Blog 6.
Every day here has a different quality about it, caused by the ever changing scenery, passing by everything only once. Each impression is fleeting. It makes you aware of everything around you with your senses – things you only see, hear or smell in Japan and nowhere else. The sakura cherry blossoms, just starting to open a week ago in the mountains, are already nearly over here by the coast, their petals lining the streets like confetti. Enjoy it while it lasts.
Every day I wake up aching, usually after a poor night‘s sleep. I cannot put my finger on it, I should be getting a good 8 – 9 hours. I guess it‘s the chaos of a different room in a different location, of a different standard, night by night. If the place provides dinner, the routine goes like this: bathtime 4 – 6 pm, eat at 6 pm sharp (in night attire), then plan the next day, wash your clothes and aim to be asleep by about 8 pm, if you can. There is no venturing outside again after a hot bath, not even to admire the sunset: you are done in for the day. I am trying to get into a morning routine: wash face, tape up the feet, eat (if breakfast provided), and re-pack the rucksack for optimium efficency, and I‘m getting faster at organising it. Outside again, I hunt down the first coffee, as traditional Japanese breakfast does not include coffee. It does not go well with nori seaweed anyway.
After the fiasco at the inn where they had no room, my princess and the pea syndrome is over. I don‘t really mind the mess of some of these rural places. A hot bath feels good regardless. I also know that soon I can treat myself to a decent room again. A single room, I hasten to add.
In the last of the mountains in Tokushima prefecture, the night before the second henro-korogashi „double trouble“ climb (steep up-down-up-down), I found myself unexpectedly sharing a tatami room with 2 other women: a Japanese lady of 81 and a Swiss-Danish lady in her early 70s, both doing the whole pilgrimage! Both lovely, and both so good at snoring they could represent their countries for it in a contest. My sleep-o-meter got to about 1 hour that night.
The same night I had walked into the bath house and met two naked Japanese sisters, who have since become buddies on the way, for we met again at another inn (one that would not serve me a vegetarian meal). I was so glad to see them again. They gave me a few recommendations for inns and also their phone number to help with bookings, although I am comfortable doing it myself now.
The other night I was booked at a beach front inn next to a turtle sanctuary that had a (*) symbol in my book to recommend it. When I went to check in, just by asking for wi-fi, the lady at the front desk upgraded me at no extra charge to a room in their sister spa hotel just up the road, a palace by comparison! It is this experience of daily contrasts that makes the henro, and Japan in general, so interesting.
I have parted with the Danes and spent the last few days walking alone down to the southern-most cape at Muroto, and back up the other side. The weather is much warmer already, about 25C – 26C and I am glad for every henro hut on the wayside providing a shady place to rest. There is currently none of the sea breeze that this area is famous for, so it feels hot and sticky with a 9 kg backpack.
Yet, every day when I wake up, and have got myself on the road, the aches vanish and a good feeling comes over me. I catch myself smiling and people smile back. You can see the smile in someone’s eyes, even if they‘re wearing a face mask!
I feel happy to be meeting other henro pilgrims and perhaps walk a while with them. Words are not required. It’s like a club where everyone just understands.
You say goodbye, only to see each other again a couple of days later, like in the case of Mr. Suzuki, who gave me an orange after a steep climb the other day, and whose path crossed mine again today. We greeted each other like old friends.
If I understand correctly, after asking where his backpack was, Suzuki-san‘s method is quite different to mine: he goes first to his accommodation, drops off his bag there, walks his daily distance and then takes public transport back to his accommodation. To me that is a lot of effort to go sans rucksack.
Today I was able to climb to a temple, the fourth henro-korogashi ascent, without my backpack too. My inn said I could drop it off for the day before the climb, as I would be returning down the same mountain route. It was bliss to be free of it, but a luxury I almost would not want to get used to, having just become accustomed to the weight. Yesterday I tried a long stretch without my trekking poles, but have become so used to the support and rhythm of using them, for flats as well as climbs, that it felt strange without them in my now sunburned hands.
Tonight marks 27 temples out of 88 (30%) and about 270 km, or 22%, of the route. It is going by so fast.
I have not seen Osamu-san in a few days and miss his smiling face. He is about 35 km ahead of me already and returning to his home tomorrow. I called him to arrange a goodbye coffee but it didn’t work out. Goodbye henro-tomodachi!
But new people are never far away.
At the most crazy chaotic home I stayed at last night, I met an Australian henro vet, Michael, who added good cheer. The place just had a good free feeling about it, like a drop-in airbnb of a very busy landlady, who leaves the door unlocked. She even told me I could come back tonight to stay again for free! How nice of her.
For me, however, this henro is all about moving forward, so it‘s onwards only, no backtracking. I still wake up thinking that coming here was one of the best decisions of my life.
Yours exhausted, xx
Marion Gibson 