Take the train north from Kyoto and you gradually leave the city behind, winding through deep mountains and dense forests.

Along the way, colorful Saga-Arashiyama, Takao Keihoku with its Kitayama cedar immortalized by Yasunari Kawabata, Kameoka’s dramatic Hozugawa Gorge, Nantan’s forest school, and Miyama’s thatched-roof village all sound full of fresh woodland air, each one worth stopping to explore.

But even if you fall asleep on the train and miss all of them, there’s no need to worry—the better reward waiting at the end of the line is Fukuchiyama.

Fukuchiyama

Fukuchiyama is an important junction linking the Kyoto-Osaka plain with Kyotango and the San’in coast. It’s about 1.5 hours from Kyoto by train on the limited express Hashidate, while the slightly slower JR San’in Main Line takes around two hours. From Osaka, the Kounotori limited express takes about the same amount of time.

I arrived at Kyoto Station early in the morning, still half asleep, to catch the train. There were barely any passengers on the first departure of the day, and even the conductor greeted me by saying it was really early. I had planned to doze off for a bit, but the increasingly lush greenery outside the window kept me engaged, and before I knew it, I had arrived in Fukuchiyama.

I didn’t rush out of the station. My Fukuchiyama itinerary would work from the countryside inward, starting with a shrine in the mountains outside town. So I quickly transferred to the Tango Railway shuttle. Tantetsu is a private railway company in Kyoto that operates the rail network linking the northeastern part of the prefecture.

The Tantetsu trains are all thoughtfully designed. Take this deep-blue "Tango no Umi" train, for example, created by Eiji Mitooka, the famed designer behind many JR Kyushu trains, as a replacement for the old "Tango Explorer."

Racing through the mountains, it feels like a sapphire slicing through a sea of vivid green.

The train I was taking looked much more down-to-earth. Besides the conductor, there were only two other passengers headed toward Kyotango that day.

Beyond Fukuchiyama, the train kept darting through tunnels in the mountains. The view alternated between light and dark, and my phone signal came and went, reminding me of the mountains of southern Zhejiang whenever I travel back to Wenzhou. For some reason, it all felt strangely familiar.

Motose Naiku and Amanoiwato Shrine

I got off at Oe-Kokunaigu Station, with the planned stops of Motose Naiku and Iwato Shrine not far away. Walking quietly downhill along the lush roadside, I occasionally spotted white herons skimming past the woods, as if with every step I was breathing the mountain air and sounds into my body.

At the foot of the mountain was a tiny village, a few dozen houses clustered together. During the day it was nearly deserted; I imagine there are very few young people left living in countryside places like this. On the road, an elderly woman leaned against a little pushcart and walked slowly along. Older people in Japan seem to love these carts—every time I see one, it almost looks like they’re moving forward while resting their whole body on it.

Past the village, the entrance to Motose Naiku sits at the foot of the mountain. Everyone knows Ise Grand Shrine in Mie Prefecture, the spiritual center of shrines across Japan, with a status above all others. According to legend, before Ise Grand Shrine was finally established as the place to worship Amaterasu, the deity traveled around the Kansai region for a time. She was enshrined here for four years as well, so places where she stayed temporarily came to be known as Moto-Ise, or “former Ise.”

Like Ise Grand Shrine itself, Moto-Ise is divided into an Inner Shrine and an Outer Shrine, and this Inner Shrine enshrines Amaterasu (the Imperial Ancestor Deity).

In “Kyoto by the Sea of Forests,” even the manhole covers are modeled after tree rings.

Climb 200 steps past towering old trees, and you reach a broad clearing in the woods where the Inner Shrine stands. The moss-covered wooden torii alone shows how deeply time has left its mark here.

The Inner Shrine is quite imposing, and judging from the donation amounts recorded on the pillars, it remains fairly popular. Japan’s mountains hide quite a few shrines and temples with this kind of old-world atmosphere. Someone once said that no matter what kind of “Kyoto” you’re talking about, it all ends up being “shrines-and-temples Kyoto” in the end. Come to think of it, that’s true—almost nowhere in Japan is free of shrines or temples.

After visiting the Inner Shrine, Amanoiwato Shrine lies a little farther in, tucked into a gorge. It has the most unusual setting of any shrine I’ve seen in Japan—the “heavenly” in its name really does make sense.

The shrine is tiny, but its presence is overwhelming, built on a rock slope of nearly 75 degrees. The worship platform is so small that only one person can stand there at a time, and you have to pull yourself up and down with an iron chain. Clearly, worshipping the gods requires not just sincerity but some physical agility as well.

Everyone else lightly grabbed the chain and practically bounded up like martial-arts masters. I, on the other hand, scrambled up on all fours in a graceless tangle. The Japanese people below watched me with polite smiles. Slightly embarrassing.

Still, it was better to appreciate the easy-to-miss beauty by the stream.

Seeing this remote worship pavilion, I really felt that Japan’s attention to detail can be impeccable. They know some people would struggle to climb up even with the chain—like me a few years later—so they built a small pavilion on flatter ground for worship from afar. Though I do wonder whether the gods mind this kind of laziness.

After seeing the two shrines, I still had some time before the return train. Even though a light rain was falling, a walk through the deep mountain rain to the next station sounded just fine. Iwato-yama’s colors are no less dazzling than Arashiyama’s.

Looking out, I saw endless forest. Trees of different colors and species seemed arranged in separate formations, each clearly defined; at the same time they looked like tribes that had stopped speaking to one another, gazing across the mountains from afar. It reminded me of the saying that distant mountains look like dark brows...

I got so absorbed in looking at the mountains that I nearly missed the train back to Fukuchiyama, much like my life: always running, yet somehow never quite making it in time.

Akechi Mitsuhide, Fukuchiyama Yakiniku, and Dance

Akechi Mitsuhide has nothing to do with yakiniku, but he does have a little to do with dance.

As soon as I stepped out of Fukuchiyama Station, the plaza in front was filled with promotional material about Akechi Mitsuhide. Yes, that Akechi Mitsuhide—the one who, according to the popular joke, got scolded by his boss over a smelly fish, became psychologically unbalanced, and ended up killing the boss instead. A good reminder of how important it is for leaders to care about their employees’ mental health.

Although his reputation as a rebel is not exactly stellar, the people of Fukuchiyama remember him fondly as a castle lord who built stone walls, improved waterways, and corrected wrongful imprisonments—doing quite a few things that genuinely benefited ordinary people. You don’t need everyone to love you; as long as someone still does, that’s enough.

Another reason is that Mitsuhide is the lead character in NHK’s new taiga drama season, Kirin ga Kuru, from the long-running historical series that has been on air for nearly 60 years. You could sense how much Fukuchiyama had geared up to promote itself alongside the show. Unfortunately, the pandemic hit, and it felt like a boxer throwing a fully committed punch into empty air—painful to watch.

Fukuchiyama Castle, built by Akechi Mitsuhide, is within walking distance of the station. The castle is not especially tall, but it is quite elegant, with the keep’s tiers rising one above another. Although the current structure was reconstructed in 1986, the restoration is highly faithful.

After seeing Himeji Castle, I temporarily lost some interest in other castles—the way people say that after seeing Huangshan, no other mountain quite compares. So I was content just to stand at the foot of the slope and admire it from below.

In the garden across from the castle are several small shops, which reminded me of Dananli in Wenzhou. Strange enough, I kept thinking of home all day. A commercial setup like this needs not only a landmark attraction nearby, but also charming little shops that draw people in. One example was this yakiniku place I really liked: Pyongyang-tei.

Fukuchiyama’s yakiniku scene is quite well known. It is said to be the small city in Japan with the highest number of yakiniku restaurants per capita. Because it sits on a transportation hub, there has long been an abundant flow of ingredients passing through, which helps keep prices low and quality high.

If you want grilled meat in Fukuchiyama, there are several options. You can go to a top specialty yakiniku restaurant such as Maruzen, choose an all-you-can-eat yakiniku place (usually around 2500 yen, though the meat quality is not great), or visit a family-run neighborhood spot like Pyongyang-tei that offers lunch set meals.

A friend once told me that while in Japan, I should take every chance to eat wagyu. That friend was absolutely right. The beef sizzled on the grill, and one bite filled my mouth with rich fat and flavor. Paired with rice and pickles, it was unforgettable—I still think about that lunch.

A yakiniku set like this cost only 1500 yen. A great deal.

After eating and drinking my fill, I wandered casually through Fukuchiyama. Along both sides of Hirokoji Street were eye-catching sculptures. Looking more closely, I learned that they depict individual movements from the Fukuchiyama dance, a tradition with more than 400 years of history. It is amazing that a single dance has been passed down for 400 years. It reportedly began when people celebrated and sang while carrying stones during the castle’s construction—something like a work chant, I suppose (though apparently they were having quite a good time).

From the photos, it seems that today the performers of the Fukuchiyama dance are mostly local middle-aged and older women. They rehearse regularly and perform at important ceremonies, a bit like Japan’s version of public square dancing. It reminded me of the ritual photos I saw earlier that morning at Moto Ise Naiku, where a group of older men and women were also reenacting traditional ceremonies.

Thinking about it that way, maybe back home people could channel the enthusiasm of square-dancing aunties into reviving certain traditional cultural rituals as well.

Fukuchiyama’s Sweet Side

In Fukuchiyama, the air carries not only the scent of forest and grilled meat, but also a trace of sweetness.

Before coming here, I never expected this little mountain city to have so many dessert shops of such a high caliber. You really cannot judge a city by its size.

After finishing yakiniku, I stepped outside and immediately ran into an award-winning bakery called AGE BUNBUN, known for its fried buns in a variety of flavors. For 300 yen, I bought a Uji tea flavor created especially in honor of Akechi Mitsuhide, and it really did have a wonderfully fragrant tea aroma.

Continuing north on this dessert journey, I came to Adachi Otoemon, a young old shop. “Young” because it was founded in 1991, giving it a history of less than 30 years; “old” because it is housed in a century-old building and still makes sweets using traditional methods.

Adachi Otoemon is famous for chestnut products made with a specialty of the Tanba region. Yes, you read that right: a chestnut cake worth 950 RMB.

To sell chestnuts at that kind of price would surely make the street vendors roasting sugar chestnuts under overpasses blush. I also felt a little sheepish, since I could only afford a small slice—fortunately, I am not that fond of chestnuts to begin with. One bite of the cake, though, and a thick, dense creamy texture spread through my mouth. It was much better than the loose, crumbly cakes you usually get.

Of course, there are also some more affordable items. I heard that hotel pastry chefs from around Japan regularly come to Fukuchiyama to sample new products and place orders for the next season, including some from mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan.

This kind of small-but-beautiful business model is wonderful: it supports sustainable local agriculture and turns familiar crops into products with exceptionally high added value.

Adachi Otoemon carries traditional Japanese sweets forward, while on the other side of the Yura River is a small shop that takes Western-style desserts to the extreme. It is a bit of a walk, but that also helps burn off some of the calories I had just consumed.

Along the way, you can catch distant views of Fukuchiyama Castle, and Otonase Bridge is impressive enough to make the walk worthwhile.

The Western confectionery shop mountain is housed in a Western-style cottage, with one location only and no branches. The owner inherited the dessert shop from his father and has carried it forward brilliantly; more than a decade ago, he also won a world chocolate masters competition.

Looking at macarons in colors like these, wouldn’t you want to pack up every last one to take home?

These are the champion chocolates, made in five flavors using almonds and Dead Sea salt. I tried them, and the flavor really was so rich that even half an hour later I could still taste chocolate lingering in my mouth—or perhaps that was just the psychological effect of paying more than 100 RMB for such a small box.

Even the chocolate dragees looked lovely. Every extra minute spent here seemed to add a little more weight to the luggage I would carry home.

Once you get tired of eating—because eating does take energy—you can head next door to Sandanike Park, sit in a small pavilion, take in the lake and mountain scenery, and keep eating there.

By nightfall, it was time to head home. Fukuchiyama Castle was lit up in blue in tribute to all the medical workers who gave so much during the pandemic. Thank you for all your hard work.

Costs:

- Transportation: Take the JR Sanin Main Line from Kyoto to Fukuchiyama Station for 1520 yen. If you take the Hashidate limited express instead, it costs 3200 yen. Because of that, it may be better value to buy a JR Kansai Wide Area Pass for five days.

- Admission: None.

About

  • Original author’s public WeChat account: Basically Harmless
  • Original author’s series: Basically Harmless