This autumn, I cycled across Shimane and Tottori in Japan’s San’in region.
Before this, my longest ride had been a little over 50 kilometres round trip from Neihu, Taipei, to Tamsui—once, and only once. I assumed there wouldn’t be a next time.
Three straight days on a bicycle gave me a pace just a little faster than walking or jogging, while keeping the freedom to stop whenever I wanted. Taking in the scenery under my own power and falling into the rhythm of pedal after pedal felt both familiar and new.
Once I got to know these two understated Japanese prefectures in person, I found that their historic sites, local stories, history, faith, and even their iconic specialties all had something irreplaceable—something I hadn’t found elsewhere in Japan. To me, this was a treasure chest not yet flooded by crowds, and I wanted to keep digging.
After every stop, I could hardly wait to climb back on the bike, taking in the San’in scenery while looking forward to the next surprise. To anyone watching, it was a demanding trip; to me, it felt utterly romantic. On the way back, I boarded a train and enjoyed a different pace and route through parts of Shimane and Tottori I had not yet seen.
Getting to know the San’in region by bicycle was a stroke of luck.
I’d like to introduce you to the charming San’in region I first discovered over five days and four nights, and share this bike-and-train way of travelling as an option for your own trip.
Never heard of Shimane or Tottori? You’re not alone.
I’ve visited Japan more than ten times—it’s easily my most-visited country (and probably the same for many Taiwanese travellers). But, if I’m being honest, I kept going to the familiar hits: Tokyo, Kyoto and Osaka, Okinawa, Nagoya, Hokkaido—places even grandparents, aunties, uncles, and the kids next door could name. Even when I recently visited the less-obvious Tohoku region, I went to Akita and Fukushima, two places everyone has heard of whether they’ve been there or not.
Then my eleventh trip to Japan took a sharp turn. I headed for the San’in region, once ranked dead last in Japan for name recognition, to see what it was really about.
San’in consists of two prefectures that many Japanese people have never visited and sometimes confuse with each other: Shimane and Tottori. Look at their names again. If you can’t tell them apart, I won’t blame you—the characters look remarkably alike, and the two prefectures are neighbours. No wonder even Japanese people mix them up.
Japanese TV shows have conducted street surveys more than once, finding that people either have no idea where Shimane is or confuse Tottori with Shimane. One programme from ten years ago (2007) even ranked Shimane last in name recognition among Japan’s 47 prefectures. So Shimane leaned into the joke, launching self-deprecating slogans such as “Japan’s 47th most famous prefecture,” “Shimane is also Japanese territory,” and “The prefecture where opening a new convenience store would make the news.” The lines were funny, memorable, and even printed on souvenirs, successfully getting people across Japan to pay attention to Shimane.
At the time, Tottori was getting attention thanks to the news around Mizuki Shigeru Road and GeGeGe no Kitaro. Shimane borrowed some of that spotlight with the slogan “Shimane is to the left of Tottori.” Tottori answered with its own slogans and merchandise. The two prefectures eventually took pride in competing over which was less famous, even printing the line supposedly heard from the most people after a San’in trip: “I’m not quite sure whether I went to Tottori or Shimane, but I did visit that area…” Self-mockery, with a little mutual teasing.
The contest to become the last prefecture in Japan to get a Starbucks ultimately went to Tottori. This is the retro-style Starbucks in front of Izumo Taisha in Shimane.
Just before I left, a friend heard that Shimane was my first stop and excitedly said, “Wow! That’s great! I’ve always wanted to go!”
“You know Shimane? I thought hardly anyone did.”
“Of course! I’ve always wanted to see that desert.” (She meant the sand dunes.)
“Um… those are in Tottori!” (I kept laughing to myself.)
Once again, it was proof that nobody can tell Shimane and Tottori apart. So next I’ll try to explain what makes each one distinctive.
(You may still mix them up after this. If so, I’ll accept defeat—their names really are confusingly similar.)
Shimane Prefecture vs. Tottori Prefecture
On the Sea of Japan coast in western Honshu lies a region called San’in. Shimane and Tottori are the only two prefectures in it.
In traditional East Asian geography, the north side of a mountain was called “yin” and the south side “yang.” The mountains running through western Honshu gave this area its name, San’in—and, naturally, a corresponding San’yō on the other side.
The San’yō cities Taiwanese travellers are more likely to know include Hiroshima—the one Karen Mok and Chang Hong-liang should have turned down long ago—and Okayama, where there is no Kaohsiung-style lamb. (The third prefecture is Yamaguchi.) Tigerair Taiwan recently opened a direct route to Okayama, giving the San’in–San’yō region a convenient gateway; this trip entered and exited through Okayama before moving on to Shimane. San’in and San’yō also meet Kansai to the east, so flying into a Kansai airport and continuing by rail is another option.
In the Northern Hemisphere, the side of a mountain facing north naturally gets less sunlight. San’in, San’in… I wonder if that has anything to do with why Shimane and Tottori are so full of gods, ghosts, and monsters.
The Izumo Kingdom described in the mythological chronicles Kojiki and Nihon Shoki corresponds to today’s Izumo City in Shimane. Izumo Taisha, one of Japan’s oldest shrines, stands here, enshrining Ōkuninushi-no-Ōkami, the central figure of Izumo mythology (roughly the equivalent of the Jade Emperor in our tradition). Every October in the traditional lunar calendar is Kamiarizuki, the “month when the gods are present” in Shimane, when the eight million gods of Japan are said to gather in Izumo for their annual conference. It is easy to see why this is such an important place in Japanese mythology: gods abound, shrines appear everywhere, and that radiant spiritual energy has made Shimane a favourite destination for prayers and romance.
Groups of young women come to Izumo Taisha to pray for love.
Matsue, Shimane, also produced a famous literary figure: Lafcadio Hearn. Born in Greece and later naturalised in Japan, he came to this spiritually charged corner of Shimane and somehow found the spark to write countless Japanese ghost stories, helping create modern Japanese ghost-story literature. Less than 30 kilometres away, in Sakaiminato, Tottori, an entire town of yokai was born.
Mizuki Shigeru, a manga artist who grew up in Tottori in the 1960s, created GeGeGe no Kitaro, one of Japan’s biggest hits at the time (published in Taiwan in 1993 as Shōnen Hero Kitaro). They may be yokai, but Kitaro’s sense of justice, his endearing personality, and the meaning behind each character’s story led Sakaiminato to build Mizuki Shigeru Road. The town brought the monsters right onto the street—and people still queue up to take photos with them.
Sneaking a peek at Mr Mizuki Shigeru drawing Kitaro
And so the simplest way to tell them apart became: “Shimane has the gods; Tottori has the yokai.”
Beyond gods and monsters, Shimane is home to Matsue Castle, one of Japan’s five national treasure castles; the Iwami Ginzan silver mine, the first mining site in Asia to be listed as a World Heritage Site; and the Adachi Museum of Art, ranked Japan’s best garden for 14 consecutive years. The name Shimane carries the sense of “the root of the Japanese archipelago,” and it is considered one of the birthplaces of Japanese culture—a place with a powerful soul.
Matsue Castle in Shimane, the fifth castle to be designated a national treasure in Japan
A living painting—the Adachi Museum of Art, ranked Japan’s best garden for 14 consecutive years
Tottori’s best-known attraction is the Tottori Sand Dunes, with their almost-desert landscape. The prefecture is also the birthplace of another famous manga artist: Gosho Aoyama, creator of Detective Conan, whose catchphrase is “There is always only one truth.” Between its human stories and natural scenery, Tottori has plenty of range.
Seeing the whole of a region this rich in just five days and four nights would be asking too much. But it was more than enough to glimpse San’in’s well-hidden surprises—and leave me impatient to come back and keep exploring.
The San’in Republic: A Five-City Trip
This trip focused on central San’in, centred on Lake Nakaumi between Shimane and Tottori. Five cities sit around it: Izumo, Matsue, and Yasugi in Shimane, plus Sakaiminato and Yonago in Tottori. Together, they even have a group name—the “San’in Central Republic”—and function as one shared tourism area.
Lake Nakaumi is so vast it looks like the sea, earning it the nickname “the Mediterranean of Japan.”
Each city also has its own mascot based on a local specialty. Another charmingly Japanese touch.
Two-rail itinerary: pedal power meets the railway
Of the five days, I spent the most time in Matsue, Shimane’s largest city by population and the seat of the prefectural government.
We used Matsue as our base. After flying into Okayama Airport and arriving in Shimane, we checked in and rested. The next day, we rented bicycles and rode west from Matsue along the “Enmusubi Cycling Route,” visited Izumo, then took a train that allows bicycles on board back to Matsue for the night.
On day three, we left Matsue and rode east through Daikonshima in Shimane, crossed the prefectural border, and continued to Sakaiminato in Tottori, where we spent the night on Mizuki Shigeru Road. On day four, we followed the railway from Sakaiminato to Yonago. Because it rained, we took a train from Yonago to Yasugi in Tottori (the original plan was to cycle to Yasugi Station and return the bikes), then went back to Matsue and stayed in the Tamatsukuri Onsen area.
Pairing a bicycle with the railway let us experience San’in from different perspectives while keeping the itinerary wonderfully flexible. If the riding became too much—or we simply changed our minds and wanted a rest—there was always another option.
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