It took me less than two hours to get to the base of Temple 35. The climb up was going to be the same as the climb back down, and so I stored my backpack in a small bus shelter at the base of the mountain road, and began my muddy ascent.

As with all my previous wet mountain climbs, the path was again slippery, narrow, and covered in mud. I took it slow, but then I got to the point where it was simply too steep and dangerous, so I decided to stick to the road. It may have slightly added to my time, however it was safer the views were worth it. It was another day of low clouds hanging over green mountains, so it wasn't too bad at all. I was even surprised to come across an abundance of small red crabs inland, especially on the side of a mountain, scurrying around. 

Most of my favourite temples were the ones that sat high in the mountains. I never saw any dead  flora, signs of draught similar to what Australia experiences. In Shikoku, every single plant was alive and brilliant, and full of colour. There was always a striking beauty with a mountain looking over these ancient structures, and Kiyotakiji was no exception. I just wish the bloody rain had stopped so I could appreciate it even more so.

I took the same road all the way back down to where I had first started climbing. Being Shikoku, my bag was where I had left it. I had heard that the locals don't lock their homes or cars, with theft being virtually unheard of here. It was good to hear, and gave me a warranted sense of security. 
My walk eventually led me back into Tosa City, but this time the path avoided busy roads, and took me along laneways through residential areas. For a rainy day, there were quite a few locals out walking their dogs. The most popular breed around Shikoku seemed to be the Shiba Inu too. I'm normally pretty good with dogs, being the proud owner of two myself, but in Shiukoku, they wanted to tear me apart. On this day in particular, there was about three that simply wanted to destroy me, and their masters walking them had to either cross the road to avoid me, or simply turn around and walk the opposite direction. Vicious little buggers.

This morning I played catch up with three elderly Japanese pilgrims. I don't know how we did it, but at points we'd overtake each other, yet never see it happen. Clearly we must have taken different paths. Passing them towards the outskirts of the city, they waved at me and pointed towards a rather large mountain, showing me the direction. Thanking them, I set off for it. I was also thankful for Hagimori-San, because a few days prior he gave me a better alternative to the mountain climb that I was meant to have faced. In my guide book, he had simply marked the main road that led through a fairly long tunnel as the better path, and told me to stick to it all the way to Temple 36. He had put big black crosses through a few mountain paths, and I was pretty happy with that. I showed this to the my new found pilgrim friends who were appreciative, shaking my hand and bowing with courtesy.

I thought I was doing pretty good for time, and as soon as I came across a neat little rest area at around 11am, I couldn't resist taking off my shoes and socks to air my weary feet, and having an early lunch. I sat for a good half an hour, escaping the rain while eating my usual diet of ham and cheese sandwiches and packet chicken breast. One of the three men from earlier walked past me and waved, but I never saw his two friends. I wondered if they took the mountain path, and thought that if they did, then they would have to be the purists - the pilgrims who stuck to the original ancient Shikoku Pilgrimage trail for the whole journey.

The tunnel was exactly 830 metres long. It could have been 10km long today and I wouldn't have cared, as it was great shelter from the rain, regardless of the smell of exhaust and the loud echoes of engines. However, by the time I had exited the other side, the rain had completely stopped. All I needed now was some sunshine, but it was never to happen. 
I pulled out the guide book to check to see where the next turn off was, and to see how much distance I had left to cover.  And that's when it hit me. I screwed up.
I thought I had read the guide book properly. I'm usually anal about calculations, and will usually double or triple-check to make sure it all adds up. But today my 35km calculation was way off, by a good 15km. I'd well and truly stuffed up. There was physically no way in Hell that I'd be able to walk 50km today, but I was determined to stay in Susaki Hut. I knew of a few huts shy of Susaki, but it would completely throw the next few days' worth of plans to waste. I was unsure of what my new plan was, but thought I'd try my luck with the 50km walk regardless.

I was now back along the coastline. Temple 36 sat across the bay, accessible via a bridge close by. Similar to Temple 35, there was a bit of backtracking involved too. Ducking into a Family Mart along the way for a snack, the shop attendant was kind enough to store my backpack for me, meaning less weight for the 4km return trip.

Along the way I ran into Jill, who was returning from Temple 36. We had a brief chat and that's when she became an angel - she told me about a ferry. This ferry was in the guide book, but I never took notice of it, assuming I'd be walking the entire way. Today though, that was about to change. By catching the boat, I'd cover roughly 15km, and then walk another four to get to Susaki. The tricky part was that it only operated eight times a day, four times in each direction. My next ferry would be just before 2pm, and it was already midday. I told Jill that I'd meet her there, and did the fastest walk EVER towards Temple 36.

The stairway up to the main hall of Temple 36, Shōryūji (青竜寺), was one long and slippery climb. Luckily I had no pack to worry about. I passed a couple of French pilgrims who greeted me, as they were walking back down the steps while carrying full backpacks; I was bemused as to why they simply didn't leave them at the base of the steps.

In the back of my mind I was on a tight schedule now, but I still made a point of soaking up the serenity of Shōryūji. Surrounded by tall trees and large green ferns, it almost had a tropical feel to it. The temple was quite busy today, but I didn't see anyone wearing the pilgrim garb, so I was unsure who were pilgrims, and who were simply tourists. There was another red pagoda here, similar to the one at Temple 31, except much smaller but just as charming. The stone lanterns and Buddhas always attracted my attention, especially ones covered in moss and really giving that Ancient-Japan vibe. Shōryūji was surrounded by It had stopped raining now, so it made it easier to take photos which had been practically impossible over the last few days. 

Thanks to my long lanky legs and lack of weight dragging me down, I made it back to the Family Mart in no time. I thanked the attendant, purchased some more supplies (unhealthy snacks) and made my way towards the ferry terminal. I had used Google Maps, more specifically Street View, to locate the terminal. I had an idea of the general direction, but because I had no name of the company, I had to rely on Google. All I knew was that I had to find a large red shed and the terminal would be somewhere in the vicinity.

Walking along the road towards the ferry, I passed a hut that would have been perfect to sleep in. I knew it had been used by Peter, a pilgrim from San Francisco who completed the pilgrimage a few months prior to me, and he had seemed happy with it. It wasn't too far from this hut when I spotted the terminal. In fact, there was a sign in English on the main building, guiding people to the waiting room. Jill was already waiting there, so we sat chatting, while I sipped my addictive Starbucks Espresso. I felt a sense of relief now. I didn't have to rush, and I could finally have an English conversation with a pilgrim.

The final four kilometres to Susaki seemed to fly right by. It was thanks to finally having some good company after so long, with Jill and I chatted away. I was happy to slow down my pace for the first time since I had started my adventure too.

It was just on 4pm when Jill and I arrived at Susaki Hut. It was everything I had pictured: a cute little timber hut, well enclosed from all the elements. It sat right on the side of the road, next to a few small homes. Not only did it have an electric lamp to light the hut up, it even had a powerpoint to charge all my gear. There was a small hut adjacent to it with a portaloo toilet out the front, with a note attached saying it was for pilgrim use.
Unfortunately we weren't the first ones to arrive. In fact, a "professional" Japanese bicycle pilgrim had already made his camp for the night, cooking on his little gas stove and listening to his pocket radio as we made our way towards him. Susaki had an elevated timber platform; it would sleep two comfortably, but you'd be pushing your luck with a third person. Jill had a tent, and we discussed our options of what to do next. Do we push on further? Do we share the tent? Do we all try and sleep in the hut? Jill and I did our best to speak to the pilgrim, not sure if he'd be willing to share his home for the night. However, he was more than happy to share with us, even letting us use the platform, while he moved to the concrete ground. Even after we each tried to offer him the platform back, he declined. I couldn't believe it. Here was this man, clearly homeless and living off the pilgrimage, going out of his way to accomodate these two gaijin pilgrims from another land. We both thanked the gent, then after unpacking and setting up our mattresses and sleeping bags, we took off for a konbini dinner.

I've never sat in a convenience store and consumed alcohol, but there is always a first time for everything, and tonight was no exception. Jill and I sat in there until well after dark, eating dinner, downing a couple of beers (we asked the staff if it was okay, of course!), and chatting away. 
It was a good thing I had my head lamp with me - street lights are nowhere in rural Japan! It was a dark two kilometre walk back to our hut, and too my surprise we discovered our pilgrim friend had set up his sleeping bag on the hard concrete floor, and was using a plastic bag as a pillow! Observing that he was a heavy smoker, I handed him a packet of Lucky Strike cigarettes as osettai that I had bought for him earlier, and even shared a couple with him. He was extremely grateful, and handed me jar of sake. I only had about half of it before feeling like I was getting drunk; it was the strongest sake I had ever had. It was a good thing that bed time wasn't too far off.