Tucked into the central-western hills of Hyogo Prefecture, about a 90-minute drive from Kyoto or Osaka, Shiso City feels like a place Japan almost forgot to advertise, and that might be exactly why it’s starting to matter. Forests blanket nearly 90 percent of its land, wrapping the town in green silence, mist, and the kind of calm that city travelers don’t realize they’ve been craving until it hits them somewhere between the car window and the first deep breath. Shiso is not polished, not crowded, not curated for Instagram in any obvious way, and that’s its strength. It’s slowly emerging as a destination for travelers who want to feel where they are, not just see it, with tourism growing out of forests, fermentation, and a community’s quiet decision to bring its own history back to life.
For generations, forestry shaped everything here, from the economy to daily routines, and the mountains still carry that memory. During the Taisho and early Showa eras, forest railways cut through valleys, hauling timber and linking remote areas to the rest of the region. When the industry faded, the tracks disappeared into moss and undergrowth, until local residents decided they didn’t want that story to vanish. In the summer of 2023, they restored a working section of forest railway at Forest Station Haga, laying 678 meters of track and putting a small diesel locomotive back into motion. Riding it is strangely emotional, even if you didn’t grow up here. The slow rhythm of the train, the creaking rails, the trees sliding past at walking speed—it’s like time loosens its grip a little. Nearby, hot spring baths, simple accommodations, and a roadside station selling local products turn the visit into more than a quick stop, more like a pause in the middle of a journey that finally makes sense.
Shiso’s forests aren’t just scenery; they’re therapy, officially so. The city is one of the first in Hyogo to be certified as a Forest Therapy Base, and walking the trails in Akasai Gorge makes it easy to understand why. Often called the “Western Oirase Gorge” for its resemblance to the famous stream in Aomori, the area follows former forest railway routes that now serve as gentle paths through waterfalls, clear streams, and towering trees that seem to hold the air still. The soundscape is simple—water, leaves, wind—and the effect is almost embarrassingly powerful. Other parts of the city offer their own quiet drama, from Fukuchi Gorge, once praised by author Seiko Tanabe, to the Onzui area, where traces of old rail lines still peek through the undergrowth like forgotten sentences.
Then there’s fermentation, which in Shiso is not a trend but a lineage. The Harima Fudoki, Japan’s oldest surviving regional chronicle, records sake brewing at Niwata Shrine, tying the city’s identity to fermentation from ancient times. In the Yamazaki district, a historic sake brewery street still operates much as it has for centuries, with two breweries actively producing today. One of them, founded in 1768, has expanded into a dining space focused on fermented cuisine, turning sake, food, and place into a single experience. Walking these streets, the air itself smells different, faintly sweet, faintly alive, as if the city is quietly breathing along with you.
What makes Shiso feel genuinely new is how these elements are being woven together. The city has created itineraries that combine forest therapy walks, gorge hikes, railway rides, and sake culture into journeys that can last a day or stretch into a slow overnight stay. It’s not mass tourism and it’s clearly not trying to be. With 2025 marking the 20th anniversary of Shiso’s municipal establishment, the city is leaning into a model of travel that feels honest, rooted, and sustainable, offering something increasingly rare in Japan: space, silence, and stories that haven’t been overused yet. You leave with the feeling that you didn’t just visit Shiso City, you briefly stepped into the rhythm of a place that still knows how to move at its own pace, and doesn’t mind if you do too.