One Naughty Ogre, One Naughty Dance, & Eight Million Gods: Takachiho Gorge, Miyazaki, Japan

Japan's long volcanic history has produced scenery of immeasurable fascination. Some of the country’s most visible, stunning and active geological sites can be found on Kyushu, the furthest southwest of Japan’s four main islands.

Mt. Aso, sitting a bit north of the center of the island, has by all evidence blown its massive top four times over the last 270,000 years, resulting in a caldera 25 kilometers long and 18 kilometers wide. Aso-san thus stands as Japan’s second biggest, the world’s second biggest active, and the world’s largest inhabited caldera.

Mt. Aso, smoking in the caldera.

While belching millions of tons of hot nasty stuff into the air over the eons, some of it landing a hundred miles away, Mt. Aso has covered the surrounding landscape with millions more tons of lava which, as it cooled, formed the basalt columns and the wrinkled layers of rock seen all along the Takachiho Gorge.

It took eons, but the Gokase River has managed to create a kilometer-long place of playful geological intrigue (and, in turn, polite pockets of Japanese tourism).

I’ve read there’s a trail, some twelve kilometers long, that runs from the visitor center in the town of Takachiho, past the below-mentioned Takachiho Shrine, along the gorge and into the nearby hills to another shrine before winding back toward town where you will find plenty of encouragement in spending your yen to rehabilitate your parched, famished, wobbly-legged carcass.

With three young kids in tow I had to settle for the one-kilometer tour ending at a place where the kids would find plenty of chocolate and vanilla encouragement in spending daddy's money.

Give a river enough time and it will cut a pretty deep gorge. Give the Japanese a little time and they will build a bunch of bridges over it – in this case three, practically on top of each other. Aptly and unimaginatively named the Three Arched Bridges, they cross the gorge at varying heights. One of stone, one of steel, and one of concrete, they are said to be the only three arched bridges in all of Japan that can be seen all at once from one vantage point. Riveting, I know, but don't forget about the gorge.

This unique Japanese trifecta is at the north end of Takachiho's geological jewel. The footpath that runs along the gorge starts right nearby. (I think. Look, it’s been a while and I was trying to keep three kids from falling into a gorge). It’s only a kilometer to other end, and with the millions of years of rock-hard history staring you in the face it goes by quite nicely. Provided no one falls in.

Among the rocks is the “Kihachi-no-Chikara-Ishi” – the Kihachi Stone of Strength – a solid twenty tons of Japanese mythology.

"Kihachi-no-Chikara-ishi"

According to legend, Mikeirino-no-mikoto, the god enshrined at Takachiho Jinja, had gone to the Yamato region (around present-day Nara) with his younger brother Jimmu, who would be Japan’s very first emperor. But something happened along the way - probably fighting over the radio - and Mikeirino decided to return home.

When he got back to this area he found that an ogre named Kihachi (“ogre eight”, strictly translated) had recently not been a very nice ogre. The legend is not specific, but presumably Mikeirino kicked Kihachi’s ass up and down the gorge. This would piss off any ogre, and Kihachi was no exception, throwing this rock at Mikairino as a sort of last word. No record was found as to how Mikairino took that.

Near the end of the kilometer-long jaunt is the misty Manai-no-taki Falls. Cascading down the 17-meter cliffs in a translucent watery veil, the falls form an appropriate fairy tale touch to the view. Records are suspect, but according to Japanese myth these falls originate in a place called Ama Manai, the spot where the gods first brought water to the earthly world.

That myths and legends seem to abound here in Takachiho is no coincidence. While it's hard to swing a wet noodle in Japan without hitting a sign about something involving a god or a naughty ogre, only Takachiho can claim to be the legendary location of the very origins of Japan.

From the north end of the footpath (where two of my kids almost fell into the river while the other was playing stuntman on some kind of guardrail) it's a one-kilometer walk uphill into town and the site of Takachiho Jinja, a shrine with a history of around 1900 years. Dedicated to two deities whose names you will likely forget as quickly as I did, this shrine is representative of the earliest chapters of Japan’s fabled, god-infested history.

Just south of the gorge lies the confluence of the Gokase and Iwato Rivers. About four miles up the Iwato you’ll find Amanoiwato Jinja, dedicated to Amaterasu, the Shinto sun goddess and the goddess of the universe. Daughter of Izanagi and Izanami, the creators of the universe, and a direct ancestor of Japan’s emperors, Amaterasu holds a special place in the Japanese firmament. She is also quite well-known for throwing a hissy fit when her idiot brother, Susano’o, started acting up for the umpteenth time. Not unlike the things I've done to get away from my kids for a while, Amaterasu hid herself in a nearby cave and blocked the door with a huge rock, plunging the world into darkness.

To get her out, the gods needed a plan. In what may have been history's first crowdsourcing effort, all eight million of Japan's deities gathered in another cave, Amanoyasukawara, about 500 meters upstream. After some discussion and a long bathroom break they decided to throw a party centered around an R-rated (PG-13 by today’s standards) dance performed by the goddess Ame-no-Uzume. This got the gods laughing (the male gods in particular caused quite a cat-calling fuss) and when Amaterasu peeked out from behind her rock to see what the hell was going on a god named Ame-no-Tajikarao grabbed the stone and threw it clear up to Nagano, almost hitting my house.

Amanoyasukawara Cave is open to the public. Amaterasu’s cave is not, though you can apparently catch a glimpse of it from an observation deck behind the Amano-iwato Shrine’s Eastern complex, across the Iwato River from the main Amanoiwato Jinja. Before you can go get your glimpse you have to pay to go through a ritual of purification. (I don’t know what it entails. I only know what fishing my kid out of the Gokase River entails.) No pictures are allowed, so if your sole purpose for going to this most ancient and revered place of Japanese mythological history and spiritual belief is to take selfie you can post to show how awesome you are, save yourself the time and expense and go aggrandize yourself on the footpath for free.

Alternatively you can shell out a couple thousand yen and rent a rowboat, giving yourself a view of the gorge us cheapskates never see (even if we do end up in the water trying to grab hold of our kid’s shirt collar).

If you’re really feeling special you can go for a heavenly swim, possibly followed by a night in jail.

You can’t get to Takachiho by train. From Kumamoto it’s three hours and change by bus. Add another hour if you’re coming from Oita. If you can, though, rent a car. Kyushu is a fantastic place to explore on your own, and the geological wonders of Aso-Kuju National Park lie just a short drive north from Takachiho.

Keep in mind: there hasn’t been a volcanic eruption around here in weeks, maybe months. I think the place is due.

View from the bridge at the south end of the gorge.
Ice cream is behind you.