When I sat down to write this week’s article, I suddenly realized that ALL of the spots I’ve visited recently have been for creator gigs and the accompanying posts are still tied up in lengthy approval processes. At a loss for what to write about, I figured I might as well tackle something that I reference in almost every article but have never really taken the time to properly flesh out. So, on that note, today we’ll be taking a look at an important pair of highways — the Tokaido and the Nakasendo — which conveniently connected the Tokugawa shogunate’s stronghold in present-day Tokyo (then called Edo) with Kyoto.
If you’ve done any sort of traveling in central Japan before yourselves, you’ve likely come across one of these terms at some point in your journey. Considered two of the five major highways that made up the lion’s share of Japan’s infrastructure during the Edo period (1603–1868), the Tokaido and Nakasendo offered distinct routes to and from Japan’s former capital. Back then, most travel was still largely done on foot as wheeled carts were almost nonexistent and heavy cargo was usually sent by boat. This meant that a journey along the Tokaido or Nakasendo could take well over a week if not longer. Talk about getting your steps in…
Deciding whether to take the Tokaido or the Nakasendo was a choice that anyone heading east or west had to make. Of the two, the Tokaido tended to be the more favored, but it wasn’t always the best option, depending on the circumstances. Being a coastal road, the Tokaido was the shorter and more direct route, but it was also more prone to delays caused by the elements. When conditions worsened, chokepoints at major waterways — such as the one at Kuwana-juku (note that suffix for now — we’ll come back to it) — often led to long delays, as ferrymen had to wait out storms before they could safely transport travelers across the water.
The Nakasendo, on the other hand, didn’t have the same river and ocean crossings as the Tokaido, making it far more reliable. That reliability, however, came at a cost, as this highway snaked its way through the mountains of central Japan. Thus, the route was rife with steep inclines and rugged terrain, which — though undeniably beautiful — added many arduous ascents and descents to the journey. So, though most people indeed did prefer to take the Tokaido, the Nakasendo was still a valued alternative, especially for those who wanted (or needed) to avoid the crowded roads, unpredictable ferries and the watchful eyes of the shogunate.
Now, this shouldn’t come as a surprise, but walking from Tokyo to Kyoto isn’t exactly a short day trip. In fact, even under the best conditions, the faster Tokaido route often took upwards of half a month to complete. To support and accommodate travelers along their journey, a network of numbered post towns — known as “shukuba” or “shuku/juku” when used as a suffix in Japanese — sprang up along both the Tokaido and the Nakasendo. And yes, this is the same “juku” you’ll find tacked onto the end of Narai-juku and other well-known post towns in central Japan.
These days, you can still find plenty of traces of the post towns that existed for centuries, from the early 1600s up until Japan entered modernity. Some of them, like the neighboring twin towns of Magome-juku and Tsumago-juku in the Kiso Valley, are splendidly preserved. Others, however, such as Shinagawa-juku near the bustling transportation hub of Shinagawa Station, have little remaining evidence of their former history as a shelter for travelers. In either case, though, knowing even a little about the Tokaido and the Nakasendo makes it much easier to appreciate Japan’s past while traversing the country
As students of history may already know, all major roads from this period in Japanese history began at Nihonbashi in Tokyo and markers still stand today to commemorate this. In the following sections, we’ll take a closer look at both the Tokaido and the Nakasendo, as well as the Tokugawa shogunate’s policy of Sankin Kotai, which required samurai lords known as daimyo to split their time equally between modern-day Tokyo and their home domains.
Taking the Tokaido
As noted, the Tokaido (literally meaning “Eastern Sea Route”) was the most significant of the Five Routes established by the Tokugawa shogunate. It connected modern-day Tokyo with Kyoto, running along the coastal plains of eastern Honshu. As the primary artery of travel and commerce, the Tokaido was heavily trafficked by samurai, merchants, pilgrims and commoners alike. Unlike the more mountainous and isolated Nakasendo, this route was shorter and more direct, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was an easier journey. Since bridges were few, travelers had to navigate frequent river crossings, often relying on ferrymen or even being carried across by porters and bad weather could bring everything to a halt.
For those who could afford it, traveling on foot wasn’t the only option. High-ranking individuals, such as samurai and noblemen, were transported in covered palanquins carried by teams of porters. Meanwhile, lower-ranked individuals used a smaller, less comfortable alternative. During the days of the Tokaido, strict travel regulations were also in place, including restrictions on women traveling alone, though these were often loosely enforced. Despite its unpredictable nature, the Tokaido remained the preferred route for those in a hurry, as under the right conditions, it was possible to complete the journey in just under a week.
To support the influx of travelers, the Tokaido featured 53 post towns, each serving as a rest stop offering lodging, food, horse stables and porter services. These post towns were vital hubs for weary travelers and their strategic placement ensured a steady flow of commerce along the highway. Each province along the route was overseen by a reigning samurai lord called a daimyo and travelers were required to present permits at various checkpoints before continuing their journey. Additionally, each post town was legally required to have designated accommodations for passing samurai as well as separate lodging for their high-ranking retainers.
Though much of the Tokaido has been absorbed into Japan’s modern infrastructure, traces of the old highway still remain. Some historic post towns, such as Hakone-juku, Fujisawa-shuku and Kanaya-juku, have preserved sections of the original route, offering visitors a glimpse into what travel was like centuries ago. If you’d like to walk a section of the road and experience what it would have been like to travel to or from Kyoto on foot, I highly suggest budgeting an extra hour when in Hakone, as there is a well-preserved stretch of the Tokaido that runs from Lake Ashi to the Amazake-chaya.
Now, the Nakasendo
The Nakasendo was the second most important of the Five Routes established by the Tokugawa shogunate after coming to power in the early 1600s. As already explained, it, along with its coastal counterpart, the Tokaido, connected modern-day Tokyo with the ancient capital of Kyoto. Unlike the Tokaido, however, the 534-kilometer-long Nakasendo ran through Japan’s mountainous interior, winding through the modern-day prefectures of Saitama, Gunma, Nagano, Gifu and Shiga. Its name reflects its rugged geography, as “Nakasendo” roughly translates to “Central Mountain Route,” distinguishing it from the Tokaido, or “Eastern Sea Route.”
One of the biggest advantages of the Nakasendo was that it did not require travelers to ford any rivers, making it a safer and more reliable alternative to the Tokaido, where water crossings often caused long delays. However, this reliability came with a downside — the Nakasendo’s mountain paths were steep, requiring more physical endurance from travelers. The road was widely used by samurai, merchants and poets, including the famous Matsuo Basho, who documented his travels in haiku. In the late 1830s, the artist Hiroshige also walked the Nakasendo and produced a famous series of woodblock prints depicting the 69 post towns along the route.
Before the Edo period (1603–1868), sections of what would eventually become the Nakasendo already existed as regional trade routes. These included the Kisoji, which was later absorbed into the Nakasendo, running from Niekawa-juku to Magome-juku, as well as other older roads like the Sando and Tosando. While history often talks as if the Nakasendo had always existed in its entirety since the start of the 1600s, it actually wasn’t until 1716 that the Tokugawa shogunate officially standardized the name, unifying these once interconnected local highways under the banner of the Nakasendo.
Though the Tokaido was often the preferred route due to its shorter and more direct path, the Nakasendo remained a vital alternative for those who wanted to avoid river crossings and coastal travel. Additionally, thanks to the natural cover provided by the mountains that flanked much of the highway, the Nakasendo was favored by anyone looking to avoid government scrutiny — for whatever reason. Today, many sections of the Nakasendo remain well-preserved, particularly in the Kiso Valley, where post towns like Magome-juku and Tsumago-juku allow visitors to walk in the footsteps of travelers from hundreds of years ago.
On Sankin Kotai
One of the most important functions of both the Tokaido and the Nakasendo was to carry processions of daimyo to and from the Tokugawa shogunate’s stronghold as part of what is known as Sankin Kotai in Japanese. Often rendered as the “Alternate Residence Policy” in English, Sankin Kotai was an edict issued by the third shogun, Tokugawa Iemitsu. It decreed that feudal lords were required to keep their families in modern-day Tokyo and split their time between ruling their home domains and residing under the watchful eye of the shogunate. This forced mobility not only ensured loyalty to the shogun but also placed an immense economic burden on the samurai elite, making it difficult for them to amass resources that could challenge Tokugawa rule.
For many, the Sankin Kotai journeys were massive logistical and financial strains. Each trip required a lavish procession of retainers, samurai and servants, all of whom had to be fed, housed and maintained during the journey. Depending on the size and wealth of the domain, these processions could include hundreds or even thousands of people, all traveling along the Tokaido or Nakasendo for weeks at a time. The expenses associated with Sankin Kotai were deliberately designed to drain the resources of the daimyo, forcing them to pour their wealth into these extravagant displays of obedience rather than into military expansion or rebellion. The cost of maintaining lavish residences, supporting a standing force of retainers and funding regular processions was a constant financial burden that effectively weakened the feudal lords over time.
To accommodate the daimyo and their entourages during their Sankin Kotai journeys, every post town along the Tokaido and Nakasendo was required to maintain two designated lodgings: the Honjin and the Waki-honjin. The Honjin was the most prestigious accommodation in a post town, reserved exclusively for high-ranking officials and members of the imperial court. These inns were often former samurai residences, repurposed to provide lavish lodging, complete with tatami-floored rooms, sliding doors and well-maintained gardens. Since only one Honjin existed per post town, demand was high and lords traveling at the same time would often need to make careful scheduling arrangements to ensure that their stay did not overlap with someone else’s.
For lower-ranking officials, wealthy merchants and lesser retainers, the Waki-honjin served as the next-best lodging option. While not as grand as the Honjin, these inns still offered comfortable accommodations and were considered prestigious compared to regular inns that served common travelers. The presence of these elite lodgings reinforced the strict hierarchy of this period of Japanese history, ensuring that the traveling elite maintained their status even on the road. Today, some Honjin and Waki-honjin have been preserved or reconstructed, allowing visitors to experience what it was like to travel along these highways in the age of the samurai. Notable examples include the Tsumago-juku Honjin on the Nakasendo and the Kusatsu-juku Honjin on the Tokaido, both of which offer insight into the luxurious accommodations that once hosted Japan’s ruling class.
Beyond the economic pressure that came from the need to travel, Sankin Kotai also functioned as a political tool to weaken control over a daimyo’s own territories. Since their wives and children were kept as de facto hostages, they were incentivized to remain loyal to the Tokugawa shogunate. Moreover, since they grew up away from their home provinces, the daimyo had little opportunity to develop deep ties with the people they ruled, which in turn weakened local allegiances. This fragmentation of power ensured that no one could build a strong, independent base of support, preventing potential uprisings or power shifts. Over time, this policy solidified the shogunate’s dominance while keeping the samurai class preoccupied with their obligations, rather than focused on reclaiming autonomy.
All in all, the Tokaido and Nakasendo became the lifeblood of the Sankin Kotai system, ensuring a constant flow of samurai lords and their entourages to and from Tokyo. While their primary purpose was most certainly for trade, the two highways were also integrally intertwined with the Tokugawa shogunate’s system of control and post towns would often serve as early forms of a broadcast channel whereby new edicts could be posted up on message boards for all to see. Think of it almost as an early form of social media or something!
Fun Along the Way
I’ll never forget when I was researching for this article back in 2019 and discovered that most travelers preferred to skip Kumagai-shuku in favor of Fukaya-shuku, the 9th station on the Nakasendo, just a little further to the northwest. Much to my amusement, I learned that Fukaya-shuku was notorious for its conspicuously large number of meshimori onna baddies and numerous teahouses, whereas the previous post station, Kumagai-shuku, had neither. I don’t know — I just find it kind of hilarious that all of these merchants and samurai would go the distance just to ensure they could get their rocks off.
Honestly, it shouldn’t really come as much of a surprise that a set of major highways catering to primary traveling merchants, samurai and other men provided a lucrative side hustle for these meal-serving women. Originally hired as maidservants by the inns along the Tokaido and Nakasendo, the ever-increasing foot traffic and rather fierce competition for guests among accommodations in a given post town meant that meshimori onna often were supplemented their earning potential by engaging in the world’s oldest profession.
Now, you’d think that the draconian Tokugawa shogunate would have cracked down on this type of shady service, but in reality — much like in Yoshiwara — the leadership realized that turning a blind eye provided more control than outright restriction. For example, in 1718, the shogunate issued a new law limiting the number of meshimori onna to just two per inn. On the surface, this might seem like an attempt to curb what they knew was happening behind closed doors. However, in practice, the ruling gave inns along the Tokaido and Nakasendo tacit permission to employ a small, controlled number of… let’s call them “professionals,” ensuring that the practice remained regulated rather than driven underground.
The Highways Today
Today, the Tokaido and Nakasendo are no longer the lifelines of Japan’s transportation network that they once were, having been replaced by high-speed rail, expressways and modern infrastructure. However, remnants of these ancient highways still exist, allowing travelers to step back in time and experience Japan’s past firsthand. Along these historic routes, as well as on smaller regional highways, there are carefully preserved or reconstructed post towns where visitors can slip back a few hundred years into medieval Japan.
While iconic spots along the Nakasendo, such as Narai-juku and the well-preserved stretch between Magome-juku and Tsumago-juku, are post town stars, there are many other historic locations to explore in quieter corners of Japan. For example, while the Tokaido has been far more heavily modernized, the aforementioned section in Hakone remains particularly picturesque, offering travelers a glimpse of the old highway’s charm. Likewise, Kusatsu-juku is home to a restored Honjin that once housed traveling samurai elites, while Kanaya-juku offers views of the old Oi River crossing, where travelers once had to be ferried across.
Next time you find yourself on the Tokaido Shinkansen, speeding between Tokyo and Kyoto in just a few hours, take a moment to reflect on the centuries of history beneath the tracks. For generations, this same journey took weeks of careful planning, exhausting foot travel and countless nights spent in post towns along one of Japan’s major highways. While modern infrastructure has made travel effortless, the echoes of Japan’s feudal past still linger in the landscapes outside your window.
The mountains, rivers and valleys you pass in mere minutes were once grueling obstacles for samurai, merchants and commoners alike. Though the long processions of and their retainers, as well as traveling poets, are long gone, their roads remain — waiting for those curious enough to step off the train and follow their footsteps into history.
Until next time travelers…
