Kanmon Strait & Fukuoka, Japan 2024
Kanmon Strait
On March 4 we sailed through Kanmon Strait. Kanmon Strait is a narrow water passage dividing the Japanese islands of Honshu (home of Tokyo and Kobe) and Kyushu (home of Fukuoka), two of Japan’s main islands. There are cruise ports in this strait but we didn’t stop at any of them. This was listed on our itinerary as “scenic cruising,” and while we were certainly cruising there, it was really not very scenic. But the route from Kobe to Fukuoka took us through here and the shore was visible on both sides of the ship, so there you are.
Two cities line the shores of Kanmon Strait. Kitakyushu, a city of about a million people, sits on the Kyushu side, and Shimonoseki, with a population around a quarter of a million, is on the Honshu side. Sailing into Kanmon from Kobe, Kitakyushu was to port (left) while Shimonoseki was to starboard. Our cabin was on the starboard side of the ship and we watched from our veranda as we sailed through the strait, so we only saw Shimonoseki and the Honshu shore, and that’s where all of our pictures are. We have read that western style lighthouses were erected at both ends of the strait in the 1860’s when Japan was opened to foreign trade. We don’t know whether it was one of the originals, but a lighthouse was the first thing we saw as we approached the Strait.
While these modern cities are less than 150 years old this area has a long history. In 1185 it was the scene of a decisive naval battle (Battle of Dan-no-ura) in the Genpei War in which the emperor, Antoku, was killed and the Minamoto clan established the first shogunate. In 1863-64 it was embroiled in the struggle between the supporters of the shogun, who had opened some Japanese ports to foreign trade, and those of the emperor, who had ordered all “barbarians” expelled from Japan. Several naval engagements between Japanese and Western ships were fought here and the town that grew into Shimonoseki was bombarded.
During the final months of World War II US bombers dropped some 5,000 mines into and around the strait to cut off Japanese transport between Honshu and Kyushu (and between the Sea of Japan and the Inland Sea). About 3500 of those mines have been recovered and destroyed since the end of the war but hundreds are still there, unlikely to explode because of decades of deterioration but still containing dangerous explosives. Just two months before we arrived here one of them was recovered and safely detonated. Finally, the city of Kokura, now part of Kitakyushu, was the original target for the second atomic bomb in 1945, but because of dense cloud cover (some natural and some created by workers burning tar and releasing steam) the mission was diverted to Nagasaki.
As we sailed along we saw small towns, or maybe suburbs, among green hills. Although our cruise director, Kimberly, narrated as we sailed through the Strait, we couldn’t really understand because we were sitting on our veranda and only heard her from muddy sounding deck speakers (must be the speakers, it sure couldn’t have been our ears, I am sure). So we can’t tell you anything about these neighborhoods.
At one time travel across the strait was limited to ferries. There still are ferries operating here but now most of the traffic is by tunnel. The first railway tunnel was built in 1942 and the first highway tunnel opened in 1958. Other tunnels followed. In 1973 the Kanmonkyo Bridge between the islands began carrying cars and trucks. We sailed under this bridge, which is a white suspension bridge with a central span of about 3500 feet.
Most notable as we passed the central area of Shimonoseki was what looked like construction or repair of a Torii gate near the shoreline. We looked closer and it appeared that there was a steep staircase up a hill covered by a long series of red Torii gates. Usually if you see a Torii gate there will be a Shinto shrine nearby. We couldn’t spot one, but we assume that is where this stairway led. We also passed an amusement park on the waterfront with a large ferris wheel. In the distance behind it was what we think is the Kaikyo Yume Tower, about 500 feet tall, which opened in 1996. And we passed a solar energy farm separating a housing neighborhood from the waterfront.
We sailed on past the city, passing a final peninsula (or island?) as the Strait opened into the Sea of Japan.
Fukuoka, Japan
We woke up on the morning of March 5 in Fukuoka, our last port in Japan. It was another gray and wet day, but we were booked on an excursion.
With a metropolitan population of about 2.5 million people, Fukuoka is the largest city on the island of Kyushu. Its strategic location on Hakata Bay, relatively close to mainland China, made it a center for international trade even in ancient times . . . and also a convenient target for invasion. Kublai Khan mounted two unsuccessful invasions in the 1270’s. After the first attempt in 1274 the local samurai built a wall along the waterfront some 12 miles long and 5 to 10 feet tall with a base about 10 feet thick. Five years later a Chinese delegation was beheaded after demanding Japanese submission and in 1281 Kublai Khan sent a large army in 4,000 ships to Fukuoka. The Japanese were not strong enough to resist this invasion. But the invading forces were stopped by a major typhoon that sank many of their ships. The Japanese called this the “Divine Wind” – Kamikaze in Japanese, a label applied to Japanese suicide pilots near the end of World War II. The modern city was formed in 1889 from the merger of the cities of Hakata (still the name of the bay) and Fukuoka.
Since all-aboard time was at 3:30 our excursion set out early, around 8:30. Our first stop was Dazaifu Tenmanga Shrine, 9 or 10 miles away. The shrine was a bit of a walk from where our bus parked, up a commercial street lined with shops and cafes. We walked past the Dazaifu train station, built in 1902 when the only vehicles traversing the tracks were still drawn by horses. One storefront was one of the best known of the countless Starbucks in Japan. It is decorated with kigumi woodwork, a traditional Japanese building technique in which the wood is connected by slots and no nails or other metal supports are used. We didn’t have a chance to enter this store, as it was not open, but the green Starbucks sign among the wood posts caught our eye.
Dazaifu Tenmangu is a Shinto shrine dedicated to Tenjin, the deified name given posthumously to Sugawara no Michizane, a monk who died in 903. He was a poet and scholar who rose to prominence at an early age but was exiled to Kyushu when he lost favor with the ruling clan. He spent the rest of his life studying and died at the age of 57. Michizane’s body was carried by oxcart for burial, but the ox stopped in the road and refused to go any further. So his followers buried him on that spot and erected a shrine over his grave in 905. The current shrine was built in 1591 on the spot where Michizane is buried and, although there are some 12,000 Tenjin shrines throughout Japan, this is considered the primary one.
The shrine’s grounds cover more than 3,000 acres and, as usual with Shinto shrines, you enter through a Torii gate with several more as you walk through the grounds. A number of stone lanterns also line the path.
The story of the stubborn ox has led to many offerings of ox sculptures, eleven of which are prominently displayed on the grounds. Called shingyu, many have shiny bronze heads because patting the ox is supposed to grant wisdom and these have been patted every day for centuries.
The path toward the main shrine area took us across a beautiful pond by way of a three part red bridge, the first and last of which are arched. These three sections are said to represent the past, the present, and the future. At the top of the first arched bridge you can see back to where you walked from; on the flat central bridge representing the present you can see neither what was behind nor what is ahead; on the third arched section you can see forward to the central shrine complex. In the pond are islands, fountains, birds and fish.
Back on the path we walked under another torii gate to get our first full view of the two story Romon gate to the inner shrine compound. Off to the right of the torii gate are several structures, including a colorful well and a bronze sculpture of a Kirin, a mythical beast with the head of a dragon and the body of a deer or a horse. Several pairs of Komainu sculptures, protective creatures that are part lion and part dog which were called Shisu in Okinawa, are on the grounds as well.
We entered the central courtyard through the Romon gate. On the opposite side is the Honden, the primary sanctuary that was built over Michizane’s grave in 1591. Unfortunately we were unable to see it because it is covered in construction cloth for a renovation project (the first in 120 years) that will not be finished for two more years. There was a poster with a picture of it nearby, and a temporary structure, with a garden roof, has been set up in front of it to accommodate prayers.
You will recall that Michizane was a venerated scholar and he is is now considered the primary deity of learning and wisdom. This shrine is a popular place to pray for academic success and is particularly crowded at exam time. A group of students came to pray in front of the Honden while we were there and hopefully passed their exams. In front of the Honden was a large rack of small hanging wooden cards. These are called Ema and can be purchased for less than a dollar apiece at a nearby kiosk. You write a wish or prayer on it and hang it on the wall to submit the prayer.
Plum trees were reputedly Michizane’s favorites and there are more than 6,000 of them, in some 200 different varieties, on the grounds of his shrine. The most famous is the Tobiume, the Flying Plum. The story goes that this tree was Michizane’s favorite when he lived in Kyoto and after his banishment to Kyushu this tree missed him so much that one night it flew to his grave. If so, it would be more than 1100 years old by now. It is said to be the first plum to bloom in Japan each year. There are so many trees here it is difficult to keep straight which is which, especially with the construction site making much of the area hard to recognize from pictures. The Flying Plum sits just to the right of the Hondo entrance in the poster picture above and we think we found it, jutting out just in front of the construction curtain in that area. If it is the first to bloom, at the beginning of February, its blossoms may already have gone by when we were there because there are none on the tree in this picture. Other trees in the courtyard were in bloom, however.
This shrine is also known for its ancient camphor trees. Two of them, situated near each other, are said to be “married.” And one big gnarled one is said to be 1500 years old. We don’t really know whether the large trees we photographed are those, but they might be. The rack of red gourds on the left in the first picture are for depositing paper prayers.
We left as we had come, out through the Romon gate (which is unusual because it has two roofs on the outside, but only one roof and a balcony on the inside), down the path under the torii gates and over the bridges, then back down the commercial street to where we left the bus.
Leaving the small town of Dazaifu we drove to our next stop . . . another shrine. Located in the heart of Fukuoka, the Kushida shrine is believed to date back to 757. But it was rebuilt in 1587 under the sponsorship of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who also built the Osaki Castle we saw a few days ago. It is dedicated to three deities: Amaterasu (sun goddess), Susanoo (her brother and god of storms), and Okuninushi (Susanoo’s son and god of agriculture and medicine). This shrine is considered the protector of Fukuoka.
Entering through the Sakuramon gate just inside the torii gate near the street, we walked under a large red lantern hanging in the middle and a round chart of the Chinese zodiac, called Etoehoban. Every New Year’s eve they rotate the pointer in the middle to point to the new year’s zodiac animal, indicating which direction will be the lucky one that year. A pair of Komainu flank the sides of the entryway.
To the left of this gate is a huge Gingko tree that is said to be more than 1,000 years old. There is a yellow skirt around its trunk and displayed in front of it is a long stone said to be salvaged from one of Kublai Khan’s ships sunk by the Divine Wind in 1281, as discussed at the beginning of this episode. At the time of our visit the tree was still bare of leaves but we understand that during spring and summer it is very lush and green and in autumn it turns bright yellow.
Once we passed through the main gate we came to an inner gate that led into the courtyard of the main shrine (Honden?) at the end.
The courtyard is quite busy with flora and sculpture. There is a large statue of a horse and a small well for praying for eternal youth, guarded by sculptured cranes (which is said to produce salty water from a natural underground source). Some cherry or plum trees were in bloom when we visited. We passed a couple of young women in kimonos (probably rented) walking past an elaborate metal lantern.
There were two tunnels made of torii gates all in a row, which we think led to auxiliary shrines. One was wooden with most of the torii gates painted orange or red, and the other was stone. Nearby was a building displaying what appeared to be small religious artifacts, with Komainu guarding on both sides.
The shrine has a display of Chikara Ishi, large stones used for power lifting. This practice dates back more than 1200 years, and it has had religious, muscle training and competition uses over the years. Sumo wrestlers are known for lifting these heavy stones. We also saw a rack of sake barrels donated by various breweries, which we have seen at other shrines, because the Shinto religion considers sake to be the drink of the gods. And there was a Hakata-bei wall built in the 16th century. These earthen walls with salvaged rubble embedded in them were very popular at that time because of the widespread destruction from civil wars but only a few of them are left.
We walked through a side entrance to the courtyard that was hung with a large yellow lantern. On display outside were two floats from the Hakata Gion Yamakasa festival held every July for almost 800 years. Floats like these, which are built anew every summer, are raced through the streets carried (or dragged) by groups of men from seven neighborhoods in the Hakata district wearing loincloths. There are two kinds of floats, stationary ones and smaller mobile ones; we are not sure but think the ones on display here are two of the stationary ones set up around the racing streets. They are about 30 or 40 feet tall and are brightly colored, with figures of horses, samurai, buildings and dragons, which we have read are fashioned from papier mache. The mobile ones weigh about a ton. We also saw the golden Mikoshi portable shrine through a picture window in a building, with two scary dog(?) masks sitting in front of it. A portable shrine is for transporting a god when it leaves its shrine and in October, during the Hakata Okunchi festival, this one is hitched to an ox and paraded in procession around the streets of the Hakata district.
Leaving the shrine, we drove through the rainy streets of Fukuoka to our last stop, the Fukuoka Tower at the seashore. On the way we passed the Mizuho PayPay Dome, the home of the city’s professional baseball team, the Fukuoka Softbank Hawks. It was built in 1993, has 40,000 seats and until last year was the only stadium in Japan with a retractable roof.
Opened in 1989, the Fukuoka Tower is, at 768 feet, the tallest waterfront tower in Japan. Its circumference is triangle shaped and it is covered with 8,000 one way mirrors, reflecting the sky from outside but allowing a view of the outside for those inside. Our first view of the tower was through the raindrops on the bus window. We rode a fast elevator to the observation deck almost 404 feet above the street (the other 350 feet of height is a television broadcasting antenna). The elevator is the only thing inside the tower until you reach the observation decks.
It is quite a view from the observation deck. Following the beach toward our right we could see the Hakata port in the far distance and behind the yellowish building is the baseball stadium. The panorama to our left was broken by the Muromi river flowing through town, with a tiny corner of the public library at the far left of the picture (if we had known at the time that this was the library there would be a better picture of it). Looking down in front along the beach was a group wielding umbrellas (yep, still raining) and on an artificial island in front of the tower was the Marizon at Momochi Seaside Park, which includes upscale seaview restaurants and a bridal chapel.
So that’s the end of our visit to Fukuoka, from which we sailed away in mid-afternoon, and of Japan. But its not the end of our voyage, so there is plenty more to come.
BADER JOURNAL 
