Bitchu-Takahashi - Mountain Top Castle in Blazing Autumn Foliage

This was a last-minute addition to our 16-day trip that we're glad we didn't skip.



In retrospect this might have been the most vibrant autumn foliage we have ever encountered. And this comes from a Canadian -- trust me, I have seen plenty of autumn foliage in a country sporting a red maple leaf on our national flag. There's even a row of maples near my house, but this was something special.



We're up in the mountains of West Japan, at a historic castle often shrouded by mist and known to locals as Castle-in-the-Sky. Without realizing the effect of higher elevation on the ripening of foliage, we walked straight into the peak of fall colours.



Starting from the planning stages, the timing of our 16-day West Japan trip had been designed to coincide with the highly anticipated season of Koyo, or red leaves in Japanese. This was the time of year when domestic Japanese tourists swarm every major temple in Kyoto, which was precisely why we chose the road less traveled, especially on our way to Japan's Sanin Coast.



The height of the so-called Koyo-Zensen, or Red-Leaf-Front, was supposed to start in Hokkaido in October, gradually move south and reach Hiroshima by late November. In fact Hiroshima's Shukkeien garden always schedules its annual Momiji illumination festival in the third or fourth week of November. We half-expected the climax to be around November 25 upon our arrival at Hiroshima, but it came 10 day early, right here at Bitchu-Takahashi.



And we almost skipped this gorgeous little gem. Just a few weeks prior to departure I debated skipping Bitchu-Takahashi and opt for either Kibi Plain's ancient shrines or Fukiya's historic town, but the lure of a mountaintop castle was simply too tempting. That said, getting to the castle was rumored to involve either a 1.5 hour hike or a potentially expensive taxi ride. As we found out, there's a much easier way that the Japanese themselves take, but is seldom mentioned on the English side of the Internet.



You see, the town's tourism office organizes a shuttle service between their office in front of the train station and the castle, four times a day, every day. This cost 500 yen per person per way which is reasonable for saving an hour's time for sightseeing, and on the way back it's possible to ask the driver to drop off in front of the famous Raikyuji Temple and the nearby Samurai Residences. If this sounds too good to be true, you are right ...



Now here's the caveat. Reservation is mandatory and must be made prior to 17:00 the previous day, only by calling the Tourism Office -- as of 2017 they still do not take reservations by email. I managed to reserve using my dreadful Japanese, and I'm not convinced that their English is much better. But even without reservations, if you're visiting on a weekend you may be able to catch the popular 09:50 departure booked by Japanese visitors. And if that doesn't work, a private taxi cost about 1500 yen according to fellow blogger YTSL, who can also advise readers on how to hike down from the castle.

If you're interested, check the Tourism Office's official website (in Japanese) for details on the shuttle departure times.



Our shuttle dropped everyone off at the Fuigo-toge parking lot alongside a couple busloads of Japanese seniors from Kansai, still a 20 minutes hike from the castle compound through some shaded woods and slippery steps from last night's rainstorm. Walking sticks were provided for free, and would become handy on the way down.



Our first wow moment came after 15 minutes as we reached the castle's first line of fortification, menacingly perched upon a 15 metre stonewall and crowned by flaming maples at the height of their seasonal brilliance. The famous Koyo-Zensen had thoroughly arrived when we least expected.



This was less than 24 hours after our visit of Okayama's 300-year-old Koraku-en garden, where most of the maples were at least a week away from turning fully red in the mild climate of the Seto Inland Sea. But here at Bitchu-Takahashi, 400m above sea level, one more week would see the end of Koyo season.



Amidst dazzling fall colors we made our final ascent to Bitchu Matsuyama-jo, a 300-year-old citadel regarded as one of Japan's Three Great Mountain Castles. In fact this place is so famous for its mountaintop scenery that the local tourism office organizes yet another shared taxi service to chauffeur early morning visitors to a neighboring mountain just to see the castle floating above a sea of clouds. If you fancy getting here at 08:00 and don't mind spending 1500 yen, call the tourism office a day ahead and ask for the Unkai Taxi.



At last we reached Matsuyama-jo's final ring of fortifications at the mountaintop, 25 minutes after starting our hike from the parking lot. While the citadel itself had fully emerged from the morning mist that coined the nickname Castle-in-the-Sky, the town of Bitchu-Takahashi below was still enshrouded behind a layer of mist and clouds.



After a brief 20 minute stay and a final panorama from the top of the castle, we had to hurry back to the parking lot to catch the return shuttle at 11:40. We could have stayed a little longer in retrospect as the bottom half of the return path was a paved vehicle road, cutting the descent to less than 20 minutes even with photo stops along the way.



On the way back we asked the shuttle driver to drop us off at Bitchu-Takahashi's charming Buke-Yashiki, or Samurai Residences. To our surprise none of the Japanese visitors wanted off at our stop, and we were able to enjoy these immaculate 180-year-old mansions essentially all by ourselves.



Originally developed during the feudal era as a community of local government officials and public servants, the old Samurai district still carries the name of Ishibiyacho, or Cannon Town. While only two of the mansions are open for public visits, this formerly prestigious neighborhood is still lined by striking earthen walls and mossy rooftiles from a bygone era.



We spent about 45 minutes between the Orii Residence and the Haibara Residence, resting on the Tatami floor and enjoying the view of the manicured pine gardens beyond the veranda. The curator of the Haibara Residence was even able to speak reasonable English -- which was very rare in rural Japan -- and guided us through some of the more interesting exhibits.



Aside from the history, the blazing red leaves above the town's earthen walls were simply some of the most colorful of our 16-day trip. One particular red maple on a side alley north of Raikyuji Temple produced the most beautiful autumn foliage I had ever seen.



One block south of the Samurai Residences we reached the town's star attraction, a 400-year-old dry landscape garden designed by one of Edo Period's great tea masters. Featuring artificial islands of greenery and a borrowed backdrop of local mountains, Raikyuji Temple's picture-perfect rock garden is a National Designated Scenic Spot and a perennial feature on tourism brochures.



An exquisite garden of such aesthetic quality would have been flooded with international armies of tourists if this were situated in Kyoto, except we're at little-known Bitchu-Takahashi. Even in the popular sightseeing season of autumn, the number of tourists during our visit was in the single digit.



Another block south of Raikyuji stands one of West Japan's famous historic churches, the 120-year-old Takahashi Christian Church established in early Meiji Era when Christianity was barely legalized. The church is situated on the bank of little Kouyagawa river, formerly an outer moat of the castle and now a popular spot for enjoying cherry blossoms in springtime.



With just 40 minutes left before our scheduled train, we stopped for a quick snack at the town's favorite takoyaki-joint of Gomangoku, famous for a local invention known as Yuzu Konnyaku Takoyaki. I have no idea how it tastes compared with regular takoyaki, as it's only available on Saturdays and Sundays after 14:00. If anyone finds out, please drop me a comment below.


Food Review: TENNINDO (Bitchu-Takahashi)
Address: Higashimachi 1877, Takahashi-shi, Okayama Prefecture
Hours: 09:00-18:00, Closed on Sundays
Map: from Google Maps
Directions: From the train station, walk west on the main road for one little block. Turn right into a shopping street. Tennindo is 400m down the street, on the right side, just before the next major cross street.


Our featured food review of Bitchu-Takahashi isn't a restaurant, but a renowned 200-year-old confectionery with a long history of supplying handmade Wagashi sweets to the feudal lord. While I did have this little shop on our itinerary, it was my wife's keen nose that tracked down its elusive storefront. I can't even describe the seductive aroma emanating from the wooden bucket of peeled Yuzu citrus at the front.



The little bag of yellow Mochi cubes on the left was my favorite Wagashi sweet of our entire trip. Period.

A timed-honored recipe of ground Yuzu rind and Mochi powder, the plainly named Yubeshi, or Yuzu Cake, has served as Tennindo's flagship product for seven generations with its chewy texture and the unmistakable perfume of locally harvested Yuzu citrus. For Yuzu lovers like my wife and I, it's a heavenly treat that we slowly relished one cube at a time, before the end of the short 3-day expiry period.



We finished this Yuzu Monaka, a traditional wafer sandwich with tiny nuggets of Yubeshi embedded inside the Azuki bean filling, at the train station as we awaited the express train to our next homebase of Matsue. We never saw Yubeshi on the store shelf again after leaving Bitchu-Takahashi. For any reader planning to visit Bitchu-Takahashi and its mountaintop castle, do your sweet tooth a favor and don't miss this elusive Japanese dessert.

Bill for Two Persons

Yubeshi (150 gram bag)	325 yen
Yuzu Monaka	125 yen
TOTAL	450 yen (CAD$5.3)

Onomichi - Temple Walk, Beef Tongue and Poisonous Okoze Fish

This understatedly photogenic town was our favorite day-trip from our 3-night stay at Kurashiki. An excellent lunch -- in fact two of our favorite lunch entrees in one meal -- has a lot to do with it, but it's also a beloved playground of photographers wielding anything from serious DSLRs to cellphones.



It's easier to be photogenic when you've got a distinguished, indisputable landmark. Okayama has its world famous garden; Bitchu-Takahashi boasts the highest of Japanese mountain castles. But those are the kind of luxury that humble Onomichi lacks.



One could argue that Onomichi is blessed with a variety of little attractions, or that it has no quintessential sight. If you trust its official tourism website, the most popular spot would be Senkoji Park and its sweeping panorama of the Seto Inland Sea. But if you ask anyone who has gotten lost among Onomichi's entanglement of steep alleys, the town's inner charm runs so much deeper.



Onomichi can represent vastly different things to different people -- literary greats to most Japanese, serene temples to most foreigners, starting point of the 60km Shimanami Kaido to cyclists, Showa-era cinema to film bluffs, and Maneki Neko to cat lovers. And we would form our own opinion by the end of our day.



To properly understand Onomichi, a good starting point is the city's 2015 induction into Japan Heritage, which described it as "the city of miniature landscape, woven together by the Onomichi waterway since the Middle Ages." Yes, miniature landscape, or Hakoniwa in the induction script. Clear as mud?



The cryptic portrayal would become clearer from a bird's eye view from the cable car, where Onomichi would take on a Hakoniwa-like appearance, boxed-in by steep green hills on both sides of the busy waterway, barely two minutes across by ferry. With a narrow city centre only 300m wide and 2km in length, it's ideal for a day-hike from one end to the other, slowly savoring its rambling little alleys on foot.



For day-trippers staying at Okayama or Kurashiki like ourselves, the easiest way to access Onomichi is to buy a Kibi-no-Kuni Odekake Pass, which offers, among other perks, unlimited JR train rides between Okayama and Onomichi for 1950 yen. Bus Stop #1 in front of Onomichi Station has buses departing for the Jodoji-shita bus stop, the starting point of our self-guided walking tour.



The first half of our hike loosely followed Onomichi's famous Temple Walk, a meandering route linking 23 large and small temples over a few short kilometres, starting at the outlying Kairyuji and returning to Onomichi Station at the end. Our 5-minute bus ride took us to Jodoji-shita where this steep flight of stairs lined with Buddhist banners showed the way towards Kairyuji and Jodoji.



The Temple Walk kicks off with a bang at its eastern starting point with a designated National Treasure, the 700-year-old pagoda and main hall of Jodoji. The other National Treasure along the route would come at the very end at Jikoji.



After Jodoji the zigzagging path would continue northwest, passing several smaller temples before taking a sharp detour up the steep stairs of Mount Saikokuji where three more temples await beyond the Edo-era gate and its giant straw sandals.



While the trail to Saikokuji's 3-storey pagoda was closed due to landslides on this day, the trio of temples did provide nice views of Onomichi from the mid-mountain level. After the Saikokuji turnoff the Temple Walk would continue west towards Tenneiji, but we had to take a short diversion from the trail. It was time for lunch.



Fittingly situated next to the shoreline was one of the most respected seafood specialists in town, an Onomichi institution dating back to Year 1915 with a narrow focus on one particular species of local fish. With only 14 seats, we took no chances and reserved our table by email two weeks prior.


Food Review: AOYAGI (Onomichi)
Address: Tsuchidou 2-8-15, Onomichi-shi, Hiroshima Prefecture
Hours: 11:30-14:00 17:00-21:30, Closed on Wednesdays
Map: from Google Maps
Directions: From the train station, walk east along the seaside promenade for about 800m to Hiroshima Bank. Aoyagi is diagonally across from the bank, on the right side on the road.


This was one of the three best lunches of our 16-day trip, served by this tiny eatery with an inconspicuous exterior that belied its 100-year-old history as a local legend.

Like most historic restaurants in Japan, Aoyagi concentrates its effort on one or two time-honoured dishes that it does better than anyone else: a century-old recipe for stewed beef tongue, and poisonous Okoze fish -- one of the most dangerous ingredients in the Japanese chef's repertoire -- prepared in Karaage style.



Not to be confused with poisonous Fugu, the Okoze is an alien-looking fish with harmless white meat but a row of deadly venomous dorsal spines. It's never the diner who gets poisoned (as in the case of Fugu), but the chef himself who braves the grave hazard of losing his hand -- or his life in extreme cases -- to one of the most dangerous toxins known to man.

With such critical demand on the chef's skills, Okoze has always been an exclusive ingredient served only at higher-end restaurants. Just 500m down the street from Aoyagi, the venerable Ryokan Uonobu offers Okoze Karaage and Sashimi meals from 5400 yen to 9000 yen (CAD$64 to $106), which makes Aoyagi's Okoze Karaage Teishoku a relative bargain at 2100 yen (CAD$25). And if you have no desire for anything poisonous on your plate, lunches start from the incredible price of 980 yen (CAD$12) -- now THAT is really cheap for a restaurant of this class.



But Okoze is just half of Aoyagi's fame. Equally famous is the Japanese-French fusion of slow-stewed Beef Tongue in Demi-glace, a 100-year-old recipe passed down from the eatery's early day as a Yoshoku-ya during Emperor Taisho's reign. While the thick slices of beef tongue turned out surprisingly soft and supple, the real magic was the sharp acidity in the rich demi-glace that perfectly balanced the tongue's oiliness. This was by far the best beef tongue either of us have ever had, of any culinary tradition.



Like the excellent Tongue Stew Teishoku, the Okoze Karaage Teishoku also came with a Shiro-Miso soup, Tsukemono and three wonderful Kuchitori appetizers, of which the Mozuku seaweed with Wasabi and the Okara-based salad were particularly enjoyable. Even the simple Shiro-Miso came with a deep Umami derivable only from top quality Katsuobushi. Everything had set the stage for the star entree.



Poisonous Okoze, or stonefish, painstakingly de-spined, dipped in Aoyagi's century-old marinade and crusted with a granular coat of Kudzu starch. The result was an intensely crispy batter that enclosed the succulent, mildly sweet fillets on either side of the surgically removed spine. The smaller fins and tail of the fish were purposely retained and deep-fried to an edible deep crunch that went perfectly with the sweet-and-sour Ponzu dipping provided. I'm not sure if we like the Okoze better than the Beef Tongue -- both were among the most memorable dishes of our trip.



It gets even better. Did I mention that for an extra 700 yen (CAD$8), Chef Aoyama would turn your plain rice into Sea Urchin on Rice? Now that was just the perfect ending to an already fantastic meal. With such premier ingredients and impeccable preparations at the heart of Onomichi for less than 2500 yen per person, we could not have asked for anything more.

Bill for Two Persons

Okoze Karaage Teishoku	2100 yen
Substitute Uni Meshi for Plain Rice	700 yen
Tongue Stew Teishoku	1900 yen
TOTAL	4700 yen (CAD$55)

After a full lunch we rejoined the Temple Walk circuit, taking the cable car up to Senkoji Park for that obligatory panorama of Onomichi's waterway and the series of island-hopping bridges that link Japan's main island with Shikoku. Beneath the 1200-year-old Senkoji the path would split into two -- a flight of precariously steep stairs leading directly to Tenneiji, or an unmarked left path that led to ...



... the famous Neko-no-Hosomichi, or Path of Cats. There was hardly any signage to denote where the path began or ended, only a colourful collection of cat-shaped stone talismans scattered along the way and a make-shift museum dedicated to all things Maneki Neko. Felines were vastly outnumbered by human visitors though, as we came across only one resident cat on this drizzly day.



After Tenneiji we decided to skip the rest of the temples and spent our late afternoon at what may be Onomichi's most under-appreciated sight, a West-Japan-style covered arcade where time seemed to have stopped in the 1960s. Prices were remarkably cheaper compared with Kansai: 1500 yen for a hand-dyed Noren curtain, 650 for a pack of peony grapes and 130 for a hand-fried Senbei cracker with an entire small fish or octopus inside.



To me this is exactly the nostalgic allure of Onomichi, a former seafaring boomtown with a Showa-era towncentre that has been slowly decaying in this age of shrinking populations. The pictured Ueda Toy Store is no longer a toy store, but an anonymous little shop selling locally-made pottery and other household goods.



But there is hope. Bucking the trend is the quaint Anago-no-Nedoko Guesthouse, an antique Machiya residence converted into a modern youth hostel by a non-profit organization aiming to revive Onomichi's historic core, similar in mission to Kurashiki's Machiya Trust. I truly hope that they will be successful in refilling Old Onomichi's increasingly vacant traditional houses.



That evening we returned to our own rented Machiya in Kurashiki, savoring these curious Senbei crackers from Onomichi's arcade. As it turned out our lasting impression of Onomichi wasn't so much the temples or Showa-era cinema or Maneki Neko, but a tiny inconspicuous eatery that served up some of our trip's most memorable dishes -- Poisonous Japanese Okoze, and French Beef Tongue Demi-glace.

Okayama's 300-Year-Old Garden and 85-Year-Old Tonkatsu Restaurant

Basing ourselves from nearby Kurashiki, we hopped on the local JR and spent a pleasant afternoon at the regional capital of Okayama, strolling its centuries-old garden and sampling traditional sweets dating from its feudal past. We also enjoyed some excellent Tonkatsu pork chops and skewered fish cakes, but I'll leave that at the end.



With its nostalgic streetcars, underground shopping arcades and an Osaka-born Takashimaya department store, Okayama flaunts its unambiguous Kansai vibe almost as an extension of Kobe, merely 30 minutes away on the Shinkansen. And with a majestic castle sitting on a river cutting through the heart of the city, this could well pass for a mini Osaka.



But the city is also fiercely loyal to its own Tenmaya department store, and prides itself on being the vital transportation hub between Kansai, Hiroshima, Shikoku and Sanin. It also boasts a major tourist attraction that none of the big cities possess -- one of Japan's Three Great Gardens.



Out of the three we had only previously visited Kanazawa's Kenroku-en, eight years ago amidst the fresh greenery and timid blossoms of early summer. This time we planned our 16-day trip to coincide with the autumn foliage season, starting the season with a taste of red at Okayama and reaching Hiroshima / Miyajima hopefully at the height of Koyo colours.



Any visitor to Koraku-en must pass under the shadow of Okayama's formidable fortress, dark, menacing and affectionately known as U-jo or Crow Castle, in stark contrast to the sparkling white castle of Himeji, a national treasure and UNESCO World Heritage Site at neighboring Hyogo Prefecture.



Whereas Himeji's castle miraculously survived the Meiji Restoration and WWII unscathed, Okayama-jo met its destruction by WWII air raids and was reincarnated in concrete in the postwar era, no longer revered as a national treasure. As we would visit two (Bitchu Matsuyama and Matsue) of Japan's twelve surviving castles on this trip, we skipped this ferroconcrete museum and headed straight for the garden.



Completely overshadowing the castle as Okayama's top tourist attraction nowadays, the 300-year-old Koraku-en began humbly as the castle's natural extension, a backyard retreat for the Daimyo's family and distinguished guests. To this date it still features the Daimyo's own tea plantation, which continues to produce its strong-flavored tea every May.



A favorite entertaining space of the Daimyo was the pictured Yatsuhashi bridge and its neighboring pavilion, an idyllic wooden structure with a small stream zigzagging through the middle while seated guests could admire the aesthetically arranged rocks in the stream. We took off our shoes alongside the locals and enjoyed a long break in the pavilion, watching the children dipping their feet in the cold stream.



Among Koraku-en's centuries-old traditions is the rearing of the now endangered Tancho cranes, an graceful and strikingly large (shoulder height!) bird well-loved by the Japanese as a symbol of longevity and nobility. While the eight cranes were caged here inside their aviary as usual, every New Year's Day they would be shown off for short walks on the garden lawn, though only for a few hours.



One of the few structures to survive WWII bombings, the Renchi-ken pavilion once served as the Daimyo's favorite spot for vistas of his garden's sinuous streams and green ponds beyond the angled stone bridge. Now the pleasure is extended to all visitors who can enjoy the same view with Matcha and sweets from the adjacent teahouse.



The garden's main building and guesthouse, Eiyo-tei, was not fortunate enough to survive WWII intact, though it has since been rebuilt based on the original specifications, complete with a Noh stage overlooking a lotus pond. On this November day it also served as the site of the annual chrysanthemum exhibit.



We did get our wish for some dazzling foliage at the Chishio-no-Mori maple grove, with the stalwart castle providing a contrasting backdrop to the delicate Momiji. Within a few short weeks all these leaves will fall as a reception for winter, and come springtime all attention will shift to the adjacent groves of plums and cherry blossoms.



Before leaving we climbed the manmade mount of Yuishinzan for a panoramic view of the entire garden, from Eiyo-tei to the lakeside shrines along Sawa-no-Ike to its collection of tiny artificial islands, when the cranes decided to entertain everyone with a boisterous symphony of fluting calls. For myself that was THE lasting impression of an afternoon spent at Koraku-en.


After visiting Okayama's 300-year-old star attraction, our next destination was an 85-year-old legendary eatery that invented the city's best known contribution to the Japanese culinary scene.

Food Review: AJITSUKASA NOMURA (Okayama)
Address: Heiwa-cho 1-10, Kita-Ku, Okayama-shi, Okayama Prefecture
Hours: 11:00-21:00 Daily
Map: from Google Maps
Directions: From Okayama Station, walk east for about 400m past the canal. Turn right into an alley one block after the canal, and the restaurant is on the right side.


Inconspicuously stashed inside an anonymous alley, Ajitsukasa Nomura is a true Okayama institution dating from the early days of Emperor Showa, before WWII, when its original owner first combined deep-fried pork cutlets with demi-glace, a Japanese-Western fusion that has since been embraced by Okayamans as Domi-Katsu and spread throughout the region.



Now operated by the chef's third generation descendent, Nomura still hasn't diverted from perfecting its two main offerings: Domi-Katsudon topped with the original sauce, and Tamago-toji Katsudon topped with soft scrambled eggs and onions. The only options are the different sizes, from 550 yen for small to 1100 yen for extra large, all sold at a ticket vending machine in self-serve Ramen-ya fashion.



At 550 yen (CAD$6.5) this complete meal with soup and Tsukemono had to be one of the best deals of our 16-day trip, a serious, high quality Katsudon at near-Yoshinoya prices. Nomura's demi-glace of chicken-and-vegetable-stock added that extra level of richness to the tenderly fried Tonkatsu, akin to Central Japan's Miso-Katsu but not quite as thick and sweet.



To this day my wife is still raving about this bowl of conventional, lighter-flavored Tamago-toji Katsudon, also priced at an amazing 550 yen. Given this unbeatable price-to-quality ratio, it's not difficult to appreciate Nomura's slogan of Otousan mo Tabeta, Okaasan mo Tabeta -- Dad ate here, Mom also ate here. If this is kept up for the next 85 years, the great-grandchildren will eat here as well.

Bill for Two Persons

Mago Katsudon	550 yen
Mago Tamagotoji Katsudon	550 yen
TOTAL	1100 yen (CAD$13)

The best thing about a light dinner was having the stomach room to sample authentic local snacks such as this intriguing Takonegi Bouten, or Fish-Stick Tempura with Octopus and Green Onions. This representative delicacy from the Seto Inland Sea cost just 280 yen (CAD$3.3) at Okayama Station's Amo Chinmi, a 70-year-old fishcake specialist based at the seaside town of Tomo-no-Ura.



But our favorite snack from Okayama was the immensely famous Kibi Dango from the 160-year-old Koeido Honten, a traditional confectionery revered for having served Emperor Meiji back in the day. With numerous branches in Okayama and Kurashiki and outlets as far as Hiroshima Airport, it's just impossible to miss.



The texture was so incredibly soft and chewy that we actually bought these Kibi Dango twice -- a first box in Black Sugar flavor at Kurashiki and a second box in White Peach flavor at Hiroshima Airport. Ironically White Peach was the sweeter of the two, but I'd have Kibi Dango in any flavor, any day. With an expiry date of about one week, this is one of those local delicacies that I won't likely taste again unless I travel back to West Japan.