Everyone who comes to Nachi comes for the waterfall, and the waterfall earns it. Nachi no Taki drops 133 metres in one clean ribbon, the tallest single fall in Japan, and the shrine of Kumano Nachi Taisha was built to worship it. For well over a thousand years the water itself has been treated as a god. The shrine buildings stand on the slope above, vermilion halls in the cedar forest, close enough that the roar reaches the courtyard when the rains have been heavy.
The mountain road up to the shrine from the Nachikatsuura coast is steep and twisting, with the hairpins you would expect, tight and shaded. In wet weather the tarmac stays slick and the clouds come down; this corner of the Kii Peninsula is one of the rainiest places in Japan. Shingu is the larger town with a full range of fuel and supplies, and the coastal strip near Nachikatsuura also has stations, so fill the tank before the climb, because there is nothing up on the mountain except souvenir stalls and noodle shops.
The pilgrim path is the other draw. The Daimon-zaka slope is a stone-paved lane lined with cedars that are several hundred years old, and it climbs in mossy steps up to the shrine; people in rented kimono photograph themselves there every morning. A short walk up from the shrine is the neighbouring temple of Seiganto-ji, with its pagoda in front of the falls. Pilgrims used to visit both, a reminder that the old religions here did not divide the sacred up neatly.
Look for the three-legged crow, Yatagarasu, the symbol of Kumano. According to legend it guided the first emperor through these mountains; now it adorns amulets and also the badge of Japan's national football team, which delights visitors who spot it.
The best moment is early, before the buses, or after the drizzle in the late afternoon when mist hangs in the cedars. Summer is steamy and spring is mild. Wear grippy boots for the stone steps.