How to Go on Holiday in Edo Japan (Without Calling It a Holiday)

Pilgrimage, pooled savings, crowded highways
and the extraordinary journey to Ise

You've been chosen. You're going to Ise.

To one of Japan's most important sacred destinations, no less. For an ordinary person in Edo Japan, this could be the journey of a lifetime: weeks away from home, hundreds of kilometres mostly on foot, and the chance to see places previously known only through stories and pictures.

Exciting!

There were just a few things to sort out first. The money. Permission to leave. Somewhere to sleep. And, if you were setting off from Edo, more than 400 kilometres of road between you and your destination.

First, who's paying?

A journey like this was beyond many people's means. But you didn't necessarily have to pay for it alone.

In villages and neighbourhoods, people formed pilgrimage associations known as Ise kō. Members pooled their money to send representatives to Ise, where they would worship on behalf of those who stayed at home. Depending on the group, travellers might take turns or be chosen by lot.

So if you've been chosen, congratulations — but this isn't quite a free holiday. You're making the journey for everyone who helped send you.

And when you return, they'll be expecting more than stories...

Next problem: can you actually leave?

Setting off wasn't necessarily straightforward. Travel in Edo Japan was regulated, and depending on who you were and where you lived, you might need permission and travel documents.

The shogunate had good reason to keep an eye on the roads. Under a system called sankin-kōtai, regional lords (daimyō) were required to divide their time between their own domains and Edo, while their wives and children were generally required to remain in the shogun's capital. The lords' large travelling processions were a familiar sight on the highways. But the authorities also maintained checkpoints to monitor who was coming and going.

And if you were a woman, there could be another bureaucratic hurdle. The famous watchword iri-deppō ni de-onna — “guns coming in, women going out” — summed up two particular concerns: weapons entering Edo and women from daimyō households leaving it. At the Hakone checkpoint, female travellers could be examined by women employed there to check their identity and travel documents.

Pilgrimage offered the prospect of seeing a world far beyond home.

For some travellers, though, the first challenge was simply getting permission to leave.

Right. You've got permission. Now you have to get there.

If you're setting off from Edo, Ise is more than 400 kilometres away. Most of that distance will be covered on foot, so packing light is essential. A broad straw hat, a raincoat, sturdy sandals will be rather more useful than a large collection of outfits. The rest - water bottle, bento box, pipe, maybe a portable lantern and small box of seals and medicines would have to fit into a small basket or bag.

The advice wasn't new. A Japanese travel guide published in 1810 recommended “taking as few things as possible beyond what you could fit in your pockets”. Sensible. Especially when you're the one carrying them.

Fortunately, you won't be walking through uninterrupted wilderness. From Edo, one approach was to follow the Tōkaidō, the great highway towards Kyoto, before turning south onto the road to Ise near Yokkaichi. The Tōkaidō's post towns and smaller stopping places offered inns, food and other services. You could eat at a teahouse along the way, or carry something for the road.

And you'll need somewhere to sleep. A journey from Edo to Ise could take roughly a fortnight, depending on your pace, the route and the conditions. That's just getting there.

The road itself could be part of the adventure. For someone who rarely travelled far from home, there were unfamiliar landscapes, bustling towns and famous sights previously encountered only in stories or pictures. And if this was your one great opportunity to travel, why hurry straight back? Some pilgrims extended their journeys to visit other celebrated places.

The pilgrimage was beginning to look a little like a holiday. Though your feet might disagree.

You're not actually supposed to be having quite this much fun…

The shrines were the reason you came to Ise. But having travelled all this way, you might understandably want to see a little more.

There were other sacred sites to visit, including Mount Asama, where teahouses offered a welcome opportunity to rest. And Ise had a lively entertainment district at Furuichi, known for its performances of dance and song.

Then there was the shopping. You hadn't made this journey entirely for yourself. People at home had contributed, prayed, waited—and expected you back - and you couldn't very well return empty-handed! Talismans and amulets associated with the shrines could be brought home, along with local specialities and other “omiyage” gifts. The religious purpose of the journey and the pleasures of travel were not necessarily separate things.

And if you were beginning to think Ise sounded rather popular destination, you have no idea.

What if everybody decided to go at once?

Sometimes, something extraordinary happened. During great waves of pilgrimage known as okage-mairi, enormous numbers of people set out for Ise - sometimes even leaving home without the usual permission. One such wave in 1830 is estimated to have brought several million pilgrims onto the roads over a matter of months.

Imagine the inns, ferries and food stalls trying to cope. Imagine the farms and workshops back home. Who was left in the field??

Hiroshige gives us a wonderfully crowded view of the pilgrimage world: boats, banners, straw hats and people seemingly everywhere. It's an artist's depiction, not a photograph of the 1830 pilgrimage, but it captures something of the scale and energy that made these journeys such a remarkable part of Edo-period life.

Apparently, everybody wanted to go to Ise.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime trip. And if you couldn't go at all... apparently there was another option. You could send A DOG.

Did you know that during the Edo period there were dogs making pilgrimages to Ise?

Nowadays pets, including dogs, are not allowed in the Ise Jingu shrine. But during Edo period sending a dog instead of yourself to the Ise shrine was if not widespread, but at least not unheard of practice. The Okage Inu (a gratitude dog) would be set on its way with a shimenawa rope and a special bag around its neck, perhaps holding some money and written prayers and the home address. Most likely the dogs would reach their destinations and return safely via a “relay”, where fellow travellers, innkeepers and others would feed and guide the dogs along their route. There are numerous records of such four-legged pilgrims being met on the way or at the shrine.

One account even gives the arrival time of a canine pilgrim: around noon on 16 April 1771. The dog reportedly appeared at the Outer Shrine, drank some water and then lowered itself in a manner interpreted as an act of worship.

Whether the dog intended to pay its respects — or simply fancied a lie-down after a long walk — is a question the historical record cannot settle.

This isn't the only time a dog associated with the Ise routes appears in his work: look closely at his great crowded view of pilgrims crossing the Miya River and another four-legged traveller can be spotted among the procession.

In the end, an Ise pilgrimage was never only one thing. It was worship, obligation, adventure, sightseeing, shopping, storytelling and, occasionally, an exercise in trusting a dog with your prayers.

Behind all those straw hats and crowded roads are people who saved up for months, worried about the journey, stopped for something to eat, bought presents for home and came back with stories they would probably tell for years.

The journey may not have been called a holiday.

Still, looking at these prints, it is hard not to recognise the feeling.

Inspired by the artworks in this story