Step out onto the deck and take a look. One by one, the silhouettes of islands come into view. They look almost like mountains submerged beneath the sea, with only their peaks rising above the surface. There are more than forty islands of various sizes. Together, they form the Ieshima Islands, scattered across Harima-nada, the stretch of sea between Himeji and Shodoshima.
One legend about the name “Ieshima” is connected to Jimmu, the legendary first emperor of Japan. During his voyage toward Yamato, he is said to have taken shelter from the wind and waves in a harbor here. The inlet was so calm that he remarked that it felt as though he were inside a house. According to the legend, this is how the island came to be called Ieshima— meaning “house” in Japanese.
Another, even grander story is associated with these islands: the myth of the creation of Japan. According to this ancient tale, the deities Izanagi and Izanami stirred the sea with a spear, bringing Japan's islands into existence. Some traditions identify Ieshima as Onogoro Island, where the gods first descended. Awaji Island is perhaps the best-known place associated with Onogoro Island, but Ieshima is also one of the places linked to the legend.
Look into the distance. On a clear day, you may be able to see Awaji Island beyond these waters. Shodoshima, too, appears in Japan’s ancient chronicles, the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki, under the name “Azukishima.” After the main islands of Japan were created, the chronicles describe six more islands coming into being, with Shodoshima named as one of them. The islands visible from this ferry have been part of Japan’s stories since the age of myth.
A glance at a map shows why the waters of Harima have long been an important transportation route. For centuries, Ieshima provided ships crossing the Seto Inland Sea with a place to wait for favorable winds and tides. When strong winds came, vessels could take shelter here. When the currents were unfavorable, they waited for the tide to turn. The ferry carrying you today is simply the latest in a long line of vessels to pass these islands.
In the Nara Period, an envoy traveling toward the Korean Peninsula also stopped near Ieshima. The Man’yoshu, Japan’s oldest surviving collection of poetry, preserves a poem composed on that journey: “Ieshima was a home only in name. The wife I have longed for across the sea is not here.” The traveler had reached an island whose name evoked “home,” yet he remained far from the wife he longed to see. The name itself only deepened his sense of being far from home. Thirteen hundred years ago, a traveler was looking out at these same island silhouettes, just as you are today.
