Shikoku Pilgrimage Stage 2, Japan

Kochi Prefecture: Austerity & Discipline

Prologue

The second stage of the Shikoku Pilgrimage demands austerity and discipline. Crossing into Kochi prefecture, we wonder how the journey will test us and mark our lives. 

Tokushima, the first stage, represented the awakening of the spirit. We started our pilgrimage concerned that our scant knowledge of Japanese culture, language and traditions would find us wanting. However, the conversations with fellow henros (pilgrims), the ritual of temple visits and the kindness of local people shed light on the practices of Shingon Buddhism and the rich history of the 88 Temples walk. 

Over eight days and 188 kilometres of walking, we settled into our role as henros. While we wish we could speak more than a few words of Japanese, our lack of familiarity with Japan makes the journey intriguing as we search for meaning in everyday encounters.

On day nine we cross into Kochi, following in the footsteps of Kōbō Daishi, the great monk, administrator, poet and educator who henros believe travels with them on their 1,200-kilometre Shikoku Pilgrimage.

Day 9 (cont.): 14 km/No Temples

The second stage of the Shikoku Pilgrimage begins at Hotsumisakiji (Temple 24). However, it’s a 45-kilometre walk from the Kochi border to the temple so for practical purposes, our aesthetic training starts as soon as we leave Tokushima prefecture. 

The Shikoku Pilgrimage tradition of Osettai, whereby locals offer gifts to henros, is still practised. We have received mandarins, lollies (candy) and good luck charms. Today a woman invites us into her small, exquisite cafe and treats us to coffee, cake and spirited conversation. We’re as excited as she is to discover that her artist daughter-in-law lives not far from us in Australia. Just before we leave, a group of teenage boys overcome their shyness and ply us with questions. Is this our first visit to Japan? Why Shikoku, the smallest and least visited of the four main islands? Ah, the Pilgrimage. Do we intend to walk 1,200 kilometres? Yes, we reply, that is our hope. They wish us well on our journey.

We follow the coast, past a 5-storey tsunami refuge and on through tuna fishing villages. We encounter no other pilgrims en route. Due to accommodation pressures, it’s a short day for us (and a correspondingly long day tomorrow). We’re grateful for the relaxing afternoon this throws our way; a wander along the beach in the warm sun watching the local surfers before settling on a seafront terrace with a beer.

Day 10: 38 km/No Temples

As we leave our South Shore guesthouse, the sun rises from the ocean and surfers limber up by the water’s edge.

We spend the day on Route 55, enjoying the sun as we follow the coast towards Cape Muroto. Sweeping bays, cape upon unfolding cape. Waves breaking on the rocky shore. The rocks crackling as the water strikes them. Monkeys running up from the beach and scampering across the road in front of us. The vast Pacific Ocean. It’s reminiscent of Australia’s Great Ocean Road, except for the monkeys and the tsunami escape routes. 

The horizon is hazy and as we look on, a sea mist descends. A fisherman sits among the detritus of a working port, repairing his nets. The nearby village has a pervasive air of abandonment. 

We meet a couple of pilgrims: Bob from Canada who is injured and waiting for his guest house to open so he can rest; and Dominique, a retired airline pilot from France. His work often took him to Japan and he became enamoured with the culture. He wants to explore all aspects of the Shikoku Pilgrimage and plans to take three months to walk it (twice as long as we’ve planned for). 

Even though we have far to walk today, we’re drawn to Riders Paradise, a quirky part-cafe, part-motorcycle museum overrun with cats. The eccentric owner serves us coffee as we sit on deck chairs by the seashore, entranced by the sun, the ocean and the bizarre magic of the place. Eventually, we shake ourselves out of our reverie and say goodbye. On finding that Michael once rode motorbikes, the owner insists on showing us through the museum’s three stories of vintage bikes. He says he intends to restore them all, ‘if only life was not so busy’. 

We continue along the coast to the site of two rocks rising from the sea. A braided rope links the larger rock to the smaller one. In Shintoism, these ‘Married Couple Rocks’ symbolise the sacred union of man and woman. Further along, there’s a run-down sculpture park. An old woman pulling a wheelbarrow containing a lone daffodil struggles across the road.  

Rising out of the green-black vegetation is a ghost-white statue of a young Kōbō-Daishi, alerting us to the presence of Mikurodō and Shinmeikutsu caves. Here Kōbō-Daishi took his chosen name, Kukai, from the unobstructed view of the sea and sky. He undertook long, rigorous, ascetic training here and achieved enlightenment when a shining star flew from the sky into his mouth. 

The Misaki Hotel looks unprepossessing when we arrive late in the afternoon. Inside though, it’s charming. Built in the 1930s, this traditional ryokan is part of Japan’s tangible cultural property. Our room has an alcove with armchairs and a view of the cape. We soak away the 38 kilometres of road walking in the hotel’s onsen. Afterwards, we settle into our alcove with a cup of green tea, mesmerised by the play of sea and setting sun. The hotel serves a pilgrim’s menu for those walking the Shikoku Pilgrimage. It’s not as extensive as the multi-course kaiseki served to other guests, but it’s a memorable feast, especially as our host speaks good English and her husband knows his sake. 

Day 11: 34 km/Temples 24-26

A nightingale sings as our host waves us on our way. We climb steeply up through the forest, drawn onwards by the scent of incense. It’s a Sunday and the temple precinct is lively with Japanese henros travelling from temple to temple by car. Hotsumisakiji (Temple 24) was once a place of esoteric Shingon Buddhism and flourished thanks to the support of warlords and feudal lords. As our last temple visit was three days ago, we did a dry run of the rituals to re-remember them before crossing the threshold. Purify with water before ringing the temple bell. Light a candle and three incense sticks, the latter being an offering to the past, present and future Buddha. 

Hotsumisakiji is in the centre of Juroto-Anan National Park. It’s influenced by the warm Kuroshio current and we delight in walking through the lush tropical vegetation growing near the coast. 

An hour or so later, on a hill overlooking Murotsu harbour, we arrive at Shinshōji (Temple 25), the port temple. In 1602, a wild storm far off the coast threatened a member of the Yamauchi family. Kajitori Jizo, the temple’s principal deity, appeared out of nowhere in the guise of a priest, took the helm, and guided the ship safely into the Murotsu port. Today, fishermen still pray to Kajitori Jizo for protection while at sea. 

At Kongōchōji (Temple 26), a solemn henro dressed in white from head to toe is chanting and ringing the bells he is carrying. Nearby is a Pilgrim Lyceum, a place of training in the gyodō method of chanting sutras while turning around. 

Our temple visits absorb us until we look at the time. We need to move to reach our accommodation before dark. As we leave Kongōchōji, a gentle rain begins to fall on the earth and mist settles in the folds of the steep mountains. We wind in and out of forests, fishing ports and farms, curious about the loquat orchards with their fruit encased in bloom-like yellow bags. We learn that the Japanese have used bags to protect developing fruit for centuries. The first bags were silk, especially sewn for the fruit; now, growers use paper or plastic bags. 

We walk through the streets of Kiragawa, lined with traditional white-walled homes and storehouses. Situated on the wild Pacific coast, the buildings are designed to withstand fierce wind and rain. Kiragawa was once a major producer of white charcoal. Now, it’s famous for its annual Doll Festival featuring elaborate displays of dolls representing members of the Imperial court in the Heian period (794 -1185).  

In a damp fishing village, a sign in English: a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor. Built on a rocky cliff at the ocean’s edge is a bold red torii gate, the entrance to a Shinto shrine. A woman in a car stops, gives us a handful of lollies and waits to ensure we take the right road before driving off again. 

As we walk through the darkening streets of Yasuda, the rain intensifies. By the time we arrive at our accommodation, we’re drenched. Our high-octane host makes us a warming drink and then insists on driving us to the local onsen where we relax in the steaming hot outdoor pools. 

Day 12: 32 km/Temple 27

Our host wants to transfer our packs to the next town to save us lugging them up a mountain to Kōnomineji (Temple 27). She relents when we explain that carrying them is a part of our ascetic training. 

We’re on the coast road early, wandering in and out of film-set-like traditional villages. We walk with Travis from North Carolina who is taking advantage of a lull between major projects to walk the Shikoku Pilgrimage. He’s unfazed by the distance as he’s done other long walks, including the 4,000+ kilometre Pacific Crest Trail.

Kōnomineji is five kilometres inland and reached via a steep, camelia-strewn, henro michi path. Within the temple precinct is a beautifully designed garden of rock and topiary, backed by ancient trees. There’s a bird high up in one of the trees, singing a sweet melody. The purifying water that flows from the spring here is believed to cure illnesses. Kōnomineji is a spiritual checkpoint and if Kōbō Daishi deems you unworthy, you cannot continue your pilgrimage. 

We clear the hurdle of the unknown test and with Kōbō Daishi’s silent consent, we continue our pilgrimage. On a rocky mound, archeologists are painstakingly chipping away in search of fossils. There are whitecaps on the water and no one on the beach. The wild wind is against us. We seek respite in an upmarket cafe and enjoy good coffee, delicious cakes, and an expansive sea view. 

Our spirits restored, we walk on a bicycle path for several kilometres, never straying far from the sea. On one side, beauty abounds. The Pacific Ocean is shimmering and infinite. Great ultramarine waves roll in, the water patterning the grey-sand beaches. The landward side is a different story. It’s all dilapidated fishing shacks, rusting equipment and mounds of debris. We come across an abandoned artist studio where lifesize henro dolls sit as if resting between temple visits. The walls are covered with drawings and the tables piled high with a thousand paper cranes. 

This afternoon, we walk past two Christian churches, taking to three the total number we’ve seen on Shikoku. The indigenous religion of Japan, Shinto, coexists with various sects of Buddhism and even Christianity, in keeping with the Japanese fluid approach to religion. It is said that in Japan you ‘are born Shinto, married Christian and die Buddhist’.

Throughout Kōchi, there are many long stretches between temples. It’s why it’s known as the stage of aesthetic training, where pilgrims experience trials and doubts. We’ve covered 100 kilometres in the last three days and feel the effort in our feet, legs and shoulders. But as soon as we’re shown our room in a serene, traditional Japanese house, any doubt about why we are walking the Shikoku Pilgrimage dissipates. We have a stunning view of the harbour, a hot bath and an elaborate dinner to look forward to. 

Day 13: 32 km/Temples 28-31

We leave our room with a view and set off on another 30+ kilometre day, hugging the coast for an hour before veering inland. After skirting around the ragged edges of towns, we enter a landscape where we can breathe a little easier. Farmers are out on their tractors with herons, egrets and spoonbills following behind them. 

Dainichiji (Temple 28) is known for its sacred camphor tree and seasonal flowers. The magnolias are in flower now; the weeping cherries will blossom soon and rain pink petals on the earth. The temple has two statues carved by Kobo Daishi: a standing ‘Bodhisattva Who Hears the Sounds of the World’; and a Buddha who prays for people of the distant future. A temple official asks if we are walking pilgrims and when we answer yes, she presents us with an osettai of a hand-made bag filled with edible treats and an envelope containing a 1,000 yen note.

Kokubunji  (Temple 29) is a quiet and graceful place with flower gardens and a hondo (main temple) with a persimmon thatched roof. It’s associated with a famous poet, Nukiyuki, who used kana, the script of women, to write his poems. Legend has it that Kobo Daishi invented the script. Discouraged from using Kanji (the script of men), kana enabled women to express themselves and document their observations of the world.  

From Zenrakuji, only recognised as the true 30th temple of the Shikoku Pilgrimage in 1994, we skirt around new housing estates to find the path through the forest. The trail takes us up to the beautiful Makino Botanic Gardens where we become so enchanted we lose the way to Chikurinji (Temple 31). Eventually, we happen upon the stone steps leading to the temple. It’s a steep climb but worth it for the air of sacredness, the ancient Buddha statues and the five-storey red pagoda. Its garden is listed as a National Place of Scenic Beauty.

We walk down to level ground through a luxuriant forest a-chatter with monkeys. Henros can bypass Kochi City but, after 13 days of walking, we’re keen for a rest day so we catch a bus to the city centre. It’s the biggest city we’ve been in since arriving in Shikoku and we’re agog. In the villages we’ve been walking through, everyone dresses and behaves in the same modest way. Here, there’s a subculture of people who dress as their favourite anime and manga characters. It’s a modern, individualistic form of expression, albeit influenced by traditional Japanese costumes and Kabuki theatre. 

Day 14: Kochi City

A rest day in Kochi City. It’s bitterly cold and the wind tears through our lightweight walking clothes. Fortunately, the sun shines for our visit to the impressive Kochi Castle. Afterwards, we gravitate towards Hirome Market for its liveliness, delicious food (especially the bonito seared in flaming straw) and locally brewed sake. Snow flurries blur the late afternoon vista of the city twinkling below our hotel room. We wash our clothes, visit the tourist office where the helpful staff solve an accommodation problem for us, and then return to the market for an early dinner. We enjoy a quiet evening, reflecting on life’s joys and sorrows and letting our impressions of the first two weeks of the Shikoku Pilgrimage settle.  

Day 15: 32 km/Temples 32-35

Mist moistens the mountains. It’s close to zero degrees this morning as we retreat to a quaint cafe where we enjoy a breakfast of eggs, fluffy milk toast and coffee. The other customers sit in silence, reading the newspaper as they eat. On our way to the bus stop, we pass children on their way to school. A slight child dressed in a beautiful kimono is too shy to acknowledge us. Another, not at all shy, beams at us and says ‘hello’ in English.

Jacqui and Lucy, two New Zealanders we met a few days ago, are at the bus stop. The four of us take the bus back to where we left the waymarked route and resume our walk. With the city behind us and the air warming, we find a way across the flooded rice paddies before climbing through forests, past a cemetery, and up to Zenjibuji (Temple 32). Situated on a small mountain overlooking the ocean is a statue of a ‘Bodhisattva Who Hears the Sound of Ships’. The temple is a place to pray for the safety of sailors and fishermen. There’s a stone inscribed with a Basho haiku: Wintry blasts, the rocks look sharpened, among cedar trees. 

A ferry across Urado Bay. A well-provisioned henro rest stop. A sake-making factory. More abandoned houses. Known as Akiya, locals and foreigners can buy these properties for a song and build a new life around them. Lucy co-owns a former Akiya on Honshū. She renovated it and now rents it out to travellers.  Urbanisation, ageing populations and changing family dynamics make life more difficult for some and create opportunities for others.

Sekkeiji (Temple 33) is the family temple of Chōsokabe, a feudal warlord (1539 – 1599). We’ve seen his name at a few temples, outing him as responsible for attacking and burning down temples in his (successful but short-lived) quest to take power of all Shikoku. Sekkeiji has nationally important statues of the Medicine Buddha, a sweet Zennishi Doju posed cocking his head, and the bodhisattvas of the Sun and the Moon. It’s not far from Katsurahama Beach, famous for its white sand and the views of the moon reflected on the beach. 

A swathe of radiant pink spreads across the hillsides as the cherry trees blossom. On the way to Tanemaji (Temple 34), we spy a hip cafe where the four of us stop for coffee. Upon learning where we’re from, the barista tells us he honed his coffee-making skills in New Zealand and Australia. He’s excited about recalling his antipodean experiences and sharing his favourite coffee haunts with ‘locals’.  

The coast of Tosa Bay is the centre of Shikoku’s sacred sites. Kiyotakiji (Temple 35) is one of them. Halfway up Mt Io on a hillside of citrus groves, it’s at the end of a steep winding road. At the top is a serenely beautiful, 9-metre-tall statue of Yakushi Nyorai, the Buddha of Healing.

We walk on, past rice paddies, greenhouses, new housing estates, factories and the occasional glimpse of a forest. The incoherence of the landscape makes it difficult to embrace. 

Last night we slept on the 13th floor of a crowded business hotel in the heart of Kochi City. Tonight, we’re the only guests in an out-of-the-way homestay with tatami mats, sliding paper doors and deep stillness. 

Day 16: 22 km/Temple 36

The world is white with frost this morning; the temperature below zero, again. As we hurry down the mountain looking for a heated cafe, we wonder if the weather will warm before we finish the walk. And if it does, will it be so hot that we’ll long for it to be like it is now?

A leisurely breakfast inside a warm bakery, chatting with some teenagers curious about where we’re from and what we’re doing in Japan. Afterwards, we follow the river out of town, watching men fishing from the shore and ducks deep-diving for food. 

We climb high through the forest on a henro michi route to a lookout with a sweeping view across the Pacific Ocean. It’s a panorama of offshore islands, distant mountains and not-so-distant towns, including Usacho. On our descent, we stop to listen to a woodpecker and chat with a group of energetic local women, all over 70 and day-hiking in the mountains. Then we continue down to the harbour, across the sparkling turquoise Uranouchi Bay and on to Shōryūji (Temple 36).

Shōryūji is nestled in the valley. Protected from the worst of the weather, its garden is beginning to green. The temple’s principal image, Nakiri Fudo Myōō, is said to have calmed a storm during Kobo Daishi’s voyage to China. Even now, it is believed to calm stormy seas and guarantee fishermen a good catch. A Japanese pilgrim, Yasuo, confirms that the flowers above the seat we share are cherry blossoms, the first we’ve seen up close. 

It’s a short day today and as we can’t check into our accommodation till 4 pm, we spend the afternoon at the local onsen. We’re weeks from completing the Shikoku Pilgrimage but know that when we do, we’ll miss this soothing, centuries-old tradition of soaking in hot springs at the end of a day’s walking. 

Day 17: 25 km/No Temples

After talking us through the options for today’s section, our host drives us to the port to ensure we arrive in time for the ferry. Three Japanese henros and five foreigners wait in the rain for the boat to take us across the bay to Yokonami. The sea is a swirl of water, inlets and islands. Soon after we disembark, the rain stops. 

Taking advantage of henro michi shortcuts, we wind up through the forests as pilgrims once did. A stunning vista greets us from a high point on an abandoned road. A sea-green sea. Waves crashing against black rocks. Japanese black kites, circling. The sweeping arc of a grey-sand beach far down below us. An orchard of loquats sloping down to the coast.

This afternoon we have a choice of routes; the difficult one across the mountains, the easy one along the highway; or the winding coastal one. We settled on the third option and are pleased we did. Shikoku is unkempt and unattractive in parts but today the island delights us. The green, labyrinthal mountains are free of communication towers and high-voltage power lines. The sea is wild and beautiful, its force explosive as it thunders onto the shore. We gaze out to floating islands, nesting cormorants, oyster beds, a lighthouse moored at sea, and surfers riding the waves. The rhythm of the water instils a sense of calm. 

Day 18: 32 km/Temple 37

Last night we enjoyed a convivial dinner with Lucy and Jacqui at a do-it-yourself Okonomiyaki cafe. (Okonomiyaki is a savoury Japanese pancake.) This morning we woke to the sound of rain on the roof; it is still raining when we leave the guest house at 6 am. After breakfast at a konbini, we walk out of town along the canal, mist draping the hills. We pass a grove of cherry blossoms and a sign telling us they were planted in 1950 and flower around 6 April each year. Bundles of black bamboo line a fence, awaiting cartage. Famous since the Edo period, this bamboo is used to make flutes, garden fences and architectural features. 

It rains incessantly. We follow the wild Shikoku Nature Trail through beautiful lush forests, up and over Nanako Pass. 

As the rain eases, the sound of a hundred birds singing swells in the forest. Mountains come and go as the mist rises and falls back down again. We drop into a shrouded valley where the rice is already green and the tall camellia trees are laden with white, pink and magenta flowers. At the deserted Kageno railway station, a ‘family’ of lifesize dolls stand by the track, waving. They represent residents who once used this station. Now, almost no trains stop here.

Iwanotoji (Temple 37) was originally established to pray for the end of calamities and the emergence of blessings. It fell upon hard times but reinvented itself in 1978 as a pop art temple and wellbeing resort. Its hondo has a striking ceiling, decorated with 575 paintings of flowers, birds, winds, the moon and Western pop culture icons. Close by flows the Shimanto River, the longest river in Shikoku and the last river in Japan without a dam. Its sometimes ferocious current has made the local land fertile. 

It’s 80 kilometres to the next temple from here, the longest stretch between temples on the Shikoku Pilgrimage. It’s known to test the endurance of henros. We eat lunch in a konbini before continuing through Shimanto Town and out into the rice paddies. Climbing up to Mt Gozaisho, we take the trail marked as a ‘strange road’ through cedar forests. On the other side of the mountain, water surges through channels and canals as we climb down to another rice-growing valley, 

We find our way to the remote-seeming Kaina railway station to catch a train back to Shimanto Town. The driver of a train travelling in the opposite direction stops and checks that we know where we’re going and which train to catch. Despite the pressure he is under, he obligingly poses for a photo. 

After a hot bath at our Ryokan, we find a sake brewery that uses traditional methods and ingredients, including local, organic, Niida rice. It’s cultivated in the mountainous areas nearby and known to produce a mellow aroma and full-flavour sake. The brewery also serves delicious food and by the time we lay down on our futons for the night, we’re feeling quite mellow. We sleep soundly.

Day 19: 34 km/No temples

Breakfast is cheesecake and a golden drip coffee from a vending machine. Sustained, we catch the toy-like train back to Kaina station and resume our walk. 

A chorus of frogs. Birds on song. The forest glistens with dew and spider webs. Small red crabs cross the road in front of us. Moss and creepers cover the stone walls. Cherry trees blossom in the protected folds of the mountains. Herons pick their way through flooded rice paddies or nest in the trees above the fields.

We meet Yasuo (the Japanese henro) on the road but no one else is out this early. We follow the trail around the Shimanto River Estuary to the sea. Continuing around the coast, we walk on the top of the sea wall until we come to a dead end and are forced to retreat. We pass through ramshackle villages and prosperous ones, all empty of people. In one abandoned house there’s a shrine, glowing like a precious artwork amid the decay. 

Although it’s a day devoid of temple visits, we learn something we should already know. We should be stepping over, not on, the raised threshold when entering a temple. The threshold separates what lies outside from what lies within. In ancient times, it was considered sacred and even today to step on it is disrespectful. 

All afternoon we walk on Route 56; two pilgrims battling the traffic, the rain and the unsightly factories. We follow the railway line into Shimanto City, find a restaurant and order eel and sweet fish from the Shimanto River. Later in the evening, we phone home. The news on our brother-in-law’s health is concerning but for now, all we can do is keep him in our thoughts. 

Day 20: 34 km/No Temples

Adrift in the damp empty streets of Shimanto City, we stop for a coffee at a konbini, as much for the comfort of the ritual as for the hit of caffeine. 

Sun breaking through. Steam rising from the dark road. Water cascading down the mountains. A crystal clear river rushing towards the ocean. Gulls cawing. We’re walking the longer coastal route today, for the solace offered by the sea and the sky. A man on a scooter stops and tries to persuade us to take the shorter highway route. He’s insistent but we remain steadfast. He shakes his head and rides off to talk to saner folk. 

Winding through bright green hills, past small fields of onions ready for harvesting. Rain falls for an hour or so. Then the wind picks up and with it, a sense that a storm is approaching. As we near a small coastal village, we see smoke pouring from a fish preserving factory. It’s a hive of industry: women loading wood; others sorting fish; trays of sardines drying; and smoked fish stacked ready for distribution.

We join the highway close to a konbini where we meet two Japanese pilgrims, one French, and one other who makes it clear he is not interested in talking to us. After a few kilometres on the highway, we re-find the coast. The beach here is remarkable for its lack of concrete fortifications. People stroll along its long sandy arc and surfers brave the cold water. 

The long walk from Temple 37 to Temple 38, the longest distance between any of the 88 temples, is taking its toll. We arrive in Tosashimizu exhausted. We console ourselves with the thought that this stage of the Shikoku Pilgrimage is an opportunity to strengthen our resilience in the face of the long, solitary days. Stars shine brightly in the night sky and the moon glows like a golden orb. 

Day 21: 30 km/Temple 38

We had to detour late yesterday to find somewhere to sleep. This morning, our host insisted on driving us back to where we left the trail. Today we aim to walk down the eastern side of Cape Ashizuri to Kongōfukuji (Temple 38) and then return to our accommodation on the western coast. 

It’s a sparkling morning on the whale viewing trail. We pass a harbour where fishermen unload their catch as kites whirl in the sky above them. It’s wilder walking than we’ve experienced on Shikoku. The route takes us along beaches deep in driftwood, across fast-flowing streams, and up and over wooded headlands. In the forest, Japanese jack-in-the-pulpit lilies are flowering. Found only in the moist, shaded woodlands of Shikoku, the flower is striking. It has a smoky purple base, snow-white cup & large striped hood. There are tell-tale signs of wild boars alongside the track and traps set to catch them. The boars have long been part of the Japanese rural diet but they destroy crops, pasture, and the habitat of indigenous plants and animals. 

Kongōfukuji overlooks the Pacific Ocean at the tip of the Ashizuri Peninsula. The temple has always enjoyed patronage from aristocrats, warriors and noble clans. It survived through the early Meiji years when other temples suffered damage. The large pond in the temple precinct is a water mirror that reflects the temple’s halls and 108 Buddha statues. We have our books inscribed by a monk. The marks of his calligraphy are not just a recognition of our visit but an acknowledgement that our wishes are delivered to the deities. 

Cape Ashizuri is the southernmost point of Shikoku and a place of great natural beauty. Looking out across the vast, deep-blue ocean, you can see the curvature of the earth. People set sail for the boundless south from here, believing paradise lay over the horizon. It was a boat journey bound up in hope and despair for they travelled alone, with no intention of ever returning.

After traversing a forest of wild camellias, we come to a lookout. Lucy & Jacqui are here, taking in the infinite grandeur, so we sit in the sun and chat with them for a time. The bright white lighthouse, Japan’s largest, entices us to the point. A heart-shaped arch through which the sea surges calls us back to the water’s edge.   

After lunch at a busy, one-man noodle shop, we walk through forests abundant with sub-tropical plants. In a grove of azaleas, the track is soft underfoot with fallen pink flowers and last season’s leaves. A long road tunnel takes us from one fishing village to another. In the port, boats are lined up ready for an early start, their guard rails strung with brightly coloured nets. 

The sun shines all day and the wind is still.

Day 22: 29 km/No Temples

A nearby temple bell sounds at 6 am. It’s a calm overcast morning, the breeze is warm. Rain is forecast for late afternoon.

Into a road tunnel, out through the forest on a path fringed with flowering lilies and back out to the coast. We stop at a small, old-fashioned cafe perched high above the sea. A handful of locals are having breakfast and we join them. The proprietor serves us the house standard; coffee, a banana and a boiled egg. There’s general amusement about our presence and when we ask, the customers, if not the proprietor, are happy to pose for a photograph. 

We pass several henros walking in the opposite direction: solo Japanese men; a woman from Israel; and Patrick from Melbourne. When we stop at a konbini for an early lunch, we meet Malu & Matthijs from the Netherlands. We’re staying at the same farm this evening so we walk together for the rest of the day. They’re at a time of change in their lives and are open and curious conversationalists. Along with musing on what it takes to live a good life, we discuss the ethics of non-Buddhists (like us) walking the Shikoku Pilgrimage. While keeping an open mind on the subject, we agree it’s a privilege to experience Japan as a walking pilgrim, taking in the unknown one step at a time. 

Following rivers, past small wooden shrines and doors mysteriously cut into the cliff face. The delicate beauty of the cherry blossoms is captivating. The walking is easier than it’s been. We arrive at our night’s accommodation early enough to watch the weather break from the shelter of our guest house. In a few minutes, the rain obliterates the world beyond the window. 

Dinner is at the farm where we’re staying. Around the table are a French and a Japanese henro, the four of us, and our gregarious hosts (one of whom is not long back from a surfing trip to Australia). It’s a delicious and hearty meal, served with Doburoku, an unfiltered, milky-coloured sake made from fermented local rice. The nearby village is one of the few places that still produces it. Although it’s illegal to brew without a special licence, some people believe Doburoku ‘is a part of the food culture and essential to the pursuit of happiness, a basic right protected by the constitution.’

Day 23: 29 km/Temple 39

We walk down from the mountains and through small villages to the valley below. Here, the cherry trees are flowering two weeks earlier than predicted. In Japan, cherry blossoms (sakura) symbolise renewal, vitality and beauty. The transience of the delicate pink and white flowers also serves as a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of life. During WWII, Japanese pilots painted sakura flowers on the sides of their planes before embarking on suicide missions. Falling cherry petals came to represent the souls of these young men who sacrificed themselves for the Emperor. 

Enkōji (Temple 39) is the last temple in Kochi prefecture. Legend has it that in 911, a red turtle came from its underwater dragon palace and made its home in a temple pond. It had a bell on its back and, in the early Meiji era (1868 – 1912), the bell was rung at the opening and closing of the Kochi Prefectural Assembly. 

Ghost villages. Faded images of women in traditional dress adorning a closed-down boutique. A man on a bicycle, handing out osettai. He has two questions for us; where are we from, and have we walked from Temple 1? When we answer the second question in the affirmative, he presents us with a bar of chocolate. He tells us he spends his day riding around talking to henros, keeping count of how many (we are pilgrims #1,112 and #1,113), and giving osettai. 

Sukumo, where we are staying tonight, is famous as the place where cherry blossoms first bloom in Japan due to its warm mild climate. Nearby is Mt Sasayama, a 1,065-metre-high mountain that rises on the western border of Kochi and Ehime Prefectures. It’s been a place of mountain worship since ancient times. The view from the summit is spectacular. You can see as far as the Uwakai Sea and the distant mountains of Kyushu. In spring, large groves of rhododendrons and azaleas dazzle the visitor. 

Day 24: 30 km/Temple 40

Early in the morning, we walk out of the port town of Sukumo and up through a cedar forest on a designated strange road.  

The baffling sight of an orchard strung with bright-orange inflatable tigers. Rice-growing villages. Frogs croaking in the flooded fields. Hillsides dotted with pebbly-skinned mandarins and pomelos. Decimated pine forests; the trees felled for timber for ships and their roots dug up for pine oil during WWII.

Fatigued, we climb up to Matsu Pass, stopping to rest near the ruins of an old tea house. From this height, we can see across Sukumo Bay to islands and mountains half-lost in the haze. Small harbours dot the coastline. Birds of prey free fall through the sky. Our spirits soar. 

Pilgrims usually spend more time in Kochi than any other of the four prefectures. The long distances between temples can seem endless and the inclement weather testing. However, after walking 615 kilometres over the first two stages of the Shikoku Pilgrimage, we leave behind the austerity and discipline of Kochi, cross the Matsu Pass, and enter Ehime with readiness in our step. What will we learn and experience during the third stage of the Pilgrimage, the stage of enlightenment? 

This is the second in a four-part series on walking the Shikoku Pilgrimage. The first stage through Tokushima Prefecture represented the awakening of the spirit.

You might also be interested in reading about our Via Francigena Sud pilgrimage.