Making our way to Matsuyama

Well, my plans of a regular blog of this trip were thwarted by the fact that the southern half of Shikoku and the wifi network are apparently strangers to one another. I suppose it may have been easier to get online had we been sleeping in lovely, comfortable, soft, clean, yummy hotel beds but we were not. Since Kochi we have only had two nights paid accommodation - in a ryokan in Uwajima - which had no internet connection. The remainder of the time we have been sleeping in the tent or in other free accommodation and all our efforts (aside from the obvious walking stuff) have been devoted to finding somewhere to wash and satisfying more-or-less continual hunger pangs rather than Facebook and blogging.

Communications are not
always cutting edge

But now we are in Matsuyama with all mod cons. We were so excited to arrive here last night that we booked four nights instead of the two we originally planned. After walking over 800 kilometres we figured we deserved a rest, clean sheets and some time off the trail. So while Mick is happily catching up with the football results and listening to music on You Tube (he's currently listening to Marmalade's Reflections of my Life - must be this pilgrimage getting to him) I'll give a potted update of the last couple of weeks on the Henro Michi (the pilgrimage road) since leaving Kochi.

Refreshed after our stay in the hotel we caught the train back to Temple 28, Dainichi, to resume our walk. This was going to be a special day for us. When we set out to cycle the pilgrimage last September, it was at Kochi that we admitted, after a huge argument, that we had had enough and had given up the pilgrimage. Today we would walk past the place we had given up. This time we felt completely different and I realised how glad I was that Mick had suggested we come back to Shikoku and give ourselves and the pilgrimage another chance.

The fan

At Kokubunji, number 29, I lit my three incense sticks then gently blew them out. 'No blow,' a woman said to me who was lighting hers next to me. She waved her hand over the sticks to put out the flame. 'Like this.' Darn. After visiting 29 temples twice over I was still getting things wrong. And that's before I even start on the sutra reading which I won't even talk about except to say it's a bit of a shambles. As usual, after we had followed our temple rituals we sat on a bench just watching what was going on. The woman who had explained my latest faux pas came over and gave me a fan. I wasn't sure whether she did this because I looked hot or whether she thought I could use it to wave over the incense sticks - anyway, it was a plastic one in the shape of a goldfish bowl advertising Panasonic. I thought it was really cool.

Between Temple 29 and 30 we reached 'give up hut'. It was here last year that the guidebook had been flung into a clump of bamboo trees and then had to be fished out again by Mick dangling me off the side of the road. We had hung up our henro jackets in the hut and cycled off without a second look back. Now we stopped at the hut for photos and a celebratory segment of orange before jauntily heading on to the next temple in fine fettle.

At 'give up' hut. Not giving up. Not yet anyway.

We spent the next couple of days meandering around Kochi, on suburban streets, through lines of paddy fields and along busy roads. Near Temple 31 we found ourselves climbing up a steep wooded path before emerging into the most beautiful botanical gardens. Temple 31 itself, Chikurinji, was beautiful; I could easily have spent the rest of the day there had we more time. But we had been been  in Kochi for days now, it was time to move on.

Leaving Kochi the map gave us two choices for crossing Urado Bay - by walking across a mighty  bridge that spanned the bay or via a short free ferry service. We opted for the ferry. On the way down to the port a woman came over and gave us 200 yen each for a coffee. (This sort of thing happens a lot here, as I mentioned last year and which I'll talk about again in a later post. It's one of the things that makes this walk so special). She asked where we were headed and when we explained she pointed at the map and at the road and we thought she said (in Japanese) 'Oh but the ferry isn't running today, you'll need to walk over the bridge.'

We changed course and headed for the bridge. We had not walked far on it before we realised that we were in immediate risk of death or serious injury. The 'pavement' was only inches wide and our heads exactly level with the wing mirrors of the countless lorries that were thundering past us. Feeling panicky I looked down only to see the ferry chugging merrily out of the port below. More oaths of the non-pilgrim sort were uttered before we retreated from the scary bridge to wait an hour for the next boat. What the woman had actually said to us we never did discover.

That evening it was gone five o'clock and we sat outside a convenience store on a little wall debating where to stop for the night. A man on his bicycle stopped and asked us where we would camp. We said we didn't know and he told us to go up to Temple 35 and ask the head monk for the tatami room. The heady scent of orange blossom filled the air as we climbed the steep winding path to the temple in the fading light, passed on the way by the last pilgrims of the day as they made their way back down. It had been good advice - the temple was beautiful and the facilities provided were excellent - a private room to sleep, a large seating area and a sink and kettle, all for free. And in the morning we watched the first light enter the valley below from the terrace below the temple with no sound except the singing of birds. I sat for a long time by the fishpond, watching pond skaters delicately crossing the water and a spider catching a fly in its web.

The temples were more widely spaced now as we made our way down the second pointy bit of Shikoku, Cape Ashizuri. Facilities were sparser too as we neared the Cape, and it was too late that we realised we had passed our last chance for the day of something to eat. We ate a sparse supper of twelve almonds each, consoling ourselves that tomorrow we would make an early start and get to the shop when it opened at nine. Except it was Wednesday. Apparently, as we were informed by the nice lady in the post office, the shop did not open on Wednesdays. We had to content ourselves with a packet of 'Calorie-Mate' which quite frankly tasted disgusting, until we finally reached the Cape and to our relief found a small restaurant serving food.

Unloading the catch

Smoking saba (mackerel)

Our 'house'

Many pilgrims retrace the route back up from Cape Ashizuri but we decided to go on round the Cape and come up the other side. After all, we may never come this way again, and going on felt better to us than going back. We were delayed for a day by a dramatic and heavy rainstorm which we sat out camped under a wooden hut, but the following day was warm and sunny and the rain was soon forgotten. At Sukomo we stayed in the michi-no-eki (road station) in a superb two-storey pilgrim hut. As it got dark, the owner of the cafe at the michi who had kindly already been over and fitted some netting to keep out the wind, called us down from our lodging on the upper level. Two other tourists from Sendai were there, holding sticks. He gave us a stick each and motioned us all to follow him. We had no idea what was afoot but obediently off we all went, down the road and along small paths between paddy fields, tapping our sticks all the while to ward off the snakes. Suddenly our leader gave the command to switch off our headlights. We did so and the fields were filled with the tiny dancing lights of fireflies. It was magical. And then he began to sing in Japanese, a haunting song, while we stood and watched the pulsing lights. It felt quite extraordinary. When he finished we gave a resounding round of applause and he beamed and took a bow before leading us back to the michi-no-eki. The evening was not over though, as our polymath host then produced a telescope and we spent the next hour examining the rings of Saturn and the moons of Jupiter before finally returning to our little house in the car-park.

The beloved Terra Nova needs repairing

Rounding the second cape had done wonders for our morale and now, as we made our way north we reached the halfway point, Temple Forty, the temple farthest away from Temple One. But with each day we were also feeling more weary. The weather was heating up and I agreed with Mick that the only way we were going to manage this walk was to work with the climate by getting up earlier. By now the days had fallen into a routine. The alarm goes off at four, and by half-past we drag ourselves out of our tent. We aim to be packed away and drinking coffee by five and walking by five thirty, or six at the latest. That way we get the bulk of our walking done in the cooler morning air. Twenty kilometres by lunchtime and a few more in the afternoon. At the end of each day I black in a little more of the map with my pen to reflect our progress for the day. The scrabble remains hardly used. Walk, eat, sleep. Walk eat sleep. Repeat. By now I am using my rucksack to hold up my trousers which have become too big for me and we have not had an alcoholic drink since the day we left Osaka.

The 'half price' sticker is useful to learn

This little fella popped out when I went to wash...

We stayed at Uwajima for two nights in a ryokan. The room was beautiful, a suite with tatami mats and paper screens and a small central table and chairs. But my plan of lounging in bed all day was thwarted when we were turned out at eleven for the room to be cleaned. I wondered whether the manager thought us a little lazy for lounging in bed all day. 'But I've just walked seven hundred kilometres!' I wanted to whine in my defence. Instead we mooched down the road under complimentary umbrellas and sat in a cafe for an hour before returning to our room, unfolding the packed away futons and lying back down where we stayed for the rest of the day.

Tunnels do the job but are not pleasant...

especially when they are this long.

Kukai sleeping under a bridge

This church is fibreglass!

We were heading towards Matsuyama but first came the climb up to Kuma Kōgen Highland, a high area of mountains where temples 44 and 45 are situated. It was a long hot climb to the town of Kuma and we decided to call it a day and visit Daihoji, number 44 the following morning. Our rest day was marred somewhat by a friendly but increasingly voluble cycling henro who was having a fine time on Asahi and sake. His English was as poor as our Japanese and we had little idea what he was saying. Eventually we politely said goodbye and wished him well and walked off to a nearby hut where we planned to pitch up for the night. Undeterred he gathered his things and came over to join us and eventually we pitched our tents side by side. In the morning he was as quiet as a mouse as he packed his gear onto his bike and cycled off.

Enormous trees on the path to Iwayaji

Temple 44 was the first temple we had come across which looked a little neglected. It had huge straw sandals in the entrance which apparently are remade every hundred years. Perhaps they were nearing the end of their time and so could be excused looking a little tired. But the rest of the temple too seemed a little unkempt, different from the immaculate gardens we usually found. Our guidebook advised leaving backpacks at Kuma as the route to Temple 45, Iwayaji or 'Temple of the Rocky Caves' is a 'there and back again' route but we had nowhere to leave them and after all, we had carried them everywhere else so we thought another 20k would make little difference. It was a superb walk, one of my favourite parts so far, along forest tracks which climbed up to a long ridge before descending down a path which ran between enormous trees and towering cliffs. The temple itself is built, as its name suggests, into the cliffs, and is utterly stunning. It was hard to pull ourselves away and make the long descent to the road and our return route to Kuma. That night we camped at a roadside pull-in ten kilometres down the road. We wanted to be in a position to get off the mountain the next morning as we had been informed more than once that heavy rain was forecast. So when our alarm went at four am we dispensed with coffee and breakfast and headed straight off and soon we were on Misatoke Pass and climbing down through the woods. Halfway down I took a tumble and ripped a hole in the knee of my new £90 overtrousers. I cheered up though when I realised I had accidentally been wearing them back to front and so the hole was in the back of the leg not the front. Nothing that a length of black duct tape would't fix!

Tea grower near Iwayaji

By the time the rain started in earnest we were down the mountain and on the outskirts of Matsuyama. We meandered about from temple to temple, accompanied by a very nice young chap called Kenji who was from Tokyo and who spoke excellent English. Kenji seemed totally unfazed by the rain as we got wetter and wetter as we walked along. If we had been on our own we would have taken refuge somewhere long ago. We asked him if he wanted to stop for for something to eat but he said he usually skipped lunch. Eventually we apologised to him and said we were bailing out and headed off in search of something to eat. It was gone three and most of the restaurants were closing. As we stood there wondering what to do a woman pulled over and asked if we were going to the next temple. We shook our heads and explained we were hungry. She motioned for us to get in her car and then she drove us down the road to a lovely udon bar where we sat for two hours stuffing our faces on noodles and tempura until the rain went off. We visited Temple 50 and then headed to 51 where we had heard there was a beautiful tsuyado (free accommodation). The monk at the temple verified we were walking pilgrims and carefully took our names and addresses before showing us to a large room above a storehouse at the back of the temple complex with blankets on the floor. It did not look very inviting, perhaps we had been spoilt by Temple 35. When we realised there was no electricity there either we decided not to stay and instead headed on to the superb Sen Guesthouse a day earlier than planned. Although they were fully booked Matthew and Nori, our hosts, were wonderfully accommodating and made up a bed for us in the staff room. What a joy it was to sit at the table chatting with the other guests while supping wine and whisky which went straight to my head after six weeks of abstinence. A few days here would surely recharge our batteries for the next section of our walk.

Thanks for reading. This turned into a long post and yet I feel I've only scratched the surface of what I want to say about this walk and this place. But I'll save it for another time. Mick's just poured me a beer and I'm off to relax. Cheers!

Ps. I forgot to say that somewhere along the way, when we were near Ashizuri, I celebrated my 51st birthday. Mick presented me with a surprise 'cake' in the form of a cream crêpe and as it was a special day I treated myself to an extra ten minutes in bed, and got up at twenty to five instead of half past four.  We were still asleep by half-past seven that evening though and it is the first birthday I have celebrated without alcohol since about 1979!