Takimata Falls - Keihoku, Japan

Nestled in the Keihoku district of Kyoto City, one is surrounded by untouched nature and forested peaks. A backbone of the timber industry since the Heian period, the Kitayama cedar is renowned for its straight trunks, polished wood, and use in adorning sukiya-style tea rooms and temples. Along the Hosono River valley, hidden within the dense forest, one can find Takimata Falls, a 25-meter-high, three-tiered waterfall. It is said the falls were named by Oda Nobunaga's nephew, Jikkai Inga Koji, who fled to Hosono following the Azuchi religious debates during the late 16th century. It was here that he practiced takigyō—a spiritual meditation where the practitioner stands beneath the freezing torrent to chant and purify the mind—and bestowed the name Takimata.  

I started my journey by car, leaving the Arashiyama area and heading north on Route 162. Within the half-hour, I found the free parking lot, easily identifiable by the large, beautiful dragon sculpture at its entrance. The heat of summer instantly hit me as I left the vehicle and checked my hiking bag to ensure all my equipment was on hand. It can be difficult to find the trail marker in some of these rural locations, and in this particular instance, you need to walk between a couple of houses to get started.

Once through the homes, the path becomes a single-lane gravel road that leads to the trailhead, marked by an aged picture of the falls and a red footbridge. This footpath shares the route with the Takimata Stone Buddhas before splitting off to the waterfall. While touring the entire Takimata Stone Buddhas path requires extra stamina, about 12 of the 42 carved stone statues can be seen in their rock hollows along the way.  Be sure to keep an eye out for the posts that show the dotted and solid red lines, following the solid lines when the path splits to get to the waterfall.

The gently sloping path is easy for most hikers. However, caution should be taken on the makeshift wooden bridges crossing the stream, as several were starting to rot and the mossy sections can be slippery. About 40 minutes into my hike, I finally came upon this hidden gem.

On this 35°C summer day, the dense canopy enveloping the box canyon filtered only faint glimmers of sunlight. I settled in to savor the moment, slipping off my shoes to dip my feet into the brisk water. Tiny fish nibbled at my toes as I rested along the bank, listening to the cascade crash into the shallows. Sunbeams broke through the leaves to dance beneath a large fallen log spanning the water—an enchanting display. While not towering in scale, the falls possess a quiet majesty all their own. I sat there beneath the steady roar of tumbling water, blissfully deaf to the troubles of the world.