Day 7 of MCT (Michinoku Coastal Trail): Urato Islands 浦戸諸島

Yesterday, while we were walking around the ancient historical sites in Tagajo City, I called Suzuki-san, one of the fishermen supporters for the MCT, who was going to take us out on his boat to today’s goal.

From his voice and the way he spoke, he came across as really kind and easygoing. He told us the weather for the next day should be fine, though the waves might get higher later in the afternoon. So our boat ride was on. I also told him our hiking plan — which ferry we’d be taking in the morning and what time we expected to arrive at Sabusawajima port 寒風沢島港 to meet him.

Even though all three islands looked small and the MCT route on each was only a few kilometers, we didn’t want to make an overly optimistic estimate. The last thing we wanted was to end up running to make it in time. Meeting at 3 p.m. seemed safe. Suzuki-san said he’d come a bit early, just in case we got there faster than planned.

With that, everything was ready for our “three islands in one day” adventure.
Now let the new experience begin.

Shiogama City Ferry to the Urato Islands

Hotel Grand Palace Shiogama ホテル・グランドパレス塩釜 was only about a ten-minute walk from the ferry port. We checked out at 6:45 to catch the 7:15 boat.

We bought tickets to Katsurashima 桂島, the first of the Urato Islands 浦戸諸島 we’d be hiking through, and boarded the ferry. To my surprise, there were already quite a lot of passengers, mostly older locals. Only a handful looked like they were from outside the area, probably heading out for a day of leisure fishing.

Just before departure, a big group of students in matching sportswear rushed on board, carrying racket-shaped bags and calling out to sit together.

Since the ferry ride was only twenty minutes, we stayed outside on the deck to enjoy the fresh morning air instead of sitting inside. As we pulled away from Shiogama City, snowy mountains appeared clearly behind the city buildings.

Katsurashima 桂島

At Katsurashima, only the two of us got off.

The port was incredibly quiet. In fact, throughout the day, we hardly saw any locals on any of the three islands. Instead, most of the people we did see were construction workers building new seawalls and roads.

Miyagi Prefecture had declared a state of emergency for COVID after a sudden rise in cases. I wasn’t sure if the silence on the islands was related, but the last thing we, as visitors from outside the Tohoku region, wanted to do was make people uneasy. So we kept to ourselves and just enjoyed the walk, without actively looking for encounters with locals.

The ferry ports on all three islands had nice waiting shelters, modern bathrooms, and vending machines. But, as we expected, there were no grocery stores or shops along the MCT route.

We passed a few houses and soon the route led us through a small shrine into the woods behind.

One thing struck me: every shrine we saw on these islands had big bells — the kind you usually see at Buddhist temples. We’ve visited plenty of Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines all over Japan, but this was my first time seeing Shinto shrines with such bells.

Maybe it’s not as strange as it seemed. In ancient Japan, Buddhism and Shinto were never strictly separate — they often stood side by side until the Meiji era, when the government split them.

On tiny, sparsely populated islands like these, building both separately probably wasn’t practical anyway.

The path wound through tunnels of hard oaks and other common trees in seaside areas with viewpoints opening up to the perfectly clear blue sky and sea.

Eventually, we came out to the opposite side of the island and looked down on a quiet sandy beach.
I was a bit excited — it was the first sandy beach we’d seen since starting the MCT.

One of the images I’d always had of the MCT hiking was hikers walking along endless beaches. I’m sure those promotional photos weren’t taken here, but I still wanted to do my first “MCT sand beach walk.”

The official MCT route stayed behind a seawall at the edge of young pine forests, so hikers didn’t actually need to step on the sand. But who could miss this opportunity? We stepped down and walked along the dry edge as close to the waves as we could.

After that short but satisfying beach walk, we rejoined the trail. It soon joined a narrow road that ran through the middle of the island. The road climbed higher, passing a neighborhood of newly built houses. We could sense people were living there, but we didn’t see anyone — probably working at the port or out fishing.

We took a short break at a flowerbed of yellow narcissus on the hill. In the middle stood a white bench with a “Welcome to Katsurashima” sign. Clearly, local people had created this little viewpoint for visitors, and I imagine they’d have loved to see travelers enjoying it again this year, if not for COVID.

On the eastern side, we passed through more woods and then reached the site of a wealthy fisherman’s old house.
In the nearby cliffs, square man-made holes caught our eye. Their shape was far too regular to be natural. According to tourist information, they were used as storage spaces for fishing tools.

Much earlier than expected, we reached Ishihama port 石浜港 on the east side of Katsurashima.
This island is long and thin, stretching west to east, and the port we had arrived at in the morning was on the western side.

From Ishihama port, we would cross to Nonoshima island by a free public motorboat.

Hikers can still take the Shiogama City ferry to Nonoshima from Katsurashima, but the system for the little motorboat (also operated by the city) is much easier than the Shiogama City ferry — there’s no timetable, you just call the phone number posted on the shelter wall during operating hours. It’s free too.

After a couple of rings, someone picked up my call. The operator said the boat was currently on the Nonoshima side but would come right away. Sure enough, we saw it leaving the opposite port and heading straight toward us. How convenient!

We waved from the dock, and a few minutes later, the boat pulled up. The operator let us on board and immediately turned back toward Nonoshima.

Nonoshima 野々島

The ride was over in no time.
At the port, we found a vending machine by a building that seemed to serve as a waiting lounge, and much to Erik’s delight, it had his favorite milk tea — even hot!

By then, the day was turning warm and bright. We passed a few houses and walked up to a village shrine hill. From there, an old path wound its way under tunnels of camellia trees.

Nonoshima is the smallest of the three islands we hiked that day, and the MCT route here was clearly shorter than the others — almost a straight line across the island.

We already knew the motorboat to the last island would be just as quick and convenient as the last one. In the end, the extra time we had factored in for waiting wasn’t really needed.

When we saw a sign for a short detour called the “Path of Camellia,” I convinced a hesitant Erik to go for it. Otherwise, we’d have been far too early to meet Suzuki-san. Plus, the Path of Camellia sounded too good to skip.

Beyond the Path of Camellia, the northern beach looked like a spot for kids to kayak or swim, but of course, it was empty during spring break. The map showed a herb and flower garden behind the beach, but all we saw were dried lavender stalks — too early in the season.

Back on the MCT route, which climbed over a small hill in the island’s center, we eventually found a mobile bathroom. Oh, nice!
While I was inside, I heard Erik talking with another voice.

Outside, I saw a local grandpa trying to chat with him in broken English and gestures. I recognized him. We had passed him just before — he was working in a small flowerbed by the MCT route — and as always, we had greeted him with a “Konnichiwa.”

It wasn’t the first time elderly fishermen in remote Tohoku villages had suddenly spoken to Erik in English. Some spoke surprisingly good English.
It’s because many of them had worked abroad in their youth, on long-distance fishing ships or at overseas fish farms.

With my help in translating, this grandpa shared his family story.

His father had been sent as a Japanese soldier to an island in Indonesia during World War II. It was one of the deadliest battlefields, and all other men from his fishing village could not come home. When the war ended, starving and close to death, he almost gave up hope of seeing his home again. Then the Dutch army arrived to disarm the Japanese and ended up saving his life.

Back on Nonoshima, the villagers had already received word that all of their men had been killed in the battles, so no one expected him back. But against all odds, he returned home alive.

The grandpa told us he had been only a toddler then, but he still remembered how his father often said that Dutch soldiers had treated him kindly and arranged for his safe return to Japan.

Because of that, the grandpa grew up with a deep gratitude toward both the Dutch and the Indonesian people. He had always dreamed of one day meeting someone from the Netherlands to express that feeling, but until now, he had never had. Meeting Erik filled him with excitement.

“My heart is so full… I can’t describe how glad I am to see you here,” he said, smiling.

He showed us the beach below the flowerbed where he used to play and swim as a child while his mother grew vegetables on the hill. The former vegetable field of his mom had been long abandoned and was becoming overgrown.

“I retired last year and have plenty of time now,” he said, shaking Erik’s hand.

“I want to clear the hill and make it into a place with benches, so future visitors can enjoy it.” His eyes shone with determination.

Carrying those warm feelings and his story with us, we walked on and reached the east-side port of the island. Just like before, I pulled out my phone and dialed the direct number for the motorboat, which was waiting across the water and came right over.

Sabusawajima 寒風沢島

Sabusawajima 寒風沢島 looked so close — probably not more than a hundred meters apart that good swimmers could swim across. I imagine kids and young fishermen in the old days would actually do so.

After the briefest ride yet, we stepped onto our final island. The port we landed at was also where we’d eventually leave. Unlike the other islands, the MCT trail here forms a loop around the island.

The port was quiet except for a few construction workers building new roads and seawalls. After checking out another vending machine and bathroom, we set off counterclockwise around the loop.

Soon we found an information board with a fascinating story.
The old villagers here were considered the first Japanese to have traveled around the globe.
Were they explorers?
Not really. They were crew on the Wakamiya-maru 若宮丸, a cargo ship transporting rice and logs to Edo (Tokyo’s old name) in 1793. But a storm drove the ship adrift for five months, until it reached one of Russia’s far northern islands.

What followed was years of hardship. Some crew members died, some stayed in Russia, and only four eventually returned to Japan in 1804, ten years later. The Russian vessel for taking them to Japan had become the first Russian ship to sail around the world. Even after the survivors reached Japanese waters, they were interrogated harshly, because Japan was still closed to the outside world and going abroad — no matter the reason — was considered a crime. They finally came home in 1806, thirteen years after leaving.

Later, at our lodge, I found an eight-page brochure with more details. Two of the men died just a few years after coming home, one even attempting suicide. Their story was sobering.

The MCT trail first climbed to a hilltop viewpoint, where we found a stone Jizō statue tied with ropes. The tourist map listed several theories. One suggested in the past, women at an old brothel had prayed for rain to keep their guests from leaving.

The loop hiking around Sabusawajima went quickly as we had guessed.
After a short woodland path, we stepped into a vast, empty clearing.

“Is this an MCT thing — making us walk in the middle of nothing?” Erik quipped, half-sarcastic, remembering all the “endless flat fields” we had crossed in previous days.

The map explained that this clearing had once been rice paddies, sustained only by rainwater. With the island’s aging, shrinking population, most of them had long been abandoned. Only one small corner still showed signs of cultivation.

Across the three islands, we noticed oyster shells being put to good use — filling holes and smoothing rough patches of road.

The MCT supporters’ fishing boat

Rewinding a few hours: while walking on Katsurashima, Suzuki-san texted me. If we finished early, he said, he could take us on a short cruise around the islands instead of just heading straight to Miyato Island 宮戸島. At the time, we weren’t sure, but he clearly knew better than us — we did finish far earlier than expected. At 12:45, we were back at the port, and the island-hiking was completed.

I called him. He was already waiting across the water on the Nonoshima side. Minutes later, his fishing boat cut through the waves toward us.

His fishing boat was smaller than the inter-island motorboats.
We sat on a wooden bench Suzuki-san had installed and put on life jackets. Erik, much bigger than the average Japanese man, managed — just barely — to fit into the largest size Suzuki-san had specially brought.

Then the boat pulled away, accelerating south toward the open sea instead of straight to Miyato.

Unlike ferries, which are big and steady, this boat felt like it was gliding right over the water. With no shelter or railing, I felt the wind in my face and the speed in my stomach — fast and thrilling.

Suzuki-san guided the boat smoothly, steering around big waves so we never bumped too hard. Sometimes he stopped the engine, pointing out rocks and islets, explaining the geology of the Urato Islands, and showing us oyster farms scattered everywhere. It was a truly special tour.

We cruised up the east side of Sabusawajima, through the narrowest strait between it and Miyato — only 80 meters wide — and arrived at a dock on Miyato Island at 1:30 p.m.

Our sea journey was over as Miyato Island is connected to the mainland by a bridge.
Suzuki-san told us we were his first hikers of the season — no surprise, since it was April 1st, the first day of the 2021 supporter boat service. He pointed at a hill behind the dock: “You should climb up there for a great view of all the Urato Islands.”

He also asked where we’d be staying. When we told him, he smiled — he knew the owner. “That place is excellent. The food is exceptional. You chose well.”

Otakamori & Miyagi Olle Oku-Matsushima Trail

Since we had arrived hours earlier than planned, we had time to explore. We climbed Otakamori 大高森, which means “big, high forest.” The trail was easy — 15 or 20 minutes — and the 360-degree view from the observation deck was breathtaking.

To the west, we could see all the small islands dotting the sea.

To the northeast lay our destination for tomorrow: a long, long beach stretching far into the distance, with a very flat inland town beside it.

We already knew what kind of fate awaited us…

Miyagi prefecture also has another set of shorter trails called “Miyagi Olle” 宮城オルレ. Unlike the MCT, they aren’t connected but are scattered around the prefecture. One of them is here in the Okumatsushima 奥松島 area, and Ōtakamori is part of the 10-kilometer route.

The Olle trail continues along the Ōtakamori ridge, away from the direction we came. We followed it for about 2 km until it met a road leading us back to the fishing village and our accommodation.

The red dot line on the map shows the Miyagi Olle Okumatsushima trail
The Miyagi Olle marker for the mountain trail
A roadside sign for the Miyagi Olle

Evening at the Minshuku Sakura-Sou

Our accommodation, Minshuku Sakura-Sou 桜荘, was in a quiet, small village near a Jōmon-period 縄文時代 (14,000 – 2,300 years ago) history park. The bath looked out over the seaside park, and I soaked in hot water while watching the sea waves through large windows.

Before dinner, we wandered to the village’s only shop for snacks and drinks. We didn’t expect much — off-season, plus COVID made things even quieter. The store had little to offer, and honestly, we felt a bit unwelcome as outsiders. Totally understandable: most villagers were elderly and vulnerable, and needed to be cautious.

Back at the minshuku, at dinner time, we found out why online reviews about this place had almost always mentioned the portion sizes. When we sat down, the table was already set up, full of seafood dishes. Then came fresh sashimi, steaming rice, and miso soup.

Just as I was struggling to finish, two more WHOLE fish — fried and grilled — were placed in front of each of us. The reviews weren’t exaggerating at all.

I do love fish and everything tasted great, but I had to wonder: was this REALLY the normal portion for an average adult?

That night, I surrendered. I couldn’t win against the fish, fish, fish festival.
Actually, who could? Let us know if you can.

The breakfast at Sakura-Sou

Day 7 – MCT

StartMarin Gate Shiogama
Distance30.5km
Elevation Gain/Loss187m/192m
FinishMinshuku Sakura-Sou
Time9h 27m
Highest/Lowest Altitude102m/ 0m

Route Data

Accommodation

Minshuku Sakura-Sou 漁師民宿 桜荘

Official Website

The Michinoku Coastal Trail Thru-hike : Late March – Mid-May 2021

Important MCT References (click the links)

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