Kyushu proves a perfect wellness escape.
Being buried alive isn’t something I ever imagined I’d do willingly, but there I was, passively watching sand land on top of my body with a weighty thud. “Are you feeling comfortable?” asked the man wielding the shovel. It was a farcical question for a person submerged in steaming-hot sand from the neck down, but then, this was technically a wellness treatment.
I was trying a traditional sand bath, or suna mushi, at Ibusuki Hakusuikan, a historic hotel built atop a beach known for its healing hot springs. Such nature-based wellness activities are abundant in Ibusuki’s greater Kagoshima Prefecture, offering a counterbalance to the enthralling overwhelm of Tokyo and Kyoto (both of which landed on Fodor’s 2025 No List due to the impacts of over-tourism).
Far fewer international visitors make it to the southern end of Japan’s Kyushu region, but those who do are rewarded with soft adventure experiences, including hiking and kayaking, relaxing onsens, and a taste of Japan’s rural lifestyle. It was precisely what this New Yorker needed. Any trip that forces me to slow down is a blessing – even if it involves being buried in volcanic sand.
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The Healing Heat of Suna Mushi
As beads of perspiration accumulated above my brow, I tried to relax into the experience without watching the clock above me too intently. Fifteen minutes is long enough to reap the health benefits of a sand bath without risking overheating, and it was already obvious I’d need every ounce of my willpower to remain buried for the duration. Since arriving in Kagoshima, I had been enjoying daily visits to onsens, watching the sunrise from the hot-spring-fed pools of hotels, but this heat felt supercharged in comparison.
Suna mushi dates back some 300 years in Ibusuki, when samurai warriors used it to treat sword wounds sustained in battle. It’s now believed to aid a range of conditions, including musculoskeletal, joint, and nerve pains, by increasing circulation, aiding detoxification, and reducing inflammation. Although several hotels in the area offer hot sand bathing as a treatment, locals prefer to DIY the practice at Surigahama and Fushime Beaches, where steam rises from the sand in ethereal swirls.
“Hot springs are a part of my life and have been since I was born,” says Hiroko Otani, a tour guide raised in Ibusuki who observed her family and friends’ sand-steaming throughout her childhood. “We dug our own holes in the beach and spent time pouring sand over each other with shovels,” she says before adding that the locals here see the geothermal waters as a blessing from the gods.
The moment the treatment was over, I clambered out of my burial plot. Discarding my damp, sandy robe in a laundry hamper and covering myself with a too-small towel, I strode to the nearest shower and let the cool water cascade over me. It was too early to say whether my aches and pains had been successfully steamed away, but I left feeling equal parts roasted and rejuvenated.
Rain and Reverence on Yakushima
After a 40-minute flight from Kagoshima Airport, we touched down on Yakushima, Japan’s first UNESCO World Heritage site. Ninety percent of this small, lush island is protected forestland threaded with quiet trails that showcase its unique biodiversity. It’s a place where misty forests drink in near-constant rainfall, rivers carve through moss-covered gorges, and waterfalls tumble down ancient rock faces–a striking contrast to volcanic Ibusuki. There are no predators on Yakushima nor overcrowded viewpoints. It’s a hiker’s paradise by all accounts–except, perhaps, for one: it rains somewhere on the island almost every day.
The morning our group set off to explore Shiratani-Unsuikyo Gorge the sky was already heavy with dark, ominous clouds. We made a last-minute stop at a local rental store to pick up head-to-toe waterproof gear and sturdy hiking boots because, as the saying goes, there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.
“This is actually perfect hiking weather,” our guide, Junichi Aida, told us brightly while handing out hiking sticks. “The forest is even more beautiful when it’s wet.”
We set off along a ravine, passing waterfalls so clean and clear you can drink from them.
As the trail began to slope gently upwards, winding deeper into the forest, everything within eyesight was awash with green. Yakushima’s 600 different species of moss blanket rocks and envelope the trunks, branches, and roots of trees, collecting individual droplets of rain that sparkle like sequins. I was beginning to understand why Aida prefers hiking on rainy days.
The Spirit of the Forest
As we approached a river, Aida instructed us to cough twice. “In Japan, there is no border between humans and nature,” he said, referring to the Shinto principle of kami, the divine spirits or deities believed to inhabit all natural things. “The goddess in the mountain needs a warning that we are coming. If we don’t cough to let her know we are here, we could get lost, or something bad could happen.”
The concept of Kami makes sense of what I’d been feeling since we began our hike in Shiratani reserve. Something about the place is enchanted or otherworldly. The light is muted and emerald-tinged and the atmosphere is so quiet you can hear raindrops striking the ground. You could easily imagine fairies living inside the forest’s most famous trees – ancient cedars, some thousands of years old, known as yakusugis, which tower overhead and anchor their twisty roots to the footpath.
It’s this palpable energy that inspired Princess Mononoke, the 1997 anime masterpiece by Japanese director Hayao Miyazaki. The film follows Ashitaka, a young prince cursed by a demon while defending his village. Seeking a cure, he travels west and becomes entangled in a battle between the industrialized Iron Town and the gods and spirits of the forest, including Princess Mononoke, a fierce warrior raised by wolves. Miyazaki has said that the misty, ethereal landscape of Shiratani Unsuikyo Gorge helped shape the mystical setting of the film’s Great Forest, home to the Forest Spirit and its many magical creatures.
1. Kuguri-sugi in Shiratani Unsuikyo Ravine Yakushima Island, Japan.2. Kodama figurinesAido/Shutterstock; Courtesy of Esme Benjamin
Fans of the film often make a pilgrimage to the section of the hiking trail known as the Moss-Covered Forest, and as we pass through, we notice tiny figurines of the Kodama (tree spirits) nestled among the mossy mounds. It feels as if we’ve stepped into a scene from the animation.
A View Above the Clouds
As the group continued its ascent to Taikoiwa Rock, a 20-meter-high granite bounder perched on the mountain top, Aida warned us that good visibility was unlikely. It was still raining, but as we finally reached the viewpoint, the low mist cleared, revealing unspoiled forested mountains and tumbling rivers as far as the eye could see.
I thought back to what Aida said about kami, the godliness in all things. Whether or not one believes, it’s impossible to ignore the presence of something ancient and enduring here on Yakushima.
