Finding Yūgen on Mount Nokogiri A Yama no Hi Reflection

Every year on 11th August, Japan celebrates Mountain Day (Yama no Hi), a national holiday that encourages people to appreciate the country’s mountains and the important role they have played throughout Japan’s history and culture.
Visiting Japan over the years has given me the opportunity to explore some incredible places, and recently I visited somewhere that I think perfectly captures the spirit of Mountain Day Mount Nokogiri (鋸山) in Chiba Prefecture.
I’d seen photographs of its dramatic cliffs and giant stone Buddha before, but nothing quite prepared me for experiencing it in person.
From the moment I arrived, I realised that Mount Nokogiri isn’t simply a mountain to climb. It’s a place where nature, history and spirituality come together in a way that’s unlike anywhere else I’ve visited.
Standing at just 329 metres, Mount Nokogiri isn’t one of Japan’s highest mountains, but what it lacks in height, it more than makes up for in character. Its name translates as “Saw Mountain,” inspired by the jagged ridgeline that resembles the teeth of a traditional saw.
Mount Nokogiri’s distinctive appearance has been shaped by people as much as by nature. For centuries, this mountain served as one of Japan’s most important stone quarries. The high quality Boshu Stone quarried here was transported across Tokyo Bay and used to build castles, warehouses, sea walls and many of the buildings that helped Edo, now Tokyo, grow into a thriving city.
Towering rock faces rise above the pathways, with huge vertical cuts revealing where generations of stonemasons painstakingly removed enormous blocks of stone by hand. It’s difficult not to stop and imagine the incredible amount of work that once took place here. Rather than detracting from the landscape, these quarry walls have become part of what makes Mount Nokogiri so fascinating today.
On the day I had planned to visit the rain had already settled in (it was June “Japanese rainy season after all”) by the time I arrived at Mount Nokogiri low cloud clung to the mountainside, softening the sharp edges of the ancient quarry walls, while a fine mist drifted silently through the trees. The familiar scent of damp earth, moss and rain soaked stone filled the air, making the whole mountain feel wonderfully timeless.

It wasn’t the clear, panoramic day many visitors hope for. The famous views across Tokyo Bay remained hidden behind a veil of cloud. Yet somehow, it felt as though the mountain was revealing something far more intimate.
On a bright summer’s day, Mount Nokogiri is known for its sweeping vistas and dramatic scenery. But wrapped in rain and mist, it became a place of quiet reflection. The ancient quarry walls seemed even more imposing as they emerged from the fog, while the temple grounds felt almost suspended in time.

The weather softened every sound and blurred every distant outline, inviting me to slow my pace and notice the details of centuries old stone, tiny ferns growing from cracks in the cliff, droplets gathering on weathered statues and the rich, earthy fragrance that only follows a summer rain.

The rain didn’t hide the mountain’s beauty; it revealed a different side of it. One that felt peaceful, mysterious and deeply connected to the centuries of history held within its forests and stone.

As I wandered through the rain, I found myself thinking about the Japanese idea of yūgen (幽玄) a quiet, mysterious beauty that can’t quite be put into words.
Often described as a profound awareness of the beauty and mystery of the universe, yūgen is less about what can be explained and more about what can be quietly experienced. It’s the feeling that comes from standing before a mountain range disappearing into mist, watching light shift across a valley, or sensing the vastness of nature without needing to put it into words.
Rather than revealing everything at once, it invites you to imagine what lies just beyond your sight.
The drifting mist became part of the landscape rather than an obstacle. The quarry walls appeared and disappeared with the passing clouds, temple roofs emerged briefly between the trees before fading once more into the grey, and even the giant stone carvings seemed reluctant to reveal themselves all at once.
It was a reminder that beauty doesn’t always announce itself with bright sunshine or sweeping panoramas. Sometimes it lives in softer moments the scent of rain on ancient stone, the vivid green of moss after a summer shower, and the quiet rhythm of footsteps echoing along centuries old paths.
Mountains have a unique way of awakening that sense of wonder, inviting us to simply pause, observe, and appreciate what words can never fully capture.

One line from the Japanese writer Jun’ichirō Tanizaki has stayed with me over the years. In his book In Praise of Shadows, he explores how Japanese aesthetics often find beauty in shadow, subtlety and suggestion rather than brightness and clarity.
One of the highlights of the visit was exploring Nihonji Temple, whose grounds stretch across the mountainside.

Founded in 725 AD, the temple has stood here for nearly thirteen centuries, quietly watching over the mountain through changing seasons and changing times. Unlike many temples that centre around one main building, Nihonji encourages visitors to wander.

Stone staircases disappear into the trees, small statues appear unexpectedly beside woodland paths, and peaceful corners invite you to slow down and simply enjoy the surroundings.

There was a wonderful sense of calm that seemed perfectly suited to the mountain itself, I guess because of the weather there was no one else around.

One of the moments I had been looking forward to most was seeing the Nihonji Daibutsu.
Photographs simply don’t convey its true scale.

Standing over 31 metres tall, it is the largest seated stone Buddha in Japan and represents Yakushi Nyorai, the Buddha of Healing.
Despite its enormous size, what struck me most wasn’t how impressive it looked, but how peaceful it felt.

There is something incredibly calming about standing quietly in front of the Buddha, surrounded by trees and the sounds of nature. It’s easy to understand why people have visited this place for centuries.

As I climbed the winding paths through Nihonji Temple, every step seemed to disappear into the mist ahead. Water trickled gently over the rock faces, the moss glowed an almost luminous green against the dark stone, and the only sounds were birdsong, the occasional rustle of leaves and the steady patter of rain on my umbrella.

If the Great Buddha is peaceful, then the Hyaku Shaku Kannon is simply breathtaking.

Carved directly into the towering quarry wall, this immense relief sculpture stands around 30 metres high.
Looking up from its base, it’s almost impossible not to feel small in comparison.
The statue of Kannon, the Buddhist Goddess of Compassion, was created as a memorial for those who lost their lives through war and industrial accidents, giving the monument an added sense of meaning beyond its remarkable craftsmanship.
The surrounding quarry walls somehow make the sculpture feel even more dramatic. It’s one of those places where photographs struggle to capture the true scale of what you’re seeing.

As I continued exploring Mount Nokogiri, I realised that every part of the mountain tells a different story.

Its forests remind us of Japan’s natural beauty.
The quarry ruins speak of centuries of hard work and craftsmanship.
The temple reflects over 1,300 years of faith and tradition.
And the giant stone carvings demonstrate both artistic skill and spiritual devotion.
It’s rare to find all of these elements woven together in one place.

Mountain Day is about appreciating Japan’s mountains, but it’s also about recognising everything they have given to the country. Mount Nokogiri feels like the perfect example of that idea.
It isn’t simply somewhere to enjoy beautiful scenery. It’s a mountain that has provided building materials, inspired artists, welcomed pilgrims and continues to attract visitors who come to admire both its natural beauty and its remarkable history.

Looking back on my visit, I realise that Mount Nokogiri offered so much more than I expected.
It wasn’t just another day trip.
It was a chance to step into over a thousand years of history while surrounded by some of Chiba’s most beautiful landscapes.
As I made my way back down the mountain, the mist showed no sign of lifting. I never caught a glimpse of Mount Fuji, nor the sweeping views across Tokyo Bay that draw so many visitors here. Yet I didn’t feel that I’d missed out. If anything, I felt I’d been invited to see a different Mount Nokogiri one that revealed itself quietly, through rain darkened stone, emerald moss and the gentle hush of cloud drifting through ancient temple paths. On a day dedicated to celebrating Japan’s mountains, I couldn’t have asked for a more fitting reminder that not all beauty demands to be seen clearly. Sometimes it is the mountains we experience through mystery that stay with us the longest.
As Japan celebrates Mountain Day each August, encouraging people to appreciate the country’s mountains, I found myself grateful that I experienced Mount Nokogiri in these conditions.
If you’re ever looking for somewhere that combines spectacular views, fascinating history and peaceful temple grounds, I couldn’t recommend Mount Nokogiri enough.
(And don’t be put off by the rain!)
If you would like to read more about other mountains I have visited in Japan please search “Yama no Hi”












Beautifully preserved buildings and the soft glow of lanterns in the evening create an atmosphere that feels remarkably untouched by time. Strolling through these historic alleys offers a glimpse of the refined world that once defined Kagurazaka and continues to give the neighbourhood its unique charm.
















































Sitting down for a bowl of soba after exploring the temple has become a tradition for both locals and visitors alike, and it’s an experience that perfectly captures the spirit of Jindaiji.











































Along with french toast which came with ice cream and vegan cream & of course a cinnamon roll which was warm and freshly baked crispy on the outside and soft inside.











This cafe is owned by 1110 cafe bakery so expect to see their house made fermented sparkling tea “_SHIP KOMBUCHA,” which is served up in a wine glass. 



























Kamakura in hydrangea season is pure magic, and this was the perfect place to begin my trail of temples and shrines in kamakura to view hydrangeas.


























This beautifully crafted wagashi offered a welcome moment of refreshment and a chance to pause before continuing on.





































The gentle bitterness of matcha alongside the floral-salty note of sakura creates a beautifully multi-layered flavour that lingers pleasantly. Serve them with a cup of green tea for a truly soothing experience, or simply savour them on their own as a mindful treat.


























































Every room is filled with cat themed art from colourful sliding doors to tiny sculptures tucked into old wood nooks.
There’s a joyful mix of humour, tradition, and modern art that somehow works beautifully together though slightly surreal. The ticket gave me access to the whole museum from the main hall and cat covered sliding doors to the gallery space with works by cat artist Miyano Kaya.


Tenshi-Neko Room:





Where relic type items inspired by 












































