Why You Should Go to Aokigahara – The Suicide Forest
Back when Covid-19 seemed like a bad fart which would, more than likely, disappear in the wind, I made myself a bucket list of places I wanted to visit in 2020. Universal Studios; watch my first baseball game; finally get up to Hokkaido and more. All of them were pretty straight forward except one – Aokigahara. Or, as it’s unfortunately known amongst English speakers – the Suicide Forest. Knowing a lockdown was more than likely imminent, I took what was looking like my final opportunity, for a long time, to check the most contentious location from my list.
The decision to go to Aokigahara didn’t come without it’s degree of internal moral debate. In recent times, western publicisation of the forest hasn’t exactly shone it, or foreigners visiting Japan, in the best light. Movies such as The Sea of Trees (2015) and The Forest (2016) have both heavily focused on the suicidal themes associated with the forest, itself, whilst simulataneously exposing it to the world. The merits of said exposure are highly debatable considering the influx of foreign tourists to such a secluded spot. Logan Paul being the prime example of douchebaggery and how not to respect such a beautiful place.
From a personal point of view, my only motive in visiting Aokigahara was to understand why so many people chose this tranquil place to end their lives. What is it about this forest that makes it the second most popular spot in the world to commit suicide? As someone that’s, arguably, reinvented himself multiple times – whether that be moving to England, China or Japan – suicide is a subject that I very rarely think about, never mind contemplate. I feel lucky to believe that no matter what happens in my life, there’s always an opportunity to start again. For the most part, I wanted to understand what drives people to the point where there’s no way they can possibly go on. From the moment I decided to visit the ‘Sea of Trees’ – as it’s alternatively known – I was very conscious of how my actions would affect others, to the extent that I had absolutely no intention of writing this post or publicising this trip in any way. I refused to contribute to the negative hype or suicidal exposure that, sadly, closely follows any mention of Aokigahara. At the time, I couldn’t see how that could possibly change.
It’s important to note, though, that there is a degree of Japanese stigma surrounding the forest. When my friend told his mother where we were going, she was openly upset at the thought of us going to such a contentious place. It is my understanding that Aokigahara is not a popular destination in Japanese circles, being shrouded in superstition and death for so many years. In ancient folklore, families were said to have led their elderly relatives into the forest, leaving them to die in order to the ease the financial burdens of which they carried, at the time. In more recent culture, I was able to find references to suicide as far back as 1961 – when a girl in the novel Tower of Waves by Seicho Matsumoto, after engaging in a socially unacceptable relationship, enters the forest to end her life. Sadly, a book, written in 1993- which I won’t give credit to – seems to have solidified Aokigahara’s fate, amongst the Japanese, as a place filled with evil and the spirits of the restless dead.
My day started around 5am with a healthy dose of the snooze button. The aim was to make it to Shinjuku Station by 7am and take the two hour bus to Kawaguchiko – the closest town to Mount Fuji and the access point to Aokigahara and the Fuji Five-Lakes region. I’d done a little research the night before about how to get there and what we could expect, however, admittedly I was a little nervous. The information online reads from the hysterically cliched to the hysterically optimistic and what I gathered seemed to either focus solely on the negative conotations surrounding the forest, or ignore it entirely. You’ll read about how people will be instantly mistrustful of you; they’ll frown as soon as you mention where you’re going and you’ll no longer be welcome. That’s bullshit. If you treat this place with the respect it deserves, conduct yourself in a civilised manner and, most importantly, don’t come alone, you’ll be fine.
My only previous experience of Kawaguchiko was it being a packed bazaar of Golden Week tourists, three years ago, with queues three hours long…THREE HOURS…to go to a field of, admittedly, pretty flowers. If God loves a trier, Japan loves a queue. The contrast this time was stark. Covid-19 had left proverbial tumbleweed blowing everywhere and it was comparatively bliss. Contrary to what I read online, there was a very helpful attendant by the central bus-stop, who spoke excellent English. When we told her where we wanted to go – the Saiko Bat Cave (Green Line Bus Stop #45) – I can honestly say, I’ve never met anyone more enthusastic or willing to help me, in Japan. We were advised to take the Green Saiko Sightseeing Bus and buy a ticket for 1500yen which was valid for 2 days. This enabled us to hop on and off the red, blue and green lines, as little or as often as we liked. Buses come about twice an hour and are incredibly easy to navigate. I would highly recommend buying the unlimited pass and picking up an English map from the booth, in front of the station and your day will be easier than Charlie Sheen on a Playboy Mansion bender. If your Japanese isn’t great, these two commodities will make you practically self-reliant and free to enjoy your trip.
After boarding the Green Line bus, we made our way through Kawaguchiko town and north towards Lake Kawaguchiko. Shortly after leaving the station, Mount Fuji comes into view on your left, resplendid as always. Be prepared for the curse of Mount Fuji, however, where no matter how good the weather is that day, it could be hiden amongst the only cloud in Japan. Weaving amongst the lakeside roads and protected in the shadow of tree-lined mountains, it’s easy to see what draws so many tourists to Kawaguchiko. A quick glance at your map will show you a sheer abundance of beautiful locations to explore and dozens of reasons to not simply dismiss this area as that which holds the ‘Suicide Forest.’
Bar a couple of Philipino girls, my friend and I were the only folk on the bus. It came as no surprise that when we hit the button to get off at the Saiko Bat Cave, they did too. When we got off the bus, there was a cave employee standing nervously by the stop. Going on what I read, I said hello to her, trying to dispell any worries that we were here to make a scene. She didn’t reply. Seemingly confident in the knowledge that neither we, nor the other girls were likely to go into the forest to end our lives, she trudged back into the visitors’ centre, probably to re-emerge in another 30 minutes. There are many local volunteers who patrol the area and watch out, similarly to the lady we encountered. To ensure their peace of mind and make sure you can actually enter the forest, I would stress again to make sure you are not coming alone. Local residents are said to be pro-active in preventing people they are suspcious of from entering the forest.
The entrance to Aokigahara is located in the far corner of the Bat Cave car park. You can be mistaken for wondering where it is, as the gateway to the forest is ominously overgrown, to the extent that I had to duck to get into the forest. It wasn’t until we got a little deeper into the forest that we were able to finally confirm that we were in the correct place. With a combination of it’s entrance, exposed tree roots and what looks like wildlife sprouting in directions you didn’t even know possible, my initial thoughts were that this place is an ominous as everyone made it out to be. Other than a narrow path that navigates through the forest, the wildness of this place hits you like a truck. A previous volcanic eruption from Mount Fuji left a field of solidified lava meaning the trees’ roots struggle to penetrate beyond the surface level. As a result, roots twist and contort here there and everywhere, constructing a beautiful landscape that I’ve never seen before. As you walk through the forest, you discover many dark caverns that’ve formed along the forest floor – some a combination of overhanging roots, where the surrounding earth has compacted around them, over hundreds of years, to make these eerie hollows of natural shelter. The manic landscape really strikes you as you make your way in. Whilst the path is weaving and subtle, when you look deeper into the forest, you can see no clear way through the dense sea of trees. What you can see, are a million and one cracks where you could potentially put your foot through the forest floor and if you did manage to navigate those; any longer than 5-10 minutes trekking into the deep would leave you desperately struggling to find one of the few paths that occupy the forest.
My initial feeling when entering the forest was one of trepidation. The fact that there was no clear entrance coupled with the wild landcape hit you with the feeling ‘you shouldn’t be here.’ As we made our way deeper into Aokigahara, though, my feelings began to change. Your mind gets used to the environment. You wonder at it, rather than shy from it. The wildness of it becomes charming and peaceful and the nooks and crannies you see, all around you, become mesmerising. When I was a teenager, I used to go running in a forest near my dad’s house, in Northern Ireland. It was a beautiful place, skirting the valley of a glen in what was – close to – the middle of nowhere. Every other Sunday, I would run up the glen, happy to escape into the crisp and damp forest air, rushing through the smell of wild garlic. Compared to my normal, city life, it was incredibly tranquil. Despite it’s remoteness, though, it was never truly silent. Yes, you could hear the soundtrack of wildlife playing to the forest, but, you could also hear the engines of cars in the adjacent hills; tractors in the farmland below, even the ocasional plane in the skies above. When you enter Aokigahara, however, you hear nothing but nature.
The thick silence residing in the forest is pierced, only, by sounds of the birds chirping in the blanket of branches above. Coupled with the crisp splitting of vegetation beneath your feet, it’s a blissful place of absolute solitude. I’ve always lived in very populated areas and even in rural Ireland, you’re usually never more than a stone’s throw from a residential property or public road. Despite being in what’s deemed ‘butt-fuck nowhere,’ in reality, you’re always within earshot of some sort of civilsation. Perhaps for someone. who’s used to more sparsely populated areas – such as in the US – Aokigahara wouldn’t have the same effect, however for me, it felt cathartic to experience a place that’s so peaceful and seemingly untouched by man. It felt good to be freed from distractions, take some uninterupted time with my thoughts and really feel free – even if only for a couple of hours – from the heavily urbanised and increasinly populated world we live in.
It was as I was walking through the forest that I thought, it’s a shame that this beautiful place is surrounded by such a terrible stigma. It is, truly, one of the most peaceful places that I’ve ever been to and, at risk of ruining such a fortress of solitude, I thought, more people have to come here. More people need to know about Aokigahara – not the suicide forest.
All in all, it took us around two hours of very leisurely walking to make our way from the Bat Cave entrance to the Fugaku Wind Cave exit. On our way out, we were faced with the sign below, which urges people to seek help, talk to someone and most importantly, not to take their own life. After experiencing such peace in the forest, it was a daunting reminder of Aokigahara’s darker side.
Directly across the road from Aokigahara was the Fugaku Wind Cave – our next port of call after stopping for a salted corn ice-cream. Yeah, I don’t wanna talk about it…
Initially, we each grabbed helmets to descend into the dark and damp cave as a bit of a joke. It was all funny and embarassing until I happened to smash my head off the cave roof. Embarassment was quickly replaced with relief and a moral superiority over all the other tourists who’d entered the same cave bareback. Insert Nelson laugh, here. The cave itself was previously used as a natural refrigerator so despite Japan’s incredibly sticky summers, temperatures in the cave can be as low as 2℃. After about 5 minutes underground, we were starting to feel the chill ourselves and It was a nice contrast from our time in the forest. The refreshing chill paired with navigating your way through the underground cavern, whilst trying not to sustain brain damage is quite the surreal experience. If you’re visiting Kawaguchiko in the dead of summer, I can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be. Whilst we didn’t have time in our schedules that day, there’s also an ice cave in close proximity to the wind cave, which was highly recommended.
It’s for this main reason that I decided to write this article. There are many reports focusing on the misery and negativity assoicated with Aokigahara but if you look at it from a different perspective, you see the immense natural beauty of the area; countless attractions tending to all interests and a region that you could explore for days and still long for more. Hopefully, as time goes on, more and more people choose to visit the area and embrace it for it’s outstanding natural beauty and not for their slice of YouTube fame. Not only can you dander through an area of penetrating beauty, risk concussion in a natural refrigerator and question human existence by eating corn flavoured ice-cream, but you can top the day off with the best views in Japan of Mount Fuji.
This view never gets old. The one below might, though.
On our final escapade, we used our Sightseeing Bus passes to chill out at Oishi Park (Red Line Stop #20) which provided incredible views across Lake Kawaguchiko towards Mount Fuji. There are a collection of neat souvenir and gift stores here, where we were able to put our feet up and enjoy a Cup Ramen and an ice-cream (not corn) with the sickest views of Fuji, herself. Shortly after applying for early retirement, we hopped on the bus one last time and grabbed the day’s last cable car at the foot of Mount Tenjo (Red Line Stop #9). The sunset views of Fuji at the top of the small mountain are amazing and I’d say, a must-see spot if you ever visit Kawaguchiko. Whilst I, again, had to duck to actually enter the park at the top, it’s the perfect spot to end your day and watch the setting sun. There are also connected walking trails to take you deeper into the mountains of Yamanashi if you have the luxury of time!
A view from the top and a view from the bottom. If you’ve been to the area, yourself, let me know about your experiences in the comments, below!
If you’ve been affected by anything written in this post, please talk to someone and think about those who love you. There is always someone there to talk to you! If you’re in the UK, you can call Samaritans on 116 123 or, alternatively, in Japan, you can call the Tell Lifeline on 03-5774-0992. Don’t suffer in silence!
