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The places in-between: Kyoto by the Sea
Just two hours from Kyoto lies the place where rice was first cultivated and sake first brewed in Japan, and where two of UNESCO’s World’s Most Beautiful Bays lie. It’s home to the highest concentration of people over 100-years-old on earth, and we’re willing to bet you’ve never heard of it…
Kyoto by the Sea, also known as the Tango peninsula or Kyoto’s north shore, encompasses the petite fishing village of Ine and the entry point of Amanohashidate. When The Times writer, Min Sett Hein, travelled there with us, he was struck by the contrast to urban Kyoto:
“The true heart and soul of Japan lies in in-between places such as the Tango peninsula. It’s here, away from the crowds, that you’ll find artisans dedicating their lives to preserving ancient traditions or flavours born from a profound connection to the land. It is these authentic experiences that linger in the memory long after the fleeting thrills of social media likes and shares have faded.”
With its craggy coastline, 200 boat houses, a new generation of swordsmiths, and kimono-makers who intricately weave mother of pearl into fabric, it sounds like a place straight out of a fable – but the stories and people of the peninsula are very real.
Amanohashidate – the Bridge to Heaven, and the gateway to the peninsula
The gateway to Kyoto by the Sea is a natural sandbar, populated with 7,000 pine trees. According to legend, it was created when a ladder fell from the sky so that the god Izanaginomikoto could visit his lover, the goddess Izanaminomikoto (both credited with the none-too-small task of creating Japan).
More literally, Amanohashidate means ‘Bridge to Heaven’ – and it’s one of the nihon sankei, or ‘Three Views of Japan’ – the top three scenic places in what is already considered a staggeringly beautiful country (the Japanese love a list).
Taking a walk across the sandbar (in summertime, the sea gleams with tropical turquoise hues) and up to the viewpoint, the tradition is to admire the view from an unusual perspective, known as matanozoki – upside down, peering through your legs, to see the way the sandbar connects heaven and earth.
Popular with Japanese holidaymakers, this natural beauty spot undeniably (and rightly) draws crowds. But, staying at the sandbar once the day trippers leave offers a chance for a more private viewing before you journey further into the region – particularly spectacular from the Monjusou Shourotei ryokan inn, which juts out into the bay itself and features semi-open air, private baths.
Ine – “Say the fish is delicious, not that our boathouses are beautiful”
Ine’s rugged coastline is reminiscent of the English Cornish coast, that is, until you factor in its mountains and the 200 plus traditional funaya boat houses. It’s more dramatic than pretty, with deep, narrow harbours cutting in.
Residents owe everything to the sea and surrounding mountains. Fishing is the lifeblood of this village of only 900 inhabitants, and the industry has maintained traditional, sustainable methods. Locals use bird cage-like baskets (mondori) which funnel fish inside. In the mornings, they’ll retrieve the basket, open the top and see what they’ve caught – taking the fish that they need that day.
The funaya boat houses, their roots tracing back to the Edo period, are still used for their original purpose of housing boats, but some have now been converted into cafes or accommodation.
Staying in one of these converted boat garages is a simple, traditional luxury – rolled-out futon beds with a first-floor view, right against the bay, waking up to the sound of gulls and the promise of a knock at the door signalling breakfast’s arrival from a nearby restaurant.
Expect vegetables farmed from the surrounding mountains and fish freshly caught that day from the bay – the catch reported each morning via an app (a traditional village it may be, but nothing is to stop technology from helping them along their way). Locals say, “we want visitors to say the fish is delicious, not that our boathouses are beautiful” – but both are true in equal measure.
Days start and end early in this quietly industrious town, but an early morning solo sunrise spot, on the inlet, feels very special – walking to the water’s edge to sit, watching the sea birds swooping and the sun rise, you might be completely alone. And it’s magical.
A new generation of artisans
Kyoto by the Sea itself might feel mystical, but a new generation of artisans are bringing firmly entrenched traditions bang up to date.
Tomoki Kuromoto, Kosuke Yamazoe and Tomoyuki Miyagi – all in their 30s and originally city boys from Tokyo and Osaka – studied under the same swordsmith master, Yoshito Yoshihara, and now dedicate their lives to preserving the traditions of the industry.
They set up their workshop, Nippon Genshosha, in Tokyo before relocating to Tango, drawn by the peninsula’s almost two millennia of swordsmith history, and the land where a gilded bronze, double dragon-ringed tachi sword, dating back to around 300 AD, was once unearthed.
Meeting the trio, chatting good-humouredly while hammering swords into shape, is a fun and engaging way to connect with the region’s history. And, learning about the fusion of ancient practice and modern design, inspired by the sea and mountains, it’s hard not to be impressed.
In what could possibly be the greatest contrast to hammering swords, Kyoto by the Sea is also home to the prestigious practice of weaving shell.
Tamiya Raden is a 10-person strong, family-run company that weaves mother-of-pearl into fabric – with their designs reaching the high fashion lines of Dior and Louis Vuitton.
Family patriarch, Shoichiro Tamiya, invented the craft in the 70s – with an original goal of weaving a real butterfly onto an obi (kimono belt). When the wings turned to dust, he found a poetic solution – choosing something hard, like mother-of-pearl shell, that breaks into a million pieces when you try to bend it. It took two years of trying before he succeeded – creating a new category of weaving, called Raden: and the result is almost impossible to describe.
Visitors are often awestruck by the delicate intricacy, and it’s this that keeps the family sharing their craft: “When people come and are moved by what we do, it motivates us to keep creating and preserving this artform.”
With beauty comes fragility: a region at risk of overtourism
A Bridge to Heaven, quaint fishing villages and myth-like artisans paint an incredible picture – one that crowds could so easily, inadvertently, trample on. Not least because over-eager visitors taking pictures of locals without permission, or even wandering into their houses, would destroy the residents’ peace of everyday life.
But part of the peninsula’s beauty is in its fragility – so the way tourism is approached is important. Travelling slowly, falling in step with the local’s pace and staying a couple of nights, rather dropping in and out in a day, is the way of travel the region is cultivating.
Protecting the ways and quality of life for both the region’s residents, and future generations, must be the ultimate goal. “If we can achieve this”, says Tyler Palma, one of our team who worked with regional tourism bodies to create a responsible tourism framework for the area, “it will mean that a visit to Kyoto by the Sea in 10 years’ time is similar to what we see now, and doesn’t become a ‘theme park’ like attraction. It’s about making sure tourism benefits the widest possible set of people, including tourists themselves.”
“Forging deep, meaningful connections with people and places”
While its land bridge is said to have descended from the gods, it’s Kyoto by the Sea’s people that enrich any visit to Japan. Their skills and kindness are at the core of what makes it truly special – whether they’re forging swords in their thirties, carefully plating handpicked vegetables and rice for guests, or enjoying a slower pace as retired, centenarian fisher folk.
And it shows up in the small moments, like when Min Sett Hein noticed a figure rushing down the platform, face flushed, as his Shinkansen bullet train doors were about to close:
“It was Shinji-san, our guide and friend, clutching my girlfriend’s blue sweater. Having waved us off he had noticed it in his car and legged it to the station to catch us just before our departure.
“It reminded me of the true purpose of travel — not merely ticking off sights, but forging deep, meaningful connections with people and places.”
We couldn’t agree more.
82% of visitors visit the top 10 places in Japan – and we want to change that. The places in-between is a series of love letters to the quieter places across Japan.