The best waterfalls in Japan

Nachi Falls (那智瀑布) is not only is this the tallest waterfall in Japan 🇯🇵, but it is also considered the sacred body (御神体) of Hirō Shrine (飞泷神社), the separate shrine of Kumano Nachi Taisha. The shimenawa rope tied above the waterfall marks its divine status — symbolising that a deity resides within the waterfall itself.

Walking route: Daimonzaka Bus Stop → Couple Cedar Trees (夫妇杉) → Kumano Nachi Taisha → Seiganto-ji Temple → Three-Story Pagoda → Nachi Falls & Hirō Shrine → Nachi-no-Taki Bus Stop

-Transport guide

Originally I came to #Nikko (日光) just to see the summer green forest, and maybe enjoy an off-season hot spring to relax a bit.

But unexpectedly, the biggest surprise—more shocking than the hot springs and forests—was the waterfalls here.

The most famous Kegon Falls (华严瀑布) is so beautiful.

Shiraito Falls at the foot of Mount Fuji is a quiet hidden gem.

Instead of the usual Mount Fuji viewpoints like the 5th Station or Lake Kawaguchi, this time I visited a lesser-known spot on the western side of Mount Fuji: Shiraito Falls.

This is not a powerful, dramatic waterfall. Instead, it feels like a living ink painting. Dozens of thin streams gently flow down a 20-metre-high volcanic cliff, like white silk threads falling into a deep blue pool. Everything feels slowed down here, almost like time itself has softened.

Nabegataki Falls, Kumamoto: The Waterfall You Can Walk Behind

If you're heading to Kumamoto and want somewhere a little quieter than the usual stops, I'd put Nabegataki Falls on the list. It's known as the waterfall you can walk behind — you actually stand in a hollow space behind the water and look out through it like a curtain, instead of just viewing it from across the river.

The best part is how it looks from that angle. The water spreads wide and thin across a curved rock ledge rather than dropping straight down, so from behind it, it really does look like a sheer curtain with light filtering through. It's about 10 meters high and 20 meters wide, and it's said to have formed from the same eruption that created the Aso caldera around 90,000 years ago.

We started hiking upstream from Ryuzu Falls. At the beginning, it’s a well-maintained path with stone steps and concrete pavement. After reaching the top of Ryuzu Falls and crossing the road, you continue forward and arrive at Senjogahara.

First stop is Ryuzu Falls—about 210 meters in length. Walking up along the trail, the scenery is beautiful from every angle. Then after a short drive of a few minutes, you reach Yudaki Falls, where water cascades down powerfully from Lake Yunoko—truly an impressive sight. A 400-meter walk takes you up to Lake Yunoko itself, which is also very beautiful. We even saw a few mandarin ducks leisurely swimming around. At noon, we stopped in Nikko to enjoy a local specialty: yuba (tofu skin).

Fukuroda Falls drops down a broad volcanic rock face in four distinct stages, a structure that gives it its poetic nickname: Shido-no-Taki, the "waterfall of four." It's ranked alongside Kegon Falls and Nachi Falls as one of Japan's Three Great Waterfalls, and it's often called the most photogenic of the three thanks to its wide, layered curtain of water rather than a single sheer drop.

What makes Fukuroda genuinely worth the trip from Tokyo (about 2.5–3 hours by train) is that it never looks the same twice. Locals will tell you it demands four separate visits — one for each season — and honestly, they're not wrong.

Why It's Called the "Four Times" Waterfall

Kawazu Nanadaru was the "if we have time" line on our Izu itinerary, wedged between coastline and onsen towns that felt like the actual plan. We had time because a train connection fell through, not because anyone had pushed for it, and I went in expecting a nice enough walk through some trees. Half a day later it was the thing I kept bringing up for the rest of the trip, which is not what I expected to be writing about a set of waterfalls I'd almost cut.

Somewhere in the middle of the trail there's a small statue of a young woman, and I didn't clock what it was until I read a sign further down. This whole valley is the setting for The Izu Dancer, the Kawabata Yasunari novella that helped make him Japan's first Nobel laureate in literature. Nobody makes a big deal of it on the trail itself, no plaques shouting about it, just the statue and a river that's apparently been famous in Japanese literature for about a century, quietly getting on with being a river.

The water