KYOTO, Japan−The image you get in your head when picturing the Fushimi Inari Shrine is a serene stroll through the continuous red gates and taking in the fresh forest air while reflecting on life at the top of the mountain. The reality that greeted me was far from the daydream I had imagined.
What I got instead was a leg day sponsored by the 10,000 steps I never asked for and a craving for Pocari Sweat found in the vending machines.
The group and I started off our day by boarding the Keihan Main Line from the Kiyomizu-Gojo Station and hopped off at the entrance of the shrine. As we made our way to our destination, several sights and smells hit me all at once. Souvenir shops and food vendors lined the road. The smell of meat and seafood being grilled hit my nostrils. We finally made it to the massive romon gate and were met with a large crowd with the same goal as us.
Game on!
Despite the bustling energy, the main shrine provided a sense of peace right before the hike. There I performed the standard ritual of two bows, two claps and one bow (I’ve nailed it after many visits to different shrines during our trip) then headed to the start of the trail. This was my first look at what was ahead: rows of vermilion torii gates looking like a tunnel into the unknown. Or in my case, my scenic leg cramp era.
The first 10 minutes of the trail consisted of weaving through multiple photo ops and snapping aesthetic pictures of the tunnel. The gates were tall and beautiful and every few feet offered better angles than the last that screamed “Instagram worthy.” I should’ve known that this was the calm before the chaos.
As the trail began to incline, the crowd also began to thin, and that’s when it hit me: the actual hike had officially begun. This was starting to feel like an uphill, sweaty, thigh-burning battle that even the 12,000 steps I’d been walking every day before this felt useless. As my steps slowed down, a group of children around the age of 7 to 10 sprinted past me making me immediately feel out of shape and overly dramatic. This was when I decided, “I can’t give up now—not like this.”
After long heavy steps and pushing through burning lungs, I made it to the Yotsutsuji Intersection where the path opened to an incredible view of Kyoto and indicated the midway point. A few benches and vending machines lined the path, which to me proved that the gods of this mountain understood modern worshippers and decided to spare us.
As I chugged my water like it was the nectar of life, I began regretting my decision to turn down breakfast that morning and began to wonder if I should turn back around like the other tourists. But the image of those children running up the steps flashed in my mind, and I knew what I had to do. I got up despite my legs screaming for mercy and continued my trek to the summit.
As I got closer to the destination, the hike became cooler, quieter and somewhat more peaceful. The torii gates began to space out and tiny shrines with stone foxes began to pop up. Foxes at Inari are said to be messengers of Inari Okami, the Shinto god of rice, prosperity and business.
They are depicted as white and often carry symbolic items like rice or jewels in their mouths. The fox statues all along the path served as a reminder of the deity’s presence.
After a very long hour and a half, I finally reached the summit with shaking knees and a half empty bottle of Pocari Sweat. I had expected some sort of view like the midway point, but what greeted me was another small shrine and more stairs. After offering another prayer at the shrine, I finally began my way down.
The descent was much easier, mostly because I could let gravity do most of the work for me and most importantly because I knew a cold, refreshing matcha ice cream was waiting for me at the bottom. Once I made it down and could finally think clearly again, I realized the Fushimi Inari shrine was everything I had hoped for despite the physical pain it put me through. It was mystical, meaningful and somewhat deceiving.
What I learned that day was to never underestimate a mountain because of the aesthetic red gates lining the path and to maybe listen to my legs the next time it politely asks me to stop being stubborn.
