The only complete guide in English to three of Japan's most important Pilgrimages: Mt. Hiei, on the outskirts of Kyoto; the 33-temple Saigoku Kannon route, which travels from the tip of the Wakayama Peninsula, through Kyoto and Nara, and on to the Sea of Japan; and the 88-temple Shikoku pilgrimage dedicated to Kobo Daishi (for more on Shikoku, see my Lowell Thomas award-winning "Under the Protection of the Cow Demon" elsewhere on this site).

Named by the Utne Reader as one  of the best books on spiritual travel.

The Mountain Pilgrimage: Mt. Hiei

Mt. Hiei, or Hiezan, is one of the oldest sites for mountain pilgrimage in Japan. Even before the priest Saicho first built his hermitage here in the late eighth century, the mountain saw a steady stream of visitors, drawn by huge massif of Hieizan. Today it's on the route of every tourist to Kyoto who has an extra day after hitting all the main attractions down in the valley. But the vastness of the mountain complex--in its heyday it encompassed more than twenty square miles--lets it absorb a lot of traffic. You're not likely to notice any crowds on Hiei, no matter when you go.

The mountain pilgrimage differs greatly in feeling and form from the route pilgrimage. It requires greater concentration to gather the full benefits of pilgrimage during the shorter experience. Unlike mountain temples that have been incorporated into a route pilgrimage, there is no time to get into shape for the climb to a single-site mountain pilgrimage. Traditionally, only the most determined set out (or, harking back to the days of the popularity of pilgrimage with the imperial court, those with the strongest servants and fanciest palanquins).

The mountain pilgrimage also takes on a more traditional tone: the mountain pilgrim isn’t burdened by as great an amount of ritual or paraphernalia as route pilgrim frequently is. The mountain pilgrimage takes you back to the earliest days of Buddhism, when people climbed peaks and worshipped from their hearts.

The mountain pilgrimage can also be done in a day, making it the most accessible of all pilgrimages. Hieizan, on the outskirts of Kyoto, has long been blessed by its location. There is no other site in Japan so convenient where you can see a great monastery complex and wander the paths where generations of monks and lay believers have walked.

Of course, the experience of a single day of a mountain pilgrimage is likely to be less intense than that gained out of the commitment involved in a three-week circuit pilgrimage. A single trip up Hiei or another single sacred mountain will not give the full sense of what the Japanese pilgrimage is all about that you will get from the longer pilgrimage routes.

But still the mountain pilgrimage has its attractions. The peaks of sacred mountains are worlds unto themselves; even the addition of an amusement park at the head of the tramway up Hieizan hasn't damaged the mountain's sacred atmosphere. Mountains are where it all began. The experience is still vital.

The Mountain

Hiei makes an easy day-trip from Kyoto; it is perhaps the most accessible of all the sites of mountain pilgrimage.

Hiei is the name of the mountain; the temple complex is called Enryakuji. At one time the complex encompassed more than three thousand buildings, and the first impression you'll get wandering the mountain is that the old monasteries were really entire cities. It's mind-boggling at times to think of the logistics of feeding the thousands of monks, keeping the scholars separated from the warriors, maintaining order on a mountain the size of some of Japan's smaller islands.

Not everyone on the mountain really wanted to be a monk; many were sent by their families, many were unable to make a living doing anything else, and there was always a healthy contingent of aristocrats from the valley below who had ostensibly "removed themselves from the world." What this usually meant was that they had shaved their heads, moved onto the mountain, and continued their business below with impunity. Among cooking, cleaning, building and rebuilding, studying, fighting, and the countless other activities that went on in this monkly city, somehow the dharma continued to be propagated. Somehow the spirit of mountain asceticism survived the mountain's own prosperity.

But the mountain's power and activity couldn't last forever. With its thriving religious life and politically important location, Enryakuji grew in both strength and impudence, and doomed itself. At its peak, the monastery was a constant threat to the government in Kyoto as its warrior monks swooped down, time and again on the city. Finally, in 1571, Enryakuji was razed by Oda Nobunaga. This put an end to Hiei's constant incursions into governmental policy, but it was another ruling figure, Hideyoshi Toyotomi, who reestablished the monastery, allowing it, under the direction of its abbot Tenkai, to slowly rebuild itself. Still, the monastery as it exists today is but a shadow of what once was--instead of three thousand buildings, the complex now includes just a bit over a hundred--and is perhaps best viewed as a scenic attraction rather than a vibrant religious center.

The mountain is generally divided into three parts: the Toto, or eastern area; the Saito to the west; and the Yokawa, which takes in the widely scattered buildings towards the north.

The main building of the complex is in the Toto section: the Kompon Chudo, or the Central Hall. The Toto is where you'll arrive first after coming to the mountain from Kyoto.

The Kompon Chudo, listed as a National Treasure, was originally constructed in about 850; it was most recently reconstructed in 1642. The hall is surrounded by a cloister/hallway, a magobisashi, which encloses and protects the building. The idea behind this architectural innovation (which quickly spread to other temple complexes) was to enlarge the size of the worship area without making the building unworkably large. The Kompon Chudo is already a huge building by the standards of its time; the magobisashi more than doubled the number of people who could enter the hall, yet did not make the building over-reach the materials available. Even so, the building ranks as the third largest wooden structure in Japan. It has a stunning roof, sheathed in copper, constructed in the irimoya zukuri style--the whole thing is trapezoidal in shape.

Inside the hall there is a bipartite division: the outer area for laypeople, the inner for monks. The altar area is actually lower than the worship area. This is meant to represent how the Buddha has lowered himself to continue to teach us all. Around the edges of the hall are some unfortunately gaudy paintings that really distract from the effect of the building. Ignore them and face forward. Just inside the door is a small stand that sells prayer beads and incense; the beads I bought here travel with me where ever I go now; one stick of the extremely powerful incense is enough to last for days, keeping the mountain ever in mind.

Ironically, when Nobunaga razed the mountain complex in 1571 (other sources say 1570), he managed to put out the eternal flame in the Kompon Chudo, which had first been kindled by Saicho himself. Today four flames burn by the altar; they represent the four stages of enlightenment. On the altar itself is an image of Yakushi, the medicine Buddha, carved by Saicho. This is closed from view for all but a few minutes at the turn of each New Year.

Next to the Kompon Chudo is the Monjuro, a hall dedicated to Manjusri, the Buddha of wisdom. To the other side is the Daikodo, a hall where lectures on Buddhist culture are frequently given. Inside are images--again, a little too far on the gaudy side--of the great figures who have studied on Hiei, from Saicho himself to Nichiren.

Behind the Kompon Chudo is the ordination platform, the Keidanindo. This came too late for Saicho to enjoy. To his death his monastery remained subservient to the Nara schools that he had tried so hard to separate himself from. The building dates to 1604.

The last major building of importance in the Toto section is the Amida-do. Reciting the nembutsu to worship Amida was outlawed on Hiei in 1204. Honen had allowed the introduction of several court ladies into the nunnery, thus sparking the ire of the powers that be. The very idea of the nembutsu, it was thought, went so against Saicho's own belief that constant effort was needed to attain salvation that a break with the growing Amida faction was inevitable. Shinran, a disciple of Honen who took the belief in Amida's grace to its greatest extent, was even married. The conflict was too much, and the Amidists were tossed off the mountain as abruptly as they were off Koyasan.

Times change, though. Today the nembutsu is probably the single most popular form of worship in Japan. Step into the Amida-do, and you'll hear a constant chanting of it, the low drone of belief. The nembutsu has become an integral part of Tendai--most believers probably don't even know there was ever a conflict--and perhaps this is best. Saicho was an eclectic man in his own beliefs, always curious and willing to look at something with an open mind. He incorporated many Shingon rites into Tendai, and it's hard to believe that he would have taken too much exception to the nembutsu. He probably wouldn't have accepted married priests (even though priests freely marry now), reading his works, I've got to think that he'd have allowed the nembutsu, knowing any belief is better than none.

Saicho's tomb is at the Jodoin, which is near the border between the Toto section and the Saito. Take the stairs leading west from the Amida-do. The Jodoin has three halls: the first is closed off, but contains an image of Amida carved by Saicho; the second houses a statue of Saicho, and the third is Saicho's grave. The building is supposed to follow the model of a Chinese temple on Mt. T'ien-t'ai.

During traditional training on Hiei, the Jodoin is the site of one of Hiei's "hells." Here during one stage of a three-year retreat, priests clean the hall and grounds for at least six hours a day. Saicho would have found this a little too easy. He himself recommended a twelve-year retreat, completely cutting oneself off from the world. The few monks who try this now usually do so in one of the smaller buildings of the Jodoin, where Saicho's spirit can be most strongly felt.

If Kukai is ever-present on the Shikoku pilgrimage, Saicho is always nearby on Mt. Hiei. If you walk into the Hongando (just above the Kompon Chudo), you'll be in the temple Saicho himself built on his first retreat to the mountain. You can almost see him, sitting and praying, or avidly studying one of the manuscripts he brought back from China. Like Kukai, Saicho is not supposed to have actually died; he's supposed to be in meditation, awaiting the proper time to return to further instruct his followers. On trips to Hiei I never found people as ardent as those met at Koyasan; and the mountain itself may not be quite as stunning, but the spirit of Saicho was always somehow reassuring. Even more than Kukai, here, it seems, was the Buddhist ideal: a man so open that the world passed right through him.

Following the path north from the Jodoin, you'll reach the Benkei no Ninaido--The Halls of Benkei's Burden. Benkei, companion to Japanese hero Yoshitsune Minamoto, carried the bridge that connects the two halls that make up this tiny complex. Benkei, who we'll come across again on both the route pilgrimages, was a monk of a sort himself, and he is usually depicted as one of Hiei's pilgrims: wearing the white robes, the long, canoe shaped hat, and carrying the staff--with which he was an expert fighter--of a senior priest. He's usually considered to be the model for the yamabushi.

The other main building in the Saito area is the Shakado, the hall of the Buddha. This is the oldest building on the mountain, constructed during the Kamakura period--it survived the razing because it was not actually on the peak at that time. Until the late sixteenth century, the Shakado was actually at the foot of the mountain, part of the Onoji Temple below.

There is only one thing older than the Hall of the Buddha on the mountain: the tiny pagoda directly behind the Shakado. It's about five feet tall, and dates to the Heian period. It was originally known as the "Pillar of the Devil's Gate," referring to its position in the north-east corner of the complex. This pagoda, tiny though it was, was the first line of defense against the encroaching evil spirits.

Finally in the Saito are the twin halls of the Jogyodo and the Hokkedo. They're training halls, linked by a corridor, and are mostly of interest to students of Japanese architecture. These perfectly square halls are the archetype for a construction style which flourished in the early eleventh century: their very open interior allows a feeling of intimacy with the images inside. The buildings are much less intimidating than many of the larger, more impressive halls. It's easier to come here and meditate for a while.

The Yokawa section of the mountain, due north along the ridge, is the least accessible, and probably the easiest to skip if you're running short of time. The buildings are mostly new back here, very spread out, and a little arcane to the uninitiated. The Yokawa area is so remote that this is where the famous "marathon monks" set off on their seven- year pilgrimage and retreat. John Steven's excellent book The Marathon Monks of Mt. Hiei offers a full look at this incredibly arduous pilgrimage tradition.

In Yokawa is Mt. Hiei's museum. There's an excellent collection here, although it does suffer from the usual temple museum problem of inadequate lighting. If you're not deeply interested in Japanese art, time might be better spent out on the mountain itself.

Mt. Hiei is best appreciated by setting off onto one of the trails that lace the mountain. These are the paths taken by the monks who take on the thousand-day pilgrimage; along the paths are dotted tiny shrines and images of Buddha and other deities. Breaks in the trees offer views towards Kyoto or Lake Biwa. It is nearly impossible to get lost on the paths: downhill always takes you to a city, uphill towards a temple.

Hiei does not readily offer itself to the visitor. So much of the mountain has been burned, destroyed, razed, that the current complex is little more than a ghost of what it once was, and the feeling of haunting is hard to escape. The first time I came here I couldn't believe how famous the place remained; it seemed as if nothing was up on the peak except history. But the mountain does open itself, slowly. Each time there's another discovery. Go to the paths and look for the mountain where Saicho meditated. That's still the best part of Hieizan.

ACCESS: From Kyoto, take the Eizan Electric Railway to the terminus, Yase-yuen Station. From there a cable car goes up the mountain. Buses also run to the mountain from JR Kyoto Station.

If you're on the Lake Biwa side of the mountain, take the cable car from Sakamoto--it's along the same Keihan Keishin line which leads to M_dera (Saigoku, Temple Fourteen).

There are several pilgrim's inns on the mountain. Reservations can be made most easily at the Kyoto Tourist Information Center, in front of JR Kyoto Station.

Unlike Koyasan, Hiei's restaurants are nothing spectacular; however, you won't starve on the mountain.