Shrines and Springs. Or, Classical Bathing.
This post continues the account of the trip Alex and I took to Japan. The last post described how we left Kii-Katsuura and reached Shingu, a journey of nearly 16 kilometers.
For a map of our route, click here.
We started traveling by bus after we visited the JR Information Office back in Kii-Katsuura to price taxis and car rentals. The young clerk in the JR office in Katsuura made it clear that taxi and car rental costs were horrifying—over $100 US. She infected us with her frugality on the spot and of course we swore we would naturally take the bus rather than humiliate ourselves by raining lavish sums on private transportation. Later we realized, as if coming back to reality after an intense delusion, that a $100 cab ride was a huge undercharge for the distance involved. In the upshot, we might have been the only people in the Yunomine Onsen resorts who used the bus instead of forking over a modest C-note to be driven, luggage and all, into the Kumano Kodo. But we wouldn’t have wanted to miss the bus ride. The bus was full of faces—real peoples’ real faces. Sometimes we only cheat ourselves by doing the expected thing.
The highway from Shingu to Yunomine Onsen followed the Kumano-Gawa River into the Kumano mountains. Not far above Shingu’s industrial area, the Kumano-Gawa became crystal clear, flowing in shades of green and blue through a wide stony floodplain generously carved out of the surrounding mountainsides.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
The side-streams flowing into it were under construction, with dams and floodgates being built along miles of waterway. The damming seemed at first sight to be out of scale with the size of these mountain creeks—double-gated cement fortifications on a Lord of the Rings scale, set into otherwise pristine hillsides. But considering the steepness of the slopes, the sudden torrents and landslides in a real storm here would be cataclysmic. The geology of the river itself hinted of breathtaking typhoon flood stages. The huge dams and floodgates hanging off the hillsides were perhaps not excessive at all, if the intention was to restrain a beautiful but destructive river. Whether such dynamic landscapes can actually be restrained remains to be seen. The occasional hamlets and farmsteads along the banks of the river seemed to me to be challenging fate.
The bus line’s fare system was so rational and obvious that we had quite a lot of difficulty with it. An electronic board showed the numbers for each stop on the line, and from stop to stop the board ran a total of the fare owed based on the stop you got on at. Nothing could be more straightforward. The Western mind rebels at such obviousness. The lack of hidden fees and surcharges made us doubt the very numbers glowing in front of our faces. Not to mention it was much too cheap to be quite believable. Why the bus company wouldn’t instinctively cheat and abuse its passengers is more than I can answer. One felt somehow that the only fair response was to apologize to the driver for being so much trouble. It was an instructive ride. Without the people around us, we might have easily misunderstood the gigantic flood engineering projects as some sort of defacement. But here were the very people who lived with these unstable mountain creeks. Very likely they were all in favor of flood control.
Yunomine Onsen is said by some to be the oldest hot springs resort in Japan. Yunomine Onsen certainly pre-dates the resort concept by many centuries. Historically it was a last stop for pilgrim processions heading for Kumano Hongu Taisha. It was a place for ritual purification before approaching the shrine, whether in the cold springwater pools under the Yunomine Oji Shrine, which seem very little visited today, or the famous hot springs of the Onsen itself.
The bus line’s fare system was so rational and obvious that we had quite a lot of difficulty with it. An electronic board showed the numbers for each stop on the line, and from stop to stop the board ran a total of the fare owed based on the stop you got on at. Nothing could be more straightforward. The Western mind rebels at such obviousness. The lack of hidden fees and surcharges made us doubt the very numbers glowing in front of our faces. Not to mention it was much too cheap to be quite believable. Why the bus company wouldn’t instinctively cheat and abuse its passengers is more than I can answer. One felt somehow that the only fair response was to apologize to the driver for being so much trouble. It was an instructive ride. Without the people around us, we might have easily misunderstood the gigantic flood engineering projects as some sort of defacement. But here were the very people who lived with these unstable mountain creeks. Very likely they were all in favor of flood control.
Yunomine Onsen is said by some to be the oldest hot springs resort in Japan. Yunomine Onsen certainly pre-dates the resort concept by many centuries. Historically it was a last stop for pilgrim processions heading for Kumano Hongu Taisha. It was a place for ritual purification before approaching the shrine, whether in the cold springwater pools under the Yunomine Oji Shrine, which seem very little visited today, or the famous hot springs of the Onsen itself.
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
The shrine became famous by the 9th Century but is certainly much older. Yunomine Onsen likewise is at least that old, although probably not datable, a stone age site. It is a steamy place and there is an open volcanic spring in the creek bed. We could have boiled eggs in the creek.
Everywhere we stayed in Japan the hoteliers did all that could be done to make sure we were comfortable and felt welcomed and at home. This was so much the case that comparisons would be invidious. But somehow the onsen at Yunomine actually felt as if it was familiar. Just looking at it was enough to set off waves of relaxation. This, if I had any doubts about it, was the very spot I had been trying to reach. It was as if our guest room itself was the exact room I had been trying to find.
Everywhere we stayed in Japan the hoteliers did all that could be done to make sure we were comfortable and felt welcomed and at home. This was so much the case that comparisons would be invidious. But somehow the onsen at Yunomine actually felt as if it was familiar. Just looking at it was enough to set off waves of relaxation. This, if I had any doubts about it, was the very spot I had been trying to reach. It was as if our guest room itself was the exact room I had been trying to find.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
It was no trouble to find the suite of hot baths, because that was why the guests were there. “Take all the baths you can” -- it was as simple as that. The place was a bit rambling, with rooms on one wing and a central area that had once been the country mansion of a feudal noble, and the baths in another wing. We loved being provided with slippers that fit our huge western goblin feet and cool, crisp, stylish yukatas to relax in. The first moment of sinking neck deep in a vaguely yellow sulphurous caldarium removed all doubts. Yes, take all the baths you can. There was a good amount of phosphate in the water too. The smaller satellite baths were more like tubs and the water in them seemed saltier or hotter, though the exact mixture in the various rooms changed a bit—which made sense considering the water would have been much too hot for anything but cooking if it had not been mixed with creek water.
There wasn’t much to do in Yunomine Onsen except love the place. There were a couple of snack bars across the street, and the inevitable stand of vending machines, which included a hot coffee machine. Yunomine Onsen would probably develop a side street and thus become a two-street hamlet if it could, but the sharp walls of the gorge prevent it. Thus some of the onsens in Yunomine have driveways and even small parking lots, while others do not. The possibilities included getting a green matcha ice cream cone (highly advised), or boiling some more eggs in the creek if you haven’t done that already, or taking another bath or two while waiting for dinner.
There wasn’t much to do in Yunomine Onsen except love the place. There were a couple of snack bars across the street, and the inevitable stand of vending machines, which included a hot coffee machine. Yunomine Onsen would probably develop a side street and thus become a two-street hamlet if it could, but the sharp walls of the gorge prevent it. Thus some of the onsens in Yunomine have driveways and even small parking lots, while others do not. The possibilities included getting a green matcha ice cream cone (highly advised), or boiling some more eggs in the creek if you haven’t done that already, or taking another bath or two while waiting for dinner.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
Sitting in volcanic water to be mineralized turned out to be openly brilliant. It wasn't just the heat, or the natural geothermal quality of the heat; the minerals and assorted elements brewed up by the volcano made it more than just another bath. To paraphrase T. S. Eliot, who never stayed there although Andre Maurois did, all day and most of the night the guests came and went in their comfortable matching yukatas, looking freshly boiled as they came out of the baths and looking as if they had been freshly boiled rather recently before going in. There was also a sauna in case anyone fancied a dry heat. The mossy wood, the sulphurous residues, the sheer amount of water involved in taking an open shower before and after washing off before you get into the bath itself, made the footing slippery and care was needed. Onsen bathing is necessarily mindful.
For dinner, a 4.5 or maybe 5 star chef (though Michelin doesn’t go to Yunomine Onsen) produced tray after tray of astonishing cuisine. It has to be said the hot springs feast is not about pounds of food and gluttony. Kaiseki cuisine is supremely healthy. It’s about place, the place the food comes from and the place where you’re having the food; and it is about time and the seasons. The genius of the meal is its locavore inspiration as well as the variety and care taken in making it. We were served with the end of summer in the Kumano Mountains --not a story in words, but a story in themes and flavors leading from course to course, with foreshadowing and racconto, mimesis and prolepsis, peripeteia and proairetics. There was science and there was mystery; there was tragedy and comedy and legend and fable, and the meal then ended with eucatastrophe and tea. That is how it should be if you want your guest to depart wondering in himself at that which was come to pass. Much like the Sistine Chapel or the Jupiter Symphony, no amateur can do it.
For dinner, a 4.5 or maybe 5 star chef (though Michelin doesn’t go to Yunomine Onsen) produced tray after tray of astonishing cuisine. It has to be said the hot springs feast is not about pounds of food and gluttony. Kaiseki cuisine is supremely healthy. It’s about place, the place the food comes from and the place where you’re having the food; and it is about time and the seasons. The genius of the meal is its locavore inspiration as well as the variety and care taken in making it. We were served with the end of summer in the Kumano Mountains --not a story in words, but a story in themes and flavors leading from course to course, with foreshadowing and racconto, mimesis and prolepsis, peripeteia and proairetics. There was science and there was mystery; there was tragedy and comedy and legend and fable, and the meal then ended with eucatastrophe and tea. That is how it should be if you want your guest to depart wondering in himself at that which was come to pass. Much like the Sistine Chapel or the Jupiter Symphony, no amateur can do it.
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
The next day we walked the stretch of the Kumano Kodo, or Kumano Incense Path, from Yunomine Onsen to Hongu Taisha. This is a tough trail.
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
And yet it has been in use so long that footsteps are worn into the rock.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
The trail is lined with the shrines of two religions, both of considerable antiquity.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
Having been at the Nachi Shrine, we knew about the raven spirit guide, Yatagarasu. After we crossed the mountain, as we were descending toward Hongu Taisha, we saw ravens migrating toward the shrine below us on the steep slopes. As Alex said, they weren’t making anything up. The spirit guide ravens were quite real.
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
https://japanesemythology.wordpress.com/2011/08/22/the-legend-of-yatagarasu-and-its-possible-origins/
We came out of the woods onto the main street of Hongu and found the World Heritage sign pointing toward the shrine. While we were studying this sign, a woman with her vegetable basket over her arm came up to us and made it clear by gesture and discourse that we wanted to ignore this badly mistaken sign. Instead she wanted us to head into the dim wood in front of us. Perhaps it was the Totoro shirt I was wearing, or the fact that we had walked into town on the Kumano Kodo instead of arriving by tourist coach, or something else, but we weren't about to ignore her good advice just because of a modern sign. We went the way we were shown, and soon found ourselves walking past ancient stonework among pines and hemlocks.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
My Neighbor Totoro, a forest spirit. [Credit: Studio Ghibli].
She had directed us to the ancient site of the ancestral shrine, about a kilometer away from the modern Hongu Taisha shrine and the World Heritage park. The ancient site was deserted except for a groundskeeper cutting grass with a weed whacker, who seemed a bit taken aback to see us. Here the earthworks and foundations of the old shrine remain, along with monuments marking the original location of Yatagarasu’s tree and the tree where the three glowing orbs of the Kumano Deities descended.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
The modern shrine houses the symbols or disks of these deities as well as a shrine for the Spirit Raven.
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
Hongu Taisha is of course a tourist spot, but not just a tourist spot; it is not a Williamsburg re-erected to celebrate something past and gone, but a living place and thus strangely and gratifyingly prosaic. These are not temples about strangeness and unreachability, but about normalcy and life as we find it to be.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
Though normalcy has its astonishing moments. We walked back through the still-deserted grounds of the old shrine and saw a black-eared kite at the site of Yatagarasu’s old tree, very nearly the size of an eagle. In the sunlight, it appeared to be golden-red.
We had certainly climbed a mountain to get to Hongu and naturally we had to climb a mountain to get back.
We had certainly climbed a mountain to get to Hongu and naturally we had to climb a mountain to get back.
Photograph by Gary Mawyer
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
We arrived footsore and dog tired and got straight back into the hot springs after showering. It is no wonder these springs are believed to have medicinal properties. A half hour of volcanic soaking later, every trace of cramp and stiffness was gone. We were as limp as cuttlefish and ready for the chef to tell us another story.
Photograph by Alexander Mawyer
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