge…
…at the edge of the city
I was now following the signs for Kanazawa Bunko 金沢文庫 (not the final destination either). At 2h30, I reached the Sekiyaoku viewpoint 関谷奥見晴台. There were some benches but not much of a view on this grey day. I had the rest of my lunch and moved on. At last, I was following signs for Konandai station 港南台, the end point of my hike. A little before 3pm, I reached the turn-off for a long staircase leading to the top of Mt Omaru 大丸山, the highest point of Yokohama city. There was a view to the South of Tokyo Bay and the Eastern end of the Miura Alps.
Staircase to the top – one of the few climbs on the hike
I was starting to feel cold and since the sun was showing no sign of appearing, I didn’t linger. It took me another hour to reach Isshindo Plaza いっしんどう広場, a wide area where several trails intersect. Apparently you can see Mt Fuji from the West side in good weather. However the hiking trail wasn’t finished yet. It took me another fifteen minutes along a dirt trail through the countryside to get back to the busy city roads. There were some good views of the hills of Kamakura to the East. I finally reached Konandai station on the Negishi line station around 4h30, a short train ride from Yokohama and central Tokyo.
I had been to Shikoku twice, but I had never walked its famous pilgrimage trail, nor visited any of the 88 temples along the way. In January, I went on a short trip to Kamiyama. Since the Shikoku Pilgrimage went through this town, I decided to hike one section of it. Although mostly on the coast, a few sections went inland. Looking at the map, I could see that the Kamiyama section was the deepest inland the trail ever went; so deep that I wouldn’t be able to see the ocean. I knew that more than half ofthe pilgrimage was on paved roads. However, the section between temples 11 and 12, just before Kamiyama, followed a hiking trail through forestedmountains. The walking distance between them was about 13 kilometers, perfect for a one-day hike.
My enthusiasm wasn’t dampened after reading that this was one of the toughest parts of the pilgrimage due to its many ups and downs. Apparently, a lot of pilgrims give up on this section, known as “henro-korogashi”, an ominous phrase meaning “knocking down pilgrims”. However, since my purpose was to hike, I was looking forward to breaking a sweat on the trail, especially since I would be able to relax at the Kamiyama hot spring afterwards. I was concerned about the weather, since it was supposed to rain during my visit. However, on the day of my hike,the forecast was cloudy with some sun in the morning. I had brought all my waterproof gear, and although I didn’t mind a punishing trail, I preferred doing it in dry conditions. I kept my fingers crossed that the forecast would be accurate.
Hiking the Shikoku Pilgrimage Trail 四国遍路
Blue skies at the start of the hike
Since it was my first time to hike the Shikoku pilgrimage, I decided to do some reading beforehand. I learned that it connected places visited by Kobo Daishi (774–835), the founder of Shingon Buddhism. The pilgrimage itself only became popular during the Edo era, 1000 years later. Nowadays, the Shikoku Pilgrimage, or “Shikoku Henro” (“henro” is the Japanese word for pilgrim) is 1200 km long, passes by 88 temples, and takes one to two months to complete on foot. Although he’s one of the most famous historical figures from Shikoku, I had never heard of Kobo Daishi, also known as Kukai in his lifetime, but I had heard of the temple town of Koya-san, which he founded in 819.Some people believe he’s still alive on Mt Koya, in a state of meditative consciousness awaiting the appearance of the future Buddha. He also is said to have invented the Hiragana and Katakana writing systems, two things I am very familiar with.
Statue of Kobo Daishi between temples 11 and 12
It’s important to note that it’s not necessary to be a Buddhist to appreciate the trail. It’s also a way to find yourself, and immerse yourself in nature. Pilgrims usually wear a pilgrim’s outfit consisting of a conical hat, white vest, and a wooden staff. Anyone walking the trail is free to dress this way, the same way one wears a yukata or a jimbe to a fireworks festival. However, I felt more comfortable in my hiking clothes, including a cap, backpack and sturdy hiking boots.
Statue of a pilgrim dressed in his pilgrim outfit
I had an acquaintance living in Kamiyama Town, and after telling him that I planned to hike the Shikoku Pilgrimage between temples 11 and 12, he offered to pick me up at Tokushima station, and drop me off at temple 11, officially known as Fujii-dera Temple (藤井寺) . I gladly accepted his offer, since the temple was nearly one hour on foot from Kamojima station (about 30 minutes by train from Tokushima station). I wasn’t afraid of some extra walking, but I wanted to save my energy for the trials ahead. At 9h30, we reached the small parking area below the temple and above a wide valley. At the entrance gate was an illustrated signboard showing the different landmarks along the trail, before and after Fujii-dera.It included distances and walking times, of great interest to pilgrims (and hikers).Since I hadn’t been able to get my hands on a paper map, I studied it religiously.
The main hall of Fujii-dera, built in 1860
The temple’s name includes the character for the Wisteria flower, and beautiful blue Wisteria can be seen inside the temple grounds every year in May. Unfortunately there weren’t any colours in the middle of January. It is said that it was founded by Kobo Daishi in the ninth century. It was converted into a Zen temple during the Edo period, and is one of the three Zen temples along the pilgrimage (the other 85 remained Shingon). As is often the case, the wooden buildings burned down several times throughout history, and the present ones date from the 19th century. However, a statue carved by Kobo Daishi survived each time, and is said to offer protection from disaster. Behind the temple were 88 small statues representing the 88 temples along the pilgrimage (I was in a hurry to immerse myself in nature, so I missed it).
Great views along the first part
From the start, the path climbed steadily, slowly winding up the mountain side. Close to the temple,there were many reminders of the spiritual aspect of this journey: statuettes and mini-shrines could be seen on both sides of the path. The stone railing on the left was covered in green spongy moss. Small signs saying “henro-michi” (へんろ道) meaning “pilgrimage trail”, were periodically attached to tree branches, preventing all but the most absent-minded of pilgrims from straying from the path.
Helpful signs showing the way
At exactly 10 o’clock, I reached the first viewpoint after crossing a small road. I could see the valley created by the Yoshino River, the second largest river in Shikoku (194 km), and one of the 3 great rivers of Japan. Beyond was a range of low mountains stretching East to West across Tokushima Prefecture. It seemed like an excellent spot for a late breakfast. A man in full pilgrim attire walked by. His pace was so slow that I thought I could easily overtake him later on, but I never saw him again, as if he had vanished into thin air.
Great view of the Yoshino river basin
After setting off again, I soon reached a rest spot with another view and a small sheltered sitting area. Looking up, I could see large patches of blue sky, but the sun was still lurking behind the clouds. Here and there, attached to tree branches, were short Buddhist sayings. I didn’t stop to decipher them but I imagined that they were meant to encourage the weary traveler. The trail was covered in a layer of dead leaves, andalternated steep and gently sloped sections. This year’s winter was relatively mild throughout Japan, and so I felt lucky not to have any snow on the trail.
A typical section of the hike
I eventually reached a pleasant flat section. Initially I thought I had reached the pass, but I was only moving around the side of the mountain into the fold of a deep valley. Around this time, the sun finally came out. I had seen no one else apart from the phantom pilgrim from earlier. The noises from the valley below had become muffled. This was probably the most enjoyable section of the hike, and the tough ups and downs that lay ahead were, for now, completely forgotten.
A pleasant stroll in the sun
At the end of the valley the path started to climb steeply again.A few minutes later, I reached Chodo-an (長戸庵), a tiny Buddhist temple surrounded by trees at the top of the ridge. It was just past 11 o’clock and I was 3.2 km from Fujii-dera. According to the legend, Kobo Daishi was taking a break here, when an old man came by with pain in his leg. Kobo Daishi healed the pain by chanting a Buddhist mantra. Afterwards, the old man built the temple as a token of thanks. The characters in the temple’s name stand for “long” and “entrance”, and it’s said that the name refers to a place to take a break and recover. However, I wasn’t feeling tired yet, so I decided to push on.
Chodo-an, a tiny temple at the first stop on the trail
The path now followed a mostly flat forested ridge, with some short up and down sections. There were occasional glimpses of the mountains on the Kamiyama side. The sun had retreated behind the clouds; it felt cold, and a bit lonely. I suddenly emerged from the trees, and had an outstanding view of the Yoshino river valley. A sheltered bench beckoned me to sit down for an early lunch, but I wasn’t hungry yet. The path turned south, away from the Yoshino valley, and towards the Kamiyama area, and I soon re-entered the forest. There were frequent signs, including the distance and walking time to the next small temple on the way. I never had to wonder where I was, and the lack of a map didn’t seem to be adisadvantage after all.
View from just after Chodo-an, from an altitude of 500m
After reaching an elevation of 600 meters, the path descended quickly, and I soon arrived at another, larger, Buddhist temple called Ryusui-an (柳水庵), 6.6km from my starting point. The first two characters meant “willow” and “water”. When Kobo Daishi arrived here, he wanted to drink some water but there was none. So he used a mantra on a willow branch, which led him to an underground spring. Nowadays, the spring is called “yanagi no mizu”, meaning the willow’s water. I had my own supply of water, so I had a good long drink from my water bottle and moved on.
Trail just before the descent to Ryusui-an
I finally came across another person as I was walking past the temple buildings. I asked him if he was hiking the trail, or maybe a monk looking after the temple. He replied that he was doing some sightseeing, and pointed at his car, parked on a road behind. I had arrived at the first of the escape routes along the trail. I had been walking for two hours and a half, and was halfway to temple 12. There was a small rest house a few minutes away on a bend on the road, but I still wasn’t tired or hungry, so I crossed the road and continued along what was now a wide forest road.
Interesting statuette seen along the trail
From this point, I saw fewer signposts and religious symbols along the way. The forest road went straight through the forest, and it soon joined up with another forest road. While I was trying to figure out whether I had to go left or right, I noticed that the hiking path had reappeared on the other side, marked by a small sign. I started to climb up the side of the mountain through a dark forest of tall cedar trees. Above, I could see some rocky cliffs, and I was hoping the path wouldn’t take me there. Just after 1pm, I reached a staircase at the top of which was a statue of Kobo Daishi.
The statue of Kobo Daishi at the top of the staircase
I was amazed to see a massive thirty-meter high cedar tree, called “Souchi-no-ipponsugi” (左右内の一本杉) or “ipponsugi” for short. Although at the base it was just one tree, it quickly formed several trunks that spread out in all directions, and could be better appreciated by walking past and seeing it from the other side. At 745 meters, this was the highest point of the section between temples 11 and 12. There was a bench, so I finally sat down for a quick lunch. According to the legend, Kobo Daishi took a nap using the roots of the tree as a pillow, and as he slept he saw the Buddha in his dreams. Although I felt tired from the steep climb, it was really cold, so I thought it would be better to skip the post-lunch nap, and hurry along my way.
The many branches of Ipponsugi
The path down was less steep than on the way up, so I started to run down. I wasn’t behind schedule, but it was an excellent way to warm myself up. I soon popped out of the forest into a cultivated area near a small village. There was a wide view of a valley to the north, at the end of which was Kamiyama Town. However, before I could get there, I needed to climb one more mountain.
In the distance, my final destination, Kamiyama
I noticed a house with a pointed metallic roof, like a pyramid, just outside the pyramid. Afterwards, I found out that it was a protective aluminium cover and underneath was a thatched roof, also known as “kayabuki”. In the past the roof was uncovered and exposed to the elements, but as the number of roof-thatchers dwindled, it became very difficult and expensive to repair these types of roofs, so these metal tops were introduced.
A short detour through a village
I was now walking along a road, but I picked up the hiking trail again shortly after crossing bridge over a rushing river. The final climb took me from the bottom of the valley up to a temple on the side of Mt Shosan. At 700m, it was the second highest temple on the Shikoku Pilgrimage. The path was steep and a bit rocky at times. At 3pm I reached the temple parking lot, where I was rewarded with a good view, looking back across the valley at the ridge with the spreading cedar tree.
Final approach to Shosan-ji Temple
I walked another ten minutes along a wide flat gravel path round the side of the mountain to reach the main temple area, at the top of a staircase and past the entrance gate. I observed many interesting-looking statues along the way and within Shosan-ji, but my limited knowledge of Buddhism meant that I couldn’t really appreciate their significance. Within the temple grounds, there were many tall cedar trees; apparently, some of them were over 500 years old.
Mischievous child behind the purification basin
Shosan Temple was founded over a thousand years ago, and its name can be translated as “Burnt Mountain”. According to the legend, a dragon used to live there occasionally setting the mountain on fire, till Kobo Daishi came along and imprisoned it in a cave. I found out afterwards that there was a trail leading to this cave, which then continued to the top of the mountain (938m). Since I completely missed it, I have a burning desire to return and complete this part of the hike.
The main temple building at Shosan-ji
Since it was still early afternoon, I decided to walk down, adding a couple of kilometers to the hike. The main road descended through a series of switchbacks, but the trail went straight, and cut across it several times. Just before 4pm, I reached the small Buddhist temple of Joshin-an (杖杉庵). The legend associated with this place is more heart-wrenching than the previous ones. Emon Saburo was once the richest man in Shikoku. One day, he chased a pilgrim away from his house. Unbeknownst to him, the pilgrim was Kobo Daishi. After Emon’s eight sons all fell sick and died, he realised his terrible mistake. He walked the Shikoku pilgrimage 20 times looking for Kobo Daishi to ask for forgiveness. In the end he collapsed with exhaustion. However, he was visited by Kobo Daishi before he died and was forgiven. The statue next to the temple shows this last scene, and onecan’t help but feel a bit moved after knowing the story.
Cheeky monkey stealing offerings
This last temple on my pilgrimage hike was also my rendez-vous point with myKamiyama acquaintance, and he turned up with his car just a few minutes later. I was looking forward to getting to my hotel at Kamiyama Onsen and enjoying a relaxing hot spring bath, to wash away the weariness of the pilgrim’s trail. The path hadn’t knocked me down but my muscles felt knocked about!
My last visit to this part of Tochigi was in December 2018. I was concerned about snow on the hiking trails in mid-December, so I chose a low mountain close to Kanuma station. The whole area has many mountains with lots of hiking trails, and so far I’ve only scratched the surface.
A hidden valley encircled by mountains
A short bus ride (the same one for Furumine Shrine) took me to the entrance of Choanji Temple 長安寺 a little before 9am. The start of the trail, to the right of the temple, had been washed away by typhoon Hagibis. Fortunately, wands with pink ribbons had been placed through the wreckage of fallen trees, allowing me to make my way to an undamaged forest road above, leading to a good view of the valley below.
It’s a scramble but the path is still climbable
I then left the forest road for a nice hiking trail taking me to the top of the ridge with even better views of the entire area. Westwards, I could see Kobugahara and Mt Yokone, which I had climbed last year. There was a power line that cut across the entire landscape; the pylons were placed at the top of each ridge, and the electrical wires spanned the valley in a spectacular manner.
Bringing electricity to all villages in the mountains
After taking in the views, I continued along the ridge and soon entered a cedar forest with few views. This part was fairly easy, with some slight ups and downs. Suddenly the path started to climb steeply; rocky sections appeared, with rope on the side to help pull yourself up. The air also got colder – I could feel that the top was close. I reached the summit of Mt Hagaba 羽賀場山 completely in the trees just before 12h30. I found a small opening facing Southeast, and sat down to have lunch, with a view of the hills of Southern Tochigi stretching away into the distance.
Looking back towards Kanuma
Since I had barely completed half of the hike, I couldn’t spend too much time at the top. After setting off again, the path started to descend quite steeply – too much in fact. I realised that I may have lost the trail. I retraced my steps. Suddenly I heard some voices to my right. The ridge on that side didn’t descend quite so much, so I found what seemed like a path and crossed over. Once I was off the steep slope, I was more confident I was on the right path. I then encountered a group of three hikers – the only people I saw on the entire hike, and the sources of the voices I had heard earlier.
As the hike progressed, the ridge got narrower
From this point, the path went up and down more steeply. There were more and more rocky sections – it was starting to turn into an exciting hike. At one high point I had a glimpse of the Nikko mountain range through the trees. After one final steep climb, I reached the top of Mt Otenki お天気 (777m) at 2pm. It was an unusual summit in that there were at least five different summit markers! A few meters beyond the summit, there was a magnificent view of Mt Nikko-Shirane, Mt Nantai and Mt Nyoho. To the left and right were countless other mountains and ridges, mostly snow-free.
The Nikko mountain range
I would have spent an hour gazing at the view, but according to my guidebook, another 90 minutes were needed for the descent, and my return bus was at 4pm. I reluctantly started going down at 2h30. The path was very steep. It split into two and I took the left path following the ridge (both paths take the same time). I reached the bottom of the valley as the sun was starting to get low, creating some nice effects in the forest.
Late afternoon sun filtering through the forest
I arrived back the road and the bus stop after only one hour, one of the rare times I’ve ended a hike way ahead of schedule. Unfortunately there wasn’t much to do in the neighborhood, but I was able to use the time to get ready for the two hour trip back to Tokyo.
Since I made blog entries for nearly all my hikes in the Tokyo area in 2019 – there are some December ones left that I’ll write up soon – I won’t do a summary like last year. Instead, I’ll share some numbers for the past year.
Total Number of Hikes
In 2019, I had 46 outings that resulted in some form of hiking (ten more than in 2018). “Hiking only” trips within the Tokyo area, totaled 40 (also ten more than the previous year). I’m glad I achieved my personal goal of surpassing the number of hikes in 2018, and equaling that of 2017, (although 2019 had more short hikes), despite tendinitis in my left ankle that has been bothering me since the summer. The hikes were evenly divided between Saturday and Sunday, an improvement from last year when most hikes fell on a Sunday.
Hikes per Prefecture
The prefecture where I did the most hikes was Yamanashi (11) – a bit surprising since I had already done many hikes in that area, but then Yamanashi has many mountains. Gunma (8) ranked high up because half the hikes bordered on other prefectures. I was also surprised that Kanagawa (5) did well. I really thought I had exhausted that area in previous years. I was glad I was able to do several hikes in Ibaraki (4), an area I started to explore only last year. I also managed more hikes in Shizuoka (4) that weren’t on, or close to, Mt Fuji, and I hope to explore that prefecture more in 2020.
One of my goals for 2019 was to do more hikes in Tokyo (3), and although the result isn’t great, it’s honorable. I had really wanted to go to Tochigi (3) more often, but I often found myself canceling my plans there because of the weather. My biggest regret is not hiking more in Chiba (2). Many trails were severely damaged due to last year’s powerful typhoons, and it’s unlikely I will be able to go there this year. I was kind of shocked to see how little I had hiked in Saitama (2). However, this is one area I had extensively explored in previous years.
Hikes by Means of Transport
I wasn’t surprised that so hikes many hikes required access by bus (23). However, I still managed to find many station to station hikes (11), although road walking was required for a few of them. Occasionally, I opted to go by rental car (7) or by taxi (3), since there was either no bus or the times weren’t convenient.
I’d been through Otsuki so many times, on my way to either the Mt Fuji Five lakes area, or Kofu city, and each time I saw this rocky hill jutting up behind the city. Since it’s not a very big mountain, I did it as a morning hike, returning to Tokyo around noon. At the moment, two out of the three hiking trails are closed, these closures predate typhoon Hagibis, but it’s still possible to hike up via the back of the mountain. After reaching the highest point, it’s possible to continue along the ridge westwards for another hour, and finally walk back to Otsuki station forming a loop; since it’s a popular hike, there are warning signs and maps about this right outside the station, and along the approach to the trailhead.
Autumn colours still on display in December
I used the convenient and comfortable Chuo line limited express to get to Otsuki station, only one hour from Shinjuku. It took me another hour to reach the start of the trail – Hatagura tozanguchi 畑倉登山口, just opposite a driving school. Although I had to walk on the road, there were good views of Katsura river (which later becomes Sagami river), Mt Momokura and Mt Gongen. The crisp autumn weather made all the surrounding mountains clearly visible. After crossing the river, I turned around, and I saw the snowy top of Mt Fuji rising behind Otsuki city.
The hike follows the ridge from right to left
From the start of the hiking path, it took me just half an hour to reach the top of Mt Iwadono 岩殿山. It used to be the site of a castle, Iwadonojo 岩殿城 but there isn’t much left now. I was rewarded with an amazing aerial view of Otsuki town with Mt Fuji in the background. On the left, were the Doshi mountains, and on the right, were the Misaka Mountains. I was standing on top of the rocky face of the mountain, with nothing but a low fence and some bushes separating me from a hundred meter drop. My arrival at the top coincided with that of a rather large group, and I was asked to take their photo. One of the group members very kindly offered me some sweets in exchange. After they had moved on, I enjoyed an early lunch.
Spectacular view from the top of Mt Iwadono
Fortunately, my hike wasn’t over yet. From the summit, I continued along the ridge, first heading down for a short while before climbing again. I soon reached a fork where I had 2 choices – the forest path or the rock climbing path. Unfortunately, the group I had encountered at the summit, were now busy making their way up the rock climbing path – there was no way to get around them. Since I was on a schedule, I took the less exciting forest option. However, the paths merged soon after, and I found myself ahead of the large group, so in the end it was a blessing in disguise.
Last good view of Mt Fuji
I had some more excellent views of the valley below, and Mt Fuji, while hiking along a narrow, rocky ridge. I had imagined that this would be an easy hike, but it turned out to be quite exciting. It took me less than an hour to reach the top of the next summit, Mt Tenjin 天神山, surrounded by trees. A few minutes later, I reached an impressive rocky face called Chigo-otoshi 稚児落とし. The hiking path took me above it, where I had some more great views of the area. Standing on top of the highest boulder, I took in the last views of today’s hike. From there, the path descended steeply through forest to Asari 浅利 at the bottom of the valley, and it was another 30-minute walk along the road back to Otsuki station, which I reached just before noon, nearly four hours after setting out. I was glad to find a mountain that hadn’t been too affected by last year’s powerful typhoons. Apart from one fallen tree, the trail and the surrounding forest seemed in good shape. Hopefully the other trails will reopen sometime in the future.
Chigo-otoshi at the end of the hike – no safety fence here!
In mid-November, I went on a day-trip to check out the autumn colours in the Oku-Chichibu area. It had been one month since the devastation brought by Typhoon Hagibis, also known as Typhoon #19, and there was a risk that some trails would be damaged or even closed. However, there are many great places to visit in the area, and I was confident I would find somewhere to walk among the autumn leaves.
Sign reminding me that I was inside the Oku-Chichibu National Park
I drove from Seibu-Chichibu station, past Mitsumine-Guchi station, to Toryu Bridge 登竜橋 where I left the car. Past the bridge, it’s possible to walk along the Arakawa river in both directions. I first headed downstream; the path had been partly washed away in several places, and was also obstructed by several fallen trees. Since the path was a dead-end, I quickly gave up, walked back past the bridge, and followed the river upstream.
View from Toryu Bridge
First, I followed a gently climbing road past some ancient gravestones. After a few minutes there was a sign for a trail through the forest on the right. This led back down to the river, round a cliff on a wooden walkway, and finished at Ryumon Waterfall 竜門の滝. I retraced my steps to the start of the wooden walkway, and then followed another path further upstream, a few meters above the rushing river. There was a lot of damage here due to the typhoon. The trail was so washed away, that I soon gave up again. In conclusion, it’s impossible to hike along most of the Toryu valley at the moment. On the way back, I followed the road a little further, and it led to the start of the trail to Mitsumine Shrine. Apparently, this trail is open and undamaged.
Entrance to the trail for Mitsumine Shrine
Afterwards, I drove another twenty minutes, past the turn-off for Mitsumine Shrine, all the way to the Irikawa river valley. I was going to leave the car at the Irikawa Camping Ground and explore the river upstream. However, the access road was closed due to typhoon damage, and it wasn’t possible to reach the start of the trail. I had to fallback on plan C: completely avoid river valleys, and drive to nearby Tochimoto Plaza 栃本広場 where I could hike Eastwards along a low ridge sandwiched between two lakes.
Beautiful autumn colours in “deep Chichibu”
This time I was lucky. The path was easy to hike with no damage at all; the autumn leaves were still at their peak. It took me about thirty minutes to reach the top of Mt Omine 大峰山 completely in by trees. Even the little viewing platform wasn’t high enough to see over them. The path continued along the ridge, but since it was now downhill through a thick cedar forest, and I had get back to the car, I decided not to go any further. Luckily, it was possible to take a slightly different path back, with occasional glimpses of Oku-Chichibu-Momiji lake through the trees.
Easy hiking through the forest
I drove a different way back, following a very picturesque road with good views towards Mt Wanakura. I got back to Seibu-Chichibu station before 4pm where I was able to enjoy a nice hot bath, and taste some local sake inside the station, before taking the brand new and futuristic looking Laview Limited Express train back to Tokyo. After the heavy rains and strong winds that hit the Kanto area last October, I think that most hiking trails in Tokyo, Saitama and Tochigi prefecture are still hikable, except the ones following river valleys. Those ones may be closed for a while, but hopefully they’ll be restored sometime in the future.
This is one of my favourite areas to hike in the late autumn and early winter since the views of Mt Fuji are so beautiful. Also, since April 2019, there is a direct limited express between Shinjuku and Kawaguchiko that I really wanted to try. It’s the same deal as the Chuo line limited express – all seats are reserved only. However, for the Fuji train, there were no seats to be had on the day itself, and I had to stand most of the way. Although it’s convenient, I probably won’t be using this train again.
View of Mt Fuji from Yamadaya Hotel
I got off at Fuji station, boarded the bus for Motosu lake, and got off at Yamadaya Hotel next to Shoji lake. The view of Mt Fuji rising from behind the lake was stunning. Originally I wanted to hike all the way to Mt Ou and end at lake Saiko, but considering the fresh layer of snow that covered the higher reaches of the mountain, I decided to shorten the hike, and make a loop back to my starting point. The fact that the Yamadaya hotel also allowed day-trippers to use their hot spring bath was also a factor in that decision.
Already hiking in the snow in November
I started up the hiking path quite late in the day – at 11h15. I had hiked up this path once before in February 2013 in the snow, and there was snow again this time. I met many people coming down – apparently this is a popular hike. I reached Panoramadai パノラマ大 one hour later, and had an early lunch. Six years ago I continued down to lake Motosu on the other side. This time, I retraced my steps to follow the ridgeline Northwards. There were less people, and the path went up and down more steeply. Fortunately, the snow layer was thin, but I had to be careful not to slip on the descending parts. I was glad I had chosen the shorter hike and that I didn’t have to rush!
View of Shoji lake and Mt Ou in February 2013
View of Mt Fuji and Aokigahara forest in February 2013
There was a great view of Mt Fuji and Shoji lake, a few meters to the right of the path, just before Shoji pass – I nearly missed it even though it was marked on my map. After that, the path climbed steadily. I reached an area with a small shrine that seemed like the top but wasn’t. It took another five minutes along a level path to reach the true summit of Mt Sanpobun 三方分山. It was surrounded by trees, but there was a nice view of Mt Fuji on the South side.
The best view of the hike was near Shoji Pass
View from the top of Mt Sanpobun
It was past 2pm and time to head down. On the way, I had some good views of the ridge leading up to Mt Ou – hopefully I can hike it another time. The whole mountainous area spreading North-East, and bound by the Fujikyuko and Chuo lines, is known as the Misaka mountain range. One hour later, I emerged from the forest near the base of the lake. There was an interesting shrine with a couple of very large cedar trees. According to the sign, they were 1200 years old, 10 meters in circumference, and 40m high! A short walk brought me back to my starting point where I was able to take a nice bath with a good view of Mt Fuji in the late afternoon light.
This is another mountain that was on my must-climb list for ages, in an area relatively close to Tokyo that I had never been to before, between Mt Fuji and the Southern Alps. There is also a ropeway to the summit – I didn’t use it, but it’s nice to have the option. Finally, the temple area at the base of the mountain is the last resting place of the founder of Nichiren Buddhism – less interesting to me, but worth noting.
Above: Summit framed between cedar trees and temple buildings
Below: Significantly less snow on the Western side of Mt Fuji
I rode the Chuo line to Kofu, then changed to the Fujikawa Limited Express to Minobu station, arriving just past 9h30. I hopped onto the bus for the short ride to Minobusan at the base of the mountain. A short walk up the main street brought me to San-Mon 三門, one of the three famous gates of Kanto, according to the information board. It was certainly one of the most impressive gates I’d ever seen. Beyond, was also one of the longest stone staircases I’d ever climbed – a good warm-up for the hike ahead. At the top, I took time to check out the temple area before heading up the narrow paved road to the right of the ropeway, a little after 11am.
(Top Left) San-Mon Gate (Top Right) Kuonji Temple (Bottom Left) Bell Tower (Bottom Right) Random temple building inside the forest
I followed the paved road as it zigzagged up through the forest. There were few views through the cedar trees, almost no signs for the hiking trail, and no people. Occasionally, I could hear buddhist chants drifting up from below. Half an hour later, I emerged onto a shoulder, clear of trees – there was a small temple complex and a view of the summit. The paved road continued into the cool shade of the forest; its condition started to deteriorate, before completely giving up turning into a dirt road. Here, I passed a few hikers (and a dog), but it seemed that the majority of visitors preferred the ropeway. Just before 1pm, I had my first glimpses of Mt Fuji through the trees. A few minutes later, I reached the top of the ropeway, and a fantastic view of Mt Fuji and the Fuji river valley heading Southwards.
(Above) Summit of Mt Fuji behind the Tenshi Mountains (Below) Fuji River flowing into Shizuoka Prefecture
After snapping some pictures, I walked past the summit temple to the other side, where there was the summit marker for Mt Minobu 身延山. I was able to enjoy a great close-up view of the Southern Alps, with the Arakawa-zansan on the left, and the Shirane-zansan on the right, with fresh layers of snow each. Further right was Yatsugatake, in the clouds, and the Oku-Chichibu Mountains, free of clouds. I also had a good view of Mt Shichimen and Mt Fujimi, two mountains I hope to climb next year. Just past the latter was Mt Kushigata which I climbed in June this year.
(Above) Mt Shichimen (Below) Mt Fujimi, two other peaks of the Minobu Mountains
After a short standing lunch – there were no benches – I started walking down. I was supposed to head down the other side of the ridge I had come up, but instead, I seemed to be going down the backside of the mountain. I was the only person hiking down, so there was no one to ask. After triple-checking my map, I decided I was on the right path after all. I was on a paved road again, but I didn’t mind since there were now some good views through a mix of trees. Facing the massive peaks of the South Alps, I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere.
Soon I arrived at a temple manned by a solitary monk. There was an information board with a good map which I studied for a while. The monk hovered nearby. It seemed like he was eager for some conversation but didn’t dare, or wasn’t allowed to initiate it. I noticed Minobu Hot Spring written in English on the map so I asked: “are there any hot springs for day-trippers in Minobu?” “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Do you have to stay here all day?” I asked. “I Yes, but I go back down at nightfall.” He then pointed out the tip of Mt Fuji, above the ridgeline of the mountain behind me. Having run out of questions, I thanked him, snapped a few pictures, and continued along my way.
Beautiful autumn colours in the afternoon light on the way down
The path had now turned nearly 180 degrees, and was finally heading the correct way. I soon reached a magical spot, called “senbon-sugi” 千本杉, meaning one thousand cedar trees (in reality just 260 according to the sign). I’ve seen many cedar trees in Japan – I’ve even seen the Yakusugi on Yakushima – but I thought these were really impressive. They went straight up to amazing heights – I estimated over 40 meters, but according to the signboard, some of them topped 60 meters. I spent some time gazing and photographing these awesome trees.
The Japanese Cedar (scientific name: Cryptomeria), also known as the Japanese Redwood, is related to the American Redwood or Sequoia
I finally managed to pull myself away, and continued to head down along the road, still paved. It was now 3pm and I had to speed up if I wanted to get down before dark. There were some good views of Mt Shichimen to the right, with the sun slowly dipping below the ridgeline. I soon reached a viewpoint of the valley below and the turnoff for a hiking trail – finally! The path took me straight down the side of the mountain, cutting across the forest road several times. At one point, I had an excellent view of Minobusan town, and the temple complex perched above. I could again hear the buddhist chants drifting up below, creating a special atmosphere unique to Japan. I hurried on, finally reaching the base of the mountain and Minobu town around 4pm, in the time to catch the bus back to the station. As I was told by the lone monk on the mountain, there were no hot springs for day-trippers anywhere in Minobu. However the town does have a very beautiful five o’clock chime (see Video below) which played while I was waiting for my train back to Tokyo.
Minobusan town and the temple where I started my hike five hours earlier
See the views and listen to the sounds of Minobu
NEXT UP: Mt Sanpobun (Fuji Five Lakes) in Yamanashi
This was my fourth hike inside Togakushi kogen and the Myoko-Togakushi renzan National Park, one of the places I definitely wanted to visit again in 2019. Although Nagano prefecture had some bad flooding because of Typhoon Hagibis, it was spared the strong winds that knocked down many trees in the Kanto area. I used the shinkansen to make it a day trip. It was also my last “big hike” of 2019; temperatures dropped significantly in the second half of November, and there was more rain than average, meaning snow in the mountains.
Evening clouds mimicking volcanic fumes from the top of Mt Kurohime,
After arriving at Nagano city, I made my way to the Alpico Information Desk across from Zenkoji exit to buy my one-way ticket to the Togakushi Campground. My plan was to walk down the other side of the mountain and end at a train station along the Hoku-Shinano train line, so that I wouldn’t have to go back the same way. Although it was out of season, there were quite a few people, so an extra bus turned up, and everyone was able to sit comfortably during the one-hour ride. All the other passengers got off at the stop for Togakushi shrine, and I was the sole person getting off at the end.
Japanese birch trees cover the mountainside
Easy and fun hiking along the crater rim
It was a thirty-minute walk along the road, till I reached a turn-off for a forest road closed to cars, and yet another half and hour to reach the start of the hiking trail. Autumn was late this year, and the needles of the fiery larch trees were still tumbling to the ground. I finally started climbing at 10h30. Very soon, the trees changed to white birch. After one hour of steep climbing, I reached the top of the ridge – actually the crater rim since it’s a volcano – and my first views. Looking back, I could see the entire Togakushi highland, as well as Mt Takatsuma and Mt Izuna. In the distance, I could see the Northern Alps, Mt Yatsugatake and Mt Asama, with plumes of smoke drifting up. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out Mt Fuji – it should have been visible but it was perhaps too late in the day. Looking forward, I could see Mt Amakazari, Mt Hiuchi and Mt Myoko, the latter two with a dusting of snow on the top.
Mt Takasuma (2353m), a hundred famous mountain, climbed in 2011 & 2014
Mt Izuma (1917m), another volcano and 200 famous mountain, climbed in 2014
I set off again, and saw some patches of leftover snow on the trail, a sure sign that this was the very end of the regular climbing season. As I followed the curve of the crater, slowly bending Northwards, the Chikuma river valley came into view, the longest river in Japan. Looming up above, were the mountains of the Joshin-Etsu. It was my first time to see the view from this side – I had seen it before while skiing in Nozawa Onsen, diametrically opposite. In the center was Mt Madarao and Nojiri lake. The view reminded me of the wide valleys of the Swiss Alps. To my right, the lower half of Mt Izuna was all orange because of the larch trees covering its side and base.
The “Joshin-Etsu” mountains, where Nagano, Niigata and Gunma meet
Mt Madarao (1382m), also a ski resort in the winter, and Nojiri lake
From this point, the trail was fairly easy to walk with some slight ups and downs, but I lost time taking photos. I reached the summit of Mt Kurohime (黒姫山) a little after 1pm, a 200 famous mountain of Japan, and one five famous mountains of Northern Shishu. At this late hour, I had the summit to myself. Despite the near freezing temperatures, it felt pleasant in the sunshine, with almost no wind. I was so busy admiring the views and taking pictures, that I almost forgot the time, and finally set off after 2pm. I was shocked to discover that my ankle, which hadn’t bothered me much today, was suddenly quite painful. I had been counting on a quick descent to make it down before sunset, but I was uncertain how fast I could go with a lame ankle. Fortunately after a few minutes the pain dissipated, but it was a good reminder to always keep a buffer of time.
Mt Hiuchi (2462m), a 100 famous mountain, climbed in 2012, and Otomi lake
Mt Myoko (2454m), another hundred famous mountain, also climbed in 2012
The path continued along the ridge for a while, before turning sharply to the right and down the steep side of the volcano. With more time, it’s possible to descend the opposite side and explore the ponds inside the narrow crater area. However, I was now confronted with a problem other than time: there was a lot more snow than I had expected. I had to proceed carefully to avoid slipping. Luckily the trail zigzagged down and never became too steep. The snow persisted till more than halfway down, and I was relieved when I was finally walking on leaves and dirt again. I reached the end of the trail a couple of hours later, just past 4pm, and less than thirty minutes later I was at Kurohime station, where I caught a local train back to Nagano station. Hopefully I will get to this area next month for some skiing!
Early winter snow on the way down
The name Kurohime translates into English as “Black Princess”
This was my third hike on Mt Akagi, also a dormant volcano and one of the three famous mountains of Gunma (the third one is Mt Myogi). Since it’s a hundred famous mountains of Japan, I knew that the bus from Maebashi station would be packed. Thankfully, they had an extra bus prepared, so everybody was able to sit during the one-hour trip – a good thing considering that the road had many sharp curves. I got off a few stops before the Akagi Visitor Center, at Shinzakadaira 新坂平, and took refuge at the nearby Akagi Tourist Information Center. It was cold and windy – a big change from the warm weather just 2 days ago.
Hiking on Mt Akagi 赤城山
Easy hiking among white birch trees
I had a quick look at the displays, which included a mounted bear, then had some coffee and toast for breakfast at the small cafeteria. At 10h30, I was ready to brave the near freezing conditions. The first part of the hike was on an easy path along a forested ridge. An hour later, I reached the highest point, Mt Kuwagara 鍬柄山 (1562m), where I had a fantastic view of the whole area. To the East, I could see the ancient caldera of Mt Akagi with Ono Lake at the center, and the highest point, Mt Kurobi, above. To the North, I could make out Mt Nikko-Shirane and Mt Sukai. To the West, was Mt Haruna, with Mt Asama looming behind. To the South was the round top of Mt Jizo with its TV antennas, another of Akagi’s peaks.
View of Mt Akagi’s main peak Mt Kurobi and Ono Lake
The next part was a steep but short slope bringing me to a saddle at the base of my target peak. The next part was an easy short scramble up a rocky path, aided by chains in a couple of sections. The trees were small and already completely leafless, so I was mostly in the sun. Those same trees blocked most of the view from the top of Mt Suzugatake 鈴ヶ岳, but they kept out the wind during lunch. By standing on a rock, I could make out Mt Kusatsu-Shirane between the trees, although the summit was hidden in the clouds.
The rounded forested summit of Mt Suzu
It was already past 1pm, so I quickly went back down to the same way to the base of Mt Suzu. My guidebook suggested continuing back the same way to my starting point, but since I had time, I decided to take a detour around Mt Suzu. It involved descending about 400 meters on one side, and then ascending the same amount on the other side, but I was feeling fit from all the recent hiking so I didn’t mind. On top of that, I was hoping to see some beautiful autumn colours and enjoy the solitude of a path few people hiked. The path was a bit hard to follow – I had to look out for the “yellow strips” – but from time to time a helpful signpost appeared in the middle of the forest.
The autumn colours were at their peak
As I had hoped, the autumn colours were amazing, especially beautiful in the early afternoon sun – I felt like I was walking down an enchanted valley. To my left was a mischievous mountain stream, sometimes running above ground and sometimes under, the noise of rushing water alternating with silence. Thirty minutes later I reached the other end of Mt Suzu, where huge moss-covered boulders were mysteriously strewn throughout the forest, having apparently rolled down from above. Just beyond, I entered a larch forest, forming a wonderful orange ceiling above my head. I emerged onto a road half an hour later, and a little later I reached the lowest point of the hike, as well as the entrance of another section of the “Kanto fureai no michi” 関東ふれないの道, heading up a forested valley on the other side of Mt Suzu.
Mountain stream and autumn colours
Although the trail was now easier to follow, it was also in the shade, so it was harder to appreciate the autumn colours – it was much colder as well! At one point, the path met up with another stream. Apparently there were some waterfalls further up, but I didn’t have time to investigate. Soon I was climbing back up the side of the mountain. It was hard to make out where I was heading among the multiple folds of the mountain side, and for a while I wasn’t exactly sure where I was on the map. However, according to the ever useful signposts, I was on the right path.
The name “Akagi” can be translated at “Red Castle”
After going up what seemed like a never-ending wooden staircase, it was with relief that I arrived at Depari Pass, joining up with a path I had hiked previously on Akagi. It was nearly four o’clock and the sun was quickly dipping behind the side of the mountain. It took me another thirty minutes to reach the shore of Ono Lake and the bus stop just after sunset. Fortunately the bus back to Maebashi station was fairly empty, most people having taken an earlier bus back.
Hiking Around Tokyo 