Mt. Ishizuchi is where the renowned water originates, a sacred peak which lies in the outskirts of the city. This towering mountain not only holds the distinction of being the tallest in Western Japan but also provides the city with exceptionally delicious water as it trickles into the city's groundwater, flowing so abundantly that you can scoop it up with a cup and drink from the fountain in the hotel courtyard.

For 1,300 years, this mountain was the ground where the most committed practitioners of the Shugendo religion trained. And it’s at the very same imposing location where I will test my own endurance after resting at Itomachi Hotel 0.

On a sunny afternoon in early June, I arrived in Saijo City, well-known for its precious underground wells known as uchinuki. The theme of uchinuki is reflected within the hotel's aesthetics, designed with a green-blue color scheme to evoke the essence of the precious waters. Notably, the internationally celebrated architect Kengo Kuma brought the building's architectural design to life, skillfully integrating the contours of the mountain's peak into the distinctively angled roofline.

Inside the front lobby, the theme of water flows through the space's color scheme, from the transparent green curtains and seafoam-colored tiles reflecting the valley’s Iyo Blue, the primary color of the rocks in the Iyo region, to the soothing blue-gray tables and counter. It felt like we had stepped into a peaceful river stream on a clear day.

After being warmly welcomed by Kawai-san, we were escorted to our exclusive villa, complete with a private outdoor hot spring bath. The villa's interior embodied the natural splendor of Saijo, with carpet resembling the region's Iyo Blue when wet and a deep color palette, creating a sense of calmness and intimacy. The highlight is undoubtedly the private outdoor hot spring and an indoor tub.

The rooms were equally reliable in offering tranquility. An intriguing transparent water tap, resembling an open ice crystal, created a captivating visual as water swirled like a whirlpool before flowing into the sink, inviting guests to appreciate the beauty of water. Guests can help protect the local natural environment and support the sustainable operation of the hotel by using the water bottles provided in their rooms to fill up with tap water. Additionally, they can use their bags when shopping at the nearby marché.

Japan's first zero-energy hotel also takes great care in selecting amenities that lighten the environmental impact while enhancing the well-being of its guests, from plush linen towels from the renowned Imabari towels, regional-sourced herbal and green teas in ceramic tea sets by the esteemed national traditional craft, Tobe ware, as well as plant-based shampoos and conditioners.

Next, Kawai-san leads the way to the shared kitchen on the upper floor of the hotel. As we entered the inner courtyard, I was surrounded by blooming hydrangeas and fruit trees, such as pomegranates and summer oranges. Despite being in the city, the atmosphere was tranquil—a perfect spot to lie on the grass with a book, peacefully listening to the sound of the central fountain.

He explained, "Large groups come here for a getaway. Guests often pick up pasta from the shops across the hotel and cook in the communal kitchen and co-working space while entertaining themselves in these family’s rooms."

The view from the windows provided a clear sight of the solar panels on the neighboring villas across the courtyard. Kawai-san explained that the hotel's zero-energy approach relies on the energy produced by the solar panels on its roof, a strategy supported by intelligent interior designs that reduce energy consumption, such as energy-efficient lighting and AI-powered air conditioners in some of the rooms.

"We are even prepared for emergencies. The market adjacent to the hotel has ample sustainable power and food reserves, capable of sustaining 800 people for three days," Kawai-san explained.

After parting ways with Kawai-san, I headed into Itomachi Marche.I browsed through various packaged goods, such as local vinegar, teas and coffees, Imabari towels, local vegetables, and other regional items from throughout the Shikoku region. Next door is an Italian-themed establishment with a gelato shop, butcher shop, Italian pasta, wines, and bento boxes. It's great for picking up items to enjoy at the hotel or for a picnic in the outdoor green space.

The evening at the neighboring Er Bisteccaro Ito was a delightful continuation of the Italian theme. A multi-course meal of seasonal ingredients, including wonderfully arranged ham and fresh mozzarella starter, oyster-based pasta dish, and refreshing desserts concluded a truly satisfying day.

After our evening meal, we took a nighttime stroll back to the lobby for some of the hotel's complimentary cocktail time. The lobby’s seafoam interior had shifted into a soothing aqua blue, with the handmade chandelier shimmering above us like delicate oyster shells.

I capped off my evening by enjoying sparkling water sourced from the front desk and soaking in my private hot spring. This is exactly how I wanted to rest, especially before a grueling mountain hike I knew I would be facing the following day.

We began the day, naturally, with breakfast in the reception café and I opted for a protein-packed meal to fuel up for the challenging hike ahead.

When I left the hotel, we had achieved zero energy on the previous day. The lobby TV screen displayed the previous day’s energy production and consumption to help visitors understand how the hotel achieved its zero-energy goals. Yesterday, they reached a significant milestone when they successfully achieved zero energy, and to mark this achievement, a portable miniature shrine appeared, similar to those seen in Saijo’s festivals.

Masaru Matsumoto, our hiking guide, greeted us at the ropeway car park at the foot of Mt. Ishizuchi. Wearing a worn straw hat, he had the appearance of a seasoned hiker, exuding the casual confidence of someone intimately acquainted with these trails. When we inquired, he casually mentioned that he had already climbed this mountain four times this year.

Over 1,000 years ago, devoted practitioners of Shugendo, with their white robes and conch horns, tested their faith on some of the most challenging ascents up Japan’s sacred mountains, including Mt. Ishizuchi. On this day, we embarked on the popular Joju route, a well-trodden path for travelers to the highest point of the Ishizuchi mountain range, Tengudake.

At 8:30 am, a line of people was already waiting at the Mt. Ishizuchi Tozan Ropeway. The one-way hike takes roughly three and a half hours, not even factoring in the return trip, so people want to ensure they have plenty of time to complete the most daunting of tasks.

Even as the packed ropeway ferried us to the 1,300-meter-high elevation point of the mountain, our fellow hikers were almost silent. Quiet enough to hear the birds outside as we ascended to our first stop. It was like a meditation, a quiet moment to hype ourselves up for what was to come.

After alighting at Sancho Joju Station and a 30-minute ascent via the Ishizuchi Ropeway, we came to a torii gate of one of the Ishizuchi Shrines. Ishizuchi Shrine consists of four distinct shrines the Kuchinomiya main shrine at the mountain’s base, two shrines on the mountainside, and the final shrine at the top of the mountain range, which we will meet later.

Here, the sun was just starting to break through the mist that shrouded the mountain range, perfectly framed by a window in the back of the shrine building.

After offering our prayers, we continued our journey to Tengudake. Soon, flat plains and wooden stairs turned into stone steps with endless groves of sasa bamboo on either side.

"The mountain is a path made of stone, iron, and wood," says Matsumoto-san. "But when the very first mountain worshipers trekked these mountains, they didn't have these modern conveniences. They had to push themselves to climb without all of the stairs to help them. It was a real test of their faith."

An equal test of faith was the Shugendo practice of playing the conch horns. Over 1,000 years ago, this mountain likely heard hundreds of conch trumpets echoing through these forests, each devotee playing a game of telephone as they called to each other about the safety of the trail ahead. Even this was a test of their fortitude, requiring individuals to take measured breaths to avoid disrupting the calls or passing on the instrument to the next devotee to ensure its endless tune.

Visitors can even experience this during the annual Mountain Opening festival from July 1 to July 10, as modern-day Shugendo practitioners dress in white garments to recreate this scene.

However, I preferred the peaceful sounds of the birds surrounding us as we made our way up the mountain pass.

Despite the challenging terrain, I found solace in the natural symphony surrounding us as the mountain began to test my stamina. As we pressed on, our quiet conversation and the sweet calls of the birds were gradually replaced by the rhythm of our breaths, marking the trail's steep incline.

We've made it halfway," Matsumoto-san stated, his words injecting a sense of optimism into my weary mind. As I gazed up, slightly surprised by the distance we had yet to cover, I couldn't help but feel a surge of determination. This journey was just beginning, and I was ready for the adventure that lay ahead.

We continued on our way, engrossed in conversation about the mountain's rich history and the rejuvenating Saijo water. Other times, we walked in companionable silence, savoring the rhythmic sound of our footsteps. Before long, we emerged from the forest into a picturesque clearing, where a beautiful round hill with patches of sasa broad-leaf bamboo unfolded before us. Glancing back, the fog veiled the view beyond the hill, creating an illusion that we were standing on the very edge of the world. Matsumoto-san joyfully pointed out that the magnificent peak was finally in sight.

By now, my thighs were beginning to burn. But with the sun, the open sky, and our goal suddenly in view, my body suddenly felt re-energized.

The Joju trailhead is known for its four sets of chains strategically bolted on steep parts of the mountain, although there are also stairs that provide an easier ascent. We decided to skip the first set of chains we met, considered a "trial" set, designed not to progress you toward the summit, but to first assess your abilities before you tackle the remaining three official chains.

However, I felt that tackling at least one of the official chains was important to fully experience the hike up Mt. Ishizuchi. Eventually, we came across the first official chains and tested our strength and agility on the rugged terrain.

Each step required careful coordination and support as we made our way higher. Finally, we reached the top of the chains, feeling a surge of exhilaration and pride, knowing that we had conquered the challenge together.

The last set of chains represents the lengthiest and most demanding stretch of the journey, though this time we opted for the stairs, a decision for which I am silently thankful. Rather than tackling the final vertical ascent using the chains, we proceeded up the mountain's side via the metal walkways to reach the peak. Despite the strenuous nature of the climb, we were surrounded by breathtaking scenery that provided a sense of encouragement. Each step of this demanding hike felt like a gratifying exercise that truly tested the limits of my physical abilities.

However, upon reaching the summit and catching a partial misty glimpse of the Tengudake peak, it felt like all the challenges had been worth the effort. At that moment, I was filled with a sense of wonder and optimism, grasping the significance of this extraordinary climb and why both hikers and the Shugendo practitioners of the past had undertaken it.

Some hikers we met earlier at the ropeway were already at the top, either savoring a snack or napping. Standing by the fourth and final Ishizuchi Shrine, we saw the breathtaking view of the iconic hooked peak, towering at 1,982 meters and cloaked in mist. While we waited for the haze to dissipate, our guide shared an intriguing tidbit — some visitors had attempted to see the peak multiple times before without success, as it remained shrouded in mist. "It's because the mountain wasn't calling them," he remarked mysteriously.

Luckily, the mountain was calling us that day, and the mist parted to reveal the legendary summit. It felt like we were in the presence of a living, breathing mountain, reminding me of the incredible power of nature and the opportunities that await those who forge ahead with unwavering determination.

We visited a souvenir shop with exclusive Mt. Ishizuchi mugs and stickers, where hikers can stop for a bite to eat before their descent from the hike.

After taking turns offering our prayers at the shrine, we savored a simple but well-deserved meal of onigiri (rice balls) and granola bars purchased beforehand in the city. The food seemed to taste even better as we gazed down towards the mountains, watching the shifting shades of sunlight as the clouds gracefully passed by. It was a truly peaceful and beautiful moment before we began our descent back to the ropeway. An easier, though nonetheless tiring trip.

As we trekked through the forest, we finally emerged onto the familiar plains dotted with sasa grass knolls. The natural beauty surrounding us marked the end of our hike, and my legs were overcome with fatigue as we reached the ropeway. Before boarding the cable car that would take us back down, we paused to offer a brief prayer to the majestic mountain, reluctantly leaving its sacred presence behind as we descended.

At this point, our guide pulled out a map indicating the three trails up to Mt. Ishizuchi peak. “This is the route we just took,” he gestured, “the Joju route, the one more people take”

I was intrigued by why so many people chose the most challenging route up the mountain. “Maybe they are masochists,” he suggested jokingly. After all, our guide had himself admitted to climbing this very trail 38 times in the last year. Maybe there's something about that mountain that keeps calling people back for more!

Or, perhaps, the allure of the most difficult route lies in the challenge it presents. Climbing the tallest mountain in Western Japan is not just about conquering a physical obstacle; it's about paying homage to the Shugendo practitioners who undertook an even more arduous journey without the conveniences of our nicely laid stone steps, well-installed chains, and wooden pathways we enjoyed today.

Then again, it may be the mountain's immense beauty, with sweeping grass-covered vistas, the song of bird calls, and the chance to walk among clouds, that attracts people to see the majestic mountain peak for themselves.

As I looked down towards the mountain base, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and satisfaction. Despite the rigorous ascent, enduring the hike felt like a test of solidarity that Mt. Ishizuchi presents to all who trek its steep trails, showcasing their resilience and unwavering resolve.

Looking forward, I can't wait to return and take on the trek once more. Next time, I'll definitely treat myself to a well-deserved rest at Itomachi Hotel's zero-energy hotel and soak in the rejuvenating hot spring bath to conclude my incredible journey.