Exploring Kansai II – Fushimi-Inari

Ten minutes and two trains south of Kyoto is the small town of Inari. Inari is named for an androgynous Shinto god of rice and fertility. Inari also happens to be the name of the yama – mountain – that rises up just beyond the station. Inariyama is home to the Fushimi-Inari Taishi, a series of five shrines scattered on this sacred mountain. Fushimi-Inari Taishi is the head shrine for the Inari sect of Shinto. As if the Japanese loosely held polytheistic approach to religion weren’t confusing enough, you have Inari appearing as a fixture in both Japanese sects of Buddhism and Shintoism. In case you haven’t read the word “Inari” enough in this paragraph, consider also that it is a tasty food made from tofu and rice.

Two weeks ago we headed down south to spend a three-day weekend in Nara. We took a shinkansen (bullet train) out of Tokyo Station, and two hours later we were disembarking at Kyoto. We caught the two local trains down to Inari, threw our backpacks in lockers at the station and headed up the mountain.

The main temple is less than 400 meters from the station. So even if you only have an hour or so to spare in Kyoto, you can make the quick trip out and back easily. We happened by as they were celebrating a matsuri – local/regional festival – which always makes things more interesting. Freshly harvested rice in 5 kilogram bags where stacked three meters high and ten meters long (ten feet by thirty feet). Large straw-covered containers of ceremonial sake sat under a tent, ready to be carried along in a parade with the portable shrines. Traditions and ceremonies like this have been carried out here since around 711 A.D.

We had come to climb a mountain, so we let the chanting monks and sharp music fall behind us as we headed up the mountain. Aside from the thrill of being out of Tokyo and on a mountain with trees, there are the alternating forest views of bamboo and deciduous groves. There are nearly eight kilometers (about five miles worth) of paths up, down and around this mountain. The path runs in a large figure “8”, past two lakes, four smaller shrines, innumerable family alters/shrines, and through ubiquitous orange torii. The most striking and unique feature of this sacred mountain is that the vast majority of the path is covered by torii – traditional, orange, Japanese gates. Each gate commemorates an individual or family. At the base of the mountain, the torii are extremely large, nearly seven meters (twenty feet) tall. After a short walk through these large torii, the path divides and passes through a section of two parallel paths of smaller torii, only about three meters (eight feet) tall. These create an orange tunnel that alternates between bright spots of yellow where the afternoon sun manages to sneak through trees and torii to create a sunbursts of light and darker moodier sections where the only light seems to be the brightness of the newer tori with shinier paint. Both paths rejoin about 300 meters later at the first small shrine.

The height of the torii vary greatly after the first small shrine, but they remain close together, with occasional gaps where a stone lantern has been placed to add light to the climb in darker conditions. There are also occasional breaks in the torii canopy that open up to areas of family alters. Nearly every altar has a pair of foxes, or kitsune. The fox is considered a messenger for Inari. In Japanese mythology, they are viewed as sacred and capable of possessing humans – the ideal points of entry being under the fingernails. The fox statues on Inariyama usually have a key (symbolizing the key to the granary) or scroll in its mouth. Most wear a red bib, placed by worshipers as a sign of respect. Some have painted eyes and mouths. Beyond the orange reflected light of the torii tunnel, and deep in the forest shadows these labyrinths of altars and foxes create an eerie atmosphere.

At the middle of the figure eight path are vistas that face the west and north-west. From this vantage point on the mountain you can see a large flat valley that extends over to Kyoto. While this was surely once fertile farm land it is now a continuous mass of concrete buildings corralled by mountains. The relatively small shrine at the peak offers no vista, just a long dark decent along the back of the mountain through more torii, more outcrops of family shrines and a denser darker forest. The silence is broken only occasionally, with families posing together in front of altars; people purchasing the special candles with giant wicks that burn quickly in stone or aluminum shelters on the altars; or purchasing the special sake and fruit sets that are left on the altars.

Being a sacred mountain where incense and candles are burned in incomputable numbers, combined with more wood than I have seen in ages (in both its natural state and in the carved torii) there is obviously a great risk of fire. There are signs everywhere warning against smoking. But being on a mountain without cisterns or plumbing the risk and potential for fire is great. Much to my amusement there were sets of red buckets strategically positioned around the shrines and altars in case of fire. Not that I am skeptical or anything, but I hope Inari, in some form is also the sacred mountain god of fire prevention, because while the foxes and burning candles were incalculable, the buckets were not.

Written October 19, 2007