Perhaps it is the gurgling brooks that feed the town, the colorful window boxes, or the native disposition of those who live in this well appointed hill town, but Gujo Hachiman does seem a place where people’s spirits are pitched a notch or two higher than elsewhere. A crispness in the eye, a spring to their step, there is something in the air, which writer and long-distance walker Booth was quick to sense.

The little two-carriage train from Gifu to Gujo, a town of just 18,000 people, reduces speed as soon as it reaches the first bend of the Nagara River. These are trains where you can roll down the windows, breath in the slightly elevated air, mixed with the rustic smell of earth and straw, and peer out at the crystal clear, pebble-strewn river, alive with ayu (sweetfish) and satsuki masu, a type of trout unique to these waters.

Gujo sits at the confluence of two rivers, the Nagara and the Yoshino, in a valley that was once a way station on an important trade route that led to the Sea of Japan. An imposing fortress once stood here. Built as a symbol of the town’s former importance, the current castle, dating from 1934, replaced the original. It's a stiff walk to the pinnacle, but the views from the top are commanding. This is the best place to appreciate the shape of the town, which, as all the local travel information will tell you, resembles that of a fish. Alan Booth thought the town looked like “an Edo-era stage set,” and so it does at times.

The area at the bottom of the hill was reserved for the samurai and feudal lords. Most of the district burnt down a century ago, but other quarters have fared better, particularly the Hashimoto-cho merchant area, which remains the commercial heart of the town. Look behind the modern facades here and you will see buildings, which, in some cases, have stood there for centuries.

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