Sustenance

Blog 9.

The morning after Hotel California, I feel savvy having seen a sign for the next “road station”, only 3 km away, called Bios Ogata, which I earmark excitedly for breakfast. There are no Lawsons on the way anyway.

It is pouring with rain when I arrive at this heaven-sent place and I make a beeline for the coffee shop at the back. At this early hour I am the only guest, but this cozy wooden café is oozing with quiet warmth. The staff and I are happy to look out at the rain. I order a breakfast set for only 500 yen, hardly more than a cup of coffee alone would be, and am served with a smile. I apologise for my wet things making a pool on the floor, but they don‘t seem to mind.

At the cash register, my hostess wishes me well on my journey and I thank her sincerely, for I know she really means it. She holds my gaze, takes my hands and tells me to take care, and then surprisingly pulls me into a hug. A hug, with pats! This is not usual in Japan! I am warmed by this gesture from her heart, but she need not be concerned about me trekking back out into the rain on this lonely morning.

The long beach is flanked by pinewoods and the red henro arrows lead me through the trees on a fairytale-esque path. So close to the ocean, so quiet. I venture off the path onto the beach itself to take some pictures, shrill cries of a kite circling above. They are ever-present, those birds.

After yesterday‘s numerous tunnels I am a bit sensitive to the noise of the traffic, amplified as it is, not to mention the gusts of passing trucks that can be disconcerting, inside a tunnel. A bad sign, I know, when you are mainly walking on roads for weeks. So today‘s off-piste stroll along the ocean is a welcome oasis of stillness and safety that I enjoy every minute of, raining or not.

I spot a lovely hotel on the way, wondering why I had not gone the further 5 km yesterday to find it, but that is part of the henro way too: you can never actually see what‘s up ahead, you can‘t tell how nice a place is or not from the map.

A couple more hours into the pouring rain I spot a coffee shop that is actually open. The story of this trip is that typically when I see a sign for a coffee shop, I get there to find it either closed, or closed down. This time, ironically, it’s open but I‘m all „coffeed-up“ and don‘t really need another cup, it just looks like a nice place to rest. I spend a leisurely time in the warm over my drink and plan the next day. Again, I am the only guest, and again, my wet things make a pool on the floor.

After six hours walking in the rain, I am starting to ask „Are we there yet?“ like a fed-up child. I am getting a bit cold so decide to take a bus, windows all steamed up, for the final furlong to my lodging.

This is the first time I stay somewhere recommended by Ingmar in his 2016 henro YouTube, and I am not disappointed by this minshuku inn (Tabiji). The bus magically drops me off by the door, where magically the inn-keeper comes out to meet me off the bus. Again, I am the only guest. In fact, I have seen no other henro at all today. No, I tell a lie, I just haven‘t seen any out in the rain. At the bus station I met yet another Danish guy, Stig (I think), who had just come up by bus from the peninsula I will walk down tomorrow. I guess most pilgrims are taking public transport today.

In my tatami room I immediately check how many futon there are, in case I need to ask for extra cushioning under my bones. Wow, they have provided 2 nice thick ones and there is a closet with bedding galore! While the hot bath is being drawn, I make the bed up as soft as I can and hand my wet clothes to the landlady, who washes them at no extra charge.

Sinking into that bath is bliss, I can tell you.

What else is bliss, after two days of convenience food, is a lovingly cooked warm meal. I sit at the low table and enjoy my dinner in my yukata gown. The landlady asks me to sign the guest book. I try and explain how I came to find this place, recommended by Ingmar. She digs out the 2016 guest book he wrote in, praising the hosts for their hospitality. She is really, really pleased. She helps me book my next night at a „business minshuku“ advertised in a Japanese guidebook. I have tried nearly all Japanese lodging types by now: western style hotels, simple business hotels good and bad, Japanese ryokan (posh inns with spa), Japanese minshuku (economy inns), shukubo temple accommodation, guest houses, single rooms, shared rooms, own bath, communal bath, futons and the occasional bed. Typically with a small grain-filled pillow.

I get into my soft pile of futon and feel really good here. I know that I sleep, for I remember a dream.

Breakfast is accompanied by my hostess, who brings out no less than 11 different dishes and makes me „onigiri“ rice balls „to go“. She brings me my clean, dry laundry while I am brushing my teeth just off the hall.

It‘s time to leave: I tell them I have enjoyed my stay and take a parting picture of my lovely hosts.

I don‘t know what it is about a foreign pilgrim setting off on a rainy morning, but just like at the café the morning before, something about it must have tugged at my landlady‘s heartstrings, for she bursts into tears when I say goodbye. I have only been there a night, and already feel like a daughter.

As I turn the bend up the road, I look over my shoulder to see if they‘re still there, and they are, still waving at me. I get a bit choked up myself. I stash this memory away like a nut, to sustain me later.

On the road down to the cape I take advantage of the only coffee shop on the way. Nose in my guidebook, I look up in surprise to find young Jun in front of me, so I order a second cup while he eats breakfast, delighted at the company – while sitting at least. He‘ll be off like Speedy Gonzales when we get up, and he is. Jun is not only walking down to the cape today, but back up it again same day, whereas I will sleep there and take the other coast back up tomorrow.

Sure enough, just before I get to the cape, we bump into each other again, he‘s on his way back up. A selfie and a goodbye.

The temple is beautiful, the cape is awesome, there’s even a free thermal foot bath, the business minshuku has wifi 🙂

The next afternoon I arrive back at the top of the peninsula, but what’s this feeling? I feel I haven‘t walked enough, it‘s too soon to call it a day. I cancel my lodging and set off to walk the extra 5 km, back to Tabiji, where there‘s a excited welcome and a second night in my „old room“.

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