Fifteen stones, a rectangle of raked white gravel, and an earthen wall stained by centuries of oil: that is all of Ryoan-ji's famous garden, and it has kept visitors quiet for five hundred years. The stones sit in five groups, set in beds of moss, and the clever thing, which every guidebook mentions and which is still a pleasure to test, is that from any seat on the temple veranda at least one stone is hidden from view. Nobody knows who made it or what it means. People have read tigers crossing the sea, islands in an ocean, mountains above clouds, or simply an exercise in emptiness. The temple belongs to the Rinzai school of Zen and was founded in the middle of the fifteenth century by a powerful warlord, Hosokawa Katsumoto.
Around the garden, the temple grounds are surprisingly pleasant: a large pond with water lilies, old pines, and a tea house near a stone basin whose inscription reads, roughly, that I learn only to be content. Ryoan-ji is on the north-western edge of Kyoto, at the foot of the hills, and is one of the group of Historic Monuments of Ancient Kyoto on the World Heritage list. Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion, is a short ride away, and Ninna-ji is beside it.
Riding in Kyoto is more rewarding at the edges than in the middle. The centre is a grid of one-way streets, dense with buses, taxis and bicycles, and parking for motorbikes is scarce and expensive. But from here the road north into the Kitayama hills, Route 162, called the Shuzan Kaido, climbs through cedar plantations and along the Kiyotaki and Hozu rivers, with long shaded curves and little traffic outside the weekend. In autumn the maples glow along it, and in winter the higher parts may be icy.
Fuel and food are easy in the city, and the temple area has simple restaurants, where you can try yudofu, simmered tofu in a hot broth, which is a Kyoto speciality. Spring and autumn are crowded and lovely. Go early, as the gates open in the morning, and the garden is quietest before the tour groups come.