Tag: Dewa Sanzan

Shugendo (mountain asceticism) opportunity

Mount Haguro’s famous cedar-lined path. | photo by Kathryn Wortley

The following article from the Japan Times is notable for a number of reasons. Above all it shows how Shugendo is opening up to outsiders in dramatic fashion: rental clothing from a tourist office, and advertisements in English would have been unthinkable in times past. It can be seen partly as a response to falling numbers with a diminishing population, and partly as symptomatic of the way increased tourism in Japan, and increased spiritual tourism in particular, are having an impact on the country’s traditional practices.

It’s the feeling of Green Shinto that nature-worshipping Shugendo, despite being relatively little known in the West, provides greater opportunity for spreading internationally than Shrine Shinto, with its ties to physical buildings and the Japanese state. Though Shugendo is often associated with Buddhism, this article makes plain its strong Shinto allegiance too. In addition, the setting of Dewa Sanzan is most attractive and conducive to spiritual refreshment. Anyone looking for an enriching off-the-beaten-track experience while in Japan would be well advised to contact the links at the end of the article. (For previous Green Shinto articles on the subject, and Shugendo’s spread to the West, please see the category for Shugendo in the righthand column.)


Yamabushi: Japan’s ancient tradition of mountain ascetics opens to the public

BY .  SPECIAL TO THE JAPAN TIMES   OCT 13, 2017

A yamabushi in full regalia, blowing the characteristic conch horn

“It suits you,” says another hiker, pointing at my headdress. “You look cute.”
“Um, thanks,” I answer, relieved that I’m not alone in being unaware of the outfit’s significance.

Since being dressed in it, I enthused about its novelty and surprising comfort until I discovered the somber meaning behind it: these clothes are designed to resemble robes worn by the dead.

By donning the garments, my group and I have symbolically given up our worldly impurities and are now to traverse the three holy mountains of Dewa, called Dewa Sanzan, in order to be spiritually reborn. Each mountain symbolizes part of that journey: Mount Haguro, the present; Mount Gassan, the past; and Mount Yudono, the future.

This is the teaching of the yamabushi, the followers of Shugendo, an ancient ascetic religion combining aspects of mountain worship, Buddhism, Shintoism and Taoism. Critical to their beliefs is the pursuit of enlightenment through convening with nature over long periods as well as feats of endurance such as waterfall bathing and walking over fire.

Dewa Sanzan, in Yamagata Prefecture, has been an important center for yamabushi since the beginnings of Shugendo in the eighth or ninth century, although it didn’t grow in popularity as a pilgrimage route for spiritual rebirth until the Edo Period (1603-1868). To this day, each yamabushi in good health is required to make the journey.

As practitioners have begun to open up their once-private world to outsiders, an increasing number of nonbelievers are joining them, from businesspeople seeking respite from the stress of modern living to tourists and expats keen to uncover a lesser-known part of Japanese culture. And some local residents in Yamagata are working to welcome such people to Dewa Sanzan.

We start our journey at the foot of Mount Haguro, the most famous and easily accessible ascent of the three. After passing through Zuishin-mon (the Gate of Dual Deities), which marks the start of our journey to spiritual rebirth, we descend stone steps to enter a thick forest. Given the multitude of small and intricately carved wooden shrines, each home to a huge variety of deities, it’s not long before the group fans out to explore. But our yamabushi master is soon blowing his giant conch, signaling us to gather at a bright-red bridge where we see a waterfall alongside a small shrine expertly blended into the forest.

Soon, we reach the oldest pagoda in Tohoku, which is regarded as one of the most beautiful pagodas in Japan. At 30 meters tall, a single column runs through it, but each of its five individual sections is entirely independent. According to our guide, this is the reason it became the structure on which Tokyo’s famed Skytree is based.

The five-tiered pagoda on Mt Haguro

Invigorated by the sight, we begin to climb, taking the first section of the 2,446-step stone stairway to the summit in our stride. With few other hikers to disrupt the sound of bird song and the breeze rustling through the 580 cedar trees that line the path, it’s a serene experience.

Passing under the trees gives a sense of the history of this journey. Most of the cedars are between 300 and 500 years old and, for ultra-perceptive visitors, 33 hand-done engravings can be found in the steps, which are believed to have taken 13 years to build. We find one that looks like a sake cup.

Such is the beauty of the cedar-lined path that it has been dedicated a significant natural monument and awarded three stars in the Michelin Green Guide Japan.

Halfway up, we stop at a rest station that has been run by the same family for three generations. Undeterred by the challenging location, they all pitch in to carry supplies up the mountain each day. They offer green tea, sweets and a sweeping view, and their cafe is only closed in winter when snow prevents access.

At the top, we receive our Shinto yamabushi blessing, comprising chanting, bell ringing and paper swaying, at the main shrine building of Sanjin Gosaiden before descending to our lodging in Toge, the town at the foot of the mountain. For centuries, homes draped with shrine ropes have welcomed pilgrims to the region with accommodation, shōjin-ryōri(vegetarian Buddhist cuisine) and even mountain guides.

The second peak of our journey, Mount Gassen, could not be more different than the first. Though known as “the mountain on which ancestors rest,” it’s noticeably devoid of religious artifacts apart from one shrine at its midpoint and another at its summit. Passing wetlands brimming with insects and alpine plants as we snake slowly up the mountainside, it is clear that nature gets priority here.

Our path consists of two parallel wooden beams that are raised off the ground to protect the delicate ecosystem and encourage the single-file movement of hikers. As the grasses encroach on the sides, it also proves a great way to camouflage the human impact on this almost 2,000-meter peak.

A Shugendo ritual fire ceremony in which prayers are sent up in the smoke to heaven. Shugendo was banned by the Meiji Reformists in 1872 and adherents forced to choose between Shinto and Buddhism. The ban was only lifted in 1947.

That feeling of being at one with nature appeals to our yamabushi guides. Their reason for spending so much time on mountains such as this one is to let the force of nature and the natural life force in their bodies drive them forward when they encounter problems in their lives.

“We leave ourselves in nature and make peace in our minds, feeling with our body to realize our senses,” explains Fumihiro Hoshino, a 13th-generation yamabushi master at whose lodging we stayed. “With a yamabushi mindset, we can restore ourselves and rejuvenate our lives.”

Women, he says, are more gifted at prioritizing feeling over thinking than men, who tend to focus on what they can see. This, along with the general decline in yamabushi across Japan, prompted Hoshino to welcome women to learn under him. Of the fresh faces at the outings, more than half are now women, he says. Another trend is the rise in participants from Japan’s biggest cities. This comes as no surprise to Takeharu Kato, a yamabushi who left his job at marketing giant Hakuhodo to found Megurun Inc., which offers yamabushi experience programs.

Jizo in his guise as a monk at Dewa Sanzan. Deeply syncretic, yamabushi offer prayers to Buddhist and Shinto deities alike.

“Yamabushi has been used for centuries to provide space for consideration of the challenges of life, an important role in the current age where people are becoming busier and busier and are looking for the chance to revitalize,” he said. “When we train, we are no longer restricted or distracted — even our watches are removed — and we don’t speak at all. We allow ourselves to be totally open to what the master is trying to show us through the natural world.”

Kato’s assertion that Shugendo has never been so relevant is food for thought as we set off to the last leg of our journey, Mount Yudono, which is so sacred that photography is not permitted past its giant torii.

About 10 minutes’ walk up the path, we reach a small booth where the priest instructs each of us to go barefoot bearing one human-shaped fine paper cutout. Only after rubbing it over our bodies and casting it into a small stream to rid ourselves of impurities are we allowed to enter a special secluded area. In its center is a giant reddish-brown rock, which is believed to contain a deity. Hot spring water spurts out and flows down its side, into which steps have been carved. Gingerly, we climb up the soaking rock to reach a small shrine overlooking the valley, where our journey of spiritual rebirth becomes complete.

Reflecting afterward in the nearby sacred foot bath, we agree that at the very least we will leave this place feeling energized. Our journey through Dewa Sanzan, experiencing the tranquility and beauty of the three diverse mountains, and having the privilege of a glimpse at this rare part of Japanese spirituality, has left more of an impression than any of us had expected.


Fly from Haneda Airport in Tokyo to Shonai Airport, or take a shinkansen to Niigata Station before changing onto a Limited Express Inaho train to Tsuruoka Station. Three- or five-day yamabushi training experiences are available at www.yamabushi.jp. Yamabushi clothes and guides can be rented for a day from Haguro Tourist Association on Saturdays from April to October: www.hagurokanko.jp/en.

Foreign practitioner, Christian Grubl, performs a misogi rite with a shugendo group

Dewa Sanzan pilgrimage

Gassan Shrine peeks through a thick mountain fog. | Photo by DAVEY YOUNG

Gassan Shrine peeks through a thick mountain fog. | Photo by DAVEY YOUNG

Japan is covered in mountains, many of which have been considered sacred since ancient times.  A few years ago while travelling down from Aomori to Kyoto, I took the train along the Japan Sea and stopped off at various points, including the famed three peaks of Dewa Sanzan.  Regrettably, I only had time for a one-day visit, missing out on the heart of the pilgrimage, but an article yesterday in the Japan Times gives an account of the full experience.

Mountain pilgrimages are one of the great joys of Japan, taking one out of the mundane reality of everyday life and bringing one closer to the realm of the gods. Whatever one might think personally about the reality of another world, the mountain ascent alone is guaranteed to produce a ‘spiritual high’.
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The traditional pilgrimage to Dewa Sanzan, or the Three Mountains of Dewa, begins with the smallest and northernmost Mount Haguro. The plaque at the beginning of the path through Zuishin Gate tells of 33 carvings of “gourds, sake cups and the like” scattered along the 2,446 steps to the top of the mountain, and that whoever can find all of them will have their dreams come true.

It didn’t take me long to realize this isn’t so much an egg hunt as a goose chase, a clever distraction from the arduous ascent. Fifteen minutes and a few hundred steps in, my legs trembled, my clothes dripped sweat and I had yet to spot a single carving.

At least the scenic rewards of Mount Haguro were more immediate. Only just beginning my three-day pilgrimage, I’d already passed the high waterfall that serves to purify those foolhardy enough to undertake such a task, as well the famed five-story pagoda first built by Taira no Masakado in the 10th century.

Dewa Sanzan in Yamagata Prefecture has been a site of devotion since its founding by Prince Hachiko in 593. During the Heian Period (794-1185) it became an important center for Shugendo, a syncretic belief system that borrows elements from esoteric Buddhism and Shinto, and emphasizes the relationship between humans and nature.

I was midway up the mountain and bent over gasping for air when I noticed the clownish nose and mocking eyes of a tengu goblin staring back at me. I’d finally spotted my first carving on the stone stairs. Just then a trio of white-clad yamabushi, Shugendo practioners adhering to a rigorous form of mountain asceticism, passed by carrying pilgrim’s staffs topped with tinkling silver bells. The plonk-plonk of wood hitting stone reverberated around the towering sugi (Japanese cedar) trees that lined the path.

A mountain ascetic blows a horagai (conch horn) to announce his presence on the mountain

A mountain ascetic blows a horagai (conch horn) to announce his presence on the mountain

As the traditional entrance to Dewa Sanzan, Mount Haguro enshrines all three mountains’ deities at Sanjin Gosaiden. The nearly 200-year-old structure at the mountain’s flat summit blends elements of Shinto and Buddhism under its thick thatched roof, and upon my late afternoon arrival I found a few dozen tourists and worshippers alike listening to a monk’s resonant voice chanting sutra. Two other baritone chants unfurled from smaller temples to the left and right and overlapped in the humid air where sharp, clarion cries from unseen birds stitched together a rich sonic tapestry.

I bathed and retired to my room at the Saikan sanrūjō, an inn for pilgrims and Shugendo practitioners, for some quiet time before a dinner of traditional shōjin ryori (Buddhist vegetarian, or “devotion” cuisine). A group of yamabushi ate in a separate dining hall, apparently forbidden from consorting with riffraff like me.

I went to bed early knowing I had a long day ahead of me, but was awakened just before midnight by the sound of my fellow lodgers chanting in the main hall, and again around 4 a.m. by the sounding of a horagai, a trumpet fashioned from a conch shell, summoning the yamabushi to their daily training.

I’d come to Dewa Sanzan chasing a rumor that you could still hike the original 20-km route from Haguro to Gassan, the second and highest of the pilgrimage’s three peaks. I’d been asking everyone local I could corner about the apocryphal trail but kept getting the same answer: Most of the route had been paved over more than 40 years ago and the resulting road ended at Gassan’s eighth station, close to where I was to spend my second night.

The five-tiered pagoda on Mt Haguro

The five-tiered pagoda on Mt Haguro

Luckily the original path off of Mount Haguro still existed and would take me by the visitors’ center, where I could perhaps find fresh intelligence. Stepping from stone to stone I wondered if my feet fell in the same places as those of the haiku poet Matsuo Basho when he passed this way in 1689, before writing about his visit to Dewa Sanzan in Japan’s most famous travelogue, the “Narrow Road to the Deep North.”

At the visitors’ center I procured a topographical map of the area, consulted with the lone employee and confirmed my worst fears. The old path up the mountain had indeed been paved over. With any romantic notion I may have had of walking in Basho’s footsteps thus deflated, I camped out on the quiet, shaded porch of the visitors’ center to wait for the next bus.

At 1,984 meters, Mount Gassan is nearly four times as tall as Mount Haguro. The road to the eighth station meanders up the north ridge and affords long, sweeping views down the valleys on either side and over the Japan Sea to the west. Arriving at Midahara Shrine hours ahead of schedule, I left my backpack with the young priests and spent the afternoon wandering around the alpine wetlands north of the peak where squadrons of dragonflies conducted maneuvers over the sedge and red-bellied salamanders swam lazily in the small highland tarns.

After another meal of foraged mountain vegetables, I walked through the moonlit marsh to soak up the silence and take in the clear air. Returning to the sanrūjō, I found the young priests had changed into shorts and tatty T-shirts. They sat chain smoking around a small television showing a variety program about monks at Mount Koya, where a Shingon abbot exhorted the importance of man’s relationship to nature. The dressed-down priests nodded in agreement between the smoke rings they blew.

It wasn’t the blare of a horagai that woke me the next morning, but solemn drumming as the priests, presumably back in uniform, ritually opened the shrine for another day.

The real path of mountain asceticism on Dewa Sanzan (courtesy corbin blog)

The real path of mountain asceticism on Dewa Sanzan (courtesy corbin blog)

Leaving the wetlands I ascended into a ceiling of clouds that had moved in overnight. The fog limited my view significantly as I made my way across fields of gray stone patched with snow and through vivid green chaparral stippled by bright alpine wildflowers. Occasionally the rolling banks revealed crystalline views across the valley like glimpses of the floating world.

The fog so concealed Gassan Shrine where it jutted from the mountain’s peak that I hardly knew when I had arrived. Owing to its prominent placement and the high stone wall that surrounds it, the shrine resembles a medieval military garrison more than a far-flung pilgrim’s post.

I was purified by one from another cadre of priests, who seemed even younger than those at Midahara, before entering Dewa Sanzan’s holiest site. I silently admired the shrine’s principle objects of worship, three round mirrors of pounded and polished metal that gleamed in the murky light, before continuing on.

The fog soon turned to showers as I made my careful, calf-smashing descent down the rain-slicked path west toward Mount Yudono. A section of trail known as the cow’s neck skirted a massive ice sheet so vast I couldn’t discern its far edges as they dissolved into the mist. The ice had crept up the slope to envelope several dozen meters of the trail, and when I reached the far side of this white expanse I encountered a group of hikers waiting cautiously for me — or anyone, really — to appear before venturing onto the ice themselves.

The trail then arced around to the northern slope of Mount Yudono before a final steep descent to Dewa Sanzan’s final stop, Yudono Shrine, near the base of the mountain. The penultimate segment is so steep that steel ladders have been bolted to the rock itself, and in places rivulets of water stream beneath them. At first I mistook this for draining rainwater before realizing the ladders were bolted over a waterfall.

The rain had abated and eventually the ground leveled out as I shakily covered the final few hundred meters to my ultimate destination. With each step I felt a bit more of the pilgrim’s singular pride, that rare blend of accomplishment, relief and reverence.

It’s tradition not to reveal what one sees inside the hallowed grounds of Yudono Shrine, and one that I intend to keep. I’ll only say that every arduous step I took to get there made the experience that much more gratifying. For those of you have been, you’ll get my little joke. To everyone else, you’ll have to make your own way there and discover Yudono’s holy secrets for yourself.

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Getting there: Mount Haguro and Yudono Shrine can both be reached by regular bus service from Tsuruoka for around ¥1,400 one way. Mount Gassan and Mount Yudono are closed from October through June due to heavy snow, and bookings at all sanrūjō must be made in advance.

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For an excellent NHK World video introduction to Dewa Sanzan mountain asceticism (Shugendo), please see https://vimeo.com/196561540 (28 mins)

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