Fushimi Inari Taisha

I did some research before coming to Kyoto.  And the 12-hour flight from Los Angeles allowed me plenty of time to dive into the guidebooks.  Fushimi Inari Taisha shrine was on my list, really based only on a photo I'd seen.  It looked cool.  I had no idea of the scale - more than 5,000 torii (gates) spaced only a foot or two apart - nor the locale - a steep mountainside just south of the city. 

The first set of brilliant vermillion colored gates is just steps from the honden (main shrine building).  There was a grip of tourists cameras and smiles at the ready.  I took a few photos myself because I thought this was it, 40, maybe 50 gates.  I entered.  I walked along, thinking this is pretty cool, despite the dozens of other people crowding the path.  There is a strange sense of movement once you begin your journey.  It is something like an automobile or train tunnel, except that it is not pitch black.  Daylight streams through the gates and you get the odd sensation of a zoetrope, light flickering, rapid broken motion.  It is weirdly cinematic.

I came to the end of the path of gates.  Oh, wow, there's more.  I continued along.  That set of gates ended and another began.  Then another.  And another.  And another.  With each new set of gates the climb up the mountainside grew more steep.  The number of tourists dropped off sharply as the level path gave way to stairs.  My excitement was growing with each new group of gates.  How many more could there be?  The mountains were cool and quiet, the path shaded in dense trees.  There was a lovely little stream that followed the gates (or visa versa), and little tea houses along the way for the less fit to stop and rest.  I raced ahead, heart and lungs pumping.

I reached the top and was rewarded for my efforts with an amazing view of Kyoto.

I heard somewhere that painting the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco takes so long, that by the time the workers reach the other end they must begin again.  Repairing and painting the gates at Fushimi Inari Taisha is a more daunting task, I think.  But it is much less methodical.  It seems to be done simply as needed.  So there are stretches of bright red-orange gates that were recently painted, followed by pale pinkish colored gates that have been faded by the sun.  There are also gaps where gates have fallen or been removed.  Only stumps of decomposing wood or crumbling concrete footings remain.  It was incredible to see the difference in paint color, to see the footings from centuries ago versus the more recent repairs, to see the rotting remains of pillars where nature had taken over.  This was a never-ending job that would keep a dozen or more people employed for their entire life.