Totoro

Hiking in Hanno: Ancient Temples

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Ema at Chichibu Mitake Shrine in Hannō City, Saitama

Our latest Wednesday afternoon hike (check out our recent jaunts in Ogawa and Tokorozawa’s Totoro Forest) took us into the foothills of the Okuchichibu Mountains and nearby Hannō City. Back in May, we met a couple Japanese ladies on our way to another hike in Hannō who suggested we try the trail to Neno-Gongen Temple.

The city’s website provided a basic outline of the hike advertised as the Ancient Temples of Oku-Musashi. I mapped it out in detail to ensure we wouldn’t get ourselves lost in the woods (in literary circles, this sentence is called “foreshadowing”).

The tree-covered hills of the Okuchichibu Mountains are home to a decent-sized population of Asiatic black bears. Most hikers wear a bell like this one to keep from sneaking up on a bear in the woods.
The tree-covered hills of the Okuchichibu Mountains are home to a decent-sized population of Asiatic black bears. Most hikers wear a bell like this one to keep from sneaking up on a bear in the woods.

We arrived at Agano Station, the starting point for our hike, around 2 p.m. The train station was selling bear bells, which we’d been meaning to buy for awhile. The hilly forests host a good-sized population of Asiatic black bears. The ringing of the small bells is a common sound on many of the region’s hiking trails. Knowing we’d be on our own for much of the day, it seemed like a good time to pick one up.

The bell from Tōzen-ji temple in Miyagi Prefecture is now on display at Hoko-ji temple, just outside Agano Station.
The bell from Tōzen-ji temple in Miyagi Prefecture is now on display at Hoko-ji temple, just outside Agano Station.

Just down the street from the station, we made our first stop at Hoko-ji, a Buddhist temple established in 1386. For a small-town temple, it had several impressive pieces, although its most impressive didn’t even belong to the temple.

Large bronze bells (ō-bonshō) are a fixture at Buddhist temples. This particular one was part of Tōzen-ji temple, located in Miyagi Prefecture on the northeast coast of Japan. The temple was destroyed in the 2011 tsunami and the bell washed into the ocean. Hoko-ji will continue to be the bell’s caretaker until the temple in Miyagi is rebuilt.

An American of average height, I'm constantly ducking under things in this country!
An American of average height, I’m constantly ducking under things in this country!

After ringing the bell a couple times, we passed through the low-ceiling tunnel under the train tracks and followed the path to Togo Park. The park is named for Heihachirō Tōgō, an admiral in the Imperial Japanese Navy during the 1800s who grew up in the area. The steep-hilled park is popular for viewing the changing autumn leaves.

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At the top, reached by climbing nearly 400 steps, we were rewarded by an outdoor “museum” to the Russo-Japanese War. A piece of artillery-shelled deck from the battleship Mikasa and a Russian-made cannon with artillery shells are among the items on public display. Higher up, a small bamboo grove surrounds Chichibu Mitake Shrine. The shrine is the only one in Hannō that has a Shinto priest living on site.

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We climbed back down the steps to the park’s entrance and started up the road to Neno-Gongen Temple. Along the way, we passed Asamichaya, a teahouse and udon noodle shop that has been tucked away in the mountains since 1855. It was already closed for the day, but it’s still operating as a resthouse for weary travelers looking to fuel up or just grab a quick snack on the trail.

As we approached the gates of Neno-Gongen Temple, the road opened up into an amazing view. Thanks to the clear weather, we could see all the way to Tokyo Skytree and the Yokohama Landmark Tower, more than 40 miles to the east.

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Neno-Gongen is all about extremes. A pair of giant Kongōrikishi statues wait at the gate in their permanent intimidating poses. Inside, an oversized pair of straw sandals hang near the main temple with two more metal versions sitting nearby. Opposite the giant sandals, miniature sandals serve as ema (prayer offerings) left by worshippers. Down the hill, a pair of giant hands rest in a traditional Buddhist mudra position.

The sunset at Neno-Gongen Temple
The sunset at Neno-Gongen Temple

Neno-Gongen was roughly the halfway point of our hike. It was exactly 5 p.m. when the sun started to disappear. We were literally in the middle of the mountains; too far to turn back, so we powered forward.

Note to our mothers: You should probably stop reading now and just assume that everything continued according to plan! 🙂

We had about two miles remaining to reach the town where we’d catch the bus. In hindsight, we might have chosen to follow the road from the temple in hopes to find a passing car, but—to paraphrase Jung—wholly unprepared, we embarked down the path into the forest.

The last photo of the day, tree trunks illuminated by the camera flash as only darkness awaited us.
The last photo of the day, tree trunks illuminated by the camera flash as only darkness awaited us.

The trees quickly blocked out what remained of the sunlight. Soon, the narrowing trail was pitch-black. To the left, the slope of the forest. To the right, a drop-off into the trees. All we had for light was the display screen from the camera.

Things quickly turned into an amateur remake of the Blair Witch Project. Weird screeching sounds echoed through the forest. Rustling sounds—real or imagined—stopped us in our tracks. The journey slowed to a crawl as the path devolved into a steep slope entangled in a snarl of exposed tree roots.

We arrived at Takedera Temple as the camera battery drained toward end of life. We used what was left of our light to find the nearest road. While it headed away from our bus stop, it would at least get us out of the forest. As we walked through the temple’s front gates, a motion-sensing security flood light flashed on, sending a rush of adrenaline surging through us that would last well into the night.

Once we found the paved road, we followed it down in a half-run until civilization finally re-emerged. We saw a bus stop, but we’d missed the final bus of the day by 30 minutes. Certain that we were still some distance from a train station, we flagged down the first car that passed. A young woman named Yū stopped.

Me: Do you know where the nearest station is?
Yū: Hannō.
Me: Is it far?

She gave me that look of pity that has become all too familiar over the last year and a half and invited us into her car. We were immediately comforted, both by the ride and the Of Monsters and Men song “From Finner” playing on her radio. The lyrics fit the moment perfectly:

And we are far from home, but we’re so happy
Far from home, all alone, but we’re so happy

We drove… and drove… and drove. She told us she was going to Hannō to visit friends, so it wasn’t out of her way. But with the Japanese penchant for friendliness, she could have been a minute from home when she picked us up. We’ll never know.

She dropped us at Higashi-Hanno Station. We offered gas money, but of course she declined. I removed the Totoro Fund button that we bought on our last hike from my backpack and gave it to her as a token of appreciation.

If this is our last hike of the season, it certainly will be a memorable one!

Searching for Totoro

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The Totoro display at Kurosuke House in Tokorozawa, Saitama, Japan

The sound of the rustling leaves told us something was lurking nearby. We wandered deeper into the camphor trees, acorns cracking under our feet. We knew he was nearby… any minute now, we’d find Totoro.

Totoro, of course, is a large cat-like spirit who stars in My Neighbor Totoro (となりのトトロ), one of writer/director Hayao Miyazaki‘s famous animated films. Totoro gained some fame among fans of Japanese animation in the U.S. when Disney dubbed the film into English in 2005, but the movie and its characters are deeply engrained in Japanese pop culture.

I’d never heard of Totoro or Miyazaki before coming to Japan. I’d kind of heard of another Miyazaki film, Spirited Away, but only because of its 2002 Academy Award win for Best Animated Feature. Turns out they’re just two of many wildly popular and successful films in the Studio Ghibli catalog.

Last week accidentally turned into a Totoro pilgrimage. We’d been trying to visit the Studio Ghibli Museum for a few months. Tickets are limited to a certain number per day and usually sell out weeks in advance. We finally managed to score a pair for the last entry on a Sunday afternoon.

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We caught our first glimpse of Totoro as we entered the gates of the museum. While photos are not allowed inside, the museum’s exterior grounds offered plenty of fun photo opportunities. Inside, kids of all ages geeked out over a mix of exhibits showing different animation techniques, Miyazaki’s workspace and interactive opportunities for everyone. There’s even a film made specifically for the museum called The Whale Hunt (くじらとり).

Our Totoro adventures didn’t end at the museum though. We’ve been trying to milk the end of summer by heading out for some local hikes. While looking for something new this week, we stumbled on something called Totoro’s Forest. About 10 miles to the south of us is 8,650 acres of woodlands known as Sayama Hills.

More famously, it’s the inspiration for the lush, magical forest scenes from My Neighbor Totoro. The Totoro no Furusato Foundation has been working to preserve the area’s natural beauty over the past 25 years. If we were going to find Totoro, it seem like this was the place to do it.

Our first stop was the Kurosuke House. The 100-year-old home is a perfectly-preserved example of early 20th-century Japanese homes and also served as inspiration for some of the home scenes in Totoro. The foundation runs a small gift shop inside and offers maps of the local area.

A basket on the outside porch contained several acorns. One of Totoro’s plot devices is how one of the girls in the movie finds a trail of acorns, which eventually lead them deep into the forest and to Totoro.

We left Kurosuke House and headed down the road to the Tokorozawa campus for Waseda University. Just off its camphor tree-lined path was the trailhead for the first two Totoro Forest sections. We headed up the narrow mosquito- and spider-ridden path, seeing the irony of this hike taking place within spitting distance of the university’s paved bike path.

We started to see more acorns on the ground, seemingly laid on the trail as if they wanted to be followed. We stayed with the trail, crossing a mudbog that seemed to be the source of all of Japan’s mosquitos before  arriving at a fork in the path. Straight ahead was a sightseeing spot. To the left, a scenic wooden footbridge leading deeper into the forest. Not wanting to get too far off the trail, we followed the footbridge.

Turned out that was the wrong decision. The sightseeing path would have taken us along the path indicated on our cartoonish map of the area. Instead, we wandered into knee-deep grass. Giant spiders weaved traps between every tree. Too far to turn back, we headed for a fence in the distance. We finally found a gate and exited back to the road. A sign on the outside of the fence read “トトロの森でわありません” or “This is not Totoro’s Forest.”

We wandered around the edge, walking in circles for the next hour before finally finding our route again. Covered in fresh mosquito bites, broken spider webs (and, it turns out, an actual spider!), I was ready to cash in this “hike,” but we trekked on. Totoro was still out there…

Things started looking up as we headed up into the hillside. Scenes familiar from the movie started to pop up. A lone camphor tree in a meadow recalled the gateway to Totoro’s forest home. A small shrine in the woods was reproduced in the film. From the top of the hill, we could see over Tokorozawa City. Rumor has it that Totoro’s name came from Miyazaki’s niece mispronouncing the city’s name as “Totorozawa.”

Kotiya-san, an artist with an eccentric style, came out to greet us along the path. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles.
Kotiya-san, an artist with an eccentric style, came out to greet us along the path. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles.

As the sun began to set, we knew we had better pick up the pace if we wanted to find Totoro. The houses were few and far apart in this area, but as we approached the stretch run, we came to a home with several eccentric pieces of art decorating the fence. The owner, Kotiya-san, came out to greet us. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles and sent us on our way.

Is it Totoro?
Is it Totoro?

It was just down the street from Kotiya-san’s house when we saw it. The fur. The big eyes. The ears… is it Totoro? Close, but no cigar! Likely a creation of Kotiya-san himself, a life-size version of Totoro known as Tokoro-chan made mostly from old fir branches.

We headed back into the forest one last time. The dark path was carved out of the ground with trees rising high above on both sides. There’s a scene in the movie when the family comes out of the woods that was clearly inspired by this stretch of forest.

Entering the world of Totoro
Entering the world of Totoro

We emerged on the other side without an actual Totoro sighting, but we definitely stepped into Totoro’s world for a day. What a beautiful world it is!

Walking Guides

Walking guides of the area are available via the Totoro Fund website. The maps are only available in Japanese and lack some of the detail you’d want from a hiking map.

We followed map #3 from Kurosuke House to the Saitama Green Forest Museum. (For a custom Google Map, click here.) If you go during the summer or early fall, I’d suggest long pants and long sleeves to keep the mosquito bites to a minimum.