6:20 AM. When I opened my eyes, the world outside was already bright.

The weather today is beautiful. Outside my window, swallows are darting back and forth. A kite is circling high in the sky. It’s the third day of my trip. The morning in Izumo began with the voices of birds.

The morning bath and the baby swallows

First, I headed to the bath.

Just like last night, I soaked slowly in the warm sodium-salt water—what a wonderful way to wake up. My body felt completely refreshed. After getting out, I made my way to the breakfast hall. Same room, same spot as yesterday.

While I was eating breakfast, there was a bit of commotion.

A baby swallow had gotten stuck in the gap of the veranda and couldn’t get out. The mother swallow was hovering nervously nearby. I wonder if she’ll reject it if it smells like human hands, I thought. But I couldn’t just leave it there.

I gently scooped up the little swallow and placed it carefully on top of the glass veranda wall. In an instant, it fluttered its wings and took flight.

Thank goodness. I hope it made it safely back to its mother. Starting the morning with a good deed—it’s a nice feeling. These small moments are what make a morning on a journey feel so warm.

The Hinomisaki Lighthouse at dawn, revisited

After breakfast, I stepped outside for a walk.

I decided to head back toward the Hinomisaki Lighthouse—the same path I’d walked yesterday at dusk. But the morning lighthouse had a completely different presence than in the evening.

Perhaps because it was so early, there were almost no other people around.

Quiet. Just the sound of waves and bird calls. Gulls—black-tailed gulls, I suppose—their voices carried on the wind. The air was remarkably clear. A perfect blue sky without a single cloud. It would get hot later, but for now, the morning air was still cool and refreshing.

I was still wearing my yukata.

My wife had properly changed into regular clothes, but I found the yukata so comfortable that I’d simply slipped on my sandals and wandered along at an easy pace. Walking by the sea in a yukata on a morning in a distant place—such luxury comes rarely.

A kingdom of rocks and Izumo Matsushima

The path continued further along the coast.

As I walked, a couple came toward me from the opposite direction. We exchanged a light bow. The path was paved and looked like it would go quite far.

What opened before me was a world of rock upon rock upon rock.

Rough, jagged rocks covered the entire coast. It felt like a “kingdom of rocks”—or perhaps even better described as a prehistoric world where dinosaurs might appear at any moment. It was dynamic, overwhelming. Down on the lower rocks, a fisherman was casting his line. Real surf fishing. I couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to climb down to such a spot.

As I continued walking, Izumo Matsushima came into view.

In the water, various-sized rocky islands were dotted here and there. Rocks covered with green vegetation gleamed against the blue sea—like something from a miniature garden. Just being able to see this view made waking up early worthwhile.

A paradise of black-tailed gulls and the Hinomisaki Shrine

And then there were the gulls.

A massive flock of black-tailed gulls covered the cliff rocks. Surely there were a thousand of them. Their cries echoed across the entire area. I learned that this spot is where ocean currents collide, making it incredibly rich with marine life. That’s why the gulls gather here. With no predators to worry about, they can raise their young in peace and safety.

Sensing our presence, their cries suddenly grew louder all at once. The sheer number was staggering. I found myself taking photo after photo.

From there, we passed through a cool, shaded forest path and made our way toward the Hinomisaki Shrine.

In the forest, sunlight doesn’t penetrate, and the air is refreshingly cool. It’s free of humidity—just pleasant.

Soon, the vermillion shrine buildings came into view. We entered through the western gate.

A shrine filled with the beauty of red.

It had a solemn quietness quite different from Izumo Taisha. In the shrine grounds where only birdsong could be heard, I quietly pressed my hands together in prayer. In this sacred land at the edge of Hinomisaki, in the birthplace of Japanese mythology, I felt grateful to be able to spend this morning moment in such a place.

A wonderful inn, and on to the next town

I returned to the inn and checked out.

I’d done something careless—I’d left my watch in the public bath. I must have been a bit drowsy last night after having some sake. Well, these things happen sometimes. Since it was safely returned to me, I’ll let it go.

Still, it really was a wonderful inn.

The warmth of wood in the tatami room, that perfectly warming salt bath, the sunset over the lighthouse, and the Iwami Kagura dance. My night here has become an unforgettable memory. I want to come back someday. I really mean that. With heartfelt thanks, I climbed into the car.

Now I’m heading to Yonago. Leaving Izumo behind, I’ll be spending one night in the next town.

My journey continues on.

I’m certain I’ll never forget how abundant this morning on the third day turned out to be.

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I’m sure that memory of walking by the seaside in my yukata will return to me again and again.

※ This article is based on personal experience and publicly available information. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, or prevent any disease. If you have health concerns, please consult a doctor or registered dietitian. See our Disclaimer.