Ultra-Minimal Mountaineering: How High Is Tokyo’s Highest “Mountain”?

Let’s begin with a cold, hard geographical fact: there are no real “mountains” in central Tokyo.

This area spreads across lowlands extending from Tokyo Bay, gradually rising toward the western uplands. While skyscrapers dominate the skyline, there are no mountain ranges here in the geological sense.

What Is the “Highest” Mountain in Central Tokyo?

That said, it wouldn’t be entirely accurate to say that Tokyo has no mountains. If we broaden our view to the Tokyo Metropolis as a whole, the picture changes completely.

For example, Mount Kumotori (2,017 m) is the highest peak in Tokyo, located on the border with Yamanashi Prefecture in a truly mountainous region.
Meanwhile, Mount Takao (599 m), in Hachioji, has long been known as a site of Buddhist and ascetic training. Thanks to its easy access from central Tokyo, it is now one of the most visited hiking destinations in the world.

—But those are not the mountains we’re looking for today.

Our focus is strictly on “mountains” in central Tokyo.

What we’re about to explore are modest elevations quietly “rising” (if that’s the right word) amid the asphalt jungle of the city.
In other words, this is the stage for Tokyo’s version of ultra-minimal mountaineering.

The Natural Champion: Mount Atago

Our first contender stands in Minato Ward, near Toranomon, surrounded by high-rise buildings: Mount Atago.

Its elevation is 25.7 meters.

Despite its modest height, this is a genuine natural hill—the highest natural hill within Tokyo’s 23 wards.

“At the summit stands Atago Shrine, founded in the Edo period. Leading up to it is a steep staircase known as the ‘Stairs of Success’—86 steps at an angle of about 40 degrees. 

According to legend, a samurai once rode his horse up these steps on a shogun’s order and was rewarded with a promotion. Today, the site is popular among businesspeople—perhaps not coincidentally, given its location.

Mount Atago’ by Utagawa Kunisada—an ukiyo-e glimpse of the hill in the Edo period.

During the Edo period, it was known as a scenic vantage point overlooking the city. Its relative height also made it an ideal location for early radio transmission, and Japan’s first NHK broadcasting station was established here—another reminder of how prominent the hill once felt. Today, the site is home to the NHK Broadcasting Museum.”

The climb is steeper than it looks and requires a bit of determination.

That said—there is also an elevator.

That kind of practicality may be the defining feature of a mountain in the middle of a modern city.

Fun fact: At the top of the hill, inside the NHK Broadcasting Museum, there’s a hidden photo spot—the recreated ‘Atagoyama Studio,’ where you can step onto a  news set and play the anchor.

The Artificial Challenger: Mount Hakone

However, Mount Atago has an unexpected rival.

In Toyama Park in Shinjuku, tucked within a residential area and surrounded by apartment complexes, stands Mount Hakone. It blends so naturally into everyday life that you might almost miss it.

Its elevation is 44.6 meters.
By the numbers alone, it could easily claim the title of “highest in central Tokyo.”

—But there’s one small complication.

It’s man-made.

This hill was constructed in the Edo period as part of a daimyo garden, built using soil excavated from ponds. The garden itself once recreated famous landscapes from across Japan on a grand scale. While little of it remains today, the hill endures—quietly holding its place as the highest point in central Tokyo.

A visit reveals a peaceful park filled with seasonal flowers. When I visited in April, azaleas were in full bloom.

And most importantly—the climb takes about five minutes.

If you’re interested, you can even obtain a “summit certificate” from the nearby office. Few hikes offer such a quick sense of accomplishment.

Another Kind of “Height”: The Origins of Their Names

Looking up at skyscrapers—including Toranomon Hills—from the ‘summit’ of Mount Atago.

Interestingly, these two hills share something else in common.

Both have borrowed their names.

Mount Atago takes its name from Mount Atago in Kyoto, a sacred mountain long associated with fire prevention. In the Edo period, Atago Shrine was established here in its honor, and the hill adopted the same name.

Mount Hakone follows a similar pattern. Its name comes from Hakone Mountains, a rugged volcanic region that has long stood as a natural barrier between eastern and western Japan. The phrase “to cross Hakone” once implied a difficult journey—an obstacle for travelers in earlier times.

During the Edo period, a feudal lord recreated famous landscapes from across the country in a garden on this site. One of those was “Hakone,” and over time, the name came to refer to the hill itself.

In both cases, the “original” exists elsewhere.

Of course, this reflects the admiration and imagination of people in Edo—living in lowlands, yet dreaming of distant landscapes, shaped by faith, culture, and a sense of play.

And yet, when you look at them side by side, you might wonder—

Perhaps calling them “mountains” comes with just a hint of insecurity.

A Journey Through Tokyo’s Miniature Summits

So, which is the highest mountain in central Tokyo?

That question has sparked a quietly intense rivalry between Mount Atago and Mount Hakone—fought over a difference of just a few dozen meters, yet with surprising pride.

If you favor nature, choose Mount Atago.
If you favor numbers, choose Mount Hakone.

The choice is yours.

And if you decide to take on this “climb,” you won’t need heavy hiking boots.
A pair of sneakers—and a small sense of humor—will be more than enough.

After all, the summit is closer than you think.