Remote villages, surprise cocktail bars and hilltop churches on Nagasaki’s Goto Islands

We approach from the east, leaving the main islands of Japan behind. The late afternoon sun bounces off the sea in a blinding glare as our anchor chain rattles out of its locker and slides into a small bay off Tairajima Island. All is still as our sailing boat, the Teng Hoi, gracefully pirouettes in the currents, searching for her point of balance, where she’ll rest for the night. Below the sinking sun stretch the Goto Islands, or Goto Retto, literally “five-island chain”, an archipelago of 140 specks of rock off the west coast of Kyushu. From small, outlying Tairajima the five main islands – Wakamatsu, Nakadori, Naru, Hisaka and Fukue – spread some 85km to the south. The sails need folding and lines are yet to be coiled but the gin-clear water is irresistible and no other boats are in sight. We dive over the railing, the sea bottom clearly discernible. We pull on masks and dive deeper, collecting handfuls of top snails from the seabed for dinner. We explore the reefs around the edge of the bay, startling parrot fish and myriad other tropical fish that flit through the colourful coral. Although we are alone, we are not the first to come to the Goto Islands seeking seclusion – and some of those who came before us were hiding for their lives rather than looking for a remote bay to swim in. Although open water may separate them from the rest of Nagasaki, the Goto Islands are bound by history to the centuries-long story of the prefecture. We have arrived as part of a year-long exploration of Japan by sea, having already visited Hirado, the port where Europeans first arrived to trade with Japan in 1550. With trade came proselytising, Francis Xavier founding Japan’s first Christian community in Hirado. But the influx of Christianity and rapid expansion of trade were too much for the Japanese, who forcibly relocated the Europeans to Dejima Island, in the Port of Nagasaki, where the shogun could better control their influence. We moored our boat a stone’s throw from the old Dejima trading fort (which is recalled so evocatively in David Mitchell’s 2010 novel The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet), where we learned about the persecution of Christianity and the 26 Catholics who were crucified on a hill in Nagasaki. The shogunate introduced a total ban on the religion in 1614, forcing Japanese followers – the Kakure Kirishitan, the hidden Christians of Japan – to practise their faith in secret. About 3,000 fled from Nagasaki city to the Goto Islands, where they joined an existing Christian community and laid low in the rarely visited inlets and hills. Although it was safer here, they still had to remain cautious, so they learned to pray from memory, to avoid the possession of incriminating books, and they bowed to a Buddhist statue of the goddess Kannon, which reminded them of the Virgin Mary. The persecution of the Christians and the story of their seclusion in the Goto Islands was described in Shusaku Endo’s novel Silence (1966) and then retold in Martin Scorsese’s 2016 film adaptation of the book. “I cannot bear the monotonous sound of the dark sea gnawing at the shore,” says the character Father Sebastian Rodrigues in the book. “Behind the depressing silence of this sea, the silence of God … the feeling that while men raise their voices in anguish God remains with folded arms, silent.” The ban on Christianity was lifted in 1873, and the faithful in Goto were free to build, under the guidance of foreign priests, churches, about 50 of which remain standing. In 2018, 12 sites linked to the Kakure Kirishitan were recognised by Unesco and added to its World Heritage list. But, despite the production of related guidebooks and maps, and the installation of stained glass and pictures of the hallowed churches to greet visitors at the archipelago’s airport, tourists to the islands remain few in number. Our visit to the Goto Islands wasn’t planned as an exploration of Kakure Kirishitan sites – although such tours are easy to design or join. Rather, we are island hopping as the wind and weather allow, and soaking up the history as we find it. The Goto Islands played an important role well before the Christians arrived, as a hub for trade and political exchange between Japan and China. Between the seventh and ninth centuries, voyages from Japan stopped at Goto on their way to the Asian continent, and those that survived the perilous crossing to make a return journey had a profound impact on the government and culture. We leave Tairajima and sail southwest to Nakadori, enjoying gentle winds, flat seas and sunny skies. We anchor off a wide and sandy beach lined with empty holiday cottages, some of the well-built infrastructure we find across the Goto Islands waiting for tourists to arrive. Going ashore the next morning, we find the village of Takaitabi baking silently in the midday sunshine, its roads empty and shops quiet. As we pass the gleaming new school, built in fashionable concrete and light-coloured wood, we see two teachers outside. “Konnichiwa!” I call out in greeting. They explain that the junior school once had 25 students, who were looked after by no fewer than 10 teachers. But “the village has very few children left”, one explains. Nevertheless, “the government built a new school, hoping there will be more”. We stumble upon Stand Sunny, a dimly lit cocktail bar where artisanal gins are served and music is played on a vintage record player Although we’ve seen many signs of depopulation on the islands we’ve called at along the coasts of Japan, few have felt as empty as the Goto archipelago, its anaemic economy and remoteness unappealing to young people. Likewise empty and quiet, with few signs of recent activity, is the Takaitabi Catholic Church, built in 1961 by a community of Christians that had settled in Goto in 1850. According to a pamphlet published by the mayor’s office, 14.4 per cent of people living in Goto still identify as Catholic, but those numbers, too, are dwindling. We spend the next week sailing from island to island, anchoring for the nights in well-protected bays, many with a view of an old church peeking through the hillside forest. In the mornings, we snorkel, discovering box fish, abalone and sea urchins among wide beds of coral. In the afternoons, we raise anchor to catch a gentle breeze and sail along the coast until we find the next tempting bay. At night, we lie in the cockpit, a glass of cold sake in hand, staring at a star-studded sky unspoilt by light pollution. The winds carry us to the southern end of the chain, where we pull into Tomie Harbour, on Fukue Island. As soon as we cast our lines ashore, a villager walks over to ask the standard “Who, where, what and why” questions. He is friendly, but tells us that a visit from a foreign boat is rare enough for him to have called the police to come and check us out. Half an hour later, officials from the coastguard and the police, customs and immigration departments are on the pier, asking for our boat registration, documents showing we have been cleared to enter Japan and our passports. They are soon satisfied and leave us to explore Fukue, the main commercial hub of the island chain. Evidence of Tomie’s bustling past remains in its many streets, expansive harbour and peeling old pachinko hall, but today it is a husk of what it once was. The narrow lanes and shuttered storefronts are dark at night, stray cats flitting through the shadows. So it comes as a surprise when we stumble upon Stand Sunny, a dimly lit cocktail bar where artisanal gins are served and music is played on a vintage record player. We’ve found similar dashes of urban hipness in other depopulated villages – brew pubs, burger joints, bars and arty cafes – and we ask the bartender to explain the business sense behind these anomalies. True, he says, we are the only customers that night. But a government grant paid for the renovations to create the bar and rent is a pittance, so why not? He likes the quiet island life – and we can only empathise. There is more than one way to explore the Goto Islands, so we rent a car from one of the many agencies dotted around Goto City (a municipality covering several islands in the southwestern part of the archipelago) and head into the interior of 326 sq km Fukue Island, spending the day driving narrow, twisting mountain roads that pass through quiet villages and lead to expansive beaches. Our drive takes us to Imochiura Church (1879) and Lourdes Grotto (1899), built by Christians working in a local salt factory. Under the guidance of a French priest, they gathered rocks to build their own version of the Lourdes grotto in France. After returning the car we sail to Hisaka Island, where we anchor near the Old Gorin Church, one of only a handful of buildings still standing in a decaying fishing village. An elderly man hobbles up, beckoning us towards the church, offering to open its doors for us. The church was built in 1881, combining Japanese wood construction methods with Western church designs such as the umbrella-style ceiling. It is no longer in use – a new church has been built next door – but remains open to curious visitors. Inside, the floorboards creak underfoot and the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows swirls with the dust and memories of those who once worshipped here. The pews are gone and the white paint is peeling from the pillars, but the confessional booth remains and the building still has the calming air of a place of worship. The Gothic windows frame a view of a village that was once home to Catholics practising their faith in secret – and, beyond, the aquamarine sea that drew us to its secluded bay. As well as an air connection, there are regular ferries – both high-speed passenger boats and slow ships that also carry cars – linking the Goto Islands to Nagasaki and Sasebo. Ferries and bridges link all five major islands, and it’s easy to rent a car in Goto City. While boat charters are not common in Japan, yacht management companies such as Konpira Consulting can arrange private yachts with crew for a multi-day cruise through the islands

Remote villages, surprise cocktail bars and hilltop churches on Nagasaki’s Goto Islands

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}Those searching for solitude in these tranquil Japanese isles follow in the footsteps of persecuted Christians forced to practise their faith in secret

Those searching for solitude in these tranquil Japanese isles follow in the footsteps of persecuted Christians forced to practise their faith in secret