Miyajima: Wherein Team Gweek Cavorts With Fellow Members Of The Mammalian Persuasion

Miyajima is a small town on the sacred island of Itsukushima, a small oval-shaped dot of land that lies southwest of the city in Hiroshima bay. The island has long been considered sacred in the Shinto faith and until recently, births and deaths were not allowed on the island lest the site’s purity become compromised (accordingly, women and the elderly were sometimes barred from entering). While the island features a number of tourist attractions including shrines and temples, an Edo-style promenade and an aquarium, the main draw continues to be Itsukushima Shrine’s magestic otorii (gate). The entire shrine complex has been designated a Word Heritage Site by UNESCO.
Here we see the Miyajima side of Itsukushima Island from a distance; the prominent, red torii can be seen on the left.
Since Itsukushima is an island, it must be accessed by ferry. The ferry station is less than an hour from the city by either streetcar or train.
Here we see the shrine’s iconic gate, which dates back to 1168. Of course, the gate has been ravaged throughout the centuries by typhoons and various other natural calamities and has been rebuilt eight times in total (the current gate dates back to 1875). The gate, considered one of Japan’s “three views,” is sometimes referred to as the “floating torii” for creating the illusion that it is floating in the sea when it actually rests on the sand below. Now, you’re probably looking at the photo above and scratching your head in confusion, wondering how anyone could think that the gate is floating. That’s what I thought at first too. It turns out that we had the misfortune of showing up during low tide, when the gate’s secret is revealed for all to see. If you’d like to see what it looks like during high tide, I believe that Charlie Tyack has a few photos up from his trip last year.
Low tide on Itsukushima may represent less than ideal conditions for tourists but it provides a field day for clam diggers. The beach surrounding the gate was jam-packed with clam enthusiasts, most of whom walked away with at least a bucket full of the shelled creatures.

Despite the fact that the gate looks somewhat less impressive, low tide offers tourists a few interesting opportunities. For one, you can see if you’ve got what it takes to land a pebble on one of the gate’s flat surfaces. This is actually a lot harder than it sounds and took Greg about a hundred tries to get right.
The gate itself serves as the gateway to Itsukushima Shrine, a massive complex that sits on stilts and which also appears to float during high tide. While the first temples and shrines were probably built on Itsukushima Island around the 6th century, most of the current buildings probably date back to the 13th century. Pictured above is the five-storied pagoda, erected in 1407, that sits outside of the Senjokaku, a library of Buddhist sutras.
Much like Nara, Itsukushima is well known for its abundance of wild deer. Of course, with all the tourists that pass through the area, these deer have become quite accustomed to the presence of humans. However, the tourist brochure makes sure to warn visitors of the following, in both English and Japanese:

ATTENTION: The deer on Miyajima are wild. They may eat paper and cloth. Please pay attention and keep an eye on your personal belongings-especially tickets and souvenirs as the deer might eat them.

As you will shortly see, this is no idle warning.
Please note that I decided to wear proper attire for the occasion.
While wondering around the beach, Matt and I noticed that one enterprising deer had found his way into a tourist’s bag. I decided to go in for a closer look.

What’s he got there?

Oh, looks like it’s a map or brochure or something.

Through his unusual interest in reading, the deer had soon amassed a small audience of children and foreigners.

Wait, he’s not reading that brochure at all! Is he…eating it?

That's a yes.

After scarfing down the entire brochure, the deer dove back inside the bag to find a cigarette, which he quickly sucked up in one slurp. He then discovered the rest of the pack, which he trotted off with, shaking it up and down as he ran until the cigarettes fell out. However, before he could enjoy the fruit of his labors, the old man who owned the cigarettes chased him down and forced him to drop the pack. Sounds like someone could use a Nicorette patch.
Well, after witnessing that display of gastrointestinal fortitude, I decided that a deer would probably make a suitable repository for what was left of my Subway turkey sandwich.

I was correct in my assumption.

After all of our time spent bonding with the local deer population, it was decided that a suitable representative would have to be chosen as an honorary member of team Gweek. Greg initially tried to court this baby deer who seemed a bit put off by the uniform.
After a long and exhausting search, we finally found a suitable candidate in one of the local community’s elder statesmen. Here we see Greg, presenting the deer with his honorary Gweek shirt.

With Miyajima crossed off of the list, team Gweek had successfully conquered Hiroshima and its surrounding areas. Like five deer in a paper factory, the team hungrily set out to survey what remained of Japan’s east coast. Onward!