“As I gained experience, I realized that technical skills alone weren’t enough. I also needed to learn the names of trees and plants, when flowers bloom, when leaves change color or fall, and how each species changes throughout the seasons.

The more I learned, the more I could imagine how a tree would grow in the years ahead and how it would fit into the surrounding landscape. That also meant I could offer better suggestions to my clients instead of simply following instructions.

Most of all, the work itself became much more enjoyable.”

Seeing Beyond a Single Tree

Lama Gyalu studied in many ways. He read books, searched online, and learned from experienced foresters.

“If I ask questions, people are always willing to teach me. Japan’s forests are similar to Nepal’s in some ways, but there are also many trees and plants I’d never seen before. At first it was difficult, but little by little I’ve come to understand them.”

As the years passed, his knowledge expanded beyond trees alone. He became familiar with the forests of Nagano, their plants and wildlife, and the natural environment as a whole.

Yet the more he learned, the more questions arose.

Proper tree care is not simply about deciding how to prune or remove a tree today. A forester must also think about what that tree—and the surrounding landscape—will look like years or even decades into the future.

To make good decisions, he believes it is necessary to understand not only the tree itself, but also the region’s climate, soil, plants, wildlife, and ultimately the lives of the people who live there and how their communities may change in the future.”Of course, that’s incredibly difficult. It’s not something you can figure out overnight. But once you settle here, raise a family, and watch your children grow up, you naturally begin thinking about these things.”

A Small Yellow Flower

“That doesn’t mean I always succeed.

The other day, there were some Japanese kerria shrubs growing beneath a tree. They were supposed to be cleared away, but I thought they weren’t causing any problems, and that their yellow flowers would be beautiful in spring, so I decided to leave them.

I was working high up in the tree when another contractor came along and started cutting them down. I noticed and shouted, ‘Hey, don’t cut those!’ But I was too late.”The story may seem like a small incident, yet it reflects how Lama Gyalu has come to see the forest—not simply as a workplace, but as a living landscape whose beauty deserves to be protected whenever possible.

Living with Wildlife

Another issue that has increasingly concerned him is the rapid growth of wild animal populations, especially deer, whose feeding has caused serious damage to forests.

“I am a Sherpa, and according to the Tibetan Buddhist faith that many Sherpas follow, taking the life of an animal is forbidden. But when I think about the future of the forests, I sometimes wonder whether it can really be that simple.It’s a very difficult question.”

– Rediscovering the City Through Its Hidden Mountains
By Kazuhiko Miwa

Tokyo’s Ultra-Low Mountains
Episode 2

Atagoyama－Stairway to Success

The number of visitors to Atago Jinja Shrine for the New Year is nowhere near that of Meiji Jinja Shrine or Kanda Myojin Shrine, yet it still attracts a remarkable crowd. One reason is the shrine’s steep stone staircase, popularly known as the “Stairway to Sucess,” which has long been favored by office workers hoping for good fortune in their careers.

The staircase consists of 86 steps with an incline of about 40 degrees. That is roughly the angle of a ski-jump ramp. Standing at the top can make your legs tremble. Without the handrails, many elderly visitors would find it difficult to go up or down. It may well be the steepest staircase in Tokyo.

The story behind the “Stairs to Success” dates back to the Edo period. One day, Tokugawa Iemitsu – the third shogun of the Tokugawa Shogunate, was passing below the staircase on his way back from Zojoji Temple. Looking up, he noticed plum blossoms blooming at the top of the hill and reportedly said, “Who will bring me one of those blossoms?”

Everyone hesitated when they saw the steep slope. However, Magaki Heikuro, a samurai from the Marugame Domain in Shikoku, boldly rode his horse straight up the stone steps, plucked a branch of blossoms, and presented it to the shogun. Whether Iemitsu actually exclaimed, “Well done, Heikuro!” is unknown, but the story goes that Heikuro’s feat made him famous throughout Japan and greatly advanced his career.

The road in front of the shrine, marked by the red torii gate, now connects Toranomon Hills and Zojoji Temple. Passing through the tunnel beneath Atagoyama leads toward National Route 1, Tokyo Tower, and the recently developed Azabudai Hills district.

Although my old illustration shows only three skyscrapers, the area today is one of Japan’s leading business districts, filled with government offices and corporate headquarters. It is truly a town of office workers.

Many years ago, I ran up all 86 steps in just over a minute.

Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing for my career.

Later, I learned that climbing the stairs brings good fortune, but descending the same staircase is said to diminish it. Apparently, one should use a different route on the way down.

I ran down the stairs as well.That must have been my mistake.

There are several ways to descend from the summit of Atagoyama. One can take the gentler Onna-zaka (“Women’s Slope”), walk through the shrine grounds to the NHK Museum of Broadcasting and use the elevator, or descend the steep slope toward Kamiyacho. Even if you take the elevator, it is easy to reach Kamiyacho by passing through the tunnel beneath the hill.Incidentally, this tunnel may be unique in Tokyo. As far as I know, it is the city’s only road tunnel that passes beneath a natural hill rather than an artificial structure. If any readers know of other examples, I would be delighted to hear about them.

The gate visible beneath the high-rise buildings in the photograph belongs to Seishoji Temple. Although it appears to stand on low ground, the temple itself occupies an elevated area connected to Atagoyama. In earlier times, visitors could enjoy views all the way to the sea. Today, one must climb much higher buildings to look out over Tokyo. During the Edo period, however, the Atagoyama area was among the highest points in the city.

It is said that during the negotiations for the peaceful surrender of Edo Castle, Katsu Kaishu who negotiated the peaceful surrender of Edo Castle, invited Saigo Takamori,one of the leaders of the Meiji Restoration to Atagoyama and showed him the vast city spread below.

“Are you really going to turn all of this into a sea of fire?” Katsu reportedly asked.

Seeing Edo from this commanding viewpoint for the first time, Saigo is said to have accepted the proposal for a bloodless surrender.

Another historic event took place atop Atagoyama.

“JOAK, JOAK, this is the Tokyo Broadcasting Station.”

These words marked the beginning of Japan’s first radio broadcast in July 1925. Because radio signals were still weak at the time, a 45-meter transmission tower was erected on top of the 26-meter hill to extend the broadcast range.

The site is now home to the NHK Museum of Broadcasting and is affectionately known as the birthplace of Japanese broadcasting.

After visiting Atagoyama, I often walk past Zojoji Temple with Tokyo Tower rising in the background and continue on to Shibamaruyama Kofun, the largest keyhole-shaped burial mound in central Tokyo.

The grounds of Zojoji Temple were once enormous. Until 1873, both Shiba Maruyama Kofun and the land where Tokyo Tower now stands were part of the temple precincts.

Few people realize that such an ancient burial mound exists in the very heart of Tokyo.In future episodes, I hope to introduce several kofun hills located along the Tama River.

By Katsuhiro Shimizu

Episode 1: The Characteristics of Japan’s Natural Environment and Mountain Worship

Japan is a country of both mountains and sea. Situated to the east of the Asian continent, the Japanese archipelago stretches in an arc into the Pacific Ocean. It lies at one of the world’s most geologically complex locations, where four of the Earth’s tectonic plates converge. The archipelago straddles two continental plates—the North American Plate and the Eurasian Plate—and is strongly compressed from two directions by the subduction of the Pacific Plate and the Philippine Sea Plate. There is no other place in the world where as many as four tectonic plates collide and interact in such a manner.

Because of this geological setting, earthquakes occur frequently in Japan. Approximately ten percent of all earthquakes of magnitude 7 or greater worldwide occur in Japan. Moreover, the active subduction of the Pacific Plate beneath the Japanese archipelago has made Japan one of the world’s most volcanically active regions. Although Japan accounts for only about 0.25 percent of the Earth’s land area, it contains 111 active volcanoes—approximately seven percent of the world’s total.

About 75 percent of Japan’s land consists of mountainous terrain. In central Japan, numerous peaks exceeding 3,000 meters rise in close succession, creating magnificent mountain landscapes. At the same time, however, the country has long been exposed to natural disasters such as earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions.

Distribution of the world’s major tectonic plates and earthquakes (Japan Meteorological Agency)

According to the Köppen climate classification, most of Japan belongs to either the humid subtropical or humid continental climate zones. The country is characterized by four distinct seasons, wide annual temperature variations, abundant precipitation, and significant seasonal fluctuations in rainfall.

Thanks to its plentiful rainfall, Japan possesses rich forests and supports more than 90,000 species of living organisms, including some 6,000 endemic species. Mountain resources—such as timber, wildlife, hot springs, and minerals—have been indispensable to Japanese life. Abundant water has also sustained rice cultivation and supported a relatively large population within Japan’s limited land area.

Before modern flood-control and irrigation technologies were introduced from the West, however, floods occurred frequently, while severe famines caused by drought repeatedly struck the country.

Japan’s frequent earthquakes, combined with its abundant forest resources, encouraged the development of wooden architecture. As a result, Hōryū-ji Temple, the world’s oldest surviving wooden building, still stands today. Yet wooden construction also made communities highly vulnerable to fire. Edo, present-day Tokyo, was repeatedly devastated by great fires, making fire another major threat to people’s lives.

Thus, while Japan has received immense blessings from nature, its people have also had to live with the many disasters that nature can bring. Japanese culture and religion have evolved under the influence of both aspects of nature.

Japan is known for Shinto, which developed from ancient folk beliefs, nature worship, and ancestor worship, as well as Buddhism, which was introduced from India via China in the sixth century. In Japan, perhaps more than in many other countries, natural threats have been closely associated with death, suffering, and anxiety. Consequently, the forms of spiritual salvation sought through religion became deeply intertwined with nature itself.

Against this background, religion in Japan developed in distinctive ways. Shinto, with its strong emphasis on nature worship, and Buddhism, which stresses salvation, gradually merged. This syncretic tradition, known as shinbutsu-shūgō(the fusion of Shinto and Buddhism), became widely accepted. For example, Amaterasu Ōmikami—the central sun goddess of Shinto and the mythical ancestress of the Imperial Family—came to be regarded as identical to Dainichi Nyorai (Mahāvairocana), the principal Buddha of Esoteric Buddhism.

Mountains in Japan had long been revered as sacred places possessing spiritual power and as dwelling places of ancestral spirits. Influenced by Buddhism and Daoism, these indigenous mountain beliefs eventually gave rise to Shugendō, Japan’s unique tradition of mountain asceticism.

At the heart of Shugendō are ascetics known as yamabushi, who seek to acquire supernatural powers through rigorous mountain training and employ those powers in religious and ritual practices.

This mandala depicts Mount Hakusan, one of Japan’s most revered sacred mountains, and reflects the syncretic tradition of Shinto and Buddhism.
At the top are the sun and moon, with Hakusan’s three peaks below. It also depicts the deities associated with each of the three peaks, as well as Taichō, the Buddhist monk traditionally credited with opening Mount Hakusan as a sacred mountain.

However, in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Japan underwent the Meiji Restoration, a period of modernization during which the nation sought to establish a centralized modern state modeled on Western countries.

The Japanese government regarded traditional forms of religious belief as overly ambiguous and therefore premodern, particularly in contrast to religions such as Christianity, with their clearly defined doctrines. Consequently, it enacted policies to separate Shinto shrines, where deities (kami) are worshipped, from Buddhist temples, where Buddhas are enshrined. Shugendō, regarded as excessively magical and superstitious, was officially abolished.

During this period, the radical anti-Buddhist movement known as Haibutsu Kishaku (“abolish Buddhism and destroy Śākyamuni”) also spread throughout the country. Many sacred mountains were stripped of their Buddhist elements. Even on Mount Fuji, Japan’s highest peak, the Dainichi Hall at the summit was removed and replaced by the Okumiya Shrine of Sengen Taisha. The summit was thus transformed into the distinctly Shinto appearance that visitors see today.

Although Shugendō was once abolished, it was later revived, and its traditions continue to this day. In memory of Enkū, I participated in the autumn ascetic training of the Nikko Shugendō tradition. The mountain in the center is Mt. Nantai, formerly known as Mt. Futarasan.

Despite the turbulent currents of history, the Japanese people’s reverence and affection for mountains have remained unchanged.

While embracing the ideas and techniques of Western alpinism, Japanese people continue to maintain deep relationships with mountains through mountaineering and many other activities.

Japan is said to have one of the world’s largest communities of mountain enthusiasts.

Behind this lies a long and continuous history of intimate engagement with mountains, extending back far beyond the birth of modern alpinism in the nineteenth century.

One figure who embodies this profound relationship between the Japanese people and mountains is Enkū (1632–1695).

Enkū, who lived during the early Edo period, was an outstanding mountain ascetic. He made solitary ascents of several 3,000-meter-class peaks in the Hida Mountains and even explored Hokkaido at a time when these regions had not yet been geographically understood.

As a young man, Enkū left the temple where he had been ordained. Until he formally received Buddhist precepts at the age of nearly fifty at Onjō-ji Temple—the head temple of the Jimon branch of Tendai Buddhism, unique in Japan for integrating exoteric Buddhism, esoteric Buddhism, and Shugendō—he traveled throughout the country as “a man belonging to nothing”: neither monk nor mountain ascetic. In this sense, he was an extraordinarily free spirit for his age, devoting himself to rigorous mountain training.

During his lifetime, Enkū is said to have created as many as 120,000 Buddhist and Shinto images, an almost superhuman achievement. Art historians have highly praised his works, noting that, while Europe was experiencing the Baroque era, Enkū had already achieved forms of expression remarkable for their abstraction and spirituality—qualities that resonate strongly with modern sculpture.

However, as a consequence of the Meiji government’s efforts to modernize religion, Enkū—whose activities were deeply rooted in the syncretic traditions of Shinto and Buddhism and closely connected with Shugendō—was largely forgotten.

It was not until the 1950s that Enkū began to attract renewed attention, primarily through the rediscovery of his religious sculptures, now commonly known as Enkū-butsu. These images were reappraised as precursors of modern sculpture, triggering a nationwide “Enkū boom.” Enkū exhibitions have since been held almost every year, nearly 5,400 surviving statues have been identified, and scholarly research has progressed significantly.

In contrast, Enkū’s achievements in the mountains — well known during the Edo period — have received remarkably little attention.

I was born in the Mino region of Gifu Prefecture, the same region as Enkū. Over the years, I have visited nearly one thousand mountains throughout Japan. I was astonished to discover that traces of Enkū seemed to appear ahead of me wherever I went. Fascinated by this mysterious presence, I have spent the past five years following his footsteps and tracing the course of his life.

In particular, regarding his mountain ascetic practices—which had previously received little scholarly attention — I conducted extensive preliminary research and attempted, whenever possible, to follow Enkū’s journeys in chronological order, during the same seasons, and along the same routes. By retracing his footsteps and experiencing the hardships of his training firsthand, I gradually began to see the outlines of Enkū’s extraordinary mountain adventures, in which he repeatedly risked his life.

Through this process, I also came to realize that Enkū, who had been overwhelmed by the destructive power of nature in his childhood, deepened his faith through mountain asceticism and eventually transcended those experiences. This spiritual journey, I believe, found expression in the powerful forms of his sculptures.In the episodes to come, I invite you to join me in following “The Adventures of Enkū.”

Building a Forestry Company in the Japanese Alps

In 2012, Lama Gyalu Sherpa founded Sherpa Forestry Co., Ltd. As of 2026, the company has ten employees—half Japanese and half Nepalese. His wife, Mariko, manages the office, accounting, and public relations, while Lama Gyalu oversees field operations.

“At first, I simply worked as an employee, doing whatever I was told. But gradually I began thinking, ‘If it were me, I’d do it this way.’ Sometimes I felt a tree should be treated differently, or that another tree should be left standing instead of being cut down. I’ve always loved nature, and I wanted to be the one proposing ideas and planning how the work should be done. That’s why I decided to become independent and establish Sherpa Forestry.”

The company’s work covers a wide range of forestry and tree-care services. From pruning trees in private gardens to planting and maintaining street trees, parks, and green spaces, they handle almost any job requested by their clients.

Their particular specialty, however, is dealing with hazardous trees—trees that have grown too tall, whose trunks or branches have begun to decay, or whose size poses a danger to pedestrians or nearby buildings and power lines. These jobs often involve highly technical tree removal and precision pruning.

To perform this work, Lama Gyalu completed numerous professional training courses and earned certification as a Specialist Forestry Technician. Although this is an industry qualification rather than a government license, it recognizes advanced skills required for working high in large trees.

“There aren’t many people who can safely prune or remove tall trees while suspended high above the ground. In Japan, specialists like us are often called Sorashi. Nowadays, even when other contractors win a project, if it includes particularly difficult high-tree work, they’ll often say, ‘Let’s ask Lama to handle that part.’

The climbing skills I developed in mountaineering have been incredibly useful—not just the rope techniques, but also judgment and decision-making. Safety always comes first, of course. But if you’re afraid all the time, you simply can’t do this job.”

From the South Face of Lhotse to the Forests of Japan

This kind of work requires specialized equipment, much of which has to be rented together with experienced machine operators. In the early days, Lama Gyalu often didn’t know where to find the equipment he needed, and sometimes rental companies even refused his requests.

Today, however, he has built a solid reputation. Equipment is no longer difficult to obtain, and relationships with other forestry companies have also changed.

“Companies in the same business are competitors, of course. But I’ve come to realize they’re also partners who help one another. That makes me very happy.”

Yet as the years passed, Lama Gyalu also came to realize something important.

Simply becoming skilled at cutting trees was not enough.

Episode 12: Learning How Nature and People Have Lived Together at Tateyama

By Takano, Director, Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum

Hello, everyone. I am Takano, Director of the Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum.

Throughout this series, we have explored the spiritual world of Tateyama Faith, which developed amid the magnificent natural environment of Mount Tateyama.

The Tateyama Museum is a unique prefectural museum that preserves and presents both the natural environment and the cultural history of Tateyama. In addition to its exhibition facilities, the museum makes use of the historic landscape, temples, lodgings, and archaeological remains throughout the Ashikuraji district, once the center of Tateyama worship.In this final episode, I would like to introduce the museum itself.

(1) The “Teaching World” Zone

The Tateyama Museum is unlike most museums in Japan.

Rather than concentrating everything in a single building, the entire Ashikuraji district functions as one large museum. This extensive site is divided into three thematic areas:
• The Teaching World (Kyōkai) 
• The Sacred World (Seikai) 
• The World of Experience (Yūkai) 

The main Exhibition Hall is located in the Teaching World.

Designed by the renowned architect Arata Isozaki, it houses two permanent galleries:
• Nature and Daily Life around Tateyama 
• The World of Tateyama Faith 

Visitors can discover Tateyama’s natural environment, history, and religious traditions through important cultural treasures—including a bronze pilgrim’s staff finial and a bronze statue of Taishakuten, both designated Important Cultural Properties—as well as interactive touch panels and digital displays.

The museum also hosts two special exhibitions each year.

Next to the Exhibition Hall stands Kyōsanbō, one of the few surviving Edo-period pilgrims’ lodgings. Its beautiful garden has been selected as one of Toyama’s One Hundred Finest Gardens.

Nearby is the Mountain Heritage Museum, which preserves valuable historical materials related to Japanese mountaineering.

Together, these facilities offer visitors a rich introduction to the mountain culture of Tateyama.

(2) The “Sacred World” Zone

The Sacred World centers around the Yōbōkan Theater.

Here, visitors experience the natural beauty of Tateyama and the symbolic world of the Tateyama Mandala through an impressive three-screen presentation.

At the end of the film, the screens rise dramatically. On clear days, visitors are rewarded with a breathtaking view of the actual Tateyama Mountains beyond.

The surrounding area includes the Nunobashi Bridge, the remains of Ubadō Hall, Enmadō Hall, and numerous stone Buddhist statues.

A leisurely walk through these historic sites allows visitors to experience the atmosphere of centuries-old mountain worship.

(3) The “World of Experience” Zone

The third area is Mandala Yūen, designed by architect Kijō Rokkaku.

This unique outdoor museum recreates the symbolic universe of the Tateyama Mandala through sculptures, light, sound, fragrance, and other sensory effects.

Visitors journey through symbolic realms—including the Underworld, the Path of Light, Heaven, and the Dark Path—experiencing the spiritual world of Tateyama with all five senses.

Today, the site is affectionately known as “a theme park of Heaven and Hell,” attracting visitors with an experience unlike anywhere else in Japan.

The area also includes:
• the Japanese serow enclosure,
• Zendōbō, a restored pilgrims’ lodging,
• the Former Shima Residence (an Important Cultural Property),
• and the Former Arima Residence, designated as a cultural property by Tateyama Town.

Together they offer fascinating insights into the daily lives and wisdom of earlier generations.

(4) Preserving, Creating, and Passing On the Culture of Tateyama

Toyama Prefecture is blessed with one of Japan’s most dramatic landscapes.

From the depths of Toyama Bay—reaching 1,000 meters below sea level—to the 3,000-meter peaks of the Tateyama Range, the region boasts an extraordinary elevation difference of nearly 4,000 meters, creating remarkable natural diversity.

Together with Mount Fuji and Mount Hakusan, Tateyama is honored as one of Japan’s Three Sacred Mountains.

The mission of the Tateyama Museum is to explore how the people of Toyama have lived with, respected, and been inspired by this magnificent natural environment.

Our curators continue to conduct research into Tateyama’s history, culture, and natural heritage. The results are published in exhibition catalogues and academic journals, preserving this knowledge as a lasting cultural legacy for future generations.

Many of these research publications are also available through the museum’s website.

Looking ahead, the Tateyama Museum will continue its mission of preserving, creating, and passing on the culture of Tateyama, while embracing new challenges for the future.

A Final Message

Thank you very much for following this twelve-part series.

If you have the opportunity to visit Tateyama, we warmly invite you to stop by the Tateyama Museum.

We hope you will discover the beauty of Tateyama’s nature, its rich history and culture, and the wisdom that generations of people have cultivated while living alongside these remarkable mountains.

＃Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum

Editor’s Note

Over the past twelve episodes, we have explored Tateyama not simply as one of Japan’s great mountains, but as a living landscape where nature, faith, and human life have been intertwined for centuries. We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Director Takano and the staff of the Tateyama Museum for generously sharing their knowledge and passion. We hope this series will inspire readers around the world to visit Tateyama and discover its remarkable natural and cultural heritage for themselves.

Masashiko Kaji

Representative Director & PresidentJapan Mountain Day Foundation

For generations, the Sherpa people have been known as the indispensable partners of Himalayan mountaineering. Lama Gyalu Sherpa followed that tradition, working as a high-altitude guide and climbing Mount Everest twice. Nearly twenty years ago, however, his life took an unexpected turn when he moved to Japan.

Today, making full use of the skills and courage he developed in the Himalayas, Lama Gyalu works as a forestry entrepreneur and arborist, helping to care for the forests of central Japan. This four-part series follows his extraordinary journey from the mountains of Nepal to the forests of Japan, and explores how mountain knowledge can transcend national borders and find new life in a different landscape.

Story by
Katsuhiko Kano

Professor Emeritus of Cultural Anthropology, Kanazawa University
Member of the Scientific Committee, Japan Mountain Day Foundation

About the Author

Professor Emeritus – Kanazawa University Katsuhiko Kano is a cultural anthropologist whose primary fieldwork has focused on Nepal and Himalayan Mountain communities.
Having conducted extensive research on rural livelihoods, migration, and community resilience in mountain regions, he brings an interdisciplinary perspective to the challenges facing Japan’s aging rural and forest

Episode 1
From the Himalayas to Japan

The word “Sherpa” is widely known as referring to the high-altitude porters and guides who support Himalayan expeditions. Originally, however, Sherpa is the name of a Tibetan-related ethnic group whose homeland is the Solu-Khumbu region in the highlands of northeastern Nepal. The Sherpa people speak a Tibetan-related language and follow Tibetan Buddhism. From the late nineteenth century onward, many Sherpas also migrated to the Darjeeling district of West Bengal, India.

Lama Gyalu Sherpa was born in 1977 in the village of Taptin in the Solu region of Nepal. From a young age, he trained under Nawang Yonden, a renowned Sherpa in the world of Himalayan mountaineering, and worked as a high-altitude porter and guide for mountaineering expeditions and trekking tours from Japan, Europe, and North America.

He later climbed Chomolungma, or Mount Everest, twice, and also gained extensive experience in mountaineering and trekking in India, Pakistan, China, and other regions. Eventually, he came to serve as a sirdar—the leader of the local staff.

During this period, he met Mariko, who was accompanying a Japanese tour as a guide from the Japanese side. The two married, and in 2005 he moved to Japan.

For some time after arriving in Japan, he lived in Kanagawa Prefecture and worked as a guide for overseas and domestic mountaineering tours organized by Japanese travel companies. However, guiding alone was not enough to support his family, and he also worked at an automobile-related factory to make a living.

Then, in the wake of the economic downturn caused by the so-called Lehman Shock, he lost his factory job. In 2009, he decided to move with his family to Matsumoto City in Nagano Prefecture, at the foot of the Northern Alps.

He chose Matsumoto because, through his work as a mountain guide, he had visited the Northern Alps many times and had grown fond of the region’s natural environment and the atmosphere of the city.

At first, after moving there, he considered opening a Nepalese restaurant. In the end, however, he chose work related to forests and trees.

“I came to Matsumoto because I loved the nature of this region. If possible, I wanted to do work connected with that nature. The forests here also have something in common with the forests around Solu, where I come from.”

At the beginning, he took on contract work for local forestry-related companies. Much of this work involved cutting trees, especially high up near the tops of tall trees.

In this region, as in many parts of Japan, the forestry workforce is aging, and the shortage of workers has become serious. Passing on skills to the next generation has also become increasingly difficult.

“Climbing tall trees and cutting branches requires not only skill but also courage. In that sense, my experience in mountaineering proved very useful.”

As he came to understand the situation in the field, he began to think that if he was going to do this work, he wanted to do it under his own responsibility and in the way he truly believed in. In 2012, he founded Sherpa Forestry Co., Ltd.

People often say that a crisis can become an opportunity. But in reality, there are not many people who can actually make that happen.

(To be continued)

Tokyo’s Ultra-Low Mountains
Rediscovering the City Through Its Hidden Mountains
By Kazuhiko Miwa

Kazuhiko Miwa,

A writer, former high school teacher, and long-distance journey runner. He is a member of the Tokyo Metropolitan University Alpine Club, founder and organizer of Miwa-juku, a science seminar series for adults, and a coordinator of the Horizon Conference, a long-running Japanese forum for explorers and travelers. In recent years, he has devoted much of his time to researching komainu—traditional guardian lion-dog statues found at shrines and temples throughout Japan. He has authored several books on travel, running, languages, and environmental issues.

About This Series

Tokyo’s Ultra-Low Mountains is based on articles originally published on the Japanese “Mountain Day” website ahead of the 2024 Japan Mountain Day National Convention in Tokyo. The series has been re-edited and expanded for English readers.

Prologue: The Hidden Landscape Beneath Tokyo

Tokyo is famous for its skyscrapers, bustling streets, and modern cityscape. Yet hidden among them are dozens of tiny hills and historic “ultra-low mountains,” each with its own story. This series invites readers to rediscover Tokyo from an unexpected perspective—one mountain at a time.

Tokyo is home to many high mountains, including Mt. Kumotori（2017ｍ）in western Tokyo.
But the “TOKYO” discussed here is something different — the densely built urban landscape most people imagine when they think of the city.

Geographically, this urban Tokyo is built across two contrasting terrains:
the Musashino Plateau, which rises about 20 to 80 meters above sea level, and the low-lying downtown areas that are close to sea level.

On standard 1:25,000 topographic maps, the countless buildings hide the contour lines.
But in recent years, shaded-relief maps and topographic visualization maps have become widely available, and with these in hand I began searching for the “mountains” hidden within TOKYO.

Even on official maps, places such as Asukayama, Atagoyama, and Daikanyama still carry the word yama — “mountain” or “hill” — in their names.

As I explored these places, I realized that many of them stand along cliffs marking the edge between plateau and lowland, or on steep slopes carved by rivers such as the Kanda River cutting into the plateau.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, people avoided crowds, and older residents in particular were encouraged to walk in quiet, less populated places.

During that period, I began what I called my “100 Ultra-Low Mountains of Tokyo” project.So far I have climbed only about seventy of them, but in this series I would like to introduce some of my favorite ultra-low mountains hidden within Tokyo.

Tokyo’s Ultra-Low Mountains

Episode 1

Ōuchi-yama — The Hill of Edo Castle

Cherry blossom season had interrupted my “ultra-low mountain climbing,” but after some time away I finally headed out again for a combination of “ultra-low mountain climbing and cherry blossom viewing.”

The Imperial Palace — formerly Edo Castle — stands on surprisingly high ground.

Looking at old maps, the area where Tokyo Station now stands was once reclaimed land along the sea.
The massive stone walls across the moat were built over ancient sea cliffs and reinforced with huge stones transported from the Izu Peninsula.

It is said that when Tokugawa Ieyasu first came to Edo, people joked:

“Edo has neither beautiful women nor stones.”

Edo Castle was originally built as a mountain fortress on the eastern edge of the Musashino Plateau. After Tokugawa Ieyasu entered Edo, however, it was transformed into a powerful stone castle using rocks transported from distant regions.

The area in front of today’s Imperial Palace was once the Hibiya inlet, making it convenient for ships carrying enormous stones.

The elevation of Otemachi is only about 3 meters above sea level, while the top of the castle keep foundation rises to 29.5 meters.

Viewed from the moat below, it truly looks like a mountain.The entire Imperial Palace area is known as Ouchi-yama.
Of course, the Emperor’s residence itself is not open to the public, but the East Gardens — where the Edo Castle keep once stood — can be visited freely.

In March 2023, as the COVID pandemic began to subside, huge crowds gathered near the Otemon Gate for the famous cherry blossom walk through the Inui Street.

Yet once inside the East Gardens, there were surprisingly few people on Shiomi-zaka Slope leading up toward the castle keep foundation.

Most of the Somei Yoshino cherry trees had already lost their blossoms, but the mountain cherry trees were still in magnificent full bloom.Large clusters of rhododendrons were also flourishing, and even without joining the crowds along Inui Street, it was possible to enjoy a wonderful hanami — traditional Japanese cherry blossom viewing — experience.

Today, only the enormous stone foundation of the castle keep remains.

Originally, a magnificent keep tower 51 meters high stood here, but after it was destroyed in the Great Fire of Meireki in 1657, it was never rebuilt.

Perhaps by then the country had already entered a peaceful age, and there was no longer any need for the Tokugawa shogunate to display its authority through such an imposing structure.

From the top of the foundation, one can see the Museum of the Imperial Collections and, beyond it, the skyscrapers that now form the modern gateway to Tokyo.

From the top of the former castle tower, people may once have looked across Edo Bay toward the mountains of the Boso Peninsula (present-day Chiba Prefecture).

In recent years, there was even a movement advocating reconstruction of the Edo Castle keep on this very foundation.

However, the plan was never completed in time for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

Even without the tower, the view is more than enough.
Personally, I feel that no taller structure is needed within the peaceful landscape of the Imperial Palace gardens. 

On the way back, I descended through Kitahanebashi-mon Gate, crossed the moat into Kitanomaru Garden, passed the Nippon Budokan, and exited through Tayasu Gate toward Kudanshita Station.

From Tokyo Station, I had walked for nearly two hours.

My pedometer showed more than 10,000 steps.Just how enormous Edo Castle must once have been.

Episode 11: 

The Important Tangible Folk Cultural Property “Tateyama Religious Implements”

Hello everyone. I am Takano, Director of the Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum.The collections related to Tateyama faith preserved in the two settlements of Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji have been designated by the Japanese government as an Important Tangible Folk Cultural Property under the title Tateyama Religious Implements. In this article, I would like to introduce how these materials have been studied and why they are considered so valuable. 

(1) Religious Implements of Tateyama Faith in the Ashikuraji Settlement

In the early Edo period (1603–1868), Iwakuraji had 23 temple lodges (bōke), whereas Ashikuraji had only six lodges and a few Shinto priests, making Iwakuraji the dominant center. However, by 1801, during the late Edo period, the situation had reversed: Iwakuraji had 24 lodges, while Ashikuraji had grown to 33 lodges and five shrine priests. 

The religious practitioners of Ashikuraji actively spread Tateyama faith throughout Japan using Tateyama Mandalas. They also attracted the devotion of women from the inner chambers of Edo Castle through the Nunobashi Kanjō-e (Cloth Bridge Consecration Rite). Their missionary activities flourished, and they eventually gained economic prominence as well. As a result, even in the 1960s, a large number of religious implements remained in Ashikuraji. 

In 1968 and 1969, the Toyama Prefectural Board of Education conducted interviews with elderly residents and surveyed folk materials in Ashikuraji. The results were published in Tateyama Folklore: Emergency Survey Report on Folk Materials in the Tateyama District. Based on these investigations, the collection was designated in 1970 as an Important Folk Cultural Property of Japan (today classified as an Important Tangible Folk Cultural Property). At that time, the designation consisted solely of 1,083 items from Ashikuraji. 

In 1972, the Tateyama Folklore Museum was opened in Ashikuraji to exhibit these materials. In 1991, the Toyama Prefectural Tateyama Museum succeeded its functions and continues to preserve and present these collections today. 

Meanwhile, in Iwakuraji, although local historians had organized and deciphered historical documents, no comprehensive survey of the religious implements preserved there had been conducted. Curators at the Tateyama Museum took on this challenge and began systematic research into the religious materials remaining in Iwakuraji. 

(2) Additional Designation of Religious Implements from the Iwakuraji Settlement

The Tateyama Museum focused its attention on religious implements preserved in three former temple lodges: Enmeiin, Tagabō (now Taga Shrine), and Nakamichibō. 

Iwakuraji once had as many as 24 temple lodges. However, in 1858, during the late Edo period, a massive debris flow swept through the Jōganji River basin, destroying nine lodge buildings. Subsequently, the Meiji government’s policy of separating Shinto and Buddhism forced many religious practitioners to become Shinto priests, leading them to relinquish Buddhist statues and ritual implements that had been used in the mountains and villages. Fortunately, significant numbers of religious objects survived in the three former lodges mentioned above. 

Research by the Tateyama Museum revealed that these former lodges preserved not only implements related to daily life and hospitality in pilgrimage lodgings after the Meiji period, but also tools used by Shinto priests and even woodblocks for printing Guide Maps for Tateyama Pilgrimage Ascents dating back to the Edo period. Some of these items had no counterparts in Ashikuraji. 

It had long been believed that both Ashikuraji and Iwakuraji declined rapidly after the Meiji Restoration. However, the surviving religious implements indicate that lodging activities were revived even in the middle of the Meiji period. These new findings have greatly advanced our understanding of the history of Tateyama faith. Recognizing the value of these materials, the Agency for Cultural Affairs approved an additional designation in March 2020. As a result, 160 items from Iwakuraji and related materials were added to the original collection of 1,083 items from Ashikuraji, bringing the total number of designated objects to 1,243.

(3) Preserving and Passing Down the “Tateyama Religious Implements”

The Tateyama Religious Implements are classified into five categories:
1. Items related to life in pilgrimage lodgings (363 items) 
2. Items related to hospitality in pilgrimage lodgings (440 items) 
3. Pilgrimage clothing and equipment (110 items) 
4. Materials used for preaching and religious propagation (221 items) 
5. Implements used for prayers and rituals (109 items) 

The Agency for Cultural Affairs has evaluated the significance of these materials as follows:

“Tateyama is counted among Japan’s representative sacred mountains and has served as a major center of mountain worship. This collection comprehensively preserves implements related to Tateyama faith, including those associated with lodge life, hospitality, pilgrimage attire, religious preaching, and prayer rituals. It vividly illustrates the nature of mountain worship in Japan and is of exceptional importance for understanding and studying its actual practices.” The spiritual culture known as Tateyama faith, nurtured by generations of people in Toyama, can truly be regarded as a precious cultural heritage that should be passed on to future generations.

Closing Paragraph

In the next episode, we will introduce the Tateyama Museum itself, focusing on the relationship between nature and human beings in Tateyama. We hope you will continue to join us in this series. 

For readers who would like to learn more about the Tateyama Religious Implements, we recommend Tateyama Faith and Life at the Foot of the Mountain: The World of the Important Tangible Folk Cultural Property “Tateyama Religious Implements” (1,200 yen, tax included). For information on how to purchase the book, please contact the Tateyama Museum.

— Nature Notes by Mouzuika (Yuukou Saito) —

(6)　The Last Edelweiss of Tohoku

Perhaps I am simply old-fashioned,
but whenever I hear the phrase “a flower beyond reach,” I immediately think of Edelweiss.

The true Edelweiss (Leontopodium alpinum) blooms in the high mountains of the European Alps and does not grow in Japan.
Yet Japan has several remarkably similar species belonging to the same genus, Leontopodium.

Curiously, while these plants are largely absent from the Japanese Alps and even Hokkaido’s Daisetsuzan range (with the exception of Mt. Kisokomagatake),
they are unexpectedly abundant in the mountains of Tohoku.

This was the largest colony of Miyama-usuyukisou I had ever seen.
That day, fierce winds swept across the ridge, nearly blowing my hat away.

Today, however, Miyama-usuyukisou is no longer abundant on Mt. Chokai.
Its disappearance has become a real concern.

In the Ou Mountains, the species now appears to be very scarce.
It was once said to grow in the Waga Mountains and Mt. Yakeishi as well,
but I have never seen it there myself, nor have I heard recent reports from others.

At present, Mt. Akita-Komagatake may be the only mountain in the Ou Range where it still survives.
Even there, the numbers are small, and plants near hiking trails have almost vanished.

In earlier years, photographers used to line up before a particular clump to take pictures.
In recent years, I have not seen them.

Was it stolen by plant collectors?

If so, it is a deeply saddening thing.

(7) Flowers That Pierce the Heart

Many alpine flowers are beautiful,
but when asked which is the most beautiful, I always hesitate.

Personally, I would nominate the Shiogama flowers — especially Miyama-shiogama and Yotsuba-shiogama.

When I was young, the vivid magenta of Miyama-shiogama blooming on Mt. Gassan in early summer struck me with astonishing force.
Its color pierced not only my eyes, but my heart itself.

These flowers bloom in alpine meadows and high mountain slopes far removed from the sea.
So why were they given the name Shiogama, which literally evokes a coastal salt kiln?

To be honest, aside from the flowers themselves, the leaves are not especially beautiful — except in a few species such as Miyama-shiogama.

And what about the scientific name Pedicularis?

Looking it up in a Latin dictionary, I found that pediculum means “louse.”
According to Wikipedia, the plant was once used to remove lice.

East or West, the origins of these names strike me as strange and somewhat forced.Yet once a flower has been named “Shiogama,”
I suppose we must continue calling it so, whether we like it or not.

(8) The serpentine Magic of Mt. Hayachine

Among the many famous flower mountains of Tohoku,
Mt. Hayachine in Iwate may be the most extraordinary of all.

This mountain is home to numerous endemic species found nowhere else in the world.

Among them, the most famous and beloved is surely Hayachine-usuyukisou.

Among Japan’s Edelweiss relatives, this species is considered the closest to the true Edelweiss of the European Alps.
It is one of the endemic plants of Mt. Hayachine, a mountain formed of serpentine rock, and grows nowhere else on Earth.

(This story continues from Part 6: “Japanese Edelweiss.”)

Compared with other Japanese Edelweiss species — such as Miyama-usuyukisou found in the mountains along the Sea of Japan —
this flower is clearly larger both in flower-head size and plant height.

“The Serpentine Magic”

Mt. Hayachine is composed of serpentine rock, a rare metamorphic rock formed from peridotite.

Because of this unusual geology, many plants grow here that are absent or rare on ordinary mountains.The phrase “Serpentine Magic” is my own invention,
describing the unique floral landscapes seen on serpentine mountains such as Mt. Hayachine.

Miyama-azumagiku

This alpine daisy seems particularly well suited to serpentine rock.
Even outside Mt. Hayachine, it often appears on serpentine mountains — for example, in parts of Mt. Shirouma.

(9) The Yellow Garden of Yakeishi

Many alpine plants bear yellow flowers.
Here I would like to introduce two representatives: Miyama-kinpouge and Shinano-kinbai.

Allow me to share an old memory.

On July 8, 2017, I climbed Mt. Yakeishi (1,548m) in Iwate Prefecture.
Usually I approach the mountain from the Iwate side via Nakanuma, but on that day I entered from Higashi-Naruse Village in Akita Prefecture.For most of the climb, the trail passed through dense beech forest with little visibility.
But as I neared Yakeishi Marsh around the eighth station, the landscape suddenly opened into this astonishing scene.

A Sea of Buttercups

I privately named this place “The Yellow Garden of Yakeishi.”

Why did such a vast yellow garden appear here?

Until about twenty-five years ago, this area was used as summer pasture for cattle.

The cattle grazed on the surrounding vegetation, but like humans, they had preferences.
Plants that were poisonous, bitter, or thorny were avoided.

Since Miyama-kinpouge is poisonous, it was left untouched and gradually spread across the meadow.

(10) Messengers from the North

Where did Japan’s alpine flowers come from?

Some species originated in Japan and neighboring East Asia before adapting to life in the mountains.
But many others arrived from the far north.

These northern plants likely spread southward from Siberia and the Kamchatka Peninsula, crossing Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands before reaching Hokkaido.

Some even have relatives growing as far away as Alaska.

During colder ages, these northern species expanded southward into central Honshu.
Yet some stopped halfway and remained in Tohoku.

In other words, these are flowers absent from the Japanese Alps and central Honshu, but still found in both Hokkaido and northeastern Japan.The number of such species turned out to be smaller than I expected,
yet each of them possesses a striking beauty.

Ezo-tsutsuji

This flower is brilliantly colored and immediately catches the eye.

In Tohoku, it grows from Hachimantai to Mt. Iwate, Mt. Akita-Komagatake, and the Waga Mountains.
Curiously, however, it reaches its greatest abundance near the southern edge of its range — on Mt. Akita-Komagatake.

There, among rocky slopes, it forms unique alpine scenery together with Miyama-daikonsou, whose flowers are yellow.In Hokkaido, by contrast, the plants I saw on Mt. Daisetsuzan were extremely low-growing, almost as though the flowers alone were blooming directly from the ground.

Iwabukuro

The second flower is Iwabukuro.

In Tohoku, it grows on the Hakkoda Mountains, Mt. Iwate, Mt. Akita-Komagatake, and Mt. Chokai.
Like Ezo-tsutsuji, it becomes especially abundant near the southern limit of its range — on Mt. Chokai.

Touge-buki

The third is Touge-buki
(Ligularia hodgsonii var. hodgsonii).

It resembles Maruba-dakebuki, commonly seen in the mountains of Honshu,
but is slightly smaller and easily distinguished by the bracts surrounding the flower head.

In Tohoku, it occurs in alpine regions north of Mt. Gassan in Yamagata Prefecture.
Yet on the Oga Peninsula in Akita and in Aomori, it also appears in low mountains and even near the coast.

— Nature Notes by Mouzuika (Yuukou Saito) —

(1) Komakusa — The Queen of the Wasteland

The mountains of northeastern Japan are not especially high, and yet, for some reason, they are blessed with an extraordinary richness of alpine flora.

Let us begin with Komakusa.

The title “Queen of Alpine Flowers” seems inseparable from the harsh and desolate landscapes where this plant grows.
Its habitat stretches across northeastern Asia — from the Kuril Islands, Sakhalin, and the Kamchatka Peninsula to Hokkaido and central Japan.

In the Tohoku region, Komakusa is found only in a few isolated locations: Mt. Iwate, Mt. Akita-Komagatake, and the Zao Mountains.
(If Mt. Hiuchigatake in Oze is included, there are four.)

(2) Returning for the Violets

There is a mountain in Tohoku remarkably rich in violets: Mt. Akita-Komagatake.

Among the flowers of this mountain, Komakusa is by far the most famous.
I had climbed this mountain many times since my youth to see it, yet strangely, I had almost no memory of its violets.

I first became aware of these violets about twenty-five years ago.

In Masashi Igari’s field guide Yama-Kei Handy Guide 6: Japanese Violets,
there was a breathtaking photograph of Takane-sumire blooming across an entire mountainside.

Why had I never noticed them before?

Simply because I always climbed Akita-Komagatake after July.
By then, the flowers of Takane-sumire had nearly finished blooming.

In June 2015, shortly after I resumed mountain climbing,
I returned to Akita-Komagatake specifically to see these flowers.

(3) Seas of Hakusan Ichige

When people think of alpine flowers, what comes to mind first?

For me, it is Hakusan Ichige.

This flower often forms vast colonies — true alpine flower fields —
and because it blooms early in the climbing season, perhaps it leaves such a strong impression.

Several flowers bloom together at the tip of a single stem, usually two to five, sometimes even more.

So at the very least, it is not “one flower” (ichige),
and because they bloom in such abundance, I jokingly call it Takusan Ichige —
“the flower that comes in great numbers.”

In the mountains of central Japan, this species is quite common.
But what about Tohoku?

In fact, its distribution here is surprisingly limited.

Along the Sea of Japan side, it can be found from Mt. Chokai and Mt. Gassan southward to the Asahi and Iide ranges.
But in the Ou Mountains, it survives only in three isolated locations: Mt. Ugo-Asahidake, Mt. Yakeishi, and Mt. Fusōzan at the southern end of the Zao range.

Curiously, it is absent even from Mt. Hayachine, one of the richest mountains for alpine plants on the Pacific side of Tohoku.

(4) Endless Fields of Nikko Kisuge

Nikko Kisuge may be the largest-flowered plant among Japan’s alpine flora.

Its vivid orange-yellow blossoms stand out brilliantly,
and because it often grows in great colonies, it creates magnificent alpine landscapes.

Nationally, famous viewing spots include Kirifuri Highlands in Nikko, Oze, and Kirigamine in Shinshu.
But in Tohoku, this flower can also be found not only in alpine regions, but in low mountains, wetlands, and even along the coast.

Here I introduce the particularly large colonies found on Mt. Chokai and Hachimantai.

Great Colonies on Mt. Chokai

On the western side of Mt. Chokai, along the Nagasaka Trail ridge, lies a vast colony of these flowers.

A One-Day Flower

This flower belongs to the daylily family, and is therefore often called a “day lily.”

It seems almost wasteful that such magnificent flowers last for only a single day.

Wondering if that was truly the case, I observed a cultivated hybrid daylily (Hemerocallis) growing in my own garden.
To my surprise, many blooms remained open for nearly two days rather than one.

So perhaps they should be called “two-day lilies.”In any case, producing such large flowers one after another during the heat of summer must consume enormous energy.
It is no wonder that after a particularly abundant flowering season, the plant may spend the next two years rebuilding its strength.

(5) Hinazakra — Children of the Snow

Hinazakra (Primula nipponica) is a species of primrose commonly seen in the alpine regions of Tohoku.

These flowers often bloom in colonies on gentle slopes or wet flatlands left behind after snowfields retreat.

Perhaps because of its tiny white flowers,
whenever I encounter Hinazakra, I sometimes feel as though the snow that had finally melted has quietly returned once again.

Distribution of Alpine Primroses in Tohoku

At the beginning, I mentioned that Hinazakra is commonly seen in the alpine mountains of Tohoku.
Yet in reality, its distribution is remarkably limited — almost entirely confined to the six prefectures of northeastern Japan.

Along the Ou Mountains, it ranges from the Hakkoda Mountains in the north to Mt. Nishi-Azuma in the south.
On the Sea of Japan side, it stretches from Mt. Chokai to the Asahi Range.

Curiously, it does not occur in the Iide Mountains, which extend into Niigata Prefecture.
(There, it is replaced by Hakusan Kozakura.)

Nor is it found on Mt. Hayachine on the Pacific side,
where another species, Himekozakura, takes its place.