Yamadera -
Mountain Temple

Yamadera is exactly what the name says: 'Mountain Temple,' a series of halls hanging on a steep mountain slope northeast of Yamagata. The mountain, Hojusan, was considered sacred long before Buddhism came, a place where the souls of the dead gathered. The monks came here to practice austerities, to climb over the sharp rocks, to meditate in the caves. The official name of the temple is Ryushakuji, Temple of the Jutting Rocks, a name that needs no further comment when you have seen the temple's breathtaking setting.

Yamadera was probably founded in 860 by the monk Ennin, as a subsidiary temple of the Tendai headquarters on Mt. Hiei near Kyoto. It grew into the major temple for Dewa province (Yamagata and Akita) in the Heian period, was destroyed by war around 1500, but rebuilt in 1543. Ennin (794-864), posthumously called Jikaku Daishi, was the third head of Enryakuji. Born in present-day Tochigi, he studied under the Tendai founder Saicho and like his teacher visited China. His sojourn there lasted nine years, during which time he visited many famous monasteries. The travel record he kept has become justly famous.

On a sunny day in late autumn I visit Yamadera. The wooded mountain, with its craggy rocks, studded with halls - some perched on long stilts - is already visible from the train platform. It is only a few minutes walk to the temple's main hall, Konpon Chudo, that sits at the foot of Mt. Hoju. There are many visitors, but the precincts of Yamadera are large enough to accommodate them all. Incense clouds billow up in such a mass that it looks as if a fire is raging. The metallic clang of coins rings against the wooden money box, but inside the hall it is quiet, as if I have suddenly entered another world.

The altar cabinet, housing the Yakushi or Healing Buddha, is closed. The most interesting item in the serene hall is the lamp to the left of the altar containing the eternal flame. This sacred flame was lighted when Saicho founded Enryakuji in Kyoto and was later brought to Yamadera as well. When Enryakuji was destroyed by Nobunaga in the 16th century, it received a new flame from Yamadera. In the lamp, a small window is open, making me wonder if a sudden draft could not put out the thousand-year old light. As believer, I still have a long way to go.

Sotoba grave markers and Jizo statue

The Mountain of the Dead
I visit the temple's treasure house, where the most important items are a small, delicate Dainichi Buddha and a wooden mask. The mask itself is not on display, I see only a photo of the rough but strong-willed face. This mask was found in a casket in a cave at the back of Yamadera. It is assumed that the cave was Ennin's grave, the bones in the casket his - what about the mask? Is this a portrait of the deceased monk or just a joke that history has played on us?

Passing the Sanmon Gate, I start the ascent of the mountain over a stone-paved path. It proves a pleasant walk, under stately trees, past stone monuments. One of them commemorates Basho's famous haiku about the voices of cicadas seeping into the rocks. The haiku poet visited the mountain at the end of a summer day in 1689 and was struck by the quietness and purity. I also see masses of sotoba, grave markers with the posthumous name of the deceased engraved on the wood, many with a prayer wheel attached to the top. There are no graves on the mountain, but as the souls of the dead were believed to gather here, the custom existed (and still exits) to put the sotoba on the mountain.

The Halls on the Cliff

On top of the World
Later, beyond the Nio gate, the path splits. The left fork takes me to a small, red-painted sutra hall perched on top of a rock, the founder's hall and finally the Godaido affording magnificent views over the valley, the opposite mountains and the cliffs of Yamadera. Standing there, in a hall hanging on the mountain side, I feel as if being lifted up towards heaven, as having shed all earthly heaviness.

The right fork from the Nio Hall has been closed off, as this leads to a few halls (the Womb Hall and Shaka Hall) that can only be reached by clambering over ladders and hauling oneself up on chains. As not all visitors survived this, the path has now been closed off and left to the austerity specialists, the yamabushi. I follow the broad and safe middle path that brings me to the Oku no In, the Inner Sanctuary. On the way, I note the small vegetable gardens of the monks living on the mountain, who have to carry up their other supplies all 700 steps.

At the time I start my descent again, most people have already left the mountain. The stillness Basho appreciated so much is finally upon me. The sun has sunk behind the faraway hills and shadows grow out of the deep valley. I walk in silence among the countless sotoba, surrounded by the names of the dead, written on wood and carved into the rocks alongside the path. This year's cicada are long dead so I don't hear their piercing song like Basho. But I hear a rustling in the trees and a sighing in the bows from a slight breeze that is coming up. Or are these the sighs of the dead who wake up at dusk? Fantasy runs galore when the shadows lengthen. With some relief I arrive at the foot of the mountain, in the light of the inns and restaurants, and the beckoning gleam of the train station.

Behind me, the mountain is a looming, dark mass.