The new set of authors for the Komorebi column in Jinja Shinpō are publishing their first instalments, and the July 27th issue included the first column by Yamamoto Yoshiya, who works in the forestry department at Isë Jingū. He promises to write about the forests, and so I anticipate reporting on his columns quite often. His first column is introductory.
The forests around Jingū are divided into two parts — the Shin’iki (神域), “area of the kami”, and Kyūikirin (宮域林), “sanctuary area woodland”. The Shin’iki is the area immediately around the sanctuaries, and is the part best described as a sacred forest. The Kyūikirin covers about 5,500 ha, and includes the entire upstream area of the Isuzu River that flows past the Inner Sanctuary.
The Kyūikirin serves two purposes. First, about half of the total area is plantation hinoki (Japanese cypress, Chamaecyparis obtusa), intended to supply timber for the Shikinen Sengū. The other half is natural broad-leaf forest. If you stand at the entrance to the Inner Sanctuary and look up to the mountains, this is the forest that you can see, as the plantations are on sides of the mountains that are out of sight. This is a deliberate strategy, because natural woodland makes a much more beautiful backdrop to Jingū than a plantation would. Almost the whole of this forest is included in the Isë-Shima National Park, and according to Yamamoto it is very biodiverse.
Until around the thirteenth century AD, these forests were the source of timber for the Shikinen Sengū, but they were logged out, and so the wood had to be brought from elsewhere. In the Edo period, about 300 years ago, pilgrimages to Isë became very popular, and as the population of the town grew, the forest was stripped for firewood and burned for charcoal. As the hills were denuded, the river came to flood after heavy rains.
In the early twentieth century, it was decided to restore the environment, and a plan was drawn up. It was put into effect in 1923. This plan had four main purposes. The first was to eternally preserve the dignity of Jingū through the dignity of the forest. The second was to create an environment that would inspire calm in pilgrims. The third was to secure the source of the Isuzu River, so that it would survive as a stream of pure, clear water. The final purpose was to supply the timber for the Shikinen Sengū. The plan is still being followed today.
Yamamoto closes by emphasising that the clear water of the Isuzu River (it really is very clear) and the beautiful forests behind Jingū are not just there. They both exist because people, his predecessors, have worked hard over the course of a century to transform deforested mountains into the woodlands that are there today. His columns will, he says, talk about what the forestry department of Jingū does, and its plans for the future.