Why I’m Not Chasing Japan’s 100 Famous Mountains
Anyone who’s hiked a bit in Japan has probably come across the 100 Famous Japanese Mountains, or (Hyakumeizan). My first was Fuji-san, which I climbed 25 years ago during my first stint in Japan. About 13 years later, around the time I started this blog, I tackled Tanzawa-san.
Since that second summit, I’ve been hiking regularly and have climbed hundreds—if not nearly a thousand—mountains. Yet my Hyakumeizan count remains at just 34. At this rate—roughly three per year—I should be finishing the list sometime around 2049!
Except… I won’t be.
For a whole host of reasons (which I’ll touch on), I have no plans to complete the Hyakumeizan.
To those who have completed all 100, you have my full respect—it’s no small feat. No doubt it’s an arduous undertaking, one that likely taught you as much about your own fortitude and personal struggles as it did about the mountains themselves.
This piece isn’t for those who’ve already completed the list. It’s for hikers like myself—those who have yet to be swept up in the furore surrounding Kyūya Fukada’s chosen ones.
By way of a quick segue for those unfamiliar with this mountaineering maestro: before 1964, when Fukada penned his bestselling Nihon Hyakumeizan (100 Famous Japanese Mountains), mountaineering in Japan was still something of a niche pursuit. Certainly, it had its devotees, but nothing like the popularity we see today, where an estimated three million people hike at least three times a year.
That all changed after the book’s publication, sparking a decades-long hiking boom—particularly among the middle-aged and elderly. Fukada’s 100 famous mountains have since become highly coveted summits for climbers across the country.
If I’m being honest, I was initially eager to see how many Hyakumeizan peaks I could notch up. But as time went on, my enthusiasm gradually waned. Aside from Fuji-san—which in peak season is about as fun to climb as a greased-up flagpole in a thunderstorm—the first cracks in the Hyakumeizan veneer appeared on Nantai-san. A real slog, overcrowded trails, and an inordinate number of sandbags propping up the upper slopes made for a less-than-inspiring experience.
Meanwhile, right next door, Nyoho-san was probably basking in a sunbeam breaking through the clouds, its slopes blissfully free of crowds. From its pint-sized summit, the views were just as magnificent—without the chaos.
Despite the Hyakumeizan’s undeniable role in popularising hiking in Japan, it has also had unintended consequences, negatively impacting mountain climbing in the country. Building on the examples of Nantai-san and Fuji-san, Fukada’s must-climb list has led to an overwhelming concentration of hikers on certain peaks. Revered mountains like Tate-yama, Yariga-take, and Tanigawa-dake now see more foot traffic than any one mountain should endure, resulting in trail erosion, waste management challenges, and habitat destruction. Meanwhile, equally stunning but unlisted mountains remain overlooked, further concentrating the damage on the Hyakumeizan peaks.
What’s more, it encourages a checklist mentality over genuine exploration. Many hikers focus on collecting all 100 peaks rather than appreciating each mountain for its unique qualities. This problem is further compounded by popular mountain-climbing community sites like Yamap and Yamareco, which actively incentivise users to tally their claimed peaks and display them on their profiles as badges of honour. This gamifies hiking, leading people to rush from one peak to the next instead of taking the time to truly engage with the landscape. To each their own, but if you’re intent on completing the list in a single year or less, you’re likely doing yourself a disservice. It reminds me of travelling through Europe in my youth, where some people would brag about visiting 10 or more countries in just a few weeks—checking off destinations without truly experiencing them. Similarly, some climbers may overlook equally stunning, less-crowded mountains that offer far better experiences.
Then there’s the issue of commercialisation and the erosion of Japan’s traditional mountain culture. The Hyakumeizan list has been heavily monetised, with guidebooks, stamps, and even certificates for those who complete all 100 peaks. This has shifted the focus from personal fulfilment and a deep connection with nature to a more transactional, achievement-driven mindset. An example of this includes driving or flying to far-flung corners of the archipelago. It stands in stark contrast to Japan’s older, more spiritual and introspective mountain-climbing traditions, where peaks were often climbed for pilgrimage or personal growth rather than simply to check them off a list.
Another troubling issue is that the list encourages—or at least tacitly endorses—less experienced climbers attempting risky peaks and trails. Some of the 100 mountains, like Tsurugi-dake and, more recently, Sukai-san, are technically demanding and require proper skills for a safe ascent. Yet their inclusion on the list tempts hikers to attempt them even if they’re not fully prepared for the challenge that awaits, increasing the likelihood of accidents and rescues. This turns what should be a personal challenge into an unnecessary risk, often at the expense of local rescue teams and other climbers.
Last but not least—and this is the real crux for me—the list itself is both arbitrary and outdated. Fukada’s selection was personal and subjective, reflecting his own preferences—albeit shaped by nearly 50 years of mountaineering experience—rather than any objective criteria. Some truly remarkable mountains, like Tsubakuro-dake, Oizuruga-dake, and Komaga-take, were left out, while certain less impressive or redundant peaks—looking at you, Tsukuba-san—made the cut. To be fair, Fukada never intended his book to serve as a definitive ranking of Japan’s 100 best mountains. But once the list gained traction, its popularity was unstoppable.
While Nihon Hyakumeizan has undoubtedly inspired countless hikers and played a role in popularising mountain culture, it’s a double-edged sword. A broader appreciation of all mountains—not just those on a fixed list—would foster a healthier and more sustainable climbing culture in Japan.
Ultimately, mountain climbing is a deeply personal pursuit. Not getting caught up in the Hyakumeizan frenzy might just be the best way to enjoy it. Find a mountain that speaks to you, savour the climb, and who knows—you might just run into me out there.
Great post—and these are some of the very reasons I haven’t finished the list myself—despite literally writing a book (partially) about the initial attempt. I’m well over 200 peaks, but not quite halfway through the “big 100”—and I’d rather climb the ones I’m interested in than check the boxes just for the sake of completion.
Thanks, Susan. I can definitely relate! It’s so easy to get caught up in the ‘checklist’ mentality, but at the end of the day, it’s more about enjoying time in the mountains. 🙂
I agree. It was fortunate that Wanakurayama did not catch the eye of Kyuya Fukada.
You’re absolutely right, Ootsuki. It’s lucky Wanakurayama wasn’t on Fukada’s radar! Thanks for reading.
wish to see your own version of hyakumeizan list
Nice suggestion, except it ain’t going to happen—we don’t need another definitive list. Rather than focusing on a fixed set of peaks, I’d encourage everyone to go out and find the mountains they enjoy.
I plead guilty your honour! On all counts. I was inexperienced. I climbed Nantai over the sandbags. I’m a sucker for lists!
The thing is, those mountains and the experiences I had on them, remain etched in my memory and will live on in my heart, precisely because I was on a hare-brained mission to bag them.
Domestic bliss and reverting to weekend warrior mode, while allowing one to climb at more leisurely pace, and in only the fairest of conditions, has caused me to forget more mountains than I can recall climbing. Not that the experience in the moment was anything less than pleasurable I’m sure. This latter situation has seen no less than three alternate Hyakumeizan attempts fizzle before my eyes due to the lack of intensity, fluctuating motivation, a comfy man-cave, travel costs…
But that’s just my two cents, and more power to you David, because what you’re doing here is always a pleasure to read and follow.
Fair enough, Willie. I admire that, and your memoir; it’s an absolute ripper. I actually completed The Twelve Beautiful Views of Mt. Fuji last year—a collection of 20 mountains in Otsuki City—so I’m not totally averse to lists! 🙂
Nice one, David.
Thanks for reading, Ted!
Great Post David. My relationship is somewhat like yours. I’d been walking over many of Japan’s mountains since the late 70s for the the pleasure and then one day about 20 years ago a Japanese friend asked me how many Hyakumeizan I’d climbed and I had to ask him what he was talking about. Once I found out of course I did the count and it was around 30 like you. However, once I knew about it, I kept hearing everyone talking about their Hyakumeisan achievements and I started to think I’d better get a move on, so I started targeting them and havereached about 40. But then, frankly, for many of the reasons you mention, Ive become ambivalent now about targeting them and indeed, your article has confirmed for me that I should forget them and just go for the hikes that appeal – and many are the ones I do over and over, because the mountains change their mood with the seasons and the time of day and I never see or feel the same things.
Phil, well put. I totally agree that some of the best hikes are the ones that keep calling you back, no matter how many times you’ve done them. Plus, as you say, the look and mood of any particular mountain transform with the seasons, so there’s always something different to draw your attention. Enjoy!
I missed this post because I was on a 2,900 km roadtrip to bag two more of the 100 last week. 😜
I couldn’t help but think this post is the mountain blog version of “Eric Clapton (or SRV or Randy Rhodes) is the BEST guitarist. Your favorite guitarist sucks rocks.”
I’m ambivalent. I hiked every trail possible within driving/train distance when I lived in Tokyo and it was years before I did any of the 100. Now that I’ve lived in Nagano for a few years, I’ve hiked every trail around here, too. I find that as I need to extend to longer trips, the 100 makes it easy to choose. I’m not planning on doing all 100 of them, but I don’t write them off just because they’re on the list. To me, that’s like saying the Taj Mahal or the Eiffel Tower should be avoided because they are famous.
All that said, I am well aware that 500 meters this way or that way enables you to see beautiful and different stuff and I really enjoy going to minor peaks and learning different areas really intimately. I have no desire to merely take a ropeway to a peak to bag another on the list.
I feel sorry for you that you’ve seemed to meet so many crowds. I had Nantai all to myself! Same with Tanzawa. I have done it 3 times and don’t recall many people. My first on the list was Kumotori. I’ve done that 6 times and never encountered any crowds. I was on 2 of the 100 in Kyushu last week and didn’t see more than 10 people. I guess I’m lucky in that I seem to go to places on weekdays or off-season.
There are some that I have climbed that made me think afterward, “Why was that on the list?” It’s all been good, though. A bad day in the mountains is better than a good day anywhere else.
Yeah I will have to say, being able to hike Japan’s mountains on the weekdays is a completely different experience – the crowds on weekends, and especially public holiday weekends, can be pretty ridiculous. Which I suppose is true for anywhere you go in Japan, really!
After almost 3,000 clicks on the road to bag a couple more, this was probably the last thing you wanted to read!
Part of the reason I write these articles is to spark debate and, in doing so, gather differing opinions. Since no one else seems to be doing it, I figure I might as well.
Regarding crowds, overall, they haven’t been particularly bad over the years. Like you, I’ve been fortunate to climb a lot on weekdays, which certainly helps cut down on numbers. Looking at my last few—Kaikomaga-take, where I had the summit to myself with incredible views, and before that, Aka-dake and Tateshina-yama, which had quite a few hikers—experiences can vary.
For those tackling popular peaks and restricted to hiking on weekends, it’s easy to imagine trails packed to the gills with hikers at peak times.
I don’t think anyone should be outright dismissive of the 100 famous mountains, and I look forward to climbing more in the future. That said, I’ll continue choosing mountains based foremost on my available time and interests. If it happens to be a Hyakumeizan, that’s just icing on the cake.
Truth be told, the mountains were just a bonus. My wife really wanted to go to Nagasaki and said I could go hiking in Kyushu if I took her.
I would have taken her anyway, but since she made the offer, I decided to take her up on it!
I have to agree with Emma–that pretty much anywhere here can get overcrowded. There are a few beautiful spots for fall foliage here that are so crowded you need to sleep in your car. 😭
Many thanks for this provocative well argued and eloquently expressed thought piece, David – and thanks too the community for the thoughful comments. I suspect that, underlying the question whether the Hyakumeizan should be pursued at all – obviously the answer will vary from person to person – is the question of what the original book was supposed to mean. It’s intriguing that Fukada probably wouldn’t have written it at all if somebody else hadn’t prevailed up on him to do so. Will try to fadge something up on this topic later …. : )
PH, thank you as always for your thoughtful and well-balanced commentary. I look forward to reading your further thoughts on this topic.
While it wasn’t my intention to be overly provocative, I do believe it’s worthwhile to present a counter-argument from time to time, if only to encourage broader discussion. I think you hit on a key point—what Fukada intended the list to be versus how it is now perceived are two very different things.
I’d like to clarify one point that may have been misinterpreted. While I feel the list is somewhat arbitrary and now outdated, I wasn’t suggesting that I, or anyone else, could necessarily “improve” upon Fukada’s selection. Given the historical context and Fukada’s own mountaineering background, that would be a rather presumptuous claim.
My position is more that we shouldn’t treat the list as the sine qua non of Japanese mountaineering. Rather, it should be seen as one perspective—an adjunct to the broader experience of seeking out and enjoying time in the mountains. If those mountains happen to be on the Hyakumeizan list, that’s a bonus, but the primary focus should be on personal enjoyment, not just ticking off boxes.