Kyoto for The Thrill Seekers: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

Five flat kilometres of gravel path from the delta down to Shijō, the herons ignoring you and the bridges counting off the distance; back by the other bank.

A 1923 bathhouse with carved transoms and majolica tiles, a cold plunge and an outdoor tub; the tattoo rule is relaxed here, which it rarely is.

Kyoto's own ramen since 1947, soy-dark pork broth and a mountain of spring onion, at a counter by the station where the queue moves fast.

Two hours of rapids from Kameoka down to Arashiyama in a flat wooden boat poled by three men who have done it ten thousand times; you will get wet.

A twenty-minute scramble to a hilltop where a hundred and twenty macaques are fed through a wire hut and the city sits below; do not meet their eyes.

Conveyor-belt sushi on a corner of Sanjō, plates at a flat price and a water tap at each seat; the recovery meal you can eat as fast as you like.

Two and a half hours up the old pilgrim trail from Shugakuin, 700 metres of cedar steps and loose stone, to the ridge the monks have run for a thousand years.

The headquarters of Tendai Buddhism since 788, burnt by Nobunaga and rebuilt; the Konpon Chūdō's lamp has burnt for twelve centuries, and the cable car down saves your knees.

Negi ramen set alight at the counter with a ladle of flaming oil, the only ramen in the city that comes with safety instructions; keep your hair back.

Up the stone steps in the half-dark to the bonfire terraces that spell 'great' on the hill in August; the sun comes over the ridge at your back.

The 1633 stage on its forest of pillars, built without a nail; take the Otowa waterfall's three streams and the steep Chawan-zaka back down at a jog.

Grind your own sesame for the sauce and eat a pork cutlet with unlimited cabbage and rice, eleven floors above the platforms for the airport train.