Wild Japan: Seeking Nature In The Land Of The Rising Sun

A clear morning atop Tokyo’s Metropolitan Government Building. My gaze follows a jagged sea of skyscrapers so far that they appear to drop beyond earth’s curve completely.

With a population of over 37 million, greater Tokyo is the third largest urban sprawl in the world. Is Japan only bright lights, office-chic and city-slickers?

While the scale of urbanity in some areas is hard to fathom, Japan’s reverence of the natural world is rooted in its ancient cultures. Philosophies that respect flora and fauna, viewing it as intrinsic to our peace and wellbeing, mean that gardens, green spaces and other natural environments like thermal springs are celebrated, not curtailed.

This appreciation of nature is also reflected in Shinto and Buddhism. They pay homage through mindful rituals and the sensitive construction of shrines and temples. Far from acting as stand-alone, imperious places of worship like the gothic cathedrals of Europe, these buildings blend into their natural environment. Their plain wooden or stone façades appearing as part of the wider habitat instead of fighting against it.

The country’s extreme vulnerability to natural disasters has, over centuries, also propelled concepts like ‘wabi sabi’. The acceptance of imperfection and the fleeting nature of life. Alongside ideas like ‘bosai’ – preparation and community spirit in the face of what may come next. More recently, environmental science has driven even greater protection in the form of sea barriers, considered re-wilding and seismic shutdown systems.

Tranquil city parks and private gardens are curated as an ode to Japan’s natural topography. Features like water, pebbles and moss represent larger versions of similar habitats found in the mountains surrounding cities. Placement of lanterns and bridges is meticulous, drawing the eye to more important areas and referencing ancient gods, stories and faiths.

That said the Japanese are also pragmatists. From the window seat of any train journey, large-scale production and unapologetic – sometimes even ugly – urbanisation bleeds into every bit of visible countryside. Even Mount Fuji’s view comes complete with a factory or two in front of it. So is there a wilder side of Japan to be found? And if so, where?

On Route: City Parks & Waterways

Endemic bird species like the Varied Tit, Brown-eared Bulbul, Pygmy Woodpecker and Warbling White-eye can be found in most city parks. As well as more recognisable variants like cormorants, mallards, wagtails and egrets around waterways and ponds. On visits to slightly more wooded areas like bamboo forests or out-of-town shrines, keep eyes to the ground for Dusky Thrushes, White-cheeked Starlings and rarities like the Daurian Redstart and Red-billed Leothrix – a very special little bird!

In Nara, deer roam the temples and can get quite frisky if you have crackers in your pocket. Feeding is sensibly monitored by locals but no touching and respect for the revered animals hopefully goes without saying.

A well-spent day strolling Kyoto’s wide, clean river!

Small Detours: Japanese Alps & Miyajima Island

During a few days in the cooler-climate mountains near Nagano I spotted the Japanese variant of the Eurasian Jay, Japanese Woodpecker, Willow Tits and of course the star of the show: Japanese Macaque monkeys bathing in the natural hot springs.

A spring day trip from Hiroshima to Miyajima Island produced all the regulars plus a fantastic encounter with a Japanese Striped Snake, swallows and yet more deer. Ospreys, Black Kites and sea birds are plentiful along the main bay.

Further Afield: Okinawa & Beyond

Popular with Japanese holiday makers for long weekends, Okinawa’s warm climate three hours flight south of Tokyo throws up a whole different host of animals. Including sea snakes, turtles and countless fish along its reefs south of the island’s capital. Very special endemic birds live here, as well as adrift migrants. Keep eyes peeled for the Ryukyu Robin, Orange Okinawa Woodpecker, various owls and a local celebrity: The Okinawa Rail. The island’s also brilliant for bug and butterfly spotting, with a small reserve in Naha also providing chances to see crabs and uniquely comical mud-skippers.

Despite Japan’s reputation as a master of its urban environments, I found nature at every turn. In fact, the moments I shared with its creatures became stand out memories of my trip. Simply because natural encounters are best when we least expect them. Short, sweet and in high contrast to skyscrapers as far as the eye can see.

Get in touch if you have any other wild tips for exploring Japan!

Japan: A Beginner’s Route

Most of us are aware of Japan’s unmistakable aesthetic before we arrive. By embracing its most famous haunts we become part of the postcard.

If you’re beamed down into any part of Japan’s mainland it’s instantly recognisable. The bold reds and sharp monotones of its urban alleyways. Each one a tentacle slipping expertly through garish billboards and titanic shards of skyscraper glass. The bronzes and greens of its tranquil temples and palaces, each iteration identical as they rise from the rubble of natural disasters complete with water features and bamboo gardens. Its quintessential kitsch everywhere you turn, from Betty Boop signs to giant electronic cats and all manner of anime poster-chic in between.

Even the food is undeniably Japanese. From the bright greens of mochi and matcha to convenience store strawberries the size of your fist. Every moment here is a snapshot from social media that you may well have caught before.

Where does a first time visitor start?

I chose to trace a teardrop around Japan’s main island, Honshu. Starting in Tokyo and moving south at pace on the Shinkansen to Hiroshima via Nagoya for a brief but frenetic Formula One pit stop. Before tracking back up the west coast, spending time in Kyoto and Japan’s alpine region, returning to Tokyo almost two weeks later.

Along the way, I experienced a 90s style mix-tape of the nation’s greatest hits, while making sure I didn’t lose myself in what everyone else was doing. I spent an entire day birdwatching in Hiroshima’s Shukkeien Garden and strolled Kyoto’s river for an afternoon until my belly gave into unagi (eel) off a side street. That said, I let myself be swept up in the essence of what makes the country unique. Yes, I fed the Nara deer crackers and visited Shinjuku at night just to cross roads with the crowds a few times. To feel a small part of what makes Tokyo tick.

Wabi Sabi, Hanami and other highlights

Japan’s top trump is that there’s something for everyone. I was indifferent to anime, video game culture, drinking traditions and the dynamics of the adult entertainment scene, which helped hone my curiosity.

I was fascinated by Japan’s ancient philosophies and faiths. Its policies that had kept it insular for hundreds of years and more recently, its people’s resilience in the face of huge adversity. One of my favourite ideas from Japanese culture is ‘wabi sabi’. The concept that nothing lasts forever and everything is imperfect. I also wanted to find out how the historical blending of Shinto and Buddhist faiths – a heady mix of natural spiritual mythology and stoic advice fit for modern life – created temples where two beliefs sat comfortably alongside each other.

The most powerful memories of my travels through Japan are marked by this cocktail of traditional wisdoms and their tangible impact on people and places.

I witnessed two hours of Sumo training. Powerful wrestlers of varied rankings undertaking a rhythmic thumping of the dust below them, that took on a ceremonial quality beyond the moving and sweat of human bodies. I hiked an old pilgrimage path on Miyajima Island, where tiny shinto shrines and buddhist effigies sat next to each other amid the trees. I spent time reflecting in Hiroshima’s Peace Park. Watching locals munch food under sakura blossom, in the eye-line of the Atomic Bomb Dome. Showing a collective inner fortitude that I couldn’t being to fathom.

I also found myself in situations where I had to search a little harder for inspiration. Like Arashiyama bamboo forest. A rolling wave of angry tourists sporting selfie sticks and moaning about each others’ presence as if they had expected to rediscover a hidden idyll a ten minute bus ride from the city. And Shibuya Starbucks, where visitors gather with bland coffees and tuna-melts, waiting for the lights to turn red at the famous crossing below so they can grab a photo for their socials.

Despite the tide of mass tourism turning specific sites into no-go zones, magical moments still outweighed my frustrations. On my nighttime walk around Kyoto’s famous Fushimi Inari shrine and its thousand bright red Tori gates, I was alone in the darkness and managed to spot wild boars. Less a spiritual awakening than a startled arousal! I was lucky enough to meet a Geisha in a quiet setting and ask questions about her life. In the mountains, I came close to physical contentment. Letting the powerful hose of my daily post-onsen shower pummel each muscle in turn after mornings spent amid tall pines with Nagano’s snow monkeys.

As if by design, my spring journey that I’d actually planned around the annual Formula One racing calendar, happily collided with full bloom of Japan’s cherry blossoms. In fact, as my high-speed train pulled into each new destination, the App reliably informed me I was within 24 hours of peak Sakura. Picnicking with friends and family under the blossom-heavy trees is known as Hanami. And it gave me the perfect opportunity to follow the locals to pristine parks, slow down and take it all in. A national institution, even snacks and drinks were themed Hanami-pink throughout my stay. I did enjoy a bit of kitsch-couture after all.

Dining out and taking away

I can’t rattle through a Japanese journey without mentioning its cuisine. It’s phenomenal. From steaming ramen bowls on cooler days to fresh onigiri as a light snack, every time I put something in my mouth it was a travel experience all of its own.

Japan has a reputation as an expensive foodie holiday and you could spend every evening eating at Michelin star venues but it’s unnecessary. I treated myself to a few highly rated restaurant meals. A wagyu tasting menu and onsen-style dining at Kanbayashi Hotel Senjukaku. Although most of the time I ate delicious, great value food on the go. Konbini (convenience store) sushi, salads and fruit were very high quality. Ekibens (food boxes showcasing local produce at train stations) were a great option to take on day trips. While street vending machines selling everything from coffee to hot sauce, became a daily staple.

Overall, snacking little and often was a fabulous way of sampling a wide range of produce, while not blowing the budget. Eat what you like, when you like – just don’t eat in the street and take your rubbish with you.

My Japan

What Japan became to me it will never be to you. Moving with characteristic Shinkansen efficiency along a beaten path, I found small moments that were my own. Minutes where I thought I had started to understand its complexities before it threw me another of its mysterious quirks. I suppose this is why no one ever visits just once; and why a beginner’s route works.

I never did break beyond its quintessential aesthetic on my first encounter but it didn’t really matter. After all, nothing is perfect. Wabi Sabi, as they say…

Desert Island Birds: Going Wild On Lanzarote

As the plane approaches Arrecife airport, the deep Atlantic blue beneath gives way to white frothing waves against a stark, volcanic shore.

Beyond, arid scrubland connects low-slung white towns. Their bright little boxes stopping abruptly at the foot of the rich ochre swathes of Lanzarote’s old volcanoes. In fact, the entirety of this Canary island and its neighbours once formed the edge of a singular giant volcano. Millenia before the package deals descended and visitors lined its sweeping bays with loungers and two-for-one cocktails.

At first glance Lanzarote looks barren but beautifully so. I fell for its landscape as soon as I left the airport. Its unique topography – a long chilli-shaped strip of earth amid the Atlantic – ensuring that one coast is continually sheltered and the other stays utterly windswept and wild most days of the year. Its unusual weather patterns first bring red dust across from the Sahara, then create breezes from the vast ocean to its West that are deceptively cool against the fierce equatorial sun.

On my first visit, I assumed that the island didn’t have much wild life beyond the antics of its Playa Blanca tourist strip in the far south. Although despite the hints dropped by black pumice, lava tubes and sparse vegetation, there are plenty of birds that call Lanzarote home. And also those that don’t. The isle’s quirky winds and geographical location off the north coast of Africa often create perfect conditions for surprise visitors. These migrants haven’t pre-booked like the hotel guests along the Costas, instead arriving without fanfare, giving birders a sudden but unforgettable encounter.

Even the beautifully barren volcanoes national park is home to birds and wildlife.

In the years since my first holiday, I’ve gradually broken down Lanzarote’s sweeping scenery into a series of nuanced habitats. Not everything is broad-brush arid desert. From the inland north which gets more rain, to the heat-hazy dunes near the village of Soo and its looming sea cliffs where Egyptian Vultures can regularly be seen catching thermals, the birds of Lanzarote have become masters of their pocketed environments.

Costa Teguise & Arrecife Marina

Dark volcanic rock collides with roaring sea along this paved coastal walkway, creating rock pools galore for hungry waders. Whimbrels, turnstones, sandpipers, plovers and even Spoonbills can be spotted. Hotels also plant palms, cacti and a few larger trees, providing shelter for smaller birds like the endemic Berthelot’s Pipit and fabulously squeaky Trumpeter Finches; as well as hunting perches for shrikes. The marina of the island’s capital an hour’s wander south is a welcome shelter for all sorts of shorebirds and worth a cursory loop at any time of year.

Tinajo Dunes & Desert

Home to the island’s desert specialists. Going with a local (I visited with a career archeologist who guided bird groups in his spare time!) or a least a hire car is best for this area. Early morning provides the best sightings, less wind and minimal heat haze. Spring is best for catching the male Bustards displaying. Stone Curlews, the elusive Black-bellied Sandgrouse and one of my all-time favourite birds, the Cream Coloured Courser, are so well camouflaged I’d recommend scanning the ground with binoculars and ample patience.

Off-shore Spots & Boat Trips

Seabirds compliment most boat excursions. If you go out in search of dolphins and whales, you’re also in with a strong chance of seeing Cory’s Shearwaters, skuas, terns and even rarer migrants like tropicbirds and petrels if you’re really lucky! A catamaran cruise from the northern tip of the mainland to La Graciosa is a wonderful day trip; and also the best chance to glimpse nesting birds along the huge, craggy precipices of the island’s north.

Hiking Haría & Valley of the Palms

A few lovely hikes of varying difficulty from the town of Haría – roughly 20 minutes drive from the Costa Teguise – are the best places to spot Lanzarote’s smaller birds, including Spectacled and Sardinian warblers, Linnets, African Blue tits and the namesake Canary. Keep eyes peeled high and low for Hoopoes and Barbary Partridges on the ground and raptors in the air. Particularly Kestrels, Pink Footed Falcons and Egyptian Vultures.

Anywhere you go on Lanzarote, you’re likely to bump into birds. Whether the Yellow-legged Gulls are waiting for your crumbs on the front at Puerto Del Carmen, or the Ruddy Turnstones are waddling across your towel on Playa Jabillo, you have two choices: Go out of your way to find the birds, or let the birds come to you!

You can follow along with my birding adventures as they happen https://www.instagram.com/rachroamswild

Singapore: Finishing In Pole Position

The irony is that in the years since my visit to Singapore, I’ve learnt so much more about it.


Its sustainable engineering; Its expat business community; and its complex maritime history. Although when I crossed the land border from Malaysia it meant only two things to me: The Formula One Grand Prix and my gateway into Australia.

Singapore is positioned at the end of the most slender southern tip of all mainland Asia. The finest point of a mammoth and unwieldy spinning top surrounded on three sides by the South China Sea. Considered an international crossroads throughout history, by 2011 with its reliable infrastructure and prize-winning Changi airport, I also considered it the perfect launch pad further south.

The Singapore Grand Prix was a relatively new and arguably less meaningful addition to the famous pathways in the region. “Whether you love or hate motorsport” I chimed to Zali, the young man who spent a morning strolling with me around Marina Bay “…it’s a fantastic way to showcase the city’s sweeping curves and glossy buildings.” Marina Bay Sands, a ship-shape luxury hotel (both literally and figuratively) completed the look. A suitable backdrop for the glamour of Formula One.

Below its infinity pool lay the racing grid. As I approached, something far less glamorous than the iconic sport overtook me and I slithered, in Singapore’s sweaty heat, onto the tarmac of Pole Position. For reasons I’ll never understand I assumed the position of an ailing starfish right there. Number one. From that position, The Marina Bay Street Circuit twisted for more than five kilometres around the city’s waterside, skirting the famous Raffles Hotel, home to the Singapore Sling cocktail.

Elsewhere, many complained about the city’s strict rules on cleanliness but I thought it was excellent. After a few months experiencing something so different, its slick washed pavements and glossy outdoor escalators scaling the side of glass shopping malls were a welcome contrast. It all helped to give the place the distinction it already had in my mind as my final destination.

It was also my closest brush with the daily life I’d left two months before. A good friend and I enjoyed ‘after work’ drinks in the modern business district. We indulged in haircuts and budget clothes shopping. Prices were high, people suited and booted in designer brands and we backpackers were very much on the periphery of all the real action.

Features of the South East Asia I’d come to know still hung heavily in my mind. As they did in the city’s ornate China Town, the ceremony I quietly watched at its Buddhist Tooth Relic Temple and the cheeky resident monkeys of its many nature reserves like the one around McRitchie’s Reservoir. However, they were all muted. As if the region knew somehow that mentally I had already checked out. This part of my adventure was at an end.

In my airport taxi I spared a thought for the fireworks that signalled the end of Singapore’s annual Grand Prix. And for the tiniest of moments, I knew what those drivers felt like as they came through in first place.

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In Search Of Tea In Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands

The only place I’ve travelled in the world where a fruit stall doubles as a bus stop, is just outside the mountain town of Tanah Rata in Malaysia’s north.

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High Hoteliers And Slippery Senoritas In George Town, Penang

The shadows of the dreary hostel entrance clung to me as I shuffled out. The town’s streets eerily silent while I walked towards the bus station. It wasn’t quite dawn.

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24 Hours On Malaysia’s Langkawi Island

One of only two times I’ve written about my journey through South East Asia before, this post was originally published in 2014.

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A Lady Of Leisure On Thailand’s West Coast

After dhows through Halong Bay’s mist, beelines up the Mekong to northern Laos and business-like diving outings, the pleasure cruise to Railay Beach seemed odd.

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Learning To Scuba Dive In Krabi, Thailand

The hardest thing to describe to someone new to scuba diving, is the overwhelming sense of freedom that you get once you’re done. And by done I mean post-course comfortable.

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