The sacred Mount Koya (高野山) is the headquarters of Shingon Buddhism, a sect introduced to Japan by Kobo Daishi (also known as Kukai), one of Japan’s most important religious figures, in 805. He began the construction of Garan, Koyasan’s central temple complex, in 826, after searching for the perfect place across the country for years. Since then, over a hundred temples have sprung up on the secluded mountaintop around the one founded by Kobo Daishi, and Koyasan is now one of the prime destinations for anyone wishing to experience shukubo, a temple stay. I will write about that experience in due time, while this post will focus on how to get there, as well as the temple town itself.
Map from www.japan-guide.com
Koyasan was a relatively last minute addition to our trip when we decided to cut our planned 5-day Kumano Kodo pilgrimage short because A. had a still healing injury. We were based in Osaka the night before and after our temple stay, and the hotel was nice enough to hang on to our luggage so we could travel light. We took the train to Gokurakubashi, the gateway to Mount Koya, a railway connection not covered by the JR pass. It’s ¥890 yen one way from Osaka with a change in Hashimoto, or an additional ¥790 for the mandatory seat reservation if you take the limited express which will take you there directly. Once in Gokurakubashi, you can either hike up the Fudozaka hiking trail, which is what we did, or take the cable car for an extra fee. Be aware that with this option, you are then also forced to get an additional buss pass, since the road from the Koyasan cable car station into the town is closed to pedestrians.
The Fudozaka trail starts near the train/cable car station by crossing the Gokurakubashi bridge, and it’s only 2.5km, but quite steep. If you keep up a steady walk on the main trail and don’t stop, the ascent will take about an hour, but we took a detour and stopped for rest and pictures, so it took us longer, a little over an hour and a half. We were the only people on our train who hiked up, so we had the trail completely to ourselves—we didn’t encounter a single soul in either direction, it was a little eerie. It had been raining, and the ground was covered in fallen leaves, so we had to tread carefully in order not to slip. The trail proper is actually paved all the way to the top of Koyasan, but there’s the option to take a different, more historic path through the woods by way of a detour up the Iroha-zaka slope instead, which is what we did on the way up (on the way back down the following day, we stayed on the paved road, and the descent takes a lot less time).
The Iroha-zaka slope used to also be called “48 corners” because that’s how many zig-zag corners the pilgrims had to overcome—I tried keeping count, but lost it somewhere along the way. It really is incredibly steep, and it was very clear to us why this was considered the hardest part of the pilgrimage to the top of Mount Koya. This part of the path was also quite overgrown, and there was hardly any signage (one trail indicator was literally a printed and laminated sheet of paper just laying on the ground, weighed down by two rocks!), so we sometimes had to try multiple forks to figure out which one to follow. Eventually, this more secluded path rejoins the paved trail, and it’s straight-forward from there.
At the top, the trail joins with the road the bus coming from the cable-car drives on, and ends at the Fudozaka-guchi Nyonindo temple hall, the only surviving “woman hall” of the original seven built around the Koyasan perimeter, since women weren’t allowed to enter the temple town until 1872. From here, we’d meant to enter the temple town directly, but there was a trail-head to what I later found out was the Women Pilgrims Course, obviously only leading around the town, and ending at the entrance to Okunoin some 7km later. We didn’t hike it to the end, but stopped once we reached the Daimon Gate, a two-storey crimson gate on the West side of the temple town, marking its traditional entrance, and passed through it to continue through Koyasan proper, leaving the surrounding woods behind.
If you expected a quiet, serene town, Koyasan will likely fall short of expectations: Make no mistake, it may be secluded and sacred, but it still caters to tourists, and there are enough of them (we visited on a weekend, which probably didn’t help). If you do want a bit of that feeling of quiet solitude and being one with nature, then I really can’t recommend doing the hike up enough—even during the busier season you’ll likely not encounter many people, and you’ll feel like you’ve earned the sacred sites you’re about to see.
We walked on the main street through Koyasan, which sported some lovely foliage and many souvenir shops, towards the main temple complex, Garan. We were lucky enough to get there just as the monks were doing their ritual rounds, walking from building to building, praying in front of each. The chanted sutras were beautiful to hear, and exploring the large grounds with the monks’ choir mixed with the nature sounds made the experience even better. Shingon is a sect of the branch of Tantric (also called Esoteric) Buddhism, and its main characteristic is the belief that the wisdom of the Buddha is inherent in all living things, and can be developed and realized through rituals employing body, speech, and mind. As such, enlightenment isn’t a distant possibility, but something which can realistically be obtained in life.
Garan is at the heart of the temple town, and encompasses a bell tower, main hall, several buildings dedicated to important deities, pagodas, a scripture storage, lecture hall, an assembly hall, and even a Shinto shrine dedicated to the gods of this mountain area. The two-tiered, 45m tall, vermilion Konpon Daito Pagoda is situated in the middle of Koyasan, and represents the central point of a mandala (a metaphysical map of the cosmos) covering all of Japan. Next to the Garan complex, there’s Kongobuji, the head temple of Shingon Buddhism. We were short on time so we skipped a visit, but the admission fee is ¥500, and it has Japan’s largest rock garden.
Before checking into our temple for the night, we decided on a quick visit to Okunoin—we were staying at the Eko-in, which is a stone’s throw from one of the most sacred places in Japan. I say “quickly” because we had booked a Cemetery night tour led by one of our temple’s monks, but I wanted to catch it in daylight as well and visit the temples which would be closed at night, so while we walked swiftly to be back in time for a meditation session at our temple lodging, we still went all the way to Kobo Daishi’s mausoleum at the far end of it, a 4km walk in all. I’m very thankful we did, because a sudden heavy rainfall started up in the evening, and our guided tour ended up being cancelled, so we never got to see it lit up in the dark.
The traditional entrance is marked by the Ichinohashi Bridge (which literally translates to “first bridge”), and visitors are supposed to pay their respects to Kobo Daishi by bowing before crossing it. On the other side, you’ll find Japan’s largest cemetery, with over 200,000 tombstones lining the 2km walk to Kukai’s final resting place. The cemetery may be the prime sight on Koyasan, but the crowds fan out on the winding path lit by hundreds of lanterns, and I found it to be a calm place.
Almost everything is covered in moss, but there’s a more modern section as well—I wish we’d had more time to explore this part, since the cemetery is now also known for its unique headstones: There’s a monument erected by a pesticide company to commemorate all its insect victims, and others in the shapes of a rocket ship or a cup, dedicated to the former employees of an astronautical and coffee company, respectively.
The two paths through the cemetery converge at the Gokusho Offering Hall, which sits next to a row of Jizo statues, called Mizumuke Jizo (“water covered Jizo”), because visitors throw water at them to pray for deceased family members. Next to these statues is the Gobyobashi bridge, which leads into the holy inner sanctuary of Okunoin’s temple. You are once again supposed to bow before crossing, and photography, food, and drink are forbidden beyond this point.
You’ll soon come to the Miroku Stone on the left side of the path. It sits inside a small cage, and the challenge is to lift it with only one hand—the belief is that it will feel heavier to sinful people. In front of Kobo Daishi’s mausoleum, the site of his “eternal meditation”, you’ll find Okunoin’s main worship hall, the Hall of Lamps (Torodo Hall), where over 10,000 lanterns donated by worshippers are kept inside and eternally lit. We had it to ourselves, and snuck an illegal picture, which doesn’t do it justice.
Coupled with our temple stay, this was one of my favorite outings during our Japan trip, and certainly the most culturally enriching and unique. I’d love to eventually be back and experience shukubo at a different temple, make up for the missed cemetery night tour, and visit the temples we had to skip on this short visit, perhaps during a different time of year—Koyasan is supposed to be especially magical and close to deserted when covered in snow in the deep of winter.
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