When we looked out of the breakfast room window of our hotel in Matsumoto, the Japanese Alps were capped with a thick band of cloud again. We had been very lucky to have had three days of sunshine for our brief exploration of the alpine region. In fact today was a mix of showers, fog and high cloud, but that didn't matter - it was moving day.

We were swapping the mountains for the coast, Matsumoto for Matsushima, and that involved a long journey by train - a fast express, two shinkansens and a local commuter train brought us to our accommodation at Matsushima, a pleasant traditional inn with an honsen. The journey itself was interesting, alongside mountain ranges, through long tunnels beneath them and across plains and built up areas at 315 kph.

Matsuo Basho was a Japanese poet who lived in the Edo era of the 17th century and is considered the greatest exponent of the Haiku. He was not only a poet, but a wanderer and adventurer who chronicled his journeys. In 1689, he made a 150-day trip to the northern parts of Honshu, walking some 2400 km in the process. Perhaps he should also be could be considered one of the fathers of long-distance walking.

He wrote about his travels in the form of a haibun (a mixture of prose and poetry) which was published as "The Long Road to the Deep North". It is considered one of the world's first travelogues. In this section, we followed part of Basho's journey, doing some day-walks in four of the places that he visited - Matsushima, Hiraizumi, Naruko Onsen and Yamadera. We couldn't help wondering what it would have been like walking here over 300 years ago, when large temple complexes were scattered in the countryside, bandits roamed the highways, the natural world was dominant and bears were more than just warning sign. Then again, what would Matsuo Basho have made of modern Japan. I'd love to read those haiku.

Manuscript of "The Long Road to the Deep North"

So, here we are in our very pleasant and modern but authentic ryokan, sipping a complementary glass of sake, feeling pleasantly warm and happy. The forecast was for a return of sunshine for our exploration of Matsushima, whose bay of islands is considered one of the three scenic wonders of Japan. Basho himself, in 1689, declared that "here is the most beautiful spot in the whole country of Japan ...... who else could have created such beauty but the great god of nature himself? My pen strove in vain to equal this superb creation of divine artifice."

That is some recommendation.

where beauty overwhelms
to marvel and be silent
is its greatest praise

Reaching the shore of the bay, our first point of exploration was to cross over the 275m long vermilion-lacquered bridge to Fukuurajima Island and circumnavigate it via a series of paths that led through the forest to viewpoints and beaches and past the Bentendo Shrine. It was a nice way to get to know the vegetation and geology of the islands, a layering of tuff, siltstone and sandstone, sculpted by the sea.

Retracing our steps over the bridge, we continued on along the shore, stopping for a quick visit to Godaido buddhist temple, built in 1604 on its own tiny island, connected to the mainland by a vermilion slatted bridge (apparently the slats are to make you think about where you step in life).

Matsushima Bay silhouetted in silver

From Godaido, we wandered around to the boat pier. The main attraction of a visit to Matsushima is a boat trip out into the bay to get up close to many of the 253 islands that dot its waters. We picked up our tickets and joined the queue for our boat. It is a popular activity, with several tourboats going and coming on the hour. That said it was an enjoyable 50 minutes, seeing islands from a small rock-stack to those large enough to hold a small village. The many forms of the islands, carved into shapes by the sea, was fascinating with their topping of pine trees and sculpted sea-cliffs, as were the rafts of oyster farms in clusters on the bay.

Autumn is coming to Matsushima

Boat trip over, we headed on away from the crowds to reach Oshima Island, a place considered to have special spiritual power. A buddhist monk, Kenbutsu Shonin, came here to practic meditation over 900 years ago, followed by many other ascetics over the centuries.

Boardwalk around the bay

When we crossed the vermilion bridge to reach it, we could understand why - the serenity of the island was palpable with its peaceful views out over the other islands of the bay and the wind sighing softly through the pines. Not only that, its sense of history reached out through the centuries-old stone tablets and statues, many in caves carved into the sandstone rock, with a small shrine set on a knoll beneath the pines. The piece de resistance was a 3m high inscribed stone stela that dates from the early 1300s.

It was hard to leave Oshima, which had become my favourite spot in Matsushima, but it was past lunchtime, so we returned to the wharf area to sample the fish-cakes for which Matsushima is reknowned. Then it was on to Zuigangi Temple, a zen buddhist temple and a designated National Treasure of Japan. The temple was founded in the 9th century, but the current buildings date back to 1609.

The entry path wound its way past a series of large caves carved into the rock to house buddhist statues and stelae before reaching a large peaceful compound with mossy understory and large old cedars. We paid our entry fee to tour the Kuri (living quarters) and Hondo (main temple area), beautifully constructed from cypress and cedar and home to some superbly painted silk screens (no photos allowed).

And that was the end of our tourist stroll through Matsushima, one which we both enjoyed thoroughly. It was time to head back to our ryokan, stopping by the 7-11 to buy some dinner and beers, and soak off the leg-weariness in the onsen.

We caught the commuter train from Matsushima to Sendai, where we picked up a rental car and headed north up the Tohoku Expressway towards Hiraizumi, a town in what was considered the "buddhist pure land" and a World Heritage Site for its ancient temples. However, it wasn't that far to drive and our check-in time at the ryokan was 3pm, so we detoured a few kilometres to visit Genbikei Gorge (see next section). Finally, we arrived and enjoyed a pleasant evening eating the best multi-course Japanese dinner we've had so far (so good it was worth a photo) and soaking in the onsen.

The next morning, we set out to explore the two main temples of Hiraizumi, Chuson-ji and Motsu-ji, both established in the 12th century by the Fujiwara dynasty. One advantage of staying a Ryokan Mazurai, apart from the excellent meals, was its proximity to the temples, which meant we could design a circuit starting and ending there.

Statue at the entry to Chuson-ji Temple

The fine weather was continuing, although a bit cooler, as we wandered down the quiet streets of Hiraizumi to reach the entry of Chuson-ji Temple.

View over the Kitakami River valley

The temple, itself, is on the top of a hill and the way up was a broad avenue of 300-year old cedars that led us up a forested spur towards the temple complex. Small shrines had been built along the way and occasionally views opened out over the valley below.

Larger halls and shrines began to appear as we reached the flatter heights of the spur. We stopped to have a closer look at the Hondo (main hall), before heading on to see the Konjiki-do, the main attraction of Chuson-ji. Konjiki-do was built in 1124 and its interior is completely covered in gold-leaf, with intricate lacquered wood and shell inlays, and statues of the buddha of infinite light and his offsiders, the boddhisatvas of compassion and wisdom. Buddhism has a way with words. The Japanese consider Konjiki-do a National Treasure and, for many centuries it was protected by a larger wooden hall, that was replaced in more recent years by an even large concrete hall in the same shape ... no photos inside of course.

Matsuo Basho visited the Golden Hall in 1689 and wrote of it:
"Have the summer rains
come and gone
sparing the hall of light"

We also visited the Hakusan-jinja no Butai, a lovely wooden thatch-roofed hall, before heading off to find Motsu-ji, the other main temple.

The road to Motsu-ji was a path through the woods, undulating pleasantly on earth and old boardwalk, before climbing steeply up to a high point. From here it was downhill, following a forested valley with splashes of autumn colour, skirting the busy Tohoku Expressway, before heading back onto a peaceful grassy track that followed the contour of the Terui Canal.

The latter part of the canal overlooked the gardens of Motsu-ji Temple and soon we reached the street that led to its entrance. After stopping at a nearby bakery to get some lunch, we paid our entrance fee and strode in. Motsu-ji was founded in 850 AD and grew to a compound of seven temples, all of which have been lost over time due to fire. A memorial marker shows where they were situated.

Monks leaving Motsu-ji Temple

What does remain is the beautiful Heian era gardens, based around Oizimi-ga-ike, a large spring-fed pool. It was very pleasant wandering around the gardens, with their broad lawns, ancient cedars and a splash of autumn colour on the broad-leaf trees, as well as sitting on a bench to eat our lunch and enjoy the tranquility.

We finished with a quick look at the Phoenix Hall, a more modern structure. This is still an active temple and several of the monks were out with their begging bowls as we passed. On the way out, we stopped to pay homage to Basho, father of the haiku - an old inscribed stela recalls his visit in 1689 when he wrote:
"Summer grass
is all that remains
of ancient warriors' dreams"

We were now very close to our ryokan. All we had to do was cross the grassy field that surrounded Maizuru Pond, once part of the temple complex, but now a peaceful home to ducks and herons. And so we arrived back at the ryokan, just that tiny bit wiser about the history and complexity of buddhism in Japan.

Before leaving the Hiraizumi area, we drove a short distance to Geibikei Gorge. I had read about it just the day before and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss, travelling down a deep gorge being poled along in a traditional flat-bottomed boat. Improvisation while travelling is always a good thing and we were not disappointed.

We paid for our tickets and boarded the boat at the mouth of the gorge, along with 22 other passengers and a dog sitting in a row down each side of the boat with the boatman and his long pole at the stern. As we headed out, we were quickly followed by a flotilla of ducks and big carp who knew that some passengers had paid for food pellets to throw their way.

We were soon being poled up the shallow Satetsu River, rounding a bend to enter a long straight within the walls of the gorge. Our boatman ran a commentary on the features of the gorge and we soon discovered, from the laughter of our fellow passengers, that he was quite the funster - sadly his jokes went right over the heads of the only two gaijin on board, with their vocabulary of less than a dozen Japanese words.

From the green-clad steep slopes of the entrance, the gorge gradually morphed into a more dramatic form of sheer rock cliffs, 150m above our heads. Here we disembarked on a sand bank that had formed in a bend of the gorge to wander a bit further on and appreciate better the vertical landscape.

Disembarking at the sandbank

End of the road for gorge visitors

After a 20 minute stop here, we got back on to the boat for the return journey, followed by some more enormous carp, who fought with the ducks over the food pellets. Half way back, our multi-skilled boatman burst into song - a plaintive ballad about Geibikei, echoing softly off the rock walls. It was a special end to a very pleasant trip.

View back over the footbridge

We actually stopped off at the second gorge, Genbikei, on the way to Hiraizumi. It is only a small gorge, but interesting because the Iwai River has sculpted and polished the rocks along its course. We followed the short 2km walking path around the gorge, crossing the river by road bridge twice in the process. The photos show the character of Genbikei.

The one somewhat gimmicky thing to do at Genbikei is to eat a "flying dango". A dango is skewer of five sticky riceballs dipped in a variety of sweet sauces. A restaurant on the far side of the gorge has strung a zip line across it to transport a basket. You put your money in the basket, hit a small gong to say its ready and it is pulled up to the restaurant, only to come flying back down with a box of three assorted dangos and a cup of green tea. Hence the "flying" dango. You have to try it, but I'm afraid to say that sweet glutinous rice balls are not my cup of tea - the cup of green tea, however, was.

It rained overnight, and we were greeted by an overcast sky, when we set out for a walk to Naruko Gorge, considered an autumn colour hotspot. In fact we were lucky with the weather, with just a few occasional spots of rain in the morning. Leaving the hotel, we walked quickly through the quiet streets of town.

Reaching the bridge over the Eai River on the outskirts, we found one end of the now blocked walking trail through the gorge itself. It gave us an opportunity to have a peek inside the eastern exit of the gorge, if not walk very far into it.

From the bridge, though, we were able to pick up a track that was once part of the Narrow Road to the Deep North, the route followed by Matsuo Basho in his epic journey of 1689. The track soon turned directly up the hill on a long set of steps to reach Shitomae no Seki, the site of one of the posts built to guard the road.

The climb did not stop here, as we continued steeply up beneath the cedar canopy on a set of stone steps to finally reach the crest of the hill. From here the Narrow Road took on a variety of forms - a bit of quiet asphalt road, a grassy foot-track past houses and a muddy section of path beneath the forest.

Time for a stroll in the rain

The track turned up into a small gully with flashes of autumn colour, before crossing a wooden bridge and zig-zagging steeply up to a plateau of pines and broad-leaf trees. Crossing this we descended once again into a deep gully, where the oranges and yellows of autumn were beginning to show.

Leaving the Narrow Road to the Deep North, we headed south and followed a wide path along a contour that brought us to the main road and the Ofukazawa Bridge, high above the side gorge we had just left and looking over the depths of Naruko Gorge. This is an autumn colour hotspot and suddenly, the peaceful path of Basho became a crowd of tourists jostling to take selfies on the bridge.

The Ofukazawa Bridge - an autumn hotspot (best in a week or two)

From here, we headed round to viewpoints of the bridge itself, framed by the autumn colours which brightened up an otherwise grey sky day. We then descended the zig-zagging track to the Eai River at the bottom of the gorge for a view along its narrow-walled course. Even though we were probably a week or so early for the autumn peak, it was still a colourful spectacle.

Climbing back up, it was time to return to Naruko Onsen - this time taking a shorter route alongside the main road for some distance, descending the steep set of steps again, and taking a short cut across the river flats to reach town. Unfortunately, the hotel car park and our car were a kilometre further on than the hotel, adding an extra bit of walking along the narrow main street of Naruko Onsen. Our plan was to walk to where the car was parked and then drive on to the nearby Onikoube Onsen area to visit an active geothermal creek system.

Thus we arrived at the trail head for the Jigokudani ( = Hell Valley) Walk, a short stroll up a winding stream in the forest, but one that was lined with vents of steam, outflows of boiling water and mini-geysers, complete with sulphurous wafts. Unfortunately, like the Naruko Gorge track, it was blocked partway where a flash flood had taken out one of the bridges. Still, we got to see two of the most impressive spots, a high pressure steam vent and a pool hot enough to boil eggs in. We got the idea that this creek isn't one for a casual dip.

Nearby, we stopped to take a look at Japan's largest active geyser, Benten, blowing 15m columns of boiling water out every 10-12 minutes. Below it, our thermal creek flowed on, this time dropping a few metres over a steaming waterfall before disappearing on into the forest. It was a good way to finish the day and head back to our own hotel and a soak in its very slightly sulphurous hot spring onsen.

The descent of Omoshiroyama Gorge starts with an 8 minute train trip from Yamadera to Omoshiroyama-Kogen, a tiny station in the middle of the forest - green-clad slopes all around. Before we left the platform, I noticed a sign to Ararai-take Falls. It wasn't in the right direction, but only a few hundred metres up the gorge and a good introduction into what we might expect of the descent - the river tumbling over a barrier beneath a vertical rock face and splashes of autumn colour.

We retraced our footsteps to the station, crossed the bridge over the train track and began our descent of the gorge. A steep zig-zagging path took us quickly to the bottom to reach the Momiji River beneath the shower of a waterfall tumbling over the rock face from the densely forested top.

As we headed down, the river and gorge straightened out more, providing a less dramatic but still quite beautiful vista as the autumn colours tinted the scenery, until after one final suspension bridge, the track climbed steeply up the side to reach a country road above. It had only been 2 km, but was one of the best 2 km we have walked.

On reaching the road, we followed it westwards for a while as it slowly descended through the dark cedar and pine forest. On a bend above the river, we noticed a dirt 4WD track heading down towards a small road bridge that crossed the Momiji River once more. By now the gorge had opened out into more of a deep valley.

The track now passed under the railway line and turned to run alongside it, contouring the steep northern slope of the valley. Looking to the south, impressive panoramas opened up of the hills and mountains that frame this gorge and valley. Having explored the microcosm of the gorge, it was nice to get a feel for the bigger landscape.

Suddenly, we popped out onto a back street of Yamadera, lined with houses and their well-kept gardens. We followed the road on down to pass under the railway line one more time and reach the centre of the town and the end of the nature part of our walk.

It was now time for a bit of culture - we looked up and 200m above us on Mt Hoji we could see some of the buildings of the Risshaku-ji Temple. It was time for a bit of a climb.

We wandered along the lower platform past the halls and had a very late lunch next to a pleasant classically-pruned Japanese garden. Then it was time to head up the rock face to the heights. The stone steps followed a zig-zagging route upwards, passing a continuum of statues, inscribed stelae, stone lanterns and rock carvings on the way, all beneath the shade of giant cedars. As you climb, it is said that you will steadily release your worldly desires.

The Niomon Gate, upper entrance to the temple complex, appeared at step 660 and, having passed through, we took a detour to reach the Godaido Hall perched on the edge of a rockface. A little higher up, a pavilion provided extensive views of the town of Yamadera below and the mountainous landscape beyond.

Following a path that contoured around this rocky promontory, we resumed our climb up the staircase, passing more halls until finally we reached the Okunoin Hall, with its small belfry and large bell, the high point of the temple complex.

Then it was time to head back down. I'm not sure which is harder - climbing 1000 steps or descending them. My lungs said it was up, but my knees said it was down. Reaching the bottom, we headed back to our car near Yamadera Train Station and declared the walk over. It was also the end of short journey following the footsteps of the haiku master, Matsui Basho, and it had been interesting to see the landscapes that inspired his poetry. The time has come to leave "The Narrow Road to the Deep North" and head even further north - to Aomori, where the climate is colder and, hopefully, the autumn colours are at their peak.