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Thanks to drinking alcohol in moderation the night before, I was up bright and early and felt GREAT. After another smoothie breakfast, I was back to Temple 7 to continue my journey!
With the weather being nice and sunny today, I was off to a good start. Leaving the car park of Temple 7 at around 8am, I pretty much had the road to myself. Today was the first day I walked with my pack, but I was surprised at how good it felt - it wasn’t that bad, it felt light as a feather.
That feeling would soon change after Temple 8, Kumataniji (熊谷寺).
With the weather being nice and sunny today, I was off to a good start. Leaving the car park of Temple 7 at around 8am, I pretty much had the road to myself. Today was the first day I walked with my pack, but I was surprised at how good it felt - it wasn’t that bad, it felt light as a feather.
That feeling would soon change after Temple 8, Kumataniji (熊谷寺).
Temple 8, Kumataniji (熊谷寺)
Kumataniji Temple was at the end of a lovely path, with a red-roofed wooden pagoda off to one side. I was looking forward to getting video footage of the monks performing the heart sutra and other chants, only to realise that the harmonic sounds were in fact coming from hidden speakers hidden among trees and bushes. This was an unusual mash-up of modern technology with a 9th century temple, however they did compliment each other in a unique and wonderful way.
As I was leaving Kumataniji, I ran into a French pilgrim who I had briefly seen at Temple 1 when I was buying my gear yesterday. The poor pilgrim - she told me that when she arrived at Temple 7 yesterday, she felt defeated because it was closed. I think I upset her even more when I told her that the closed sign that she saw was the “no cars” sign I translated. She wasn’t keen on returning, so she pushed forward.
I was now beginning to feel the weight of my pack on my shoulders. The small dull ache was becoming an annoying sharp pain. Stopping every few hundred metres to take it off and readjust, I tried my best to focus on the path ahead and try and push through it.
Along the road to Temple 9, Hōrinji (法輪寺) I ran into Budapest Simon again, along with two Japanese pilgrims - Hayo and Kouhei. I would be with these three for the majority of the day too.
Hayo was a 30 year old government official who was fluent in English, having lived in Melbourne for many years for work, and was walking the pilgrimage for her own little adventure while her husband flew across the world for business. Kouhei was 29 years old and worked in IT. His pilgrimage was a little more noble - it was to honour his two young children who had passed away from illness. Hearing this broke my heart, but Kouhei was quite happy to talk about it, and we shared some biscuits as we practiced our English and Japanese on one another too. His plan for the pilgrimage was to camp with his little one-person tent, whereas Hayo was going to sleep in guest houses, hotels and ryokans. She informed me that most Japanese pilgrims apparently sleep in paid lodgings, and that most of the ones who rough it with huts and camping were the "professionals" - Henros who are basically homeless, living their life along the path of the Shikoku Ohenro.
I was now beginning to feel the weight of my pack on my shoulders. The small dull ache was becoming an annoying sharp pain. Stopping every few hundred metres to take it off and readjust, I tried my best to focus on the path ahead and try and push through it.
Along the road to Temple 9, Hōrinji (法輪寺) I ran into Budapest Simon again, along with two Japanese pilgrims - Hayo and Kouhei. I would be with these three for the majority of the day too.
Hayo was a 30 year old government official who was fluent in English, having lived in Melbourne for many years for work, and was walking the pilgrimage for her own little adventure while her husband flew across the world for business. Kouhei was 29 years old and worked in IT. His pilgrimage was a little more noble - it was to honour his two young children who had passed away from illness. Hearing this broke my heart, but Kouhei was quite happy to talk about it, and we shared some biscuits as we practiced our English and Japanese on one another too. His plan for the pilgrimage was to camp with his little one-person tent, whereas Hayo was going to sleep in guest houses, hotels and ryokans. She informed me that most Japanese pilgrims apparently sleep in paid lodgings, and that most of the ones who rough it with huts and camping were the "professionals" - Henros who are basically homeless, living their life along the path of the Shikoku Ohenro.
The path to Hōrinji
Hōrinji was basically in the middle of a paddock. Apart from a little make-shift coffee shop, it was on it's own. A quaint little temple, I walked through the main gate to find the staff sweeping, cleaning, and picking up the autumn leaves by hand. I was both suprised and happy to see them take pride in keeping their little temple looking clean. After going through my rituals (which after 9 temples was much better now) I sat down for a few minutes, and let this peaceful place soak in.
Temple 10 was a very easy 4km walk from Hōrinji, except for maybe the last kilometre, which was pretty much uphill all the way. This basically became the first steep incline walk (which was NOTHING compared to what I would eventually face) of the pilgrimage. Kouhei spoke to a shopkeeper at the foot of the climb, and she allowed us to leave our packs with her since we'd be going up and coming back down the same road. Simon was hesitant - what if the lady stole our bags? No Simon. She's the shopkeeper. It's her shop. Pretty certain the bags are safe mate. Plus she could steal my pack for all I cared, the pain in my shoulders had now reached my back.
A rather steep climb up stone steps, Kouhei was smashing it. That guy did NOT stop. On the other hand, I was already dead inside. "Close to top!" Kouhei would yell to me from way above. He said that way too many times. I was thankful I left my pack at the bottom though.
Kouhei absolutely killing it
Temple 10, Kirihataji (切幡寺)
Paper cranes at Temple 10
So I decided that Temple 10, Kirihataji (切幡寺) was my favourite so far. Sitting part way up a mountain, the climb was well worth it for the views alone. After worshipping and drinking a ton of water, Hayo pointed out the pagoda that was further up. A bit more of a climb, but well worth it she said. She was right.
From the top we could see across the valley below, all beautiful and green. The blue hazy mountains in the background seemed miles and miles away, yet I knew that by the end of the day, I'd be at their base. "That's tomorrow, big climb" Hayo informed me, pointing in their direction.
From the top we could see across the valley below, all beautiful and green. The blue hazy mountains in the background seemed miles and miles away, yet I knew that by the end of the day, I'd be at their base. "That's tomorrow, big climb" Hayo informed me, pointing in their direction.
The view from Kirihataji
Collecting our gear, it was off towards the mountains. It was meant to be 9.7km to Temple 11. And silly me decided to count down the kilometres. Which made the walk longer, and with my back and shoulders now throbbing in pain, unenjoyable. Finding a Family Mart - a popular konbini in Japan - we all sat down and had lunch.
This is where I discovered Japanese fried chicken.
So along the Pilgrimage, konbini is your best friend. It's your lover. It's your lifeline. The most famous of all the konbinis, 7-Eleven have international ATMs, and is one of the easiest places to get cash from. Open 24 hours, they have absolutely everything. Unlike 7-Elevens in Australia though, they actually sell fresh produce and food. The prices aren't too bad either. Did I mention that they sell everything? You want a beer? They have it. You want a new razor? Done. You want a T-shirt and new underwear? Strangely enough, you can get that too. And as for the fried chicken, I gained a new addiction. It was succulent, juicy, came in about four different spicy flavours, and was about ¥150 a piece.
Today, lunch was a couple of pieces of chicken, and a ham, cheese and lettuce sandwich. Beverage of choice was the infamous Picari Sweat. An energy drink that some love but many hate, it tastes like a lemon Powerade.
This is where I discovered Japanese fried chicken.
So along the Pilgrimage, konbini is your best friend. It's your lover. It's your lifeline. The most famous of all the konbinis, 7-Eleven have international ATMs, and is one of the easiest places to get cash from. Open 24 hours, they have absolutely everything. Unlike 7-Elevens in Australia though, they actually sell fresh produce and food. The prices aren't too bad either. Did I mention that they sell everything? You want a beer? They have it. You want a new razor? Done. You want a T-shirt and new underwear? Strangely enough, you can get that too. And as for the fried chicken, I gained a new addiction. It was succulent, juicy, came in about four different spicy flavours, and was about ¥150 a piece.
Today, lunch was a couple of pieces of chicken, and a ham, cheese and lettuce sandwich. Beverage of choice was the infamous Picari Sweat. An energy drink that some love but many hate, it tastes like a lemon Powerade.
After lunch Hayo decided to split from the group, she wanted to power ahead to reach her lodging early. Eventually we would all split up at different parts for the remainder of the day. It was easy to do so too, with each of us walking comfortably at our own pace, some faster than others. Passing little henro rest stops with scary mannequins, the path towards Temple 11 was painful due to my STUPID pack, but scenic. Eventually by myself again, I wasn't too far from my home for the night.
A little creepy
The onsen and hut
Being only 2km from my planned lodging and 5km from Temple 11, I decided to change my plans a little. I would go to the hut I planned to stay at, dump my DAMN PAINFUL pack, backtrack to Temple 11, do my rituals and get my stamp book completed. That way I could leave extra early tomorrow, not have to wait around for the Temple 11 stamp office to open, and can go straight for Temple 12. The path between Temple 11 and 12 was said to be the hardest of the pilgrimage, so I wanted all the extra time I could get.
After briefly getting lost, a nice Japanese local walked me to my lodging for the day. Kamojima Hot Spring was a local onsen, with a henro hut out the front. On arrival I was greeted by a nice lady who escorted me to the hut. It was amazing. Comfortably fitting no more than two people, the onsen had both a male and female hut, as well as a washing machine. Being hot weather, I was able to wash and dry clothes quickly. After setting up my sleeping bag to claim my spot in the hut, I removed my shoes, put on my thongs (flipflops to the rest of you) and walked the 3km to Temple 11.
After briefly getting lost, a nice Japanese local walked me to my lodging for the day. Kamojima Hot Spring was a local onsen, with a henro hut out the front. On arrival I was greeted by a nice lady who escorted me to the hut. It was amazing. Comfortably fitting no more than two people, the onsen had both a male and female hut, as well as a washing machine. Being hot weather, I was able to wash and dry clothes quickly. After setting up my sleeping bag to claim my spot in the hut, I removed my shoes, put on my thongs (flipflops to the rest of you) and walked the 3km to Temple 11.
I never get bored of views like this
The walk to Temple 11, Fujiidera (藤井寺), was my favourite yet. Probably because I had no pack on. Through rice fields, past temples and small residential areas and through old playgrounds, it was a pleasant walk with a gentle breeze to cool me down.
Fujiidera was quiet. Apart from the old monk in the stamp office, There was only myself and another Henro. A bow and a konnichiwa, I discovered that he was a car-pilgrim, driving around Shikoku to do his pilgrimage. I thought it would be best to find the path I'd need to take for tomorrow. I found it - I dreaded it. It looked steep as hell from the very beginning. "I've got this" I told myself, which would become my motto for weeks to come.
Fujiidera was quiet. Apart from the old monk in the stamp office, There was only myself and another Henro. A bow and a konnichiwa, I discovered that he was a car-pilgrim, driving around Shikoku to do his pilgrimage. I thought it would be best to find the path I'd need to take for tomorrow. I found it - I dreaded it. It looked steep as hell from the very beginning. "I've got this" I told myself, which would become my motto for weeks to come.
Temple 11, Fujiidera (藤井寺)
Returning along the road back to the onsen at around 4:30pm, I was able to FaceTime Gemma. Which was great, as I was able to let her see the sun setting along the rice fields, show her some temples, and just hear her voice. Two days in and I missed her like crazy. I think she handled the distance apart better than I did.
When I arrived back at my hut I was greeted by Kouhei and Simon, as well as an old Japanese man driving a small car. Kouhei and Simon explained that they had planned to stay at the hut too, but had met this Japanese man who had offered them a place to stay. Now I was given the offer too. This was Osettai, a charitable gift, one of many, many offers I had along my pilgrimage. Generally speaking it's an offering given by people who believe they are assisting you in your pilgrimage; it is also said that by giving Osettai, you would receive a blessing from Buddha.
Being comfortable with my hut for the night, I gratefully declined the man’s offer. Kouhei took it up, and soon he was off. Simon was panicking. I explained that it was a Osettai. "What if he gets murdered? What if we don't see him again? He is going into the mountains, what if something bad happens?" Simon was stressing and asked if we should call someone for help. Simon, are you kidding me? Dude, relax. It's not like that.
When I arrived back at my hut I was greeted by Kouhei and Simon, as well as an old Japanese man driving a small car. Kouhei and Simon explained that they had planned to stay at the hut too, but had met this Japanese man who had offered them a place to stay. Now I was given the offer too. This was Osettai, a charitable gift, one of many, many offers I had along my pilgrimage. Generally speaking it's an offering given by people who believe they are assisting you in your pilgrimage; it is also said that by giving Osettai, you would receive a blessing from Buddha.
Being comfortable with my hut for the night, I gratefully declined the man’s offer. Kouhei took it up, and soon he was off. Simon was panicking. I explained that it was a Osettai. "What if he gets murdered? What if we don't see him again? He is going into the mountains, what if something bad happens?" Simon was stressing and asked if we should call someone for help. Simon, are you kidding me? Dude, relax. It's not like that.
With the sun setting it was time to get my drone up some some nice shots. After some rice paper rolls and more fried chicken for dinner from a konbini a few kilometres away, I returned to the hut and was greeted by the monk from Temple 6 that I had seen yesterday. He gave me his business card and asked if I had any pain. Curious, I told him that my back, shoulder and legs were sore. Unsurprisingly, Simon was concerned. This man is a con-artist Taryn. He will want you to give him money. Don't accept his offers. I didn't care, I was sore and would gladly pay any amount of money right now.
The monk gave me a damn good massage and then pulled out a slip of orange folder paper - a talismen, said to be full of healing power - and rubbed it on the areas that had pain, then tapped the areas of pain with two fingers. He explained to me that he wanted to help people and wanted to learn the power to cure cancer. Taking my hand, he placed the paper talisman into my palm and told me it was a gift. Giving him one of my name-slips, I thanked him and wished him the very best.
The monk gave me a damn good massage and then pulled out a slip of orange folder paper - a talismen, said to be full of healing power - and rubbed it on the areas that had pain, then tapped the areas of pain with two fingers. He explained to me that he wanted to help people and wanted to learn the power to cure cancer. Taking my hand, he placed the paper talisman into my palm and told me it was a gift. Giving him one of my name-slips, I thanked him and wished him the very best.
Tokushima from hight above
I was now off for a soak in the onsen. I had been to onsens before, but this was more of a business-style onsen. The lady took me in, showed me how to use the lockers for my shoes, and pointed me in the direction of a blue curtain - the mens onsen. Walking in I was greeted by a lovely little naked Japanese man, yep naked, who spoke fluent English. He escorted me to a locker, telling me to strip down and put my clothes in it. Once I was free of the burden of clothing, he took me into the onsen, where he explained what to do first.
After a soak I noticed a big, BIG Japanese man walk in, covered head to toe in large colourful tattoos. My Japanese mate who was sitting next to me gently nodded towards the big guy, looked at me and said quietly - "yakuza". He then noticed that I had tattoos on my back. Japanese hirigana. Bushido - The Japanese Samurai code of honor - runs from the base of my neck, and down my spine. Shit, I thought, these guys will think I'm nuts. I draped my small wet towel over my shoulder to cover it up, but it was a terrible attempt. Being the only Gaijin (non-Japanese) in the complex, I was already looking like a fish out of water. But it was all good. When it was time to shower and leave, Big Yakuza saw me and my ink. He smiled, nodded, and proceeded to the outdoors area to smoke a cigarette.
It was a late night. After talking to Gem again, I was visited by some cute locals in the form of green frogs. Jumping into my sleeping bag at 11pm, I noticed Simon sleeping on the bare tatami mats covered in his garbage bag blanket. I was excited for tomorrow, and dreading it too.
I've got this.
After a soak I noticed a big, BIG Japanese man walk in, covered head to toe in large colourful tattoos. My Japanese mate who was sitting next to me gently nodded towards the big guy, looked at me and said quietly - "yakuza". He then noticed that I had tattoos on my back. Japanese hirigana. Bushido - The Japanese Samurai code of honor - runs from the base of my neck, and down my spine. Shit, I thought, these guys will think I'm nuts. I draped my small wet towel over my shoulder to cover it up, but it was a terrible attempt. Being the only Gaijin (non-Japanese) in the complex, I was already looking like a fish out of water. But it was all good. When it was time to shower and leave, Big Yakuza saw me and my ink. He smiled, nodded, and proceeded to the outdoors area to smoke a cigarette.
It was a late night. After talking to Gem again, I was visited by some cute locals in the form of green frogs. Jumping into my sleeping bag at 11pm, I noticed Simon sleeping on the bare tatami mats covered in his garbage bag blanket. I was excited for tomorrow, and dreading it too.
I've got this.
This guy was good company
My room for the night - so cozy!
Simon would probably die out of anxiety if he had seen me dump by back bag(which on day 2 gave trouble to me too! Ended up sending 2kg or so back to Finland which helped a lot!) here and there unattended(even more if he knew how much cash reserve I kept there!). But Japan is rather safe and pilgrims stuff are even safer still.
Looking forward on your day 3. My favourite day of the trip.
You're so good at bringing out the memories of my Henro through your recounting of yours- especially that climb up to Temple 10. An American Buddhist had spent a sizeable time of our hike up there teaching me about the temples