In the land of Wakayama, on the crest of Mount Koya, the Peace Lord Kobo Daishi forged in secret a master temple to empower all others, and into this temple he poured his wisdom, his insight, and his will to help all life. One temple to save them all. Bad joke? Yeah I think so too but I had too much fun writing it. Now, onto business. Koya-san, or Mount Koya in common English, is less one temple and more like a collection of temples high in the mountains of Wakayama Prefecture. It was founded at the turn of the 9th century and was originally a small monastery. Over the years the temple gained fame and a small town grew around it. It is now the head temple of the entire Shingon sect of Buddhism and the founder Kobo Daishi (Kûkai) is considered to be one of the most influential figures in Japan’s religious history.

For the casual: 10. For the educated: 10.

The trip to Koya-san deserves a full day and even then I doubt you will be able to see everything. The buildings in the complex are spread out over a large area, and sometimes the natural elements can get in the way of things. When I was there, a snow had fallen over the days before so there was a layer of snow and ice on everything. As cool as this made the whole trip (pun intended), there was also a very real danger of slipping and really hurting myself in the process. Anyways, the temple is distant at best and the halls deserve a bit of time to soak in and enjoy especially if the weather is good. But here’s some good news for those who like to collect goshuin, each building at Koya-san has its own goshuin, so it is very possible to leave the mountain top with 5, 6, 9, or even 10 new goshuin (I don’t know how many seals there actually are at the mountain). Don’t have a goshuincho? That’s alright because Koya-san has a very cool book which is made out of wood from the surrounding forest. That brings me to my next point, try to buy some things. Unlike a lot of the temples that you will regularly visit during your trip In Japan, Koya-san is an active temple and monastery where very real people are studying to be very real monks. The first time you see a monk walking down the street it will seem very strange, but after the 30th one passing you buy it gets rather mundane. Well, not mundane at all but you get my meaning. To that effect, many of the monks either engage in producing souvenirs, or they order such trinkets to raise money for the temple, so please consider supporting the temple which is operated on donations.

So I guess I’ll start with the main gate of the temple. Taking the bus up to the temple is a pretty fun experience as the landscape and trees change drastically as you climb. It had been, and still continues to be, a major dream of mine to see temples and shrines covered in fresh layers of snow. Despite the frosting I mentioned earlier, the day I went was on the warmer end of freezing so the white brilliance around me was slowly retreating into the shade as the day progressed. Small dustings of white powder on the sides of the road hinted at the potential beauty ahead, and it only got better as we climbed. Roofs were visible from below and the snow dividing the ridges of roof tiles reflected the sun’s light all around. As you get closer, the combination of snow, red paint, and slate-green roof tiles makes for a compelling and statement setting welcome. “This is Koya-san, and beyond my doors is where our holy worship is protected,” it seems to proclaim. Nio Guardians threaten those who seek the temple harm while ornamented wood carvings showcase the rewards for the faithful.

Beyond the main gate is the town. Very similar to almost any small town one might encounter in Japan, it has little shops for daily items, a convenience store for simple needs, and bald monks walking the streets in their robes. You know, the standard stuff. But what I really want to bring up is how normal this town is. It’s very similar to the small town where I am living at the time of me writing this. Most everyone keeps to themselves and goes about their daily lives, the only real differences are the monks walking around town, the massive temples that break the town into neighborhoods, and the number of tourists making their way from location to location. I’m sure the town changes drastically from the freezing snows of winter to the humid heat of summer.

The “center” of Koya-san is a complex called the Danjo Garan, the first site where Kobo Daishi began teaching Shingon esoteric Buddhism. Though not the main structure in the greater Koya-san complex, it does figuratively function as the largest and most grand section of the town, and so it is easy to draw visitors in. The Hondo and Great Stupa are the two main buildings after passing through the gate. The Hondo houses worship to Dainichi Nyorai (the Universal Buddha in English, Vairocana in Sanskrit), and reveres paintings and statues of Kobo Daishi. The Great Stupa is rumored to be the first two-story square pagoda in Japan, and at the looming height of about 50 meters tall ( 164 ft.), its bright red paint and size makes a commanding statement on the prominence of the temple. The Danji Garan is home to several other halls including the Hall of Portraits, considered one of the most important halls dedication to the personal contributions of Kobo Daishi. One corner of the complex which I personally enjoyed was a small shrine in the middle of a pond dedicated to one of the Seven Gods of Fortune: Benzaiten. This small shrine plays well with the balance of vermillion paint not only used for the shrine itself, but with the bridges on and off, the tall cedar pines, and the reflection of the water.

The true center of the temple complex is Kongobu-ji, the head temple of Japan’s Shingon sect of Buddhism, and from this temple are over 3,500 temple branches throughout the archipelago. In reference to the rest of the Koya-san complex and surrounding geography, Kongobu-ji is positioned at the center of the mountain. According to a guard I spoke to, when the Emperor of Japan dies, their soul is enshrined, their body is encased in an earthen tomb, and then their spirit is prayed to out of this temple. This connection between the Emperor and Koya-san speaks to the influence of the temple. The temple is known for a variety of sliding screen doors painted with ornate depictions of seasonal birds and flowers ranging in material from colored inks to metal flakes. Out the back is Japan’s largest rock garden which features formations that evoke the image of two dragons emerging from sea or clouds. The sliding doors, massive rock garden, and multitude of intricate carvings and gilt ornamentations, Kongobu-ji is definitively one of the most beautiful temples of Japan. As a reminder, please don’t be one of those tourists who ignores the “No Photography” signs. I was witness to a tourist learning that the hard way, and while it’s certainly embarrassing for the individual, it reflects poorly on foreign visitors in general so please be respectful of the signs.

Next is the Tokugawa Mausoleum, yet another example of the influence and intrigue that Koya-san has drawn through the ages. I’ll get to this point in a bit more detail later, but being buried or at least enshrined at Koya-san is a major achievement. To that end, thanks to the efforts of the third Tokugawa Shogun of the Edo Period, Tokugawa Iemitsu, the spirits of his grandfather (Tokugawa Ieyasu) and father (Tokugawa Hidetada) are enshrined in identical structures built in iconic opulent Edo Period architecture of gold, lacquer, and colorful wood carvings. The structure on the right is to Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the Edo Period (1614-1868 C.E.) , and the one on the left is to Tokugawa Hidetada.

The last location I had time to visit is probably my favorite of the complex for both beauty reasons and nerdy reasons. The section is called Oku no In, and it is the cemetery of the complex. I mentioned before that there is a level of influence that is required to be buried at Koya-san, and that is because Kobo Daishi is buried at the far end of the cemetery. Well, to be more precise, it is believed that Kobo Daishi is not dead but rather in an eternal state of deep meditation awaiting the coming of Maitreya, the future Buddha, the Buddha who will find the way to enlighten all beings on Earth at the same time. Because of this, being buried with Kobo Daishi means receiving the gift of enlightenment earlier than others. As a result, many major figures are either buried or they have their spirits enshrined at Oku no In. Such figures include Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s family, Takeda Shingen and his son, emperors across the ages, the fallen soldiers that fought against Japan in its rare invasion campaigns, monks that have founded sects of Buddhism that have both risen and fallen, and so many more. Keep your eyes out for little info boards that help explain the mausoleums and grave markers. What makes this cemetery unlike any other I have seen is its size and natural beauty. This cemetery is over 2 kilometers long and branches out into the openings of the mountain slope like veins of a leaf. Many markers are centuries old and show that by how much moss is growing over the stone. In the warmer months the moss fans its vibrant greens and the massive cedar trees standing tall above cast dappled light which dances across the stones. In winter with the snow, it is often hard to draw the boundary between white granite graves and snow-covered eves. The cemetery is also known for filling with an earie fog that drapes itself over the ground and hangs motionless in the air. No matter what time of the year it may be, Oku no In has this sense that you have left the normal world behind and are now walking in a transient realm. At the end of the path is a small bridge and from this point on there is no photography allowed. Why? Beyond is the mausoleum of Kobo Daishi and many emperors and empresses throughout the ages, and so to pay your respects, no photos. I mentioned before a reminder about that, well from this point on are armored guards and they are more than happy to tell you what to do. If you’re lucky, groups of monks will be going through and offering prayers to different groupings of statues and figurines.

Also near the end of the path is a structure of Jizo figures making a great big pyramid. Jizo Bodhisattvas are protectors of children and of the household, and they tend to be fairly common in temples across Japan with little red caps and bibs to keep them comfortable, but they sadly have a very somber meaning. A Jizo statue is a marker for a child that lost its life. I bring this up because as beautiful as this part of the complex is, it’s also very sad. Jizo statues are placed all along the main paths into and out of Oku no In from large statues of the Bodhisattva to small little figurines nestled into the spaces between roots. Since this was one of my main take-aways from the trip, I though it would be best to end this entry with a reminder to you as the reader, no, more like a moral from my travels: these temples are great and beautiful places that honor the patrons and figures that help define them, but there are also people who come to these places to find piece of mind from their grieving. It’s easy to forget that temples are built to prepare their congregation for death and to offer those who have lost a loved one an opportunity to grieve, pray, and heal; a notion that I can atest to. I often forget this idea when visiting temples, but on this trip, seeing Jizo figurines in almost every possible location, I was reminded of this sobering ideal that temples truely strive for. Whether it’s the grandeur of the buildings, the serenity of the gardens, or even the cute smiling statues adorning worn stone paths, our minds push away what is easy to hide. Temples are places to honor the dead and to pray for them to find happiness, and so while I encourage you to enjoy these figures, please don’t forget that these figures were placed by mothers and fathers who lost their greatest treasures too early.

This two-story pagoda is rumored to be the first one built in Japan.