Being Real In Shirakawa-go & Gokayama

As mentioned in my previous post, Kanazawa was a highlight of our trip to Japan. But the real reason we made the detour through the Hokuriku region was to visit the mountain villages of Shirakawa-go and Gokayama. I was immediately intrigued the moment I saw the pictures online. The picture-perfect villages are filled with dozens of thatched-roof farmhouses; they look straight from Hans Christian Andersen's fairytales or a Miyazaki film. The two villages were inscribed as UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1995 and became one of Japan’s top tourist destinations.

Although Japan is known for meticulously preserving traditional culture, maintaining thatched roofs is costly and difficult. I had trouble imagining how an entire village could maintain these building traditions. Given the popularity of these towns, would this be the Disneyfication of another historical heritage? For some context, Shirakawa-go, a city of 1,600, receives more than 2.15 million visitors annually. That is more tourists per capita than Venice or Dubrovnik. I was curious how these villages held on to their unique identity.

Gokayama

Our first stop was the mountain town of Gokayama (五箇山), just over an hour southeast of central Kanazawa. Due to its high mountain ranges, Gokayama was historically isolated from the rest of Japan. According to legend, the first settlers arrived here in 1182 as war refugees. During the Edo period, the village officially became a penal colony for those who committed lesser crimes. The local rulers even forbade building bridges in and out of Gokayama. For centuries, the only way in and out of the village was kagowatashi, a unique ropeway with basket carriers.

Gokayama may be reachable by public transportation, but we were glad to have the freedom that came with a rental car. Within Gokayama, Ainokura (相倉) has the highest concentration of thatched-roof houses. We parked our car at the main parking lot at the village entrance for ¥500. Our visit coincided with a youth group outing, so there was surprisingly festive atmosphere around this tiny village. From the looks of it, it was probably some rural lifestyle immersion programs for kids in big cities.

Although tourism now dominates the village's economy, plenty of active agricultural fields are dotted between the houses. Today, Ainokura has twenty thatched-roof houses and forty permanent residents. About half of these houses have been converted into tourist accommodations, restaurants, or house museums. I am curious to see how seasonal tourism is in these mountain villages. This part of Japan receives some of the highest annual snowfall; I suspect tourists would come in droves to admire the snow-covered village.

Speaking of snow, the steep thatched roof is the vernacular response to the harsh winter climate. Known as gassho-zukuri (合掌造り), this style of farmhouse is said to resemble two hands joined together. The steep 60-degree roofline helped shed the heavy winter snow and precipitation. The thickness of the roof also allows enough ventilation to prevent moisture buildup and rot. The community would pitch in and complete the rethatching in just one workday. These roofs must be rethatched every 15 to 20 years, so you must be lucky to catch rethatching in progress. I wonder whether they ever advertise the date of any rethatching to visitors.

All the houses are oriented in line with the prevailing wind of the valley.

The houses were all built along the north-south axis, the prevailing wind of the valley. The building’s silhouette resembles a typical Swiss chalet in the Alps. It was interesting how two very different cultures arrived at the same type of architecture because of the climatic conditions. Most of these gassho-zukuri houses were between two and four hundred years old, and I must say it was miraculous so many survived. Naturally, the main threat was fire. Plenty of smoking signs around the village warned of the fire risk. A designated smoking area was far away from any of the gassho-zukuri houses.

A plaque explaining how the network of fire-supression system is fed by the gravity.

The village employs a sophisticated fire suppression system to minimize fire risks. A reservoir above Ainokura feeds the network of fire hydrants and water cannons by gravity. The villagers organize periodic fire drills to ensure the system operates properly. Locals organize daily fire patrols to identify risky behaviors like smoking, open fires, or storing fuels in dangerous locations. If a fire is detected, the entire village is mobilized. They also activate the water canons if the thatched roofs dry out too much during drought. I can’t imagine constantly living on the edge of catastrophe.

Ainokura gained considerable fame in Japan due to imperial patronage. In 1978, Emperor Naruhito, then just a crown prince, spent a few nights here as a student at Gakushuin University. Sixteen years later, Naruhito composed a poem commemorating his visit and praising the beauty of Gokayama. His poem is now inscribed at the nearby Jinushi Shrine (相倉地主神社). In 2019, a stone pillar was installed to celebrate Naruhito’s ascension to the Chrysanthemum Throne. For me, the most exciting item exhibited was a photo of young Naruhito standing in front of a gassho-zukuri house. He just looked so joyous and innocent in that photo.

Shirakawa-go

As delightful as Gokayama was, the village is relatively small. It took us only an hour to explore in full. We were ready to head toward Shirakawa-go, where we would stay for the night. It was only about a forty-minute drive from Gokayama. We were pleasantly surprised to see numerous gassho-zukuri houses dotted across the landscape. They were not as obsolete as we might assume. Our drive also revealed how isolated these valleys are. Surrounded by snow-capped peaks, we could understand how these villages were often snowbound in the Edo period.

The popularity of Shirakawa-go was apparent as we encountered bumper-to-bumper traffic. It was a solid twenty-minute wait to enter the village’s main parking lot. The ¥1,000 parking fee was relatively stiff by Japanese standards. I was shocked by just how many tourist buses there were. The parking area was a madhouse with hundreds of tourists. Public service announcements in multiple languages warned visitors about the fire risk. From the visitor parking, it was just a short walk to Shirakawa-go via a suspension bridge over the scenic Shō River. Just before the bridge, a sign warned visitors that the parking lot would be closed at 5 p.m., about 90 minutes before sunset. I was surprised they forced everybody to leave so early. Most tourist sites would do all they could to capitalize on the tourist dollars during dinner time.

Shirakawa-go's visitor parking lot closes at 5pm, a few hours before sunset.

From the moment we arrived, I could understand the appeal of Shirakawa-go, particularly the village of Ogimachi (荻町). The largest of 23 villages in Shirakawago, Ogimachi has nearly sixty well-preserved gassho-zukuri structures. Most date back to the end of the Edo era and the Meiji period. They make up roughly three-quarters of the village's structures. Like in Gokayama, all the houses were parallel to the valley and the river to reduce the wind load; it gives the entire village a uniform appearance.

You got to wonder whether the rice paddy field here was for show.

The best way to appreciate Shirakawa-go’s beauty is to hike up to Shiroyama Viewpoint on the northern edge of Ogimachi. The direction was well signposted, but visitors could follow the crowd. Along the way, we encountered numerous smaller thatched structures, many of which function as equipment sheds. The path’s incline was surprisingly steep but manageable for anyone with minimal fitness. It took us about eight minutes to ascend, but a handy shuttle service was also available during the high season for only ¥200. Once on top, the views from the observatory are spectacular. We were lucky with the picture-perfect weather; the village gleams under the gentle afternoon sun like a screensaver.

While the views here are always superb, visitors from far and wide made the pilgrimage here for “winter light-up” events. The village organizes special illumination using floodlights and candles on selective Sunday evenings in January and February. The snow accumulation would be at its highest during these times, and the best time to appreciate how gassho-zukuri roofs do what they do best: holding up the heavy snow. To make the entire experience even more magical, many houses were lit inside to create a classic gingerbread house silhouette at night. Locals would even build tiny igloos for these special nights to put a few candles inside.

From my understanding, the whole light-up event lasted just two hours. It is not for the faint-hearted, and it was not because of the heavy snow or harsh weather. Instead, it was not easy to visit during these nights as the village strictly controls the access due to overwhelming demand. Though it is possible to visit independently, it is wise to sign up for organized tours for the “light-up.” Access to this viewpoint would require a timed reservation. From all the information I read online, it is best to leave all the organization to professionals.

Just to the west of the observation point are the ruined remains of Ogimachi Castle. Recent excavations reveal that this tiny fortress was more like a small military outpost and signaling station. It did not have a central keep or a residential quarter. The surrounding valleys have significant mineral resources, prompting the local rulers to construct a series of minor military outposts like this one. Much of the castle was destroyed by an earthquake in 1585. Nowadays, very few traces of the castle remain. A lonely Shinto shrine seems to mourn the loss of this chapter of history.

Wada House is the largest *ssho-zukuri* house in Shirakawa-go.

A steep trail on the west side of the castle ruins led back to the village. From there, it is just a stone’s throw away from Wada House (和田家), the largest gassho-zukuri house of Shirakawa-go. Wada family is a prominent household within the village and served as mayor for many generations. By extension, their family home also functioned as the village hall and guards’ house during the Edo period. The grand property was designated Japan’s Important Cultural Property in 1995 and demonstrates the family's riches and influences. Remarkably, a family descendant still lived in part of the house and opened the rest to the public as a house museum.

Functioning as a city hall back in its days, the main reception level is surprisingly expansive. Like most traditional farmhouses, the floor centered around irori, the Japanese sunken hearth. Not only a place of cooking and gathering, Irori is essential for these gassho-zukuri houses. Heat and smoke help remove moisture, which is a critical fire-prevention measure. Most of these houses have their hearth running 24/7, and the smoke also helps drive away pests.

Numerous artifacts, such as antique clocks and lacquerware, from the family’s private collections are on display at the first level. The most exciting items to me are photographs from Emperor Akihito's visit. Because the house functioned as a de facto village hall back in its day, there are separate entrances for families and a ceremonial door for visiting government officials. The beautiful carvings over the door lintels speak to the family’s social status and wealth.

The second level remains the family's residential quarter, but visitors can climb the steep stairs to the third level to admire the underbelly of the thatched roof. The enormous ridge beam, roof rafters, and purlins were all tied together with rope and without nails. We appreciate the tactile quality of this unique construction technique. I could not help but wonder whether we could detect any moisture in the straw thatch. I secretly wished for a severe rainstorm to see how well the system would perform under pressure. The massive windows on the gable end maximize the mountain breeze and reduce the likelihood of mold.

Various kitchenware exhibited at Wada House

On this level are numerous tools related to silk production, one of the industries that brought tremendous wealth to the Wada family. There are multiple holding pans for the silkworms and detailed illustrations of the life cycle of these fascinating insects. I kept silkworms as “pets” in second grade because of a school project. I often joked they were the most “affectionate” pets until Prue came along with Brian. I was eager to show Brian everything I knew about silkworms. Unsurprisingly, he was not at all interested.

For anyone with time to spare, we also enjoyed our visits to Binen-Yumeromu Museum (美然ゆめろむ館) and Myozenji Temple Museum (明善寺庫裡). Both have been beautifully restored and offer excellent viewpoints. The latter is the former living quarters of the head priest and his family. The building is notable as it is one of the few houses around here with plastered earthen walls. But the highlight of the visit would be the Myozenji Temple itself. Constructed in 1748, this is a rare example of gassho-zukuri style temple. However, the temple’s distinctive two-tiered Shoromon Gate is the most evocative structure. Legend has it that its massive bronze bell was confiscated during World War II due to the metal shortage. Fortunately, a new bell was cast after the war and is now responsible for ringing into a new year.

House museums aside, the best way to experience Ogimachi is to stroll around the village and visit various snack stands and souvenir shops. Objectively speaking, Shirakawa-go is not the ideal shopping destination. As far as I could tell, almost all the omiyage offered here was available in the nearby city of Takayama, and the prices were certainly inflated. I was very tempted to buy a “Patagonia-inspired” Shirakawa t-shirt, but I recommend spending your cash on many delicious snacks around town. Some highlights include grilled beef skewers, goheimochi (五平餅), and Hida raw milk. One notable mention is the custard pudding at Shiwakawa-go House of Purin. Their “watery custard pudding” won the first prize in the Japan Pudding Award contest in 2022.

One of the numerous traditional guesthouses in the village.

Without question, the best way to experience Shirakawa-go is to stay overnight in one of the guest houses. However, booking a guesthouse at Shirakawago was not as straightforward as imagined. Based on searches on traditional booking sites, there was availability for that week. It took me a few days to realize the only way to book the guesthouse was through the private booking platform on the website of Shirakawa-go’s Tourist Association. Despite being at the last minute, I was amazed that five options were still available.

After some research, we made a reservation at Gensaku. It costs ¥18,150 per night per person, which is steep for a rustic guesthouse experience. I had to remind myself that it included breakfast and dinner. Although technically not a ryokan, this is as traditional a lodge as it is for us on this particular trip. I keep my fingers crossed that Brian would be happy with the arrangement. He did not know that there would be no ensuite bathrooms. I wondered how he would compare our night here with the ryokan experience in Nara he so fondly remembers.

Gensaku Guesthouse was our home to the night.

As five o’clock approached, I stopped by the guesthouse to ask the host whether we could move our car to the patch of land in front of the guesthouse. The hostess did not speak English, but we communicated just fine. Anyone staying at a guesthouse could drive into the village by showing the reservation to the security posted at the village entry. I could have come here directly and saved the ¥1,000 parking fee. Although the village is not entirely car-free, I still felt naughty driving past all the tourists.

The check-in was smooth and without any document checks. She led us to Room #3, where they wrote all the instructions, such as dinner and shower time, in English on two placards. I was surprised that the shower was off-limit in the morning and the dinner would be at six o’clock, half an hour before sunset. I was sad to miss the sunset view over the village. Is this dinner schedule typical for most guesthouses in Shirakawa-go?

We showed up at the dining room at six o’clock sharp. We were the only guests for the evening, along with three young Japanese ladies. The dining room is Japanese, with tatami mats and shoji sliding doors. It may be quaint, but it meant we all had to enjoy our meal sitting on the floor. While I and the Japanese ladies were perfectly comfortable with that, seating cross-legged would be more challenging for Brian and Joe. I could tell they would be in severe pain toward the end of the meal.

Before we arrived, an impressive set of dishes was already on the individual tables. The meal consisted of tofu, pickled vegetables, tempura, grilled fish, miso soup, and unlimited white rice. Everything looks delicious and meticulously crafted. The hostess then brought out the main entree: flamed grilled Hida beef with Hoba miso, a regional specialty. Even though there were only three slices of meat, the do-it-yourself presentation on a tiny charcoal grill (shichirin) made this entree the undisputed star of the dinner. Although not a kaiseki meal, the level of care and work were very evident.

This was quite a beautiful spread for dinner.

Like visiting your distant aunt and uncle’s place, the dining room seemed very lived-in and unpretentious. The irori was glowing, and the television played the local news program. Midway through our meal, the host showed us to greet all the guests. Even though he mostly conversed with Japanese guests due to the language barrier, he still tried to point things out around the room to us in very rudimentary English. We still felt the deep hospitality. This ultimately turned out to be our favorite meal on our entire trip. I was surprised Brian and Joe finished every dish, even the grilled whole fish.

The village was technically off-limit to tourists, except those staying at one of the local guesthouses.

After dinner, guests could visit the village’s only public onsen, a few minutes away on foot. Since Brian and Joe took a pass on the onsen, we had an after-dinner stroll to see whether there was any evening attraction. The darkness had descended by then, and the locals were able to reclaim their village from the day tourists. It dawned on me that the early closure of visitors’ parking was intentional. Despite being one of the top tourist destinations in central Japan, Shirakawa-go managed to retain its year-round population. To foster sustainable tourism, Shirakawa-go prohibits turning these iconic farmhouses into Airbnb rental units or resorts. The absence of bars or restaurants in the evening ensures the rural lifestyle is tenable.

Without light or noise pollution, we had a very restful night. It has been ages since I slept on tatami mats. Breakfast started at half past seven, and it was another feast. In addition to Japanese breakfast items, the hostess sneaked in a piece of hash brown and a tiny western-style omelet. Over breakfast, we stuck up conversations with our Japanese fellow guests. It turned out they were on a very similar itinerary as ours. Upon learning that I grew up in Taiwan, they were excited to tell me they would be visiting Taiwan for the first time this summer.

After bidding goodbye to our host and hostess, we had an hour or two to enjoy the village before the day tourists showed up. Maybe it was delusional, but I swear the locals used these precious hours to do most of their daily chores. I have been to many touristy places, but I couldn't think of a place that manages overtourism better than Shirakawa-go. I came as a cynic, but this place proved me wrong. The village avoided the vicious cycle of zero-dollar tourism by focusing on practical quality-of-life issues for the locals. The Dutch nonprofit Green Destinations named Shirakawa-go one of the "Top 100 Sustainable Destinations in the World.”

We had the whole place to ourselves before opening of the visitors' parking lot.

Of course, that does not mean Shirakawa-go and Gokayama do not face long-term challenges, such as population aging and the maintenance cost of these precious houses. The best advice I could give other visitors is to spend a night here, contribute to the local economy, and interact with the locals. Most importantly, let’s not treat this place not as a photo spot but as a living museum.

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Being Real In Shirakawa-go & Gokayama

Gokayama

Shirakawa-go

Clearing The Name of Limerick

Kanazawa - The Little Kyoto