For decades, the question of how many islands Japan has: 6,852.
That was the number recorded in a 1987 survey by the Japan Coast Guard, and it was repeated in books, maps, and guidebooks for more than thirty years. Then, in 2023, someone counted again.
On Feb. 28, 2023, the Geospatial Information Authority of Japan announced a new tally: 14,125 islands. More than double the previous figure.
No new land had appeared. What changed was the technology.
The 1987 count was done from paper maps. The 2023 count drew on far more detailed digital mapping. The criteria, however, stayed the same: any natural landmass with a circumference of at least 100 meters (328 feet) qualifies. Land reclaimed from the sea does not.
Because no international standard exists for counting islands, the number depends entirely on that definition. One figure puts that in perspective: of those 14,000-plus islands, only about 260 are inhabited, according to the country’s official island registry. The rest are islets, rocks, and narrow strips of land.
Most people can name four — Hokkaido, Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu — with Okinawa often added as a fifth.
But at the country’s northern and southern extremes lie islands that rarely make it onto a traveler’s itinerary. And they could not be more different from each other.
In the South: The Yaeyama Islands, Japan’s Most Tropical Corner
At the far southwestern edge of the country, nearly within sight of Taiwan, lie the Yaeyama Islands. Part of Okinawa Prefecture, they lie farther from the main islands than anywhere else in Japan. The name is generally translated as “many layers of mountains.”
The gateway is Ishigaki, which has direct flights from Tokyo and ferries running from its port to the rest of the archipelago. Taketomi is about ten minutes away by boat; Iriomote, about forty.
Each island has its own character. Iriomote is the largest and wildest of the group, its landscape a tangle of mangroves, jungle, and rivers. It is home to the Iriomote cat, a wildcat found nowhere else on Earth and listed as critically endangered.
Taketomi, by contrast, is flat and tiny, its red-roofed houses and sandy lanes easily explored by bicycle in a single afternoon.
Hateruma is the southernmost inhabited island in Japan. And Yonaguni, the westernmost, draws divers from around the world for its hammerhead sharks, which appear between November and March, and for a series of submerged rock formations resembling giant steps, whose origin — natural or man-made — remains a matter of debate.
Ishigaki‘s waters are known for their manta rays. At Manta Scramble, a dive site off Kabira Bay, divers have a very good chance of seeing them between June and November. At night, Iriomote-Ishigaki National Park has some of the darkest skies in Japan, ideal for stargazing.
One more surprise: isolation has left its mark on the language. Ishigaki, Iriomote, and Taketomi each have their own dialect, and many linguists consider the speech of Yonaguni all but a separate language.
In the North: Rishiri and Rebun, Japan’s Subarctic Edge
At the opposite end of the map, off the northern tip of Hokkaido, rise two islands that seem to belong to an entirely different country.
Rishiri and Rebun are part of Rishiri-Rebun-Sarobetsu National Park, the northernmost national park in Japan. To reach them, travelers take a ferry from Wakkanai — a crossing of about two hours.
Rishiri is dominated by Mount Rishiri, an extinct volcano rising 5,646 feet above sea level. Its conical silhouette has earned it the nickname “Rishiri-Fuji” in Japan. Its slopes are home to alpine plants that, according to local guides, grow nowhere else — among them the Rishiri poppy (Papaver fauriei), with its pale yellow flowers.
Rebun, the smaller of the two, has a nickname of its own: the “floating island of flowers.” About 300 species of alpine plants grow here, some of them at sea level, and they bloom mainly between May and August. The coastal trails, threading between sea cliffs and wildflowers, are the island’s main draw.
The sea shapes daily life here as well. Rishiri is famous for its kombu, a kelp prized in Japanese cooking. In summer it is laid out along the shore to dry in the sun, and the broth made from it is the base of the island’s signature ramen.
Two Extremes, Two Worlds
Where the south is warmth, turquoise water, and jungle, the north is cold, wind, and alpine meadows. Everything is different, starting with the climate.
Yaeyama is subtropical, while Rishiri and Rebun have a subarctic climate, with freezing, snowy winters. The north draws visitors mainly in summer, when the flowers bloom; the south stays warm for most of the year.
The activities are different, too. In the south, people dive, snorkel, paddle through mangroves, and stroll around villages built in the Ryukyuan style.
In the north, they hike, climb the volcano, and follow the flower trails. The southern waters hold manta rays and sharks; the northern coast yields kelp and sea urchins.
Even the journey feels different.
The south feels like a tropical postcard.
The north feels like the edge of the map.
Together, they are the two extremes of a single country that, with more than 14,000 islands, still holds far more than most travelers will ever see.
