Ojika, Nagasaki

The ferry from Sasebo takes you past open sea before the volcanic silhouette of Ojika-jima rises into view. Ojika-cho is an archipelago of seventeen islands shaped by tuff and basalt, where the terrain tilts sharply and flat ground is scarce. Fishing boats work these waters with single-line techniques, pulling in isaki and buri and tachiuo — the latter sold under the brand name Hakugin, the former as Igasaki. Five-island beef is raised on land just steep enough to make you wonder how the cattle keep their footing.

The older layers of the islands surface quietly if you follow the right paths. On the uninhabited Nozaki-jima, the 1908 brick church of Kyū-Nokubi Kyōkai stands among overgrown fields — a remnant of the kakure kirishitan communities who moved here around 1800 and eventually abandoned the island during the postwar exodus. The Okinoshima-jinja, founded in the early eighth century when Tang-bound ships needed prayers for safe passage, still occupies the island's interior. At Madara-jima, the sea has spent centuries grinding stones in a deep pothole worn into the rock face — a slow, indifferent geology that continues without ceremony. The Ojika International Music Festival arrives each spring, briefly filling the harbor with sound before the rhythm of fishing and farming resumes.