The Autumn Waters of Mitaki-dera

Here are the things that epitomize autumn in Japan for me:

- bright, cold, clear days

- matsuri of all varieties

- nabe hotpot, roasted chestnuts, yaki-imo, curry udon, and other fall foods

- persimmon trees

- falling asleep and being unable to crawl out from under the kotatsu for hours (still working on this one for the year, incidentally… too busy, and lacking the proper equipment)

- 紅葉

Of all these, the last – viewing momiji maples – is probably the most important experience, in my opinion. I’ve come to realize that spending a year near Kyoto spoiled me on many counts (it’s probably the #1 destination for such seasonal beauty, for example) but even knowing my own bias, it seems like I had to look hard to find appropriately impressive trees here in Hiroshima. The Jogakuin campus has some lovely ginkos that went blazing gold a couple of weeks ago, but up until last Saturday I was waiting impatiently for some sign of red on the nearby hills to tell me fall was really here. In fact, once I heard everyone starting to comment that it’s actually winter now, I began to get a little panicky – sometimes the timing for momiji can be a little touchy, and I was afraid I’d somehow missed the peak entirely. When I saw our one prominent campus tree (behind the chapel, on the way to the cafeteria from Sophia Hall) starting to show vague signs, I decided I had better give one of the city’s two major maple points a try.

Miyajima is famous for 紅葉, to the point that they sell manju, keychains, statues, tableware, and stuffed animals (plus gods know what else) in the shape of maple leaves. But consequently, the place is so packed with Japanese-style “leaf peepers” at this time of year that I’ve been informed you’ll be lucky to get a word in edgewise, let alone the rest of your body, before being shoved off the beach. A friend of mine said she tried, and the crowds were so impossible to deal with that the best she could manage was to grab some age-momiji and go home again – there were just too many people to see anything. Me being me, the last thing I want to watch is Miyajima’s sense of mystery being trampled on by tourist hoards, even if the leaves are that impressive… so I opted for the other momiji location I’ve been recommended, which is a large Buddhist temple complex called Mitaki-dera. This GetHiroshima entry suggested coming early in the day for the best conditions, so my friend Kim and I met at 9:00 AM and headed out.

To get to Mitaki-dera, hop the JR Kabe Line and go two stops north of Hiroshima Station. It takes about 15 minutes riding, although the trains can be kind of infrequent (two an hour, if I’m recalling the schedule right, one at the top of the hour and one at around :45.) Pass through Yokogawa Station, and then get off at the next stop, which is Mitaki. For some reason, the extremely tiny station doesn’t have its name very prominently displayed anywhere on the platform, so just be aware. The temple itself is another 15 minutes from the rail: read here for a description of the walking route, under “Access.” Kim and I simply opted to follow a small group of tourists outfitted in hiking gear, since it seemed highly likely they were headed in the right direction – trailing after them got us close enough to the temple that we found a marked town map pointing the way.

The town of Mitaki itself is pretty, in that quiet neighborly way that most of Hiroshima’s mountainside suburbs have. Edging the temple’s main road are a playground, a school, a few teahouses, and some unobtrusive graveyards.

People have told me this year was a bad one for momiji all around; because the weather fluctuated between unseasonably warm and unseasonably cold, the colors took a long time to show and weren’t very bright in many places. I am overjoyed to say that evidently, Mitaki did not suffer these problems. Even as we strolled up the steepening road to the temple entrance, we were already seeing momiji with their characteristic yellow, orange, and red leaves, rippling in the cool morning breeze and seeming to burst into flames right before our eyes. Once we reached the stone staircase leading up into the forested temple complex itself, we were completely enclosed in the fiery glow of sunlight filtering through the burning branches.

If I were to sum up Mitaki-dera’s overall impression, I would say it’s made up of leaves, statues, and mysterious, half-hidden waters that trickle, fountain, creep and dive down the mountain and through the undergrowth. The buildings, beautiful as they are, seem to be part of the landscape, merging into it to become extensions of the brush, the cliffs, and the trees. The many bodhisattva carvings alongside the paths almost appear to have been weathered naturally from stones pushing out of the ground. None of the complex’s grounds look remotely like a “garden” even though you know it must all be carefully tended: there’s a perfect balance of nature and nurture here, and consequently it’s easy to believe the entirety is wild.

The name “Mitaki” uses the kanji for “three” and “waterfall”: 三滝. “Waterfall” itself uses the “water” radical (those three dashes on the left of the second character) plus the pictograph for “dragon” (you can see his tail sticking out at the bottom of the kanji – 竜.) So if you want to take an artistic view, you can envision Mitaki as the “Place of Three Water Dragons,” and imagine the creatures winding through the woods, revealing their scales in canals, tiny streams, and fountains, or occasionally rearing up into those namesake cascades.

Kim and I wanted to explore as much as we could of the actual temple area, and then hike up the peak behind it, which is called Soko-yama. The complex’s buildings are scattered around the valley in a large, steep U-shape, with two mountain-bound trails (Course A and Course B) stretching from the arms of the U. We went towards the Course A side, to the left of the entrance, first, heading steadily upwards to explore the many small viewing points and sub-shrines along either side of the path.

Unlike some temples I’ve been to, which really focus on their status as tourist attractions, Mitaki-dera doesn’t have that aura. Of course, on the day we visited, there were many photography hobbyists hauling their tripods around to capture the exquisite sunlight beaming through the momiji… but on the other hand, Kim and I couldn’t even find a brochure map to guide us, which is kind of unusual for such a picturesque place. And just as many people were there to pray as to snap leaf shots and admire the view from the mountainside.

After exploring the Course A side a little bit, Kim and I turned back down, and took the other branch of the “U” path. We started up the actual Course B trail, and found it decently tough going; Soko-yama is a real hike, as it turns out, one that could conceivably be aided by the typical Japanese hiker outfit of backpack and walking stick. Still, there were plenty of casual sightseers puffing their way up like us, so we toughed it out until we got to the top. (Note: my legs were sore for the next couple of days afterward, and I’ve gotten in pretty decent shape since I came here, so please take note if you’re not interested in a little challenge.)

Right after taking the second picture, I made the terminal mistake of not reading a trail marker clearly enough, and we took a serious wrong turn. Right after you reach the peak next to the electrical pylons, don’t pick the trail split with a brown stake and red writing next to it – the red writing says “after this, the trail ends.” Like I mentioned, I didn’t read this until after the fact, though… Kim and I found ourselves on an extremely slippery, leaf litter-covered hillside, which sloped into a dry stream bed far below. The stream bed looked just enough like a trail that we had to scramble/slide all the way down to make sure it actually wasn’t, then clamber back up and return the way we came.

On the way back to the train, enjoying more of the suburbs that the temple’s water flows into, Kim and I discussed our next move. Thanks to visiting Mitaki-dera so early in the day, we not only got the best light, but we still had plenty of time to go on another adventure. Kim, who lives an hour away from Hiroshima city proper, mentioned that there were several other things she’d be interested in doing if we wandered downtown; I certainly had no objection, given the gorgeous weather. We walked from Hiroshima Station toward Danbara, intending to traverse Hijiyama-koen since Kim wanted to see it. By this time we were starving, so we stopped somewhere in what GetHiroshima.com refers to as the “wabi-sabi zone” east of the station, and had takoyaki at a tiny, tiny shop near the distinctive Pearl Building.

We went over Taisho-bashi Bridge and rambled through Danbara post-snack, visiting the antique market before climbing up Hijiyama’s back staircase. Sauntering across the hilltop park, I pointed out the Manga Library, and mentioned how to get to the nearby mall’s Sky Walk. Then we took a quick break at the Modern Art Museum – didn’t go in to the exhibits this time, just peeked around the museum shop a bit and borrowed the facilities.

I’m glad Kim loves food as much as I do. The takoyaki, good as it was, had already worn off, so once down from Hijiyama we decided to head for Hachobori and a couple of restaurants we know of. Our path included part of Heiwa-dori, but it was still mid-afternoon, so of course the Christmas light-up display the city sets out every year wasn’t turned on yet. I told Kim it was well worth seeing, so we decided we’d double back in the evening if we had time.

Coming up on the back of the Parco Department Store, Kim mentioned a bar I’d also heard tell of, the famous Molly Malone’s Irish Pub. She had been – but wanted to go again – and I hadn’t gotten to try it yet, though I’d heard a lot of good things about it from various internationally-minded HJU students. Since we were practically on the doorstep of the place we decided to give the fish and chips a go. Delicious, crackly golden-brown, and a huge portion which we split between the two of us. There were so many things on the menu I wanted to try also! I don’t miss Western food that often, but having a good pub around is definitely something to be valued no matter where you are.

Walking so much stirs up an appetite… I still wanted dessert. Once again Kim came to my rescue, and we hunted down a crepe shop she’d heard about on the other side of Parco. I should have taken a picture of my caramel-and-fresh-whipped-cream-stuffed crepe (it was pretty) but I was too busy cramming the thing into my mouth with both hands. Even though the store is right across the street from a Haagen-Daaz vendor, I think I’m always going to go for the crepes instead now. They have all kinds of wrapped sweet varieties (everything from plain cream to the deluxe mille-feuille with fruit) and even a few savory kinds (yakisoba crepe? Did I really see that?)

After a jaunt to Book-Off, where Kim showed me an enormous “secret” bottom level full of second-hand goods, it was time to head back and get her on the train home. We navigated towards the station via Heiwa-dori again, arriving just a few minutes before they switched on the light sculptures at 5:30. I was really glad we caught the lighting, not just for Kim’s sake, but also because I’ve been dying to take pictures of this Hiroshima tradition. It seems like every time I’m downtown after dark, I’m on the way to my part-time job and can’t take a moment to wander around.

Whenever I look at these pictures, I get the old Disney Light Parade theme stuck in my head. It’s like a brainstem reaction; before I even notice, I’m humming it (and now you probably are too, if you watched the video.) But these sculptures are entrancing, no doubt. My favorite is either the white palace dome above, or the Phoenix’s ice land: