Kotohira

There are 785 steps to the main shrine of Konpira-san, and Lia and I counted a good number of them out loud before giving up somewhere in the middle, laughing and out of breath. Kotohira is a town that exists to be climbed. You arrive at the bottom, where the stone stairway begins between rows of old wooden shops, and you go up — past souvenir sellers, past tea houses, past people of every age doing exactly what you are doing, some leaning on walking sticks, some being carried up in old-fashioned palanquins by porters. It is a pilgrimage that Japanese travellers have made for centuries, and there is something deeply cheering about joining a crowd all quietly suffering the same staircase together, all headed for the same reward.

The Climb to Konpira-san

Kotohira-gū, better known affectionately as Konpira-san, is one of Japan’s most beloved shrines, dedicated to a deity of seafarers and sailors — which is why you’ll see model ships and maritime offerings all the way up. The main shrine sits at 785 steps; the truly devoted press on to the inner shrine at 1,368. The stairway climbs the flank of Mount Zōzu through cedar shade, and every hundred steps or so there’s an excuse to pause: a gate, a smaller shrine, a shop selling the local Kompira dogs and walking sticks lent for free to weary climbers.

We took it slowly, stopping to catch our breath and pretend we were admiring the view. Near the top the trees open up and the main shrine appears, and from its terrace the whole Sanuki plain of Kagawa spreads out below — patchwork fields, distant mountains, the odd conical hill. Lia declared it worth every step, and after a few minutes’ rest so did I.

Old Shops and the Approach

Half the pleasure of Kotohira is the sandō, the approach street and lower stairway lined with shops that have been serving pilgrims for generations. They sell sweets, sake, wooden crafts, and the region’s cheap yellow Kompira sanuki paddles and charms. Partway up sits the Kanamaruza, the oldest surviving kabuki theatre in Japan, a beautifully preserved wooden playhouse you can tour when performances aren’t on, complete with its hand-cranked revolving stage and trap doors.

We ducked into the theatre on the way down and had it almost to ourselves, standing on the old stage machinery while a caretaker explained how it worked. Then we drifted back down the shopping street, buying more small useless charming things than we needed, the way you always do coming down off a mountain feeling triumphant.

Sanuki Udon Country

Kotohira sits in Kagawa, and Kagawa is udon country — specifically Sanuki udon, the thick, chewy, square-edged wheat noodles that the prefecture is so famous for that it half-jokingly rebranded itself “Udon Prefecture.” After the climb we were ravenous, and there is no better place on earth to be ravenous with a craving for noodles. We found a small self-serve udon shop near the base of the steps where you grab your bowl, add your own broth and toppings, and pay by the plate.

The noodles were dense and springy, the broth clean and faintly sweet, and after 785 steps down as well as up, it was one of the most satisfying bowls of anything I have ever eaten. Lia had a second helping. So, it must be said, did I.

Getting There

Kotohira is on Shikoku in Kagawa Prefecture and is easy to fold into any trip through the island or across the Seto Inland Sea. Trains run directly to Kotohira Station on the JR Dosan Line from Takamatsu (about an hour) and via the private Kotoden line as well; from the Honshu side you can reach it by crossing the Seto Ōhashi bridge by rail from Okayama. The station is a short flat walk from the foot of the stairway, and the whole town is compact and walkable — leave the car, and wear proper shoes for the climb. Go early to beat the heat and the crowds, and don’t leave Kagawa without eating your weight in udon.