Blog 3.
I have been longing to write before the many impressions of the first week escape me, but time, organisation and sheer fatigue have hindered me; and bar a few minutes in a coffee shop, I have not had wi-fi until now the 7th day.
The Henro did not start anything like how I imagined, with a ceremonious photo of me, in trepidation, taking the first of thousands of steps on a Sunday morning. No, the first step happened kind of by accident on the eve of the actual Henro. The bus I was on to the island of Shikoku from Osaka, thinking I would transfer by train (as seen on a Youtube film) from Naruto City to the tiny town where the first temple is, actually chucked me off near the start of the trail, saving me the train ride altogether. It was like arriving from outer space, and I could not believe the Henro was upon me so fast. So on my way to my first inn, in my „civilian“ clothes, I covered the first 5 kilometres and 3 temples before dinner, enjoying the Spring walk, but as I wasn‘t wearing my new performance gear yet, it did not feel like it really counted!
It appears best for non-Japanese speakers to enlist the help of inn-keepers in booking the next night‘s accommodation by phone, as they tend to understand from the map where you intend walking to and can book the foreigner in with dinner and breakfast, if desired, more easily. There are rules. You need to get there early enough in the day to go for your bath (shared bathroom and bathwater) before going to the dining room at the fixed time, usually 6 pm.
It is kind of cosy going to dinner in your yukata bathrobe with the other guests and talking with them about where they‘re from and how much of the Henro they are doing. My first chat was with a man who had just completed all 88 temples (1200 km) and was about to close the circuit on his return to temple 1. He looked fit, tanned and very skinny and was fascinated by a foreign woman starting out (looking unfit). Gomen, gomen, he apologised as he kept interrupting me trying to eat my udon noodles in a „nabe“ hotpot big enough to feed five. The image of him will never leave me. He had the energy of someone who has just accomplished something special.
Breakfast is bright and early as the sun rises – you are expected to be out on the trail again by 7 am. Enjoying my first real steps this time, the terrain is varied from asphalt to bamboo woods and through farmland, birds singing, dogs barking in the morning, it’s a beautiful day. I think to myself I am here, I am actually doing this! I am really getting into my stride as I pass through a small holding. „Would you like a cup of tea?“ asks a man offering refreshment to pilgrims, quite the surprise. I look at him and think er, no, I am just finding my rhythm and want to press on, but he looks so kind it is hard to resist and he spoke English to me! He asks where I am staying that night and sucks his teeth in a Japanese way that shows his disapproval when I tell him I‘m heading the 20 km to temple 10. Far, that‘s too far for today, he says. No, it‘s ok, really, I insist. Then how about tomorrow? Have you booked tomorrow yet, it’s getting full this time of year, he said. I sit down with him and my guide book and he goes ahead and books the next two nights and meals for me, to be on the safe side. Overhearing „ippai“ in his conversations, it turns out many places are indeed full, and I am grateful to him for the assistance. An old lady who might be his mother gives me a tiny cake and an encouraging word to do my best, and I am away again.
Another pilgrim who has just taken a tea there too catches up with me near temple 4, both of us trying to weave our way over the farmland lanes. By the time we are in the temple, it‘s time for a rest and a selfie, and we continue in silence to the next temple, in perfect companionship. He gives me a light to attach to my trekking pole, „for tunnels“. It is clear he is looking out for me like a dad. His name is Osamu-san.
Arriving later at temple 5 I am suprised to be met by my very own personal accommodation booker again, who must have driven all this way to try and get me to change my mind about where I am due to spend the night: he still disapproves. Okay then, what else is there? I let him change my plans and he books me at the „shukubo“ temple lodging at number 7, which I don‘t relish the thought of, imagining a shared room of sweaty pilgrims. But between my two new friends, they tell me it‘s more like a hotel, so I agree, amazed at the help.
En route to temple 6, in step with Osamu-san, he buys me a strawberry mochi cake as a gift and we take a rest outside a shop, where the owner then gives us another little cake as an „osettai“ alm. This kindness is unbelievable. We greet a pilgrim in a Henro rest hut airing his feet, and come to temple 6, where we meet a young Danish guy, whom I had heard talk of at breakfast. Foreigners are a topic of conversation. As soon as he walks through the temple gate, I ask Are you Jon? He is taken aback. Yeah, how do you know? Ah soooo, showing him a photo of my fellow-guests, people he happened to have walked with yesterday; it‘s a small world on the trail and we have a laugh.
It turns out Jon is also booked at T7 and I introduce him to Osamu-san. The temple lodging is indeed like a hotel and I am delighted to have my own bathroom. Osamu-san seems pleased to have picked up two Europeans on his day‘s trek, and is keen to drink a beer or two with us that evening. We head out to a „combini“ (convenience store) 3.6 sore kilometres away, to buy the beer, but take a taxi back, feet throbbing. Yet another Dane arrives, Max, and we crowd into Osamu‘s room for a drink before retiring. At breakfast, a third Dane joins us, Jimmy, and I wonder how come so many Danes are here at the same time, independent of each other, too. Osamu-san is gone before we have finished eating, and the three Danes and I set off for the day, in our ponchos, in the pouring rain, off to temple 8…
Marion Gibson 