Pathway to Japanese Literature

Mountains and Mountain Folk

When mountain climbing first began in our country remains fundamentally unknowable with any certainty; yet tracing its origins back through time, one finds it not difficult to imagine that the earliest ascents were likely performed by primitive tribes who sustained themselves through hunting.
In primitive times when game was presumably abundant everywhere, there would have been little need to climb mountains—without needing to scour deep mountains and hidden valleys, sufficient daily sustenance could likely be obtained in flatland forests, plains, rivers, and marshes.
However, given their instinct to forget all else and pursue large prey when encountered, one cannot definitively assert that they never climbed mountains in such circumstances.
Is this not evidence that stone arrowheads and specialized stone tools are indeed sometimes discovered atop mountains nearing 2,000 meters in height? While one might consider the possibility that animal species struck by arrows fled to mountaintops and perished there, it cannot be asserted that all such findings resulted from such circumstances.

As agriculture developed, these groups of people who relied on hunting for survival yet could no longer endure life on the plains were gradually compelled to retreat into mountainous regions better suited to their livelihood—driven by the dual pressures of vanishing forested hunting grounds and dwindling game populations.
While some may have assimilated into agricultural life, it was only natural that the majority—unable to abandon their traditional way of life—sought secure dwelling places deep in the mountains, where contact with the plains remained minimal.
Though they likely practiced the fire-field method imported from the plains on nearby forests—cultivating millet and barnyard grass to supplement their livelihood—their lives remained fundamentally rooted in hunting, making them the people most deeply engaged with the mountains beyond doubt.
In later times, groups of people who had lost the struggle for survival on the plains likewise retreated deep into the mountains, where they appeared to enjoy a meager yet carefree existence—free from threats or oppression save those imposed by nature itself.
These people too would have naturally incorporated hunting as an element of their livelihood, thereby establishing new interactions with the mountains.

Many of these villages created through such means—like Gokashō in Higo, Katsura along the upper reaches of the Shō River, or Kyōmaru deep in the Keta River valley—remained completely forgotten by mainstream society as secluded mountain enclaves for ages. Yet they would have found some interaction unavoidable with plains people who came invading upstream through wave upon wave of valley settlement. Moreover, between neighboring villages divided by mountain ridges, paths inevitably opened through chance encounters that gradually necessitated travel routes—therein, one may surmise, lay the origins of what would later develop into mountain passes.
That these passes provided immense benefit not only to travelers but also to mountaineers goes without saying.

At some point, activities such as charcoal burning, forestry, and rock moss gathering came to be practiced as occupations among the villagers during certain periods of the year. Whether these practices were taught by people from other regions, learned by some villager who ventured down to the plains, arose from chance opportunities, or resulted from all these factors combined—in any case, before reaching that point, there must have been economic causes and circumstances at play; unraveling these connections proves no easy task. Be that as it may, since describing that matter lies beyond our present purpose, we shall leave its investigation for another day; it suffices to know whether such people were involved in mountaineering. In my estimation, though many high mountains in our country were ascended by founder-revered monks of steadfast faith and high virtue, I believe it not unreasonable to imagine that behind these feats worked such people—even if they leave no trace in written records. To take an example—albeit from a relatively modern era—this can be extrapolated from instances such as the thirteen laborers from Yoshihara, including Soma Chōkuro, who provided voluntary service when Ascetic Kakumei reopened the Kurozawa route of Mount Ontake in 1785 (Tenmei 5), as well as the several labor contributors present during Venerable Banryū's first recorded ascent of Yari-ga-take in 1828 (Bunsei 11). While extrapolating uniformly from these mere one or two examples back through antiquity may seem a bold inference, none could deny there exists an underlying continuity of purpose that connects them through tacit understanding.

Indeed, when considering the difficulty of ascending trackless high peaks in antiquity, it is conceivable that even monks rigorously trained through ascetic practices—who spared neither body nor life—could not have undertaken expeditions spanning ten-odd to several dozen days without such labor contributors.
Of course, these people might have abandoned their master and fled back first should anything occur; yet having timidly returned to yesterday's place and confirmed his safety, they would not have hesitated to offer twice the reverence and labor as before.
Because no records conveying the facts remain, there remains no means to ascertain the truth—this cannot be helped.
The origin stories transmitted through the ages were fabricated by later generations solely to exalt Buddhism, making most of them difficult to credit.
However, we may acknowledge that two or three exceptions exist.

Among these villagers, those who had the closest relationship with mountaineering were the hunters.
Setting aside the faith practices conducted among them—they who made killing mountain creatures their sacred vocation—the mountain founders likely received their assistance most frequently, given that these hunters were peerless owners of mountain knowledge, both bold and agile.
Behind traditions found in origin stories and foundation accounts—such as those describing two wolves suddenly appearing to lead the way, or great deities and Buddhist divinities manifesting to teach paths—one might reasonably interpret reflections of these hunters' labor in guiding or suggesting climbing routes.
Indeed, from the Meiji era onward—whether for survey or mountaineering purposes—whenever these activities concerned previously unexplored mountain regions, nearly all who served as excellent guides were hunters, as we ourselves have witnessed and heard.
In the rare areas where no hunters resided, rock moss gatherers and woodcutters were substituted, but as guides, they naturally could not match the hunters.

In this manner, mountain people—particularly hunters—from primitive times through the modern era, even as eras changed and people came and went, inherited mountain knowledge gained through hunting and other practices under long-standing traditional lifestyles, ceaselessly contributing hidden achievements to the mountaineering world.

As a form of mountaineering unrelated to daily life or faith, climbing mountains for kunimi (country viewing) was not infrequent in antiquity.
The prevalence of mountains named Kunimiyama, Takamiyama, and similar appellations across various provinces likely represents vestiges of this practice.
Of course, mountains standing towering over plains would naturally serve this purpose; thus it followed that many other peaks were climbed for kunimi as well, with Mount Tsukuba standing as one of the most exemplary cases.
These mountains were mostly low, with some exceeding 1,000 meters, but held little significance in the development of mountaineering.

Mountain Worship

Among our people, there had existed since ancient times a custom of regarding mountains as sacred.
Mountains were where the gods resided and also where they made their divine descent.
The peaks reaching closest to heaven were naturally conceived as pathways to the celestial realm.
Mountains such as Kamikura-yama, Kaminabi-yama, and Kamio-yama bore names explicitly marking them as divine seats—a principle demonstrated when Emperor Jimmu established a spirit altar on Mount Tomiyama to worship ancestral deities, thereby designating this sacred "mountain" as a site of divine manifestation.
The place where Ninigi-no-Mikoto descended was the peak of Kushifuru Takachiho.
The sacred tree invariably found at shrines served as the conduit for deities descending during rituals; this arboreal symbol stood as the plains' equivalent of Kamiro-yama among mountains—a terrestrial representation of sacred topography.

However, on the other hand, it cannot be denied that mountains themselves were also revered as deities.
Whether the notion that mountains served as seats of the gods preceded their veneration as deities themselves, or conversely whether deification came first before conceptualizing them as divine abodes, remains difficult to determine with certainty; in any case, given their inseparably close relationship, these concepts appear to have become conflated in later periods.
From our nation's philosophical perspective that "mountains, rivers, plants and trees are all deities," we may consider that ancient Japanese people practiced veneration of mountain entities as divine beings.
While today's enshrined deities have been definitively established—and indeed many were likely consecrated later by priests—we may surmise that ancient times saw coexistence between primitive beliefs venerating mountains themselves as gods and more culturally developed concepts regarding mountains as sacred thrones. The former likely represented faith among primal tribes, while the latter perhaps belonged to the Takamagahara people.
In the entry for autumn's seventh month during Emperor Keikō's eighteenth year of reign within the Nihon Shoki,

On Hinoto-Tori (the fourth day), they arrived at Yame County. Crossing the front mountain, they viewed Kurisaki to the south. The emperor issued an edict, saying: "The peaks and ridges of this mountain rise in layered folds, and their beauty is exceedingly great. Might a god dwell within this mountain?"
At that time, Saruōmi, chieftain of Minuma District, presented himself and said: "There is a goddess named Yamezu Hime who constantly dwells within these mountains."
Therefore, the name of Yame Province originates from this.

There exists such an account.
Yame corresponds to present-day Yame District in Chikugo Province, and Kurisaki is said to be Kurozaki.
This can also be viewed as a legend explaining the place name, and even if Yamezu Hime was merely a female chieftain dwelling in the mountains, that a mountain of extraordinary form was believed to be where deities resided can be inferred from the imperial edict remarking on its layered peaks of surpassing beauty and questioning whether gods might dwell there.

The Manyōshū poet Ōtomo no Yakamochi assumed the post of Governor of Etchū Province in the seventh month of Tenpyō 18 (746 CE). On the twenty-seventh day of the fourth month in Tenpyō 20 (748 CE), he composed:

*Though in Etchū's realm—
This land far-flung from heaven's reach
Yet named among rustic plains—
Mountains stand thick as summer grass
And rivers course countless through vales,
Still does the Imperial Deity hold sovereign reign:
There upon Niikawa's sacred Tateyama peak...*

The following day, on the twenty-eighth, Ōtomo no Ikeuchi responded with his verse:

*Morning sun shafts
Illuminate deity-facing slopes
Bearing august namesake—
Parting layered white clouds
Soaring heavenward
Lofty Mount Tateyama...*

...composed.
With phrases such as "we humbly revere" and "bearing the divine name as gods"—both imbued with veneration for Mount Tateyama as the seat of the Tateyama deity—these verses could only be paeans to the mountain's majestic form.
In the poem "Song of Mount Fuji," attributed to Takahashi Mushimaro, appears the line: "How wondrously a god resides here!"
The variant phrase "or 'How divine—enshrined as Yamato Province's stabilizer'" rather constitutes language venerating the mountain itself as deity, demonstrating the conflation of these two beliefs.

Ancient people particularly venerated rocks as spiritual entities; this ideology—whereby they warded off evil deities and malevolent spirits through rocks' curse power and likened a newborn child's eternal lifespan to the perpetual existence of bedrock—could be inferred from how the Thousand-Pull Rock blocking Yomotsu Hirasaka came to be called Michikaeshi-no-Ōkami (Great Deity of Path-Returning), and from Iwanaga-hime's shame and resentment at not being chosen by the imperial descendants, which led her to curse that mortals would wither like tree blossoms; furthermore, that rocks became sacred places housing deities and that the imperial descendants' seat took form as the rock-hewn August Seat could be deduced from their divine descent through parted heavenly iwakura rock-altars.

The prevalence of mountain names containing the character for 'storehouse' (倉) in our country likely originated when 'seat' (座)—originally denoting sacred rock formations (磐)—came to be pronounced 'kura,' later conflated with 'kura' meaning storage caves.

This naming convention is thought to have originally signified mountains where gods dwell.

Examples of mountains being venerated as gods were nearly too numerous to enumerate.
The Futagamiyama mountains found in Yamato, Etchū, and other regions were precisely what we call Futagamiyama (Two Deities Mountain), a name arising from the veneration of one of their twin peaks as a male deity and the other as a female deity.
Mount Tsukuba and others also belonged to this category; however, in this case, it was thought that a preexisting and predominant place name had become the mountain’s designation.
The Asama Deity of Mount Fuji, Shirayama Hime Deity of Hakusan, Oyama Deity of Tateyama, Ōyama Deity of Hōki Daisen, Aso Hime Deity of Mount Aso, Hio Deity and Hime Deity of Tsurumidake, Komagata Deity of Rikuchū Komagatake, Ishiwaku Deity of Bandaisan, Gassan Deity of Mount Gassan, Karihatamine Deity of Karihatadake—these were nothing more than examples of overlapping divine names sporadically found in national histories. Yet when considering local deities enshrined upon each region's most prominent mountains regardless of elevation, their numbers became truly beyond reckoning.
Not limited to mountains alone—extending even to hot springs, strange rock formations, caves, and beyond—all were revered as mystical and unfathomable divine entities, as was well known.
Mount Yudono and Mount Izu were likely the most fitting examples.
These were originally mountains or hot springs themselves that ancient tribes had venerated as deities, which were later enshrined as official shrines by the imperial court and came to be ranked among the Myōjin Taisha.

The veneration of mountains as deities remained a living custom among indigenous peoples across the mountainous regions from Central Asia to western China - the Himalayan peaks of Everest, Kangchenjunga, and Nanda Devi were all believed to be fearsome gods, with travel accounts recording instances such as porters accompanying climbing expeditions claiming they had heard Chomolungma's (Everest) watchdog barking the previous night.
Nanda Devi means "Goddess of Joy."
Near the border between Sichuan Province, China, and Tibet lay Konka Rismugonba, revered as a sacred mountain in that region. Groups of pilgrims ceaselessly circumambulated its foothills, and they said that at every mountain pass from which the peak could be seen, altars had been erected.
Just as Asama Shrines had been enshrined at mountain passes from which Mount Fuji could be viewed, so too with Rismugonba; however, while Fuji had a shrine at its summit, what differed was that Rismugonba—which exceeded twenty thousand feet in height—lacked any shrine atop its peak.
The sacred mountain Kailas in Tibet was renowned for being visited by numerous Hindu pilgrims.
It was said that mountain worship was particularly flourishing among the indigenous Kyrgyz people.

Now, as an experiment, if one extracts from the Kokushi only those mountains venerated as deities that were comparatively high in elevation, they appear approximately as follows.

Ōyama Deity (No Rank) | Hōki Province, Kaimi District | Junior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade in February of Jōwa 4 (837 CE) under Emperor Ninmyō.

Ōmonoimi Deity (Junior Fifth Rank, Upper Grade with Fifth Order of Merit) | Dewa Province, Akumi District | Senior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade in May of Jōwa 5 (838 CE).

Akagi Deity (No Rank) | Kōzuke Province, Seta District | Junior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade in June of Jōwa 6 (839 CE) under Emperor Ninmyō.

Komagata Deity (Junior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade) | Mutsu Province | Senior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade in September of Ninju 1 (851 CE) under Emperor Montoku.

Kinpu Deity (Junior Third Rank) | Yamato Province, Yoshino District | Myōjin in June of Ninju 3 (853 CE).

Asama Deity (Senior Fourth Rank, Upper Grade) | Suruga Province, Fuji District | Ninju 3 (853 CE), July | Junior Third Rank.

Shirayama Hime Deity (Senior Fourth Rank, Upper Grade) | Kaga Province | Ninju 3 (853 CE), October | Junior Third Rank.

Ishiwaku Deity (Senior Fifth Rank, Upper Grade) | Mutsu Province, Yama District | Jōgan 2 (855 CE), January | Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade under Emperor Montoku.

Oyama Deity (Senior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade) | Etchū Province, Niikawa District | Senior Fifth Rank, Upper Grade in September of Jōgan 5 (863 CE) under Emperor Seiwa.

Gassan Deity (Senior Fourth Rank, Upper Grade with Sixth Order of Merit) | Dewa Province | Jōgan 6 (864 CE), February | Junior Third Rank.

Karihatamine Deity (Senior Fifth Rank, Upper Grade with Ninth Order of Merit) | Mutsu Province | Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade in December of Jōgan 11 (869 CE) under Emperor Seiwa.

Tateshina Deity (Senior Sixth Rank, Upper Grade) | Shinano Province | Junior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade in September of Gangyō 2 (878 CE) under Emperor Yōzei.

Furthermore, many have likely been omitted.
Deities who already possessed imperial court ranks and honors had long since been appointed; however, historical records lack documentation of these events.
The fact that records of court ranks being bestowed upon shrines across various provinces appear with remarkable frequency during the period from Emperor Ninmyō through Emperor Yōzei deserves particular attention.
It is surmised that there may have been an unstable social condition where anomalies in the mountains, irregular climate, and societal turbulence directly exerted profound influence on people's minds at the time, while it is also imagined that from around that period, as eminent monks conducted ascetic practices on renowned peaks across the land and extolled the divine efficacy of mountain deities—reports naturally reaching the imperial court from provincial governors—this might have constituted one contributing factor.
The flourishing of Shinto and Buddhist faith throughout society at that time is explicitly documented in national histories and other records.

The fact that these deities venerated mountains themselves as divine entities—rather than having initially enshrined specific kami such as Ōkuninushi no Mikoto or Ukanomitama no Mikoto—appears to be indicated by the norito ritual prayers recorded in the Engishiki.
For example, at the Kasuga Festival,

the Emperor, seated at the great command, proclaims before the august presence of Take Mikazuchi no Mikoto enshrined in fearsome Kashima, Ihahi no Nushi no Mikoto enshrined in Katori, Ama no Ko Yane no Mikoto enshrined in Hiraoka, Himegami, and the Four Pillar Imperial Deities.

or at the Hirose Ōimi Festival

At Hirose's river confluence they completed the ritual address; proclaiming the august names of the imperial deities—declaring "Wakuka no Ue no Mikoto who bears the sacred offerings"—they thus concluded their supplications before these divine sovereigns.

As seen in these examples, at shrines where specific deities were formally enshrined, the august name of the enshrined deity was proclaimed at the beginning of the norito ritual prayers.
However, even when bearing the same august name,

At the mountain entrance where imperial deities were enshrined, they proclaimed before their august presence: declaring the august names of Asuka, Ishikori, Oshisaka, Hase, Unebi, and Miminanashi; having felled from root to branch the large and small trees growing in distant and nearby mountains to bring them forth; humbly serving at the auspicious palace of the imperial descendants; concealing themselves under the divine protection of heaven and sun; governing the lands in all directions as a peaceful realm—therefore they concluded the ritual offering of hemp cloth from the imperial descendants.

In these examples, mountain names are listed as divine appellations without proclaiming the august name of any enshrined deity—a circumstance from which we may deduce that they venerated the mountains themselves as gods; moreover, since these deities' fundamental mission lay in supplying timber for imperial palaces, this further confirms that mountains were indeed deified entities.
Had ancient norito ritual prayers recited during festivals at the high mountain shrines listed in the Engishiki been preserved, these matters would be known with greater clarity; as it stands, we can only make indirect inferences.

The Origin of Religious Mountaineering

Nowadays, mountain shrines enshrined on high peaks across various regions have village shrines at their bases—established to accommodate visits from the elderly, children, and women—with seasonal festivals conducted primarily there; yet originally, they were meant to reside upon the mountaintops themselves.

Of course, depending on the difficulty of summiting, it is possible that village shrines were first enshrined at the base before mountaintop shrines were constructed, or conversely, that summit shrines were later relocated to the foothills. However, there can be no doubt that religious climbing was practiced among ancient people even before monks began making ascents—a practice likely stemming from the desire to worship as close as possible to where gods dwelled or descended.

The entry for the 27th day of the second month of Jōgan 9 (867 CE) under Emperor Seiwa states:

The Dazaifu reports: The two shrines of the Hio Deity (Junior Fifth Rank, Upper Grade) and Hime Deity (Junior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade) stand upon Mount Tsurumi's ridge in Hayami District, Bungo Province. At the summit exist three pools—one containing bluish muddy water, another black water, and a third red water. On the twentieth day of the first month past, these pools trembled with a sound like thunder.

There exists an article stating this, making clear that a shrine had been present on the mountaintop.
Therefore, it can be inferred there had been worshippers making pilgrimages, and furthermore, in the entry for the 16th day of the fifth month of Jōgan 13 (871 CE),

On the 16th day (Jin'yu), there had previously been a report from the Governor of Dewa Province: The Ōmonoimi Shrine of Junior Third Rank with Fifth Order of Merit stands upon a mountain in Akumi District, where sheer rock faces tower precipitously, rarely reached by human footsteps; crowned with snow through summer and winter, barren and devoid of vegetation. On the eighth day of the fourth month past, a fire occurred on the mountaintop, burning earth and rocks; there was also a sound like thunder. The river issuing from the mountain had muddy water overflowing; its color was bluish-black, and it was filled with a stench unbearable to endure.

There exists an article stating this. This documents the provincial governor's report of Mount Chōkai's eruption, while also making known that a shrine existed upon its summit; moreover, though human visitation was rare—for rarity does not equate to complete absence—it speaks to the fact that pilgrims did indeed reach those heights, however infrequently. On the thirteenth day of the first month of Gangyō 2 (878 CE) under Emperor Yōzei, in an entry regarding the monk Sanshū petitioning to have Gokoku-ji Temple on Mount Ibuki in Sakata District, Ōmi Province, listed among temples with fixed imperial stipends,

In his youth, he shaved his head and entered the Buddhist priesthood, traversing renowned peaks until he had visited nearly all of them. During the Ninju era, he ascended this mountain—counted among the Seven High Mountains—and observed its topography: sheer cliffs rose precipitously on all sides, with human footsteps rarely reaching its heights.

This too stands as a similar record, demonstrating that Mount Ibuki already had climbers by that time.
From these examples, one may infer that mountain shrines across various regions were likewise enshrined upon summits, and perceive that there existed those who undertook ascents for worship.

This mountaineering differed from the previously described ascents by hunters and others necessitated by daily life—being instead a simpler faith-driven practice. Therefore, even the later-flourishing religious mountaineering founded by monks or ascetic practitioners had to ground their development and dissemination in this foundational faith while deliberately fostering Shinto-Buddhist syncretism. It was precisely through this meticulous preparation that such religious mountaineering prospered as it did.

Though Buddhism was gradually gaining prominence during this period, its reach remained confined to culturally advanced urban centers and temple precincts rather than penetrating remote mountain regions. Given that many among the general populace likely revered kami while disdaining Buddhist practices, the monks who first opened these mountains probably refrained from enshrining Buddhist deities at the summits initially.

Shōdō Shōnin, who pioneered Mount Nantai, on the eve of his intended ascent,

"If the deities indeed possess awareness, I beseech them to perceive my heart: may I truly reach the summit with these sutras and images I have transcribed, perform offerings for the gods, thereby revere their divine majesty, and abundantly bestow blessings upon all living beings," he pledged to the gods. That is, he sought divine protection, succeeded in reaching the summit, and wished to make offerings to the gods using Buddhist scriptures and statues. Interpreting "shinmei" broadly as referring to various deities was permissible; alternatively, construing it narrowly to mean Futarasan-jin—the local tutelary deity—presented no issue. In any case, when undertaking his Mount Nantai ascent, Shōdō Shōnin relied on the gods' protection and recited sutras to express gratitude for divine favor. Even other eminent monks of that time likely could not escape the prevailing ideologies of their era; therefore, when opening mountains, they would venerate the local deities long enshrined there as benevolent guardian deities of Buddhist law and seek their protection—much like how Enryaku-ji Temple revered the Great and Small Hiei Deities. Even if the deities revered by ancient people were in fact regarded through Buddhist teachings as so-called various heavenly benevolent deities, the fact that they firmly vowed to successfully complete their mountain ascents through divine protection—thereby revering sacred authority and seeking to enhance the populace's welfare—reflected how this was generally considered not fundamentally at odds with ancient traditions of deity worship. That this relationship between host and guest became inverted over time was due to Buddhism’s gradual spread inducing syncretic ideologies of Shinto-Buddhist amalgamation, ultimately culminating in the formulation of the honji suijaku doctrine. According to Dr. Tsuji’s research on the honji suijaku theory, "the practice of reciting sutras before deities gradually gained prominence from the Enryaku and Kōnin eras; this originated from the concept that deities, being beings who had not yet attained enlightenment and remained unliberated among sentient beings, would joyfully receive Buddhist offerings, open their enlightenment through the merit thus accrued, and advance toward becoming bodhisattvas." That is to say, while the bodhisattva title honored the deity, it did not yet signify complete unity with Buddha. Therefore, during this period, the concept that deities were manifestations of Buddha had not yet emerged. The phenomenon of Shinto-Buddhist syncretism had been gradually emerging since the Tenmu and Jitō periods prior to the Nara era, but no evidence could be found that the honji suijaku theory was advocated during the Nara period, and the assertion that Gyōki formulated the honji suijaku theory was a later invention, fundamentally divorced from fact. Furthermore, during the era of Saichō (Dengyō Daishi) and Kūkai (Kōbō Daishi), the ideology of Shinto-Buddhist syncretism had not yet developed to the stage of formulating the honji suijaku theory; both Sannō Ichijitsu Shintō—which claimed Saichō as its founder—and Ryōbu Shūgō Shintō—which attributed its establishment to Kūkai—were products developed and formed in later ages that were anachronistically ascribed to these two great masters, and all works on Shinto purportedly authored by them were apocryphal. Upon entering the Fujiwara period, it appeared that the honji suijaku theory emerged around the Engi era; this doctrine passed through the Genpei era into the Kamakura period, gradually developing its full doctrinal system. Considering this fact, the eminent monks of old who founded these mountains would have had no reason to enshrine deities as manifestations of original Buddhas at the summits; consequently, the divine name "gongen" should not yet have existed at that time. The presence in origin stories purportedly documenting mountain openings prior to the Fujiwara court era of accounts describing the enshrinement of gongen served as proof that these engi narratives were later fabrications, demonstrating just how many such cases proved difficult to credit.

The Spread of Mountaineering

Prior to the emergence of religiously cultivated mountaineering's great bud in this land, it is reasonable to presume—as previously discussed—that ascents rooted in ancient faith had already been practiced to some degree.
Though this devotional climbing remained modest in scale and its underlying philosophy fundamentally rudimentary and nebulous, had there arisen a visionary leader capable of endowing it with theoretically derived structure and unified liturgical forms—one sufficiently empowered to steer the age—mountaineering would likely have flourished without requiring monastic involvement; so deeply had the currents of mountain veneration been fermenting among the populace since antiquity.
That religious mountaineering—having germinated within this milieu while deftly reconciling with Japan's indigenous Shinto theology through strategic harmony rather than conflict—ultimately attained later prominence by assimilating into the national ethos was no mere historical accident.

However, it remains regrettable that credible records of these religious mountaineering pioneers opening high mountains across various regions are scarce, with most persisting merely as legends. Among these figures, Prince Shōtoku and En no Gyōja are traditionally regarded as the first climbers of numerous provincial peaks, though this appears nothing more than a later fabrication ascribed retroactively. To be sure, while we may acknowledge that En no Gyōja—revered as Shugendō's founding ascetic—likely traversed provinces for ritual purposes during his travels, the notion that he scaled multiple unclimbed high mountains strains credulity. For Kashiwa Mountain's founder, reaching the summit did not constitute mountaineering's ultimate objective—this differed fundamentally from modern ascents where summiting completes the endeavor. The summit marked only the initial phase; a far weightier mission awaited beyond. Through guiding karmically connected devotees up punishing slopes, even ordinary adherents might attain divine communion, bathe in purification's ecstasy, cleanse their six senses, and secure promises of longevity—provided they recognized these blessings flowed solely from the founder's virtue and maintained eternal spiritual bonds. Failing this, their sacred vows would prove void, rendering divinely sworn ascents meaningless—a reality demanding founders' perpetual presence at their bases rather than distant wanderings.

Such was the case with Monk Taichō, who opened Mount Hakusan.
Shōdō Shōnin, who opened Mount Nantai, was also such a case.
Given their fierce and unwavering devotion, opening other high mountains would not have been impossible; yet they ultimately never summited peaks beyond Mount Hakusan or Mount Nantai. This stemmed not from prioritizing quantity of ascents, but rather from dedicating themselves wholly to venerating the mountains they had risked their lives to open as guardian deities protecting Buddhist law—consecrating these summits as celestial altars for ritual offerings while performing devotional rites for national protection and public welfare—coupled with their acute awareness that scaling such heights was no facile endeavor.
En no Gyōja had Yamato as his base until his exile to Izu, performing ascetic practices at Mount Katsuragi and founding the Ōmine pilgrimage.
Completing that long and arduous ridge traverse as a Shugendō training ground must have required considerable time, and it may well have taken more than a single generation to accomplish.
Therefore, even En no Gyōja—it can be inferred—would have needed to leave his longstanding base of ascetic practice near the imperial capital to expand his sect’s influence and increase its followers.

With the exception of three or four cases, the mountains that ancient people climbed as objects of faith—even if considered high peaks within their respective regions—generally rose near plains and had relatively low elevations.
However, the mountains opened by monks were lofty peaks or remote ranges where human footprints were scarce, among which some had never been trodden at all.
The dating of these openings is considerably ancient, with many apparently occurring during the approximately seventy to eighty years spanning from around the Taihō era to the Enryaku era.
Indeed, by this period Buddhism finally flourished, establishing its influence within the imperial court, while the concept that Japan's Shinto deities—like Buddhism's various heavenly benevolent deities—rejoiced in Buddhist teachings, took refuge in the Buddhist path, and protected them had spread even among high-ranking officials and nobles, as evidenced by the oracles of Kehi Shrine and Hachiman Shrine.
The performance of sutra recitations before deities and the erection of jingūji temples within shrine precincts all stemmed from the belief that the gods delighted in receiving Buddhist offerings—as discussed earlier.
This eventually led enterprising eminent monks and virtuous priests to establish their fundamental vow in opening renowned mountains to make offerings to the gods and erecting temples upon sacred sites.
When Shōdō Shōnin undertook his ascent of Mount Nantai, he vowed: "If I do not reach the summit, neither shall I attain bodhi."
It is evident that reaching the summit they aimed for to make offerings to the gods was also believed to be the very reason for attaining their own enlightenment.
Moreover, since the high priest's epitaph was authored by Kōbō Daishi, this can be regarded as representing the ideology of monks at that time.
The emerging ideology, riding the tide of the times, spread vigorously and without pause to every region, and there unfolded a stage in Japanese mountaineering history worthy of special mention—the mountain openings conducted by monks.
And at the foundation of these motivations lies this crucial matter that must not be overlooked: that Shakyamuni Buddha's ascetic practices through which he attained enlightenment were performed in snowy mountains, and that the protective deities of Buddhist law dwell upon mountaintops (such as Sumeru or Kōsuizan)—these two factors at minimum must have ceaselessly exerted powerful impulses.

Despite the fact that mountaineering by monks was practiced in various regions—a reality that cannot be denied—historical records merely confirm these mountains' ancient climbing histories while often leaving their founders unidentified; this absence might paradoxically indicate early popularity, making it more accurate to conclude that no definitive founder can be identified.
The question of who opened Mount Fuji—that iconic peak of the eastern sea region—remains emblematic of this phenomenon, with no definitive records existing beyond legends.
Though Miyako no Yoshika's *Record of Mount Fuji* clearly shows climbers existed as early as that period, it omits any founder's name.
Mount Ontake in Kiso and Mount Hōō in Kai are similarly believed to have been opened in antiquity, yet again lack verifiable ancient records.
That towering monolith crowning Mount Hōō's summit must inevitably have served as a focal point for ancient worshipers' devotion.

The two renowned mountains of Echigo—Hakusan and Tateyama—resembled each other not only in their origin stories but even in their mountain legends to such a degree that traces of one imitating the other could be discerned.
Tateyama was said to have been opened by Jikō Shōnin in the first year of Taihō [701 CE], while Hakusan was claimed to have been opened by Monk Taichō in the first year of Yōrō [717 CE].
Hakusan was likely older; the Oyama Deity of Tateyama had received its court ranking both later in date and lower in status than the Shirayama Hime Goddess.
This discrepancy may have later formed the basis for Tateyama being transmitted as having been opened earlier than Hakusan, fostering competitive sentiments between the adherents of these two rival mountains.
Yet the persistence among Tateyama devotees of the oral tradition stating "Tateyama falls short of Hakusan by just the height of a horse's horseshoe" testified to their tacit acknowledgment of Hakusan's supremacy.

Mount Ishizuchi in Shikoku—a lofty peak—was opened around the same time as Mount Hakusan and Mount Tateyama.
The *Nihon Ryōiki* states:

In Iyo Province’s Kamino District, there exists a mountain named Ishizuchiyama—a name derived from the Ishizuchi deity residing there. The mountain’s towering heights render it inaccessible to ordinary people; only those devoted to purification rites can ascend and dwell upon it.

states this, and the May entry for Kashō 3 in *Montoku Jitsuroku* also records:

The elders pass down this account: In Iyo Province’s Kamino District, there was once a great monk named Shakuzen, revered as a saint. Among his disciples stood one called Jōsen, who dwelled upon the mountain summit. His ascetic practices surpassed even Shakuzen’s, and all demons and spirits obeyed his every gesture.

states this.
Ishizuchi was originally Ihatsuchi, where tsuchi—like the tsu chi in Ikazuchi (Thunder Deity), Kagutsuchi (Fire Deity), and Shihozuchi (Shipmaster)—signifies a chieftain or leader; this name demonstrates how the massive rock near the summit was revered as a deity marking the mountain's vanguard status among rocky peaks, attesting to the practice of faith-based mountaineering among ancient people.
Shakuzen founded Yokomine-ji Temple and was called Sekisen Shōnin; there is no doubt he was a great figure of Emperor Shōmu’s era and the pioneer of Mount Ishizuchi.

While the origin stories concerning the opening of Ishizuchiyama and Hakusan are generally credible, surpassing even these is the text titled "Inscription and Preface on Monk Shōdō Polishing the Mystic Pearl Through Mountain-Water Asceticism" included in the *Shōryōshū*—being both a work attributed to Kōbō Daishi and a contemporary record, it stands as an exceptionally valuable document for understanding both philosophical thought and mountaineering hardships of that era.
Therefore, without concern for redundancy, I have decided to present herein the account concerning the ascent of Mount Nantai.

In Jingo-Keiun 1 (767 CE), early April, he commenced his ascent; yet with snow lying deep, cliffs standing sheer, and amidst clouds, mist, thunder, and disorientation that barred further progress, he retreated to dwell upon the mountainside for twenty-one days before turning back.
In Ten'ō 1 (781 CE), early April, he once more undertook the ascent; yet again found himself unable to reach the summit.
In the third month of the second year [782 CE], he copied sutras and depicted Buddha images for offerings to all Shinto deities, tore his robe to wrap his feet, abandoned life itself to devote his path, shouldered scriptures and icons to reach the mountain base. There he recited sutras and worshiped Buddha through seventeen nights before making a solemn vow: "If the divine spirits would but know, may they perceive my heart! May these sutras I have copied and images I have depicted reach the very summit to make offerings unto the gods, revere their august might, and enrich all beings' fortune. I beseech you, benevolent deities: unleash your power! Make venomous dragons churn mists! Let mountain spirits guide my way! Aid me in fulfilling this vow! Should I fail to attain the summit, neither shall I attain bodhi!"
Having thus completed his vows, he crossed snowfields gleaming white, climbed through verdant foliage ablaze with brilliance, secured precarious footholds until body wearied and strength depleted, rested overnight, and at last beheld the summit—trance-like, resembling dream yet wakefulness alike. Without celestial chariot's aid he suddenly entered the Milky Way; tasting divine elixir he gained sight of the sacred cavern. Now exultant, now anguished—his heart and soul could scarcely endure.

While there were some discrepancies and chronological inconsistencies with the *Fudaraku-san Sōsō Konryūki*, both accounts remained credible; one needed only collate them and make necessary revisions. The departure point had been Shihonryū-ji Temple, constructed on the Ōtani River's northern bank. The first two attempts had both occurred in early April, with the final one taking place in mid-March. When converted to the solar calendar, these early April dates corresponded to mid-May for both initial attempts, while in Ten'ō 2 (Enryaku 1)—due to an intercalary month in January—March 11th equated to May 1st, thus placing all three attempts around mid-May. By that period, Mount Nantai's southern face held less snow, daylight hours lengthened, cold eased, and clear skies persisted—with obstructive undergrowth still dormant. They had selected this optimal climbing season; yet requiring two nights from lakeshore to summit meant their hardships defied imagination. Likely many other high peaks were scaled under similar conditions with comparable difficulty.

According to this text's statement—"When gazing southwest, there lies a great lake"—I had initially assumed they first looked down upon Lake Chūzenji from the summit, suspecting they might have ascended via the eastern Kinomi-daira side. However, upon examining the Konryūki, which records that during their first ascent attempt they had already discovered a large lake on the mountainside, I realized the mention of "dwelling halfway for twenty-one days" meant they had lodged by the lakeshore to perform twenty-one days of ascetic practices.
It seems they encountered a blizzard at the summit, as written: "At first glance it severs the gut with terror; gazing transfixed yet insatiably; wind and snow drive men onward."
Perhaps strong winds had blown away the powder snow.
He then joyfully recounts achieving the Zen summit, stating: "I secured my hermitage at its southwest corner and dwelled there, performing devotional rites and praises for twenty-one days. Having thus fulfilled this vow, I promptly returned to my former abode."
And in the fifth month of Enryaku 3 [784 CE], they erected Jingū-ji Temple at this sacred site.
If such records are fortunately discovered in the future, the circumstances of mountaineering at that time will likely become even clearer.

In this manner, the path of religious mountaineering that originated in the medieval period became increasingly developed as time passed—for the gods, once considered as one among sentient beings, progressed to become bodhisattvas, and further advanced to become Buddhas.
It came to be explained that the gods were manifestations of Buddhas—that the original Buddhas had manifested traces to become gods—and through this, the honji suijaku theory was fully established. With precise systems that were detailed through either Tendai or Shingon doctrines, Sannō Ichijitsu Shintō and Ryōbu Shūgō Shintō were created, thereby giving rise to a new mountain religion capable of capturing popular devotion without conflicting with ancient mountain worship traditions.
I consider this to have been the primary cause behind the eventual popularization of mountaineering among the masses, while the most influential agents in practically implementing this doctrine and propagating it nationwide were the sect later called Shugendō—founded by En no Gyōja, who had merged with these Shinto traditions.
Indeed, those who opened the mountains were eminent monks and virtuous priests, but those who popularized mountaineering were the yamabushi—that is, ascetic practitioners.

The opening of Ōmine by En no Gyōja—who had been granted the title Great Bodhisattva of Divine Transformation—occurred during Emperor Tenmu’s reign. However, after his passing, those who climbed to perform ascetic rituals gradually dwindled. When Rigen Daishi (Shōbō), founder of the Tozan school, conducted his revitalizing peak entry in the first year of Kanpyō under Emperor Uda, chronicles describe how thickets blocked all paths, forcing him to tread open routes by grasping vines and kudzu.
As the adage goes—that mountains can only be preserved by leaving them entirely to nature—even the most robust trails would mostly vanish without trace if left unrepaired for two or three decades.
How much more inevitable, then, that Ōmine's ridge traverse paths—where trail-making had been expressly forbidden—would become choked by undergrowth within mere years.
Ōmine's desolation may have stemmed from whether En no Gyōja's most gifted disciples abandoned the head temple after his death to seek new peaks across the provinces, hastening to establish their own training grounds and thus causing the main complex's decline—or whether accounts of Rigen Daishi forging paths through vines were mere fabrications. Though the truth remains elusive, such cyclical rises and falls over two centuries would have been unavoidable.

Over eighty years after Rigen Daishi's time, in the fourth year of Emperor Horikawa's Kanji era [1090 CE], Great Archbishop Zōyo served as a pilgrimage guide for Retired Emperor Shirakawa's imperial visit to Kumano. As reward, he was appointed to the position of Kumano Sanzan Kengyō and became founder of the Honzan school. It is recorded that during this period, many of En no Gyōja's disciples who had been scattered across various provinces affiliated themselves with the Honzan school.
From then on, Shugendō divided into two schools—the Tozan and Honzan factions—which spread widely across the provinces and further branched into numerous offshoots. Even practitioners of other sects performing austere rituals came to emulate their methods. During mountain-opening seasons, ascetic practitioners armed with sixteen ritual implements climbed every renowned peak and towering mountain. The ringing of their ritual bells pierced the clouds while the blare of conch shells reverberated through the ranges.

Ascetic practitioners known as yamabushi—true to their name—made it their sacred vow to endure the most arduous austerities in mountains as training grounds for Shugendō, diligently performing spiritual exercises and mastering esoteric rituals; yet upon descending, they never neglected to perform prayers and incantations for the people, using their spiritual power to ward off all calamities, relieve suffering, and bestow blessings.
While the atonement of past sins and future attainment of Buddhahood were indeed significant, for ordinary people, being spared from present suffering in this world remained the most pressing concern—a deeply felt blessing.
Therefore, those ascetic practitioners, having gathered unto themselves the faith of the masses and being revered like incarnations of deities and Buddhas—it should hardly surprise us that something resembling a unified religious organization gradually coalesced.
However, it was likely not until the Tokugawa period that this group became formally organized as an association, and I believe Fuji-kō stands as Japan’s first institutionalized mountaineering association.

The ascetics' mountain entries involved protocols of utmost strictness, and as their permitted periods were also restricted, it is thought that ordinary people who undertook climbs must have been rare.
This was also one reason why mountaineering protocols became so stringent—the disdaining of allowing laypeople easy access to ritual training grounds.
However, for believers, it was exceptional.
Our ancestors originally venerated mountains rather than considering them terrifying cursed places; that this reverence was compelled into fearful regard stemmed partly from the circulation of quasi-supernatural origin tales and chronicles, but chiefly from sectarian disciples successively seeking to exaggerate their predecessors' supposedly extraordinary spiritual powers. They grafted onto Buddhist-derived motifs various fabricated yet sufficiently frightening legends—comparing volcanic craters to hellscapes and sacred rocks to mountains of swords—thereby stripping away the beautiful sentiments inherited from deified ancestors and instead disseminating through society a pervasive dread that took root and branched widely.
This can be considered, on one level, as a strategy of attributing solemnity to mountains to appeal to the masses’ curiosity and religious devotion, thereby seeking to increase adherents.
Pious believers came to visit sacred sites commemorating the sect founder’s great achievements—selecting revered ascetics as their guides to attain gratitude’s Zen summit—just as the mountain’s founder had climbed to offer sutras in worshipful thanks to the deities.
Thus through accumulated experience and ascetic training, they naturally gained qualifications to become guides themselves, meaning the adherents’ mountaineering could be sufficiently managed by guides from among their own ranks. As years passed and climbers gradually increased in number, mountaineering shifted from the hands of experts to those of amateurs. When mountaineering societies called kō began forming across regions, the long-suppressed subconscious reverence for mountains finally surfaced, leading religious mass mountaineering to reach unprecedented popularity.
Needless to say, this occurred after entering the Tokugawa period, when war’s calamities had completely ceased.
Of course, even for believers’ climbs, they were required to observe peak-entry regulations and follow ascetic protocols; however, these were not particularly stringent, requiring only compliance with the guides’ directions.

The extent to which mountaineering had spread during the Tokugawa period can be seen from how discontinued ascents were revived; how mountaineering associations called kō were established nationwide, with single mountains hosting dozens to hundreds of such groups—some even boasting tens of thousands of adherents per kō; and moreover, how members were mutually free to climb mountains affiliated with other kō.
This was undoubtedly because life had stabilized, coupled with a mindset that viewed traveling away from mountains as a form of leisurely diversion.
It closely resembled how countless mountaineering groups were formed across modern regions and climbing flourished everywhere.
The sole difference lay in how completely the guides' ethos permeated all aspects, ensuring no acts defiling mountain sanctity were ever permitted.
Not only were mountains with discontinued ascents revived, but numerous peaks previously unclimbed by ancients saw first ascents.
Mount Ontake—where climbs had lapsed after Kiso Nagamasa's June 1560 ascent—exemplified the former pattern through Kakumei Gyōja's 1785 Kurozawa route renovation and Fukukan Gyōja's 1792 Ōtaki route reconstruction, both recognized as restoration pioneers. The latter pattern appeared in Nanei Osho's June 1783 ascent of Mount Kasaga-dake and Banryū Shōnin's July 1828 climb of Mount Yari-ga-take.
Particularly the latter achievement—given Yari-ga-take's position at the Northern Alps' core—stood as a crowning feat concluding this era's pioneering.
Both men showed fierce climbing dedication; yet their regrettable lack of zeal in promoting public participation left their achievements obscure—a lamentable outcome.
This likely related to these mountains' extreme remoteness and transportation difficulties.
Though others' exact eras remain unclear, most peaks enshrining Buddhist deities like Dainichi, Yakushi, Kannon, and Jizō on summits were arguably opened during this period.
These facts too reveal mountaineering's vigorous flourishing.

In this era, many ascents were conducted under different circumstances.
The principal ones included the production of provincial maps during the Shōhō and Genroku eras; the demarcation of borders and territories for daimyō (both large and small); the adjudication of mountain disputes; mountain patrols for forest surveillance; the gathering of medicinal herbs; and, rarely, ascents conducted for geographical research.
Among these, there were also mountains where religious mountaineering began with these activities serving as the catalyst.
For instance, Mount Kiso-Komagatake was repeatedly climbed for inspection (the inspection records left by Naitō Shōemon in Genbun 1 [1736] and Sakamoto Unshirō in Hōreki 6 [1756] are invaluable documents for understanding conditions of that time); it was during the Tenmei-Kansei era [1781–1801] that followers of Ontake-kō began climbing the mountain, leading to the enshrinement of Komagatake Shrine at its summit.
Such examples appeared to be numerous in the Okukōshū region and elsewhere.
The large-scale patrols conducted by Kaga domain's mountain officials in the Kurobe Okuyama region likely completed the first ascents of several high peaks in both the Tateyama and Ushiro-Tateyama mountain ranges during this period; however, details remained unclear due to a lack of available records.
With the Meiji Restoration, even religious mountaineering—once so flourishing—suffered a devastating blow from the prohibition of Shinto-Buddhist syncretism and rapidly declined. Yet until around the time of the Sino-Japanese War, mountaineering still generally meant religious ascents.
That was now pressed by the gradually emerging modern mountaineering—particularly the rapidly developed sport-oriented mountaineering of recent times—and barely clung to survival in some marginal corner.
Moreover, the spirit of old, the morals of old had already been lost, leaving behind nothing but hollow forms.
Mountaineering that had forgotten its spirit and morals—was the adage that history repeats itself indeed true? Looking back, there were countless instances that overwhelmed one with this contrast between past and present.

The above has primarily presented my views concerning the development of religious mountaineering.
I had intended to further describe the trends in mountaineering during the post-Meiji Restoration period, but it is regrettable that I ultimately failed to accomplish this.
Since it appears that the development of religious mountaineering had not been sufficiently addressed until now, I resolved to take this opportunity to present my views on that subject alone in somewhat greater detail—which led me to devote most of these pages to it, resulting in the text's regrettable verbosity.

In the same way that all cultural institutions underwent a complete transformation following the Meiji Restoration, mountaineering too underwent a fundamental change in both form and substance.

Modern mountaineering might not be considered an extension of pre-Restoration mountaineering.
The two developed from divergent starting points after all.
Yet might there not lie a shared ideology at their foundation? There does—namely, the philosophy of natural love.

The Evolution of Mountaineering

A. Pre-Restoration

The evolution of mountaineering in our country should be broadly divided into pre- and post-Restoration periods and further subdivided for proper documentation; however, lacking space for such elaboration here, I shall confine myself to outlining its general contours, reserving a detailed discussion for another occasion.

The pre-Restoration period was an era bound by a class system that demanded strict adherence to old customs.
While horizontal expansion permitted some freedom, vertical advancement faced near-total prohibition.
All were compelled to remain within their ordained stations.
This required essential resignation.
Resignation bred complacency, making people content with prescribed molds and abandoning attempts to transcend boundaries.
Did this not influence mountaineering? Though indirectly, its impact appears certain.
Indeed, even as climbing flourished, its forms grew rigid—annual repetitions bringing no substantive evolution.
Quantity increased while quality stagnated in religious ascents; secular mountaineering never took even one step beyond faith's confines.

Here there existed yet another fixed pattern of ancient aesthetic sensibility where mountains and water stood as its supreme elements—indeed, the very characters for "mountain" and "water" had become synonymous with landscape itself—and yet, despite this, the majority of so-called literati and cultured intellectuals felt an affinity for water while remaining distant from mountains.

They knew mountains were to be viewed from afar, and beyond hills of modest elevation, they never dared to enter their embrace or scale their summits. Rare exceptions like Suzuki Bokushi, Takahashi Hakusan, Tachibana Nankei, or Sawamoto Genkai did exist—men who extolled the beauty of mountain clouds, the wonder of rock formations, and the grandeur of vistas—yet even they climbed no more than two or three peaks at most, each ascended but once. Thus they never came to savor those landscapes’ endlessly varied fascinations nor kindle within themselves a true mountaineering passion—a regrettable outcome indeed. What might have transpired had these intellectuals climbed numerous mountains as religious mountaineers did, viewing and observing peaks from their own unique perspectives? Or conversely, what if these intellectuals had instructed religious climbers to attend to such aspects as the beauty of clouds, the wonder of rock formations, and the grandeur of vistas during their ascents? Probably, conventional aesthetic perspectives would have been shattered, understanding of mountains deepened, and observational acuity refined—thereby conceiving the germ of mountaineering independent from religion—or so I am inclined to think, though I hesitate somewhat to cite this as an example, based on my own experience.

However, the influence that ascetics had implanted in the mountains was truly deep-rooted.
Shirakita Peak in the Shirakami Range, opened in Meiji 4 (1871) by Natori Naoe of Ashizu, reportedly fell into disuse due to lack of climbers. Yet adherents of kō groups allegedly continued climbing until around Meiji 34-35 (1901-1902) in the range encompassing three peaks—Akaishi, Okunishikōchi, and Akusawa—which had been pioneered in Meiji 19 (1886) by Hara Jōkichi, a guide of the Keishin-kō.
Moreover, on Mount Akaishi, a survey marker from the Home Ministry's Geography Bureau had already been installed in Meiji 12 (1879).
Faced with this reality, even I—who had mobilized rock-moss gatherers skilled in rope techniques for sheer cliffs and hunters traversing snowfields in straw boots and snowshoes, striving through my writings to explore possibilities of pre-Restoration rock climbing and winter mountaineering—found myself compelled to fold imagination's wings and abandon the endeavor.
Pre-Restoration mountaineering, having remained thoroughly religious in nature, could not have undergone any substantial transformation.

However, as could be roughly inferred from the aforementioned accounts, nearly all notable mountains across the nation had already been climbed; only the region of towering peaks that would later come to be called the Japanese Alps—though not in its entirety—remained preserved as the stage for new mountaineering endeavors that began in the post-Restoration era.

B. Post-Restoration

Modern-style cultural mountaineering during the early Meiji period grew and developed in the Japanese Alps, which had been left behind before the Restoration.
This region, above all as a stage providing fascinating mountaineering, stood unrivaled in the mainland.
It was here that mountaineers of the mid-to-late Meiji period—dissatisfied with the remnants of religious mountaineering—vied to make their mark.
It was also here that young mountaineers from the Taishō to Shōwa eras honed the necessary climbing techniques for rock ascents and winter mountaineering.
This very place became both the birthplace of modern mountaineering following the Meiji era and the cradle that nurtured it into the flourishing activity we witness today.

The mountaineering of the Northern Alps is said to have first been conducted around Meiji 11-12 (1878-1879) by Mr. William Gowland, who named the Japanese Alps; he climbed over ten peaks including Mount Tateyama, Mount Jii, Mount Gorō, Mount Yari, Mount Norikura, and Mount Ontake.
In addition, we can count five or six others such as Mr. Kinch, Mr. Satow, Mr. Chamberlain, and Mr. Atkinson, who were active around the same time or slightly later.
These individuals engaged in mountaineering for the purpose of academic research and investigation.
According to Mr. Kojima Usui’s analysis, their true intent lay in glacier exploration within Japan.
Regarding this matter, I hold a suspicion that Dutch visitors to Japan during the Tokugawa era—particularly Dr. Siebold, who researched our nation’s geography, customs, and especially flora and fauna, bringing back numerous specimens and authoring voluminous works—may have provided some inspiration to those Western climbers. However, with my current capabilities, I see no prospect of resolving this question.

Keeping pace with these foreign researchers, Mr. Sakai Ichitarō conducted geological surveys across extensive areas of the Northern Alps around Meiji 18-19 (1885-1886), while Mr. Ōtsuka Sen'ichi in Meiji 22 (1889) successively carried out three explorations of the Ushiro-Tateyama Mountain Range north of Harinoki Pass—proceeding from Harinoki Pass to Yukigura-dake, temporarily returning to Ōmachi before entering the Kurobe Gorge, crossing San'ninbiki-yama from Kanazuri Hot Springs to reach Shimojiro, spending approximately one month on these endeavors.

In Meiji 21 (1888), Mr. Walter Weston arrived in Japan.
From Meiji 24 (1891) onward, he climbed seventeen peaks in the Chūbu region including Kiso-Koma, Shirouma, Tateyama, Ontake, Norikura, Yari, Jōnen, and Akaishi.
His travelogue was published in London in 1896 under the title *Mountaineering and Exploration in the Japanese Alps*.
This book introduced the Japanese Alps to a wide international audience and has come to be respected as an old document concerning our country’s mountains, yet few Japanese people have likely benefited from its merits.
From that perspective, I believe Mr. Kojima Usui’s *Japanese Alps* is far superior.
Not limited solely to *Japanese Alps*, I consider that every one of Mr. Kojima’s works published both before and after it imparted an impression on young mountaineers equal to the influence that those of us in the older generation received from *Nihon Fukeiron* (Essays on Japanese Landscapes).
Nevertheless, Mr. Weston’s status as the founding father of the Japan Alpine Club remains an achievement that should not be forgotten.

Mr. Shiga Shigetaka’s *Nihon Fūkeiron* (Essays on Japanese Landscapes) was published in October of Meiji 27 (1894), two years prior to Mr. Weston’s work and while the Sino-Japanese War still raged.
It was a publication released at a time when the entire nation was engrossed in war, and being truly a masterpiece, it received exceptionally fervent acclaim.
Among the climbers of the time—who were likely not numerous in the first place—there can scarcely have been any who did not receive profound influence from this book.
That climbers in the Northern Alps gradually increased from around Meiji 28-29 [1895-1896] to Meiji 35-36 [1902-1903]—though this is solely my own view—I imagine resulted from its influence.
However, even if called numerous, it was limited—Mr. Kōno Reizō’s ascent of Shirouma-dake in Meiji 31 [1898] and Mr. Kojima Usui’s climb of Yari-ga-take in Meiji 35 [1902] were merely notable instances.
However, Mr. Weston returned to Japan and between 1902 and 1904 climbed various peaks in the Southern Alps including Kita-dake, Ainodake, Hōōzan, Jizōdake, Senjō, Kaikoma, and Aka-dake of the Yatsugatake Range.
Of course, there are not a few mountains outside the Alps that were climbed by Japanese people; however, we shall omit all of these.

It was also around Meiji 35 (1902) that debates surrounding our country’s glacier issue blossomed in academic circles, stirring up considerable controversy.
Dr. Naomasa Yamasaki’s lecture on the glacial remains of Shirouma-dake served as the seed sown within this academic field.
This debate continued long afterward and gradually began to attract mountaineers' attention.

The Southern Alps were first traversed by Japanese people almost simultaneously with the Northern Alps.
Mount Akaishi was initially climbed in August of Meiji 12 (1879) by Nariwa and Terasawa, survey officials from the Geography Bureau of the Home Ministry; then in Meiji 14 (1881) by Miwa, Araki, and Yoshida; and in Meiji 15 (1882), Professor Yokoyama Matajirō’s party of three entered from Totai for geological surveys, emerging at Narada along the Norogawa Valley before crossing Dentsuku Pass from Niikura to reach Ōkawara.
In Meiji 17 (1884), they climbed Mount Hōōzan with Dr. Harada Toyokichi, reached Amahata, and crossed over to Ogochi.
Mr. Naumann ascended Mount Akaishi in Meiji 16 (1883), and the following year Mr. Nakajima Kenzo set out simultaneously with Mr. Yokoyama’s group to scale Mount Akaishi, descended the Ōi River to emerge at Senzu via the valley route, then crossed over from Senzu to Toyama.

The year Meiji 39 (1906) was when the Japan Alpine Club—then called simply the Mountain Society—was established with over four hundred members and published the inaugural issue of its journal *Yama*.
This served as the impetus for mountaineering clubs to be newly established at various high schools, specialized schools, universities, and other institutions; over the subsequent span of nearly fifteen years, the mountaineering world suddenly became active, and new records for summer ascents in the Japanese Alps were successively set.
Initially, they had adopted the method of ascending and descending one peak before climbing another, but since this meant one could conquer no more than two or three mountains in a summer—a regrettable limitation—they grew dissatisfied. Recognizing that traversing from peak to peak proved unexpectedly manageable, they endured the inconvenience of carrying camping gear and provisions to implement ridge traversing, which met with success. Followers soon emerged in succession, until ultimately all practitioners adopted traversing except when necessity or unavoidable circumstances required ascending individual peaks.
The first instance was likely Mr. Kojima Usui’s traverse between Tsubame and Jōnen in Meiji 39 (1906).
Thus, with many mountains being climbed at once, every notable peak in the Northern and Southern Alps was swiftly climbed. The focus of interest shifted to valley routes and mountains beyond the Alps, expanding mountaineering’s scope to Kurobe, Sujuroku, Chichibu, Oku-Joshū, Ōu, and Hokkaido—ultimately reaching as far as Taiwan and Korea.

From the early Taishō era onward, university mountaineering clubs demonstrated remarkable activity, dispatching numerous climbing teams to mountains across the country year after year. However, as they accumulated experience and deepened their research, merely repeating predecessors' routes no longer satisfied them. Consequently, around Taishō 11 (1922), demands arose for route alterations; they began striving to pioneer new paths along mountain flanks or remaining rock ridges. Club members lodged near the mountains in training camps, competitively establishing records for these new routes—locations that gradually came to be selected for their increasing difficulty. Through this process, mountaineering techniques advanced significantly, with rock climbing emerging as an independent discipline within the field of mountaineering.
In Taishō 10 (1921), Mr. Maki Yūkō residing in Switzerland succeeded in climbing the previously unconquered Eiger's East Ridge—renowned for its severity—and when this achievement was reported in our country, it undoubtedly excited young mountaineers' spirits and accelerated the trend of technical rock climbing.

Almost concurrently with these developments, as skiing advanced, snow-season ski mountaineering was conducted; with the completion of mountain huts, this became midwinter ski mountaineering. The combined use of rock climbing and ski techniques opened unprecedented frontiers in Japan's mountaineering community that had never before been known. Most recently, through siege-style mountaineering (a method involving establishing a base camp then progressively advancing first, second, and subsequent camps while maintaining communication—so named for its use in polar exploration), the Kyoto University expedition team's ascent of Paektu Mountain in Korea and the Tokyo University Chishima expedition team's climb of Chachanupuri were accomplished.

(Shōwa 11, July [1936] "Mountain Lectures")