Ikeshima’s Fading Testament

What?
Ikeshima (池島) is a small island with a current population of just 93 people. Not so long ago, however, the local coal mine attracted thousands, with around 8,000 permanent residents at its peak. Today, the island is known for its abandoned state. Part of the mine was used until recently to train Indonesian miners, but most of it has collapsed and lies in ruin—just like the many apartment blocks now slowly being reclaimed by nature. The draw for tourists is the haunting landscape of ruins and the chance to join a guided tour of the mine and town, organized by the few residents who still call Ikeshima home.
Where?
Not far off the coast from Nagasaki (長崎), the island is part of the prefecture (長崎県) with the same name and can only be reached by boat. Despite its small size and aging population of merely 93 people, transportation to the island is remarkably good with multiple daily connections per day to 2 different ports on the mainland. From Konoura Port (神浦港), there are six daily departures—split between a ferry and a faster boat. I personally departed from Seto Port (瀬戸港), which is served five times a day by ferry. There are also two ferries a day on Tuesdays and Fridays from Sasebo Port (佐世保港).
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Travel Nagasaki Offbeat Japan

Many people know about Hashima—better known as Gunkanjima, or Battleship Island—a haunting relic of unchecked industrial expansion. Thousands once lived on that tiny rock, stacked in concrete towers above the coal mines beneath the sea. Now abandoned and a designated World Heritage Site, it’s partially accessible through official tours—although some adventurers still attempt unsanctioned nighttime visits.

But few know about another island just off the Nagasaki coast: Ikeshima.
Admittedly, you can’t fully compare the two. Hashima’s eerie charm lies in its fully concreted surface and crumbling apartment blocks, mute witnesses of a once-bustling community. Its mine was older and includes a darker chapter—forced labor during the war—an aspect often underrepresented.

Still, the similarities are striking. Both islands saw a population boom driven by coal mining, and both were quickly abandoned when the mines shut down. Now, nature creeps back in, overtaking the ruins and leaving ghost towns in its wake.

While I’m comparing the two islands, Ikeshima definitely stands on its own as a destination.

The 93 remaining residents are welcoming and resilient, embracing the island’s fate with dignity. They eagerly share its rich past with those who visit. Unlike Hashima, Ikeshima can be visited freely by anyone. There are no shops or restaurants, but you can stay overnight in the community center and explore the island at your own pace.
While entering buildings is considered unsafe and trespassing, walking along the many overgrown apartment blocks can be done at your own pace without anyone or any signs telling you off.

This might be good enough for some, but I highly recommend the guided tour offered by locals. There are two options: a tour through part of the mine (conducted regularly for around 20-25 people) and an extended tour that leads you through some of the streets and buildings (conducted only sporadically and for maximum 9 people).
Tickets for the latter tour go on sale approximately one month in advance and get sold out rather quickly, so I was lucky when I got hold of the final open spot for today.

First of all, the guides are extremely friendly and bombard you with a huge amount of interesting information. However, while they try to communicate using hands and feet, they do not speak English. They have a thoroughly prepared translation of their guidance though, so be sure to ask for it if you do not speak the language.

The mine tour starts with a video from the 1980s. Aside from its retro soundtrack, it’s a powerful look into the real lives of workers—no CGI or reenactments, just raw documentary footage. After the movie, we boarded a small train and rode into a shallow mine shaft. The guide enthusiastically demonstrated machinery and explained working conditions, even letting us try out some equipment ourselves.
Until recently the mine was used to train miners from Indonesia, so while clearly abandoned, the signs of recent activity amidst decay made for a surreal experience.

Collapsed mine buildings greet you upon arrival.

The inside of the mine still shows signs of life.

Pearing into an abandoned apartment room.

The first mine elevator - stately yet forlorn.

After the mine tour, most visitors left, but a few of us stayed for the second part—the island walk. Our guide, born and raised on Ikeshima, blended historical facts with personal anecdotes. He described how the now-silent slope from the harbor to the mine was once lined with five snack bars and a yakitori stand.
The bowling alley, now a dusty ruin, once hosted his first (and only) date with a girl he fancied. The forbidden shoreline became vivid in our minds as he spoke of his soon-to-be wife, wearing a straw hat there years ago.
As for the highlight? On this tour, you’re allowed into one of the abandoned apartment blocks, all the way up to the roof—and you even approach the old mining elevator, bypassing locked gates and warning signs.

It struck me how un-Japanese this experience was. Normally, anything remotely dangerous is heavily regulated or sealed off to avoid any kind of risk. Yet here we were, riding through decaying tunnels, bypassing “no trespassing” signs, and walking on rooftops likely not inspected in years.
This freedom probably won’t last forever — eventually, authorities might step in, or the last residents may leave — so I highly recommend visiting Ikeshima while the ferries still run regularly for everyone and while the locals still have a free hand in how to conduct their tours.

The full tour takes about 3 hours. If you’re truly into offbeat destinations, I recommend catching the first ferry in and last ferry out, giving yourself time to explore solo. Or better yet, stay the night and experience the island at your own pace.

Highly recommended.