Mount Mikami, Mount Bodaiji, and the Beauty in Between

What?
Today’s hike was a route I planned myself, connecting various walking and hiking stretches with local parks and quiet neighborhood strolls. After climbing Mount Mikami (三上山432m) – also called Ohmi-Fuji (近江富士) because of its conical shape – the hike continued through sandstone ridges and unspoiled forest. It offered a kind of solitary forest bathing and some beautiful views over the surrounding valleys and neighboring peaks. After a short walk through a picturesque neighborhood, the peak of Mount Bodaiji (353m) was the last challenge of the day.
Where?
The hiking area lies on the eastern side of Lake Biwa (琵琶湖) in Shiga Prefecture (滋賀県). The route starts at Yasu Station (野洲駅) on the JR Biwako Line (琵琶湖線) and ends at Ishibe Station (石部駅) on the JR Kusatsu Line (草津線). Both stations are easily reached from Kyoto (京都) and Osaka (大阪) on one side, and Maibara (米原) and Hikone (彦根) on the other.
URL
Shiga Blog Hiking in Japan

Today I finally walked the first route I had ever planned entirely by myself. I pieced it together from Yamap reports, some local routes, a mountain map, and then created the course on RideWithGPS.
I had originally planned to climb in June, but the weather — too much rain or too much heat — kept me away. But today! The sky was blue and crisp, the temperature high but balanced by a constant, gentle breeze. Perfect hiking weather!

Section 1 – Mount Mikami: the Perfect Cone

You can’t miss it. From the train, this almost perfectly conical mountain stands out in the landscape despite its modest height. It also makes clear what the ascent will be like. Up. Straight up.
But first, you need to reach the trailhead. A bus runs between Yasu Station and the trailhead, but I didn’t mind walking the half-hour on paved roads. Consider it a warm-up.
From the station there are two ways up: the Omote (“front”) route and the Ura (“back”) route. The Omote route is advertised as steeper, but honestly, on a cone-shaped mountain like this, every path is steep.
The climb isn’t too strenuous, but it’s best not to rush — no need to blow your engines this early on.
Mount Mikami is modest but fairly popular. It’s not overcrowded, but I couldn’t find a quiet spot to sit and enjoy the rustling trees. A few benches were set at the top, but when I passed in the morning, most were already taken. At lunchtime I can only imagine it being packed. Since the summit offers no real views, I quickly began the descent on the far side.

Mount Fuji. I mean, the modest Mount Mikami.

Detail on the way up.

Section 2 – Unexpected Sandstone Ridge to Mount Tenzan

When planning, I decided to link Mount Mikami with Mount Tenzan (天山 303m). There are again many paths to choose from, but I decided to take a detour because there was a boulder construction I wanted to see on the north side of Mount Mikami. The boulder itself was fenced off for safety and as such a bit disappointing. The approach however was stunning.
The climb up Mikami and much of the descent passed through dense pine forest, with firm, rocky ground and tree roots as steps. Vistas were rare. Then, suddenly, the forest gave way to pale sandstone ridges with low vegetation and sweeping views of the surrounding hills and Mikami itself. In hindsight, given the nearby Konan and Konze Alps, it shouldn’t have surprised me. Still, it caught me off guard.
The path led toward a lower peak called Tokoji Biyozan (東光寺日陽山 – it could be it is pronounced differently). From there, the trail dropped into Karyoku Park (花緑公園), a broad, well-designed park that was pleasantly busy with strolling families, picnics, and campers.
The park’s walking trails wound through the surrounding forested hills. Signs for “walking rallies” popped up here and later in the day, making me wonder if I was still on the right path. At the back of the park, the trailhead for Mount Tenzan started.
The stretch between Mikami’s descent and Tenzan’s trailhead was gorgeous. I almost abandoned my hiking plan, tempted to spend the afternoon wandering the sandstone ridges, eating onigiri in the park, and reading a book.
But I continued. The ascent toward Tenzan began with sandy paths and clear views of Mikami, before easing into unspoiled forest. The climb was gradual, the footing sure, and before long I reached the peak. From there, both the beginning and end of my hike were in sight: Mount Mikami to the east, Mount Bodaiji to the north. A perfect spot for an onigiri.

Vibrant green on a sandstone path.

Looking back over your shoulder is always rewarding.

Section 3 – Kibogaoka: The Spider Hell

The peak of Tenzan was just a very short detour, a sidestep really. To continue toward Bodaiji, I returned to the ridge, turning right into forested slopes belonging to Kibogaoka Cultural Park (希望が丘文化公園). From above, the park looked as delightful as Karyoku Park, just larger.
Then came the spiders.
Not unusual, but not ideal when the first step forward tangles you in silk. I hit one web, then another, then armed myself with a long stick and began sweeping the air as I walked. It reminded me of similar experiences on Mount Kokuzo on the Ibusuki Kyushu Olle trail.
The ridge rose and fell. Higher points opened onto rocky lookouts with breathtaking views; lower stretches offered fern-filled solitude. Both were wonderful, if only they hadn’t been laced with spider webs. Progress was slow.
I was yearning for relief, and then out of nowhere the trail spilled into a vast, empty parking lot with only a sleeping guard inside a hut. Surreal, but a relief. At least I thought so. The ridge resumed on the far side, and with it, the webs. I wished spiders could sense where humans would walk through so they wouldn’t make the efforts of building their web there. But of course, if they did, we as humans might be in real danger…
I know I would be walking for at least the same distance again until I would loop around in the direction of Mount Bodaiji. It was my understanding that from the point of the loop, I would be walking an old forestry road, so my hope was that this last stretch at least would be spider free.
But until then…
Now don’t get me wrong, I loved the ridge hike. It had lush nature, beautiful ferns, rocky lookout points with amazing vistas, and the solitude was on par with the oldest stretch of the Shikoku Pilgrimage that I had walked a few years earlier. If only the spiders – or more correctly their webs – weren’t there!
I persevered. There was nothing else to do.
And then suddenly, the forest spat me out onto a road. I laughed out loud at the sudden change, only to smack face-first into one last web just before reaching the asphalt.

One of the "lookout rocks" along the ridge hike.

Ferns - a spider heaven.

Section 4 – The Forest Road’s Mercy

My relief at getting out of the spider webs, and my annoyance at that final faceful, distracted me. Instead of crossing the road, I wandered along it for a few dozen meters, then had to backtrack.
Backtracking the little distance, my heart sank when seeing the sign that accompanied the entrance that would lead to the forestry road. It said “Beware of the bees!” and “Rickety stairs so keep track of your footing!”. I wasn’t sure whether bees were better than spiders, and I almost cried when I thought that I saw the first spider web appearing in front of me. However, this time I was lucky. The descent from the asphalt road to the forestry road was only 10 meters or so. And so, finally, I arrived at the looping point. A spider-web free, old forestry road that would take me back to civilization.
Walking this road was a breeze. It followed a small stream. I hadn’t met anyone since the top of Mount Tenzan, and while the wind was still my only companion I could hear, signs of human presence started to show here and there. Signs that warned cars not to enter, a small dump of garbage like a stroller (why on earth at this particular spot was a mystery to me), and the usual, small and useless man-made dams.
The forest eventually opened behind a chemical factory in a small town. From there, I strolled through rice paddies and quiet houses toward Bodaiji’s trailhead. The stretch wasn’t as picturesque as the Yagyū Kaidō or the Osaka–Nara border hikes, but it was harmless. If you fancy a bite or if you are low on water, there a convenience store here where you can resupply.

The forestry road's safe haven.

Where would this gate lead to?

Section 5 – Instagrammable Bodaiji

The approach to Bodaiji began with a large cemetery. At its far end, before crossing a stream, I turned left onto a pleasant enough path. A strange “theater” of fake tree trunks as stage and ample bench seating stood along the way.
Soon after, I heard shouting. I first thought of kids playing, but it turned out to be a couple arguing – the arguing only performed by the woman. Aside from the nuisance, I was surprised to see neither was wearing any suitable gear for walking or climbing. I knew that Mount Bodaiji had a spot that I qualify as “Instagrammable”, so there was a real risk that people like this would flock to that spot and then just turn back, spoiling the fun. I started to fear a little bit.
However, at a certain point the road stopped and the real climbing began. While not too strenuous, I couldn’t imagine the couple having climbed this path in the clothes they were wearing. I also didn’t meet anyone else – I again was alone. Much earlier than expected I hit the instagrammable point. A very rickety bridge between the rocks I was standing on, and some big boulders a meter and a half away. A girl posing cutesy on the bridge with the blue skies and far away views in the background would sure get some views on social media. As it was though, I was all alone here.
I was surprised, but happily so. I enjoyed the view, look behind me, didn’t see or hear anyone approaching from either side of the path, so I planted myself down for my second onigiri of the day, enjoying the picture-perfect view.
This spot is not the top of Mount Bodaiji, but it’s really not that far. I continued to the unassuming peak, enjoyed the view, and prided myself for finishing the hike.
I knew I still had to descent the mountain and then walk towards the station, but still: the hard part was over, and despite way too many spider webs, I was very satisfied with the route that I concocted. As it turned out, I was a little too early to congratulate myself.
I had chosen a straight line down from the top of Mount Bodaiji to what I thought was a small temple. There was a path there, but it was steep, quite overgrown and dangerous. And from a certain point – at this point I was cursing to myself – spiderwebs.
The path was clearly getting out of favor, and that would probably be the reason why it did not figure on Yamap. The temple that I thought I was heading to were the ruins of one; 3 religious statues and a kind of pagoda structure. Behind it, there were several small jizo statues and carvings to be found in the forest. They were connected to the path I took with some very unstable looking wooden bridges, but were the prettiest part of this last stretch off the mountain.
From there, it was another 20 minutes on asphalt to the small Ishibe Station. Fun fact: the last few hundred meters, from the highway stairs to the station, follow the old Tōkaidō route. You’d never know though.

Should I pose for SNS?

Still easy to walk stretch on the way down.

Conclusion

I was very satisfied with the route I created. It struck a balance between mountain hiking and quiet neighborhood strolling, much like the Yagyū Kaidō.
Next time, though, I’d take the safer descent route from Bodaiji, via a slightly longer but definitely safer route that was depicted on Yamap. The jizō statues could still be visited as a short detour.
As for the spider-web-infested ridge in Kibogaoka Park — well, I actually liked the route. The forest was pure, the solitude refreshing, the views at times gorgeous. I think I was a bit unlucky being the first to pass here today. True, it was a beautiful Saturday at 10:30am, so being the first at this time does say a lot about the popularity of the trail, but I did find out on Yamap that someone else passed this route after me. They certainly wouldn’t have made a big deal about the webs. I just hope they thanked me in their heads when they saw the web covered stick at the end of the path.
If, before taking the small detour to Mount Tenzan, you notice webs right from the start of the Kibogaoka ridge, you could cut it off entirely by descending Mount Tenzan directly. You’d still connect to Bodaiji, but you’d miss some amazing views and a truly solitary forest-bathing experience.