Day 1: Takamatsu and Marugame – a splendid garden and a towering castle

Beginning my journey in Takamatsu, I headed straight for the 400-year-old Ritsurin Garden, a testament to both power and peace in the region. This sprawling garden was once used as the leisure villa of the feudal lords who controlled Takamatsu, entertaining their guests with tea ceremonies, poetry, and performing arts for over two centuries up until the Meiji Restoration in 1868. It has been open to the public since 1875.

I strolled along the quiet paths, walking across bridges and stepping stones, up and down stairs, contemplating many different scenic views of the garden. Light rain lent a reflective sheen to the landscape, enhancing the garden’s vivid colors and vibrant koi ponds, populated by over a thousand evergreen pine trees pruned by dedicated bonsai gardeners.

Kikugetsu-tei, Ritsurin’s most exquisitely traditional teahouse, borders the South Pond, where I paused in front of its meticulously framed view of the magnificent Neagari Goyo-matsu: a giant Japanese white pine that was originally a miniature bonsai gift from the 11th Tokugawa Shogun in 1833. Inside the teahouse, I used traditional tools to make wasanbon – extra refined Japanese sweets using a high-quality sugar locally produced in Kagawa Prefecture for tea ceremonies – and then whisked my own green tea from matcha powder. The maple-like sweetness of the wasanbon and the slight bitterness of the matcha lingered on my lips, as I sat quietly at the far end of Kikugetsu-tei, which directly overlooks the still pond and its three islets.

Later I enjoyed an elegant bento filled with sea bream sashimi and freshly pickled local vegetables, along with hot, thick and chewy Sanuki udon in a private tatami room of Hanazono-tei, a modest old-style teahouse that borders the peaceful North Pond. After lunch, I climbed to the top of Fuyoho Hill for a panoramic view of the North Pond with Mt.Shiun in the background. The bright red Bairin bridge was a jewel to behold within the jade-hued scene framed by twisting pines.

It was exciting to approach the stone walls of Marugame Castle as I walked from the station, its iconic main keep appearing closer and closer on the horizon, a lovely contrast from the city streets.

A rickshaw rushed past me as I ambled across the moat and into the castle grounds, where I stood before the majestic entrance gate of Ote Ichi no mon. Inside the long turret gate, I paused to contemplate the ancient architecture of its original wooden pillars and beams, surrounding a model of the resident drum that was once beaten by clan members to announce the time.

Marugame Castle is most famous for its towering stone walls, said to be the tallest in Japan, built using several different construction techniques from the 17th century. I climbed the steep Mikaeri-Zaka slope, stopping to touch corners of the gracefully arching stone walls as I neared the main keep.

Marugame’s compact keep is one of Japan’s only 12 surviving wooden castle keeps, excluding those restored from loss due to war and policy, built more than four centuries ago. Unlike most other keeps that double as museums, Marugame’s is clean and bare, all the better to appreciate its original construction and conscientious restoration. On the outside, I marveled at the different styles of gables and Kyogoku family crest “Yotsumeyuimon”, as well as the elegant wooden lattice on the building’s north side.

Day 2: Kotohira – Kabuki culture and Sanuki Udon

The next day, a local train ride brought me to Kotohira, a town famous for its sumptuous shrine and the multi-level pilgrimage path of 1368 stone steps to reach it. But Kotohira is also known for hosting the oldest surviving kabuki theater in Japan, built in 1835. Traditionally known as Kanamaru-za, the antique playhouse was renamed the Former Kompira Oshibai following its designation as a National Important Cultural Property in 1970.

Walking through the shopping arcade on the way to the theater from the train station, I noticed numerous paintings of traditional kabuki characters and scenes decorating the walls. But my first sight of the lavishly restored theater, with its clean white exterior, wooden doors, red lanterns and sake barrels, standing apart on a hill in the misty mountains, took my breath away.

The interior was even more wonderful to take in as I removed my shoes to absorb the space and explore its many living parts. Most impressive to me was the ceiling – a resplendent bamboo lattice, from which hung stylishly modern black and white emblazoned paper lanterns.

I loved exploring backstage, around the various seats, and especially the naraku underworld of moving trap doors and the revolving stage, which remains human-powered to this day. I vowed to return some time to see a live performance.

But first, it was time for noodles. I made my way along Kotohira’s main street toward Nakano Udon School, where I would endeavor to learn the culinary art of making the region’s uniquely thick and chewy Sanuki Udon. After checking in, going upstairs and putting on my apron, I rolled up my sleeves for the 50-minute udon-making workshop. It began with a hefty block of aged udon dough that the udon chef had prepared in advance, so that we could all get our hands straight onto the dough. We learned to flatten it out with a special rolling pin, roll it up and then cut it into 4-millimeter-wide strips. These would become the noodles that we would later boil and eat on site.

Following more udon-making instructions, we teamed up to mix flour into a salty water base to make a fresh block of udon dough. We then proceeded to knead and stomp on the dough to the rhythm of upbeat music, then rolled up our freshly handmade chunk to take home. Time for graduation photos!

Finally, we went up to another floor into a room decorated with vintage udon posters, where tables and stools awaited us with burners and bowls all set to go. I boiled my previously cut udon and ate the noodles straight out of the pot, seasoned with ginger and dipped in hot dashi broth. Notwithstanding a few unevenly cut strands, Nakano Udon School’s udon were gratifyingly salty, chewy and flavorful.

With my certificate safely curled around my souvenir Sanuki Udon rolling pin, I hopped on the train from Kotohira to Iyaguchi station, the official entry point into Shikoku’s more elusive Iya Valley.

From Iyaguchi, I followed the Iya valley’s original road, what is now National Route 32. Much of the valley’s natural beauty remains unspoiled, as its relatively remote location means that getting here is already an adventure.

After winding my way through the scenic mountainside, I finally arrived at the elegant Hotel Iya Onsen. By this time I was more than ready for a restorative soak in their large rotemburo (open-air bath) situated along the bank of the Iya River 170 meters below the hotel. A dedicated cable car slowly but surely lowered me to the riverbank. The view from the bath was otherworldly – the steam rose from the hot spring water of the bath, just as the fog was rising above the trees of the river valley beyond.

After breakfast, I picked up a few sunflower seeds from the hotel staff on my way out to the terrace overlooking the valley for some fresh air. To my delight, a wild yamagara (varied tit) came to eat the seeds right out of my hand.

Day 3: Iya Valley – vertiginous views and suspended vines

I held my breath as I took in the view from the most famously perilous spot of the Iya Valley, just a short walk away from the hotel and marked by the cheeky bronze Statue of a Peeing Boy, who teeters on the edge of a sheer cliff towering 200 meters above the ravine. The statue supposedly pays tribute to the bravado of young boys who once tested their courage by standing on the cliffside to urinate into the abyss.

After another roller-coaster ride around the bends of the gorge, I contemplated the most distinctive bend known as Hi-no-Ji Bend – a reference to the horseshoe-shaped Japanese hiragana (ひ), given the dramatic curve and sharp crest of its natural topography.

Further onward, I arrived at Kazurabashi Yumebutai, a multi-purpose visitor center that sells and serves lots of locally made souvenirs and specialties. After browsing the goods and a quick bite to eat, I walked downhill to the main attraction: Iya-no-Kazurabashi, a 45-meter-long bridge built from vines that is suspended about 14 meters above the rocky river canyon.

This is where my childhood fear of heights kicked in at a visceral level, but I’m sure thrill-seekers will love treading across the precipitously swaying bridge, with the illusion of being just one misstep away from falling into the chasm.

During the Heian period (794-1185), the Heike clan flourished in the Japanese imperial court, but fell into decline after losing a power struggle. The legendary fallen rulers fled into these mountains, building such bridges out of vines that could be easily cut in case of enemy pursuit. You can rest assured, however, that the current bridge is extremely safe – it’s reinforced by steel cables hidden under the woven vines that are replaced every three years. Later in the evening, Kazurabashi was beautifully illuminated, casting a soft glow on the surrounding ravine.

Day 4: Oboke-Koboke – Iya Soba and green river rapids

On the other side of the Iya Tunnel, Route 32 snakes along the Yoshino River, about 15 to 20 meters above the Oboke and Koboke gorges. From the road, it wasn’t too long before the colorful sight of blazing autumn leaves caught my eye. I arrived at the West-West riverstation and walked north, where I found Iya Soba Momiji-tei surrounded by Japanese maple trees. It was the perfect place and time to stop for lunch.

The restaurant is inside an original thatched roof house with a history dating back 250 years, an outstanding example of Iya architecture. The waterwheel near the entrance is a recreation of an authentic waterwheel that once provided power for a buckwheat grinder to make Iya soba – the short and thick, light brown hearty noodles that sustained generations of Heike clan descendants as they learned to survive and prosper in this inhospitable land. Momiji-tei served me a hot bowl of soba from Tsuzuki, the Iya Valley’s most famous soba maker. The noodles had a slightly nutty flavor, more tender than I expected. In the accompanying rice bowl, the tempura were perfectly fried in a light batter.

Inside the dining room, specifically designed Andon lighting based on traditional paper lanterns illuminated the details of the roof structure, while soft asymmetrical washi lighting fixtures created a warm ambience throughout the interior. The backside of the house, where I was fortunate enough to be seated, was replaced by giant windows, which offered a magnificent view of the Oboke Gorge.

The Oboke-Koboke gorge area slices through Tokushima Prefecture’s Shikoku Mountains on its western border. Believed to have formed 100 to 200 million years ago, the gorges were carved out of the mountains by the powerful current of the Yoshino River, which flows down from its headwaters in the mountains of Kochi Prefecture, before making a hard right to flow peacefully through the prefecture.

Some sections of Oboke-Koboke are wider and calmer, where you can take a short river cruise for a close-up look at the natural beauty of the gorges on all sides, including rare rock formations. Those who prefer a more active and immersive adventure can opt for the thrills of white water rafting – the Oboke and Koboke gorges are known to be the birthplace of Japan’s rafting tours for a heart-pounding ride down the Class 3 and 4 rapids. Although the air was chilly in autumn, I was wearing multiple layers of wetsuits and life jackets, so I hardly felt the cold. But the best season for the most exciting rafting is summer!

Further north along Route 32, I stopped at the Koboke Gorge Viewing Deck, just a 5-minute walk off the main road. This simple but strategically placed observation platform offered a commanding view of the narrow sandstone ravine, especially breathtaking in this early autumn season. The flowing river water was emerald green, framed by pale sandstone rocks that created a stark contrast with the colorful foliage along the steep mountainside, the lush green of summer gradually giving way to warm patches of red, orange and yellow.

I couldn’t have hoped for a more beautiful sight to conclude my splendid journey through the Iya Valley.