Kumano Kodo, Day One
Call us adventurers. Call us pilgrims. Call us silly...
We've woken early, excitedly so. To hop on a bus and take a short skip to our jump off point — Takijiri. Our mood couldn't be brighter because today is the first of four days, in which we play pilgrims on the Kumano Kodo trail. It would have been five days, had accommodation been available at the first rest point on the trail. But long-legged young men like us can walk two days or 9 hours in one day, right?
Our first steps off the bus, in our hi-tech active wear, carrying day-bags full of convenience store treats, lead us to a vending machine — available on every corner in Japan and even here, where the air feels ever so lofty knowing it has been steeped in pilgrims over 1,000 years ago. Can you tell our every breath comes with a burst of excitement?
However we don't warm to the idea of cold coffee from a vending machine and so ask a shopkeeper where we can get a hot coffee from. We bounce, between him and us, "vending machine" and "hot coffee?", until he comes out to bring the two together — "hot coffee from vending machine". Coffee highlighted in blue is cold and red is hot. If only we knew earlier, many mornings ago in Japan. How very modern, hot coffee in a can, what silly pilgrims we are!
Our next steps take us up to a more ancient path. Up we go. Each step, of which there are hundreds, no thousands, take us up the mountain. No down the mountain and up another. We must be at the top of this one, the path has levelled out. No up we go again, twisting and turning. These tricky pilgrims sure know how to cut a gorgeous path. Walk, step, climb, breath, stretch, skip, trip, pose...
Ahhh. We're in fine form. 5 hours later we arrive in the small town, Chikatsuyu. Given our average-pace, the estimated trekking times must be rather lengthy (or our legs).
For many months while planning our adventures, we've affectionately called this place "Happiness". Tonight we stay in a house, whose owner searched many years for a location to build her dream home. She calls it Happiness and it indeed rings true on arrival. Unexpectedly she is at the house when we arrive, to give us keys to her home and show us around — her house and the bicycles, which we are directed to use immediately so she can take us into the town. These pilgrims don't get a break!
We follow behind her car, stopping at the local cafe/store for a late lunch. As English-pilgrims in a small Japanese town, we couldn't feel more welcome. But never the less, a little lost, with conversation flowing in hand gestures more than words. At lunch we part ways with our host and decide to make full use of her home this evening by staying in and cooking.
Our weary legs pedal their way to the supermarket to see what feasts await. What we're met with is all very Japanese, a strong case for packaging that can be more universally recognised — less words, more pictures please. Fresh chicken and vegetables are easy enough to spot. But noodles and what we believe to be a stir-fry sauce, take longer to make their way into our basket. Sake is also a point of contention, not for the kind, which is all Japanese to us, but the size of bottle — tiny or enormous. Indecision sees us go for economies of scale.
Dinner is done in a blink of an eye and took far longer to buy than to prepare and eat. Perhaps we could have trekked back in time to scavenge for food and arrived at our destination sooner — nevertheless sleep has arrived and happiness is here with these silly pilgrims.
