Blog 15.
„You seem to attract these kinds of experiences.“ says my Australian friend Michael over a chance coffee at a Lawson convenience store. Since meeting the first time some 600 km ago, we have bumped into each other twice at a Lawson. It is good to tell somebody about my experience, and to speak fluently again. „Blog about it, people will be interested in the emotional side of the henro,“ he urges.
I am still processing my encounter with Enkaku.
Since that day, the henro continues to move and humble me to the core. A long, rainy day to the foot of one of the most difficult mountains, to Temple 60, has me grateful to check in at a beautiful lodging for the eve of the big climb. I bump into a Polish guy I met 350 km ago. The talk at the dinner table, though, is of a Japanese pilgrim, aged 66, who died a few days ago on the mountain we are about to ascend. She slipped, apparently, but there are no more details. I wonder who she was and whether I met her.
My hike up the temple is contemplative. I think of the pilgrim who lost her life and pay my respects. It is dry today, but the clouds never lift enough to reveal the summit. The rain has left its mark and washed much of the forest floor into new shapes and gullies. At it‘s steepest, it is more mountaineering than hiking and, again, I use my trekking poles as aids to heave myself up.
It is plain that there is no way that I will be risking the way back down on foot; my knees hurt and could give out at any moment. At the top I ask at the temple office whether there‘s a bus down. Yes, but not until 3 pm. It‘s 12:30. That‘s ok, I‘ll have my lunch and sit and write, or meditate until then. Just then a henro I‘d said hi to a couple of days ago comes over and shows me his shell trumpet, and gives a demonstration of how to play it. I am cracked up laughing and have a go myself. The monk comes out at that moment and tells me a member of staff is leaving and will drive me down the mountain. The clouds have lifted off the day.
Several days on, the next „biggie“ is the tallest of the route, Mount Unpenji, also marking the crossover from Ehime into the final prefecture of the henro, Kagawa, that of Nirvana. Or kind of. You cannot march directly into Kagawa, for the trail takes you briefly back over the border of the first prefecture Tokushima for the hike up to Temple 66. It is a weird feeling leaving Ehime and entering Tokumshima again after so long, where everything began. It marks the beginning of the end. I am sad that there is so little of the route left to walk, and only 22 more temples.
Breakfast is at 5 and shortly thereafter we are driven from the inn to the „mouth of Unpenji“. I do some sunrise stretching exercises with an elderly fit man who was my table companion and is now my mountain buddy. A couple of hours into the climb, I hear happy hellos from below from a couple of old henro friends whom I have been crossing paths with recently again, after having first met them hundreds of kilometres ago; Funatoko (Fred) and his friend Hikaru, both from Hiroshima prefecture. We take a breather on the mountain together. They nominate me as „pace-maker“ to lead the way up. I am not sure if that‘s an honour, for they know I‘m slow, but I‘m steady. I go at my comfortable pace, enjoying the climb. Another two guys catch up with us and now we are six in the forest, the largest group I‘ve walked with so far. It is great to be in a pack for a change.
Near the top we admire the view over the mountains. One of the new guys looks at me oddly and asks of my „before life“. What, you mean before the henro? I ask. No, he means he has met me before in Japan in a past life! That might explain why I like it here. We look at each other with respect and he gives me an awkward hug. Interesting.
Again, I am keen to find a different means down the mountain, as my knees won‘t make it today. We all say goodbye as I board the „ropeway“ that takes me down about half the vertical. Emerging from the cable car, I’m in Kagawa. Before I continue by road, on my way over to buy a cold drink from the vending machine, a doctor on a motorbike stops me and hands me a bottle of Aquarius and a pack of diclofenac plasters for my knee. I guess I was limping. Thank you for this unexpected kindness! It never ceases to amaze me.
The remaining descent is less steep, but after the long stretch of asphalt to temple, 67, I am suffering by the time I arrive. I do my temple ritual and enjoy it, reciting the hannya shingyo quietly, glad to sit on a bench at the side. There are so many people chanting the sutra at various stages that the overall effect is quite mesmerising. I close my eyes and listen, and soon I am in meditation.
I feel a presence by my knee and open my eyes to find a woman kneeling in front of me. What is she up to? She touches my sore knee with the plaster on it and presses my calf and I gasp. I ask if she‘s a doctor. Acupuncturist, she says and shows me her medical kit. She kneads the tendons for a long time and places acupuncture plasters on both legs, in full view of everyone at the temple. It is all so surreal. How did she know? She must have seen me struggling and had the kit in her car. I am touched by this act, and utterly humbled that a complete stranger should give me such help unprompted. The sheer humanness of it brings me to tears. I cannot explain. As small as I feel, it is also okay to accept help from others. It is okay to ask for help too. Perhaps I‘ve been trying to do too much alone.
It’s another day of contrast. From feeling on top of the world at the top of the mountain, to learning that you don‘t have to, and cannot, do everything in life without help from others.
I can only offer a hug in parting thanks. She must know she has had a huge impact on my day. Holding a roll of kinesiology tape she has given me, I remain sitting, looking at my legs in disbelief and crying a bit longer before I can continue.
The road seems endless in the heat and I distract myself by entering a quirky new decor shop at the side of the road, enticed by the handmade goods. Cushions inspire me to Find my Fire and Look for the Good, more signs from the Universe! I thank the creative young couple who own the beautiful store, wish them well and walk away. Stop! They call after me to give me a „presento“. What? They try to give me a pair of earrings! I was only looking, no need to give me a gift – I cannot accept them. But the man tries to put them in my pack. I look at him and his wife and see they want to do something good for me – and I well up again! Why is everyone being so kind to me today? Why should strangers do this? It‘s too much! I don‘t understand. But they seem to. Please take them.
Writing out a nameslip to express my thanks, my hands are shaking. I accept the earrings in both hands as graciously as I can. They will serve as a reminder of this day and the human care I have been lucky to receive.
This evening I am able to borrow a bicycle from my hotel to ride over to the onsen by Kotohiki beach. How fast it feels! I’m in time for the sunset too. In the soothing water I reflect:
This henro, it‘s ALL about HEART.
X
Marion Gibson 