Fushimi Inari Taisha

No picture prepares you for walking into it. Fushimi Inari Taisha is the head shrine of Inari, the Shinto deity of rice, sake and prosperity, and the mother shrine of roughly 40,000 Inari shrines across Japan. The Hata clan dedicated a shrine here in the eighth century, long before Kyoto became the capital, and over the centuries merchants, farmers and companies have thanked the god for good fortune by donating torii gates. The result is the sight that defines Kyoto for the rest of the world: thousands of vermilion gates, their donors' names and dates painted in black on the uphill side, packed so closely together along the mountain paths that they form glowing tunnels through the cedar forest. The famous double row known as Senbon Torii, the "thousand gates", begins just behind the main hall, and from there the trail network climbs the sacred mountain past moss-covered stone altars, small sub-shrines piled with miniature gates, teahouses selling kitsune udon and inari sushi, and countless stone foxes — the messengers of Inari — often carrying a key to the rice granary in their mouths. The main shrine buildings at the foot of the mountain are a handsome ensemble in vermilion and white, with a great two-story gate presented, tradition says, by the warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Admission is free, there are no gates or opening hours on the mountain paths, and the shrine sits directly opposite JR Inari Station, a few minutes from Kyoto Station, which makes it both the easiest headliner to reach and, by late morning, the most crowded.

The secret to Fushimi Inari is that the crowds are concentrated at the bottom. Most visitors photograph the first stretch of Senbon Torii, walk perhaps fifteen minutes uphill and turn back. Keep going, and the paths empty out progressively; by the Yotsutsuji intersection, roughly halfway up and around forty-five minutes from the main hall at a steady pace, you have a broad view over southern Kyoto and a fraction of the people. The full loop over the summit of Mount Inari, at 233 meters, takes two to three hours with stops, on stone steps that are steep in places, so wear proper shoes and carry water in summer. The summit itself has no view — the reward is the walk, and the deep-forest atmosphere of the upper shrines, where the gates are older, the moss thicker and the only sound is the crows.

Timing changes everything. At dawn, and again after dark when the gates are lit by lanterns and the paths are nearly deserted, the shrine is profoundly atmospheric and you can photograph the tunnels without another soul in frame; a night walk feels slightly eerie, in the best sense, but stick to the main route and bring a light for the upper stretches. Between about nine in the morning and late afternoon, and on every weekend and holiday, the lower gates are a slow-moving procession. The first days of January bring millions for hatsumode, the New Year prayer, and are best avoided unless you want that spectacle. Etiquette is simple: bow before passing under the main gate, purify your hands at the water basin, and at the offering hall toss a coin, bow twice, clap twice and bow once more. Do not touch or lean on the torii, and stay to the side when you stop for photos, since the paths are narrow.

The streets around the shrine are worth an hour of their own. The approach is lined with stalls grilling skewers and selling fox-shaped senbei crackers, and the neighborhood's classic snacks are inari sushi — rice in a pouch of sweet fried tofu, said to be the fox's favorite — and kitsune udon topped with the same tofu. The wider Fushimi district, a short train ride south, is one of Japan's great sake towns, with brewery museums and tasting rooms along a willow-lined canal. Tofuku-ji, famous for its autumn maples, is one stop north on the Keihan or JR lines, making Fushimi Inari at dawn followed by Tofuku-ji the classic early-morning pairing in southern Kyoto.