Mt. Ōmine, May 6-8 2014

Mt. Omine is a place of terrific beauty and wonder. It lies deep in the mountains of Nara Prefecture, and the small hot springs town of Dorogawa Onsen nestles at the base of its largest peaks, Sanjôgatake and Inamuragatake. I am watching late afternoon shadows casting over colorful hillsides, writing while sitting at the window of my inn. A few locals mill about, and the sound of running water from Gorogoro springs forth as a constant. This area has been held as sacred for well over a thousand years, and for good reason. Steep cliff faces, deep limestone caves, fresh spring water, not to mention the effervescent spirit of the locals and their histories. Mt. Omine is also the headquarters of Shugendo, Japan’s tradition of mountain asceticism…men (mostly) clad in white dangling themselves from cliffs, meditating under frigid waterfalls or in pitch black and seemingly endless caves.

It’s my second research trip here to study a lesser-known aspect of the mountain’s history, its exclusion of women from the main peak. This is the focus of my dissertation. I am a historical detective. Today the innkeeper drove me to the entrance of the mountain trail, the limits of where women are allowed. A calm and peaceful area of memorial and anniversary plates, a small shrine, several Buddhist statues, and a large stone gate (and a wooden gate, and a sign in English, and one in Japanese) stating “No Women From Here.” Everyone seems to have a different idea as to why women are banned from the mountain…distractions from mens’ training, blood pollution, women’s weaker bodies, or simply just “tradition.” Spending time here and meeting locals, young and old (mostly older) has changed my perspective so much on what I initially thought was a flat out gender discriminatory policy. Japan is a place of layers, and Mt. Omine is no exception. I look forward to unpacking these layers in my dissertation, but for now I’ll just share a few highlights from this beautiful day. I hiked along the river down from the gate, through mossy sun streaked forests. Alone, all alone. Peaceful. Eventually I arrived at the Hahakôdô, or Mother’s Hall, where the founder of Shugendo’s mother waited in support of her son, whom she could not follow up the mountain. It’s a modest sized temple, and three men in priest attire sat out front drinking coffee. They invited me to join, and brought sweets and gentle smiles. From what I can gather, although foreigners are not completely uncommon in these parts (I have never seen one in the flesh, however), they were pleasantly surprised that a foreign woman traveled alone here. A thickly accented man dipped a brush in ink, copying sutras, while asking me about my background and upbringing. Another, realizing I was struggling to understand much of his Japanese (these dialects!) came over and served as a sub-translator into Japanese I could work with. All were receptive and supportive of my research and offered great insights. 

I continued along the river, passing by a lone fly fisherman, and then reaching a series of three massive limestone caves. A table with spelunking supplies greeted me at the mouth of one, and I loaded up to go in. The cold darkness of the cave, as well as the first “mouth” which one must crouch all the way down to access, sent chills into my heart and I realized how scared I was. The blackness extended in twisted corridors far beyond eyesight. I was alone. Uncomfortable. Dark, dark, dark. Heart racing, I exited into the green light. After studying rudimentary maps of the caves, in shock at how extensive they are, I took a short trail up to the second cave entrance. Equally foreboding in its energy and what I can only describe as ominous inviting nature, I decided to keep to the light. Light, light, light. A man saunters up to the supply table/shrine entrance and I couldn’t have been happier to have a bit of human energy around. He told me of the third cave, the grandest cave of ascetic training, and I crossed the river and then back over a suspension bridge to test my fortitude one last time. Without a flashlight, I only entered into the first several rooms. Clutched the cold stone with an instinctive protective prayer in mind, and thanked the light and the dark and all in between. Thoughts of men (and ostensibly women) alone, in the dead of winter, in these caves for extended periods of time – no food, no water, only mind. It’s a lot to contemplate, let alone endeavor.

Meandering the riverside, soaking in light, I continued back toward town. Strolling the main street, a man shouted an excited “KONNICHIWA” as he crouched next to a building smoking a cigarette. A group of what looked to be tourists sat on a bench drinking green tea. I said hi to everyone. The kindness of strangers, even at the sight of a female Godzilla like me, never goes unnoticed. Crossing the river again, I walked to Ryûsenji, the main Buddhist temple in town to ask for information related to my research. Three young monks sat in an office, one drawing Chinese characters on wooden tablets. They served me tea and pointed me toward the town museum. I continued on my way, through rows of Buddhist statues and vermillion bridge covered ponds. One of the monks, out of breath, ran up to me with a brochure for an art exhibition in Osaka. Again, the kindness. Museum was closed (I think everything is closed on Wednesdays here!), so I made a loop back to the ryokan. A man driving a huge truck gasped at the sight of me, then smiled widely. The gentle priest from the Hahakodo pulled up behind me in his car, “Hello Lindsey!!” The lovely old woman at the local sake store chuckled at my height and gave a toothy grin, telling me to come back. And indeed I will.

Oh, and the cherry blossoms are still bloooming :)