For each of the three days on the Kohechi, we'd begin the day with an enormous climb, each day more challenging than the last. Yamamoto-san drives us to the suspension bridge which will usher us out of town. The ishitatami stone path begins just the other side, its pitch set at an eye-wincing angle. As the trail finally levels off, the eyes are in turn treated to the sight of a set of massive cedar trees, their ancient forms twisting ever upward in phantasmagoric shapes. Where one sees tall trees on ancients trails is an indication of a former settlement, or at least teahouses, protected by the man-made arborial windbreak. Daniel and I stopped a long while to admire them, and our conversation stays on trees for far up the trail.
It doesn't take too long before we arrived at Miura Pass, The trail deteriorates rapidly from here, scarred by landslides that adds a bit of excitement to a somewhat uneventful day. As we have no real views to speak of, we focus on the odd stone statue, the small clearings where teahouses once stood.
Our pace too is getting faster, and we are back down in the next valley by lunchtime. A small shrine provides a nice picnic spot, which gives us the energy to trod the nine kilometers of pavement to follow. This begins with a few pleasant villages, but midway through we come across an immense construction project, where they've graded the entire valley and covered it with concrete and grass. At the center is a dirt pile of near-mountainous proportions. When we ask a workman about it, he says that it's a refuse dump of sorts, where debris is brought after landslides and other typhoon damage. It makes some sense, but not really.
Just beyond the Subaru Hotel we cross another suspension bridge. This one dances and bounces under our weight. I'm not great with heights, so stop and wait for Daniel to cross before I continue, trying to make three points of contact where I can. About 3/4's of the way over, I think, screw it and stride across as quickly as I can.
Our reward comes with a beer and a foot bath just up the road in the center of Totsukawa Onsen. Our hotel is around the corner, but it is still not check-in time. The hotel itself is pleasant and clean if a bit dated, the staff friendly enough, but not as warm as the owners of the inns of the last two nights. We have come to civilization once again.
Someone from the inn drives us back to the trailhead in the morning. We'd wanted an earlier start so as to beat the rain, but they were a bit fussy about the breakfast time. The driver is about to take us slightly up the hill, but I, ever the purist, ask him to drop us off down at the river. I'm glad he did, for this initial section is one of the prettiest of the whole Kohechi, with ishitatami climbing at a degree gentle enough that we can admire the wet green after the night's rain, and the mist filling the valley for the rain to come.
And it does come, though thankfully after we've climbed through the hamlet of Hadenashi. It is a pleasant little snippet of homes and vegetable plots that clings to the spine of the ridge which peels away toward the roll of dozens of mountains on both sides. The hamlet's name is almost a synonym of the commonly heard expression sumimasen, it never ends, it never ends. And for awhile, neither does the ascent, and it is apparent why this is the toughest day on the Kohechi. The rain adds to our misery. While we'd had light drizzle on and off over the past few days, today it is merciless. I stop at a small Kannon hall to pull on my rain gear. The weather spurs us to climb more quickly, and before long we reach the pass. Maps show this route to be a perfect bell curve, and within minutes we're again fighting gravity down the other side, the stonework tricky in the rain. Along the way we startle no fewer than three huge bullfrogs, one of them taking a near suicide leap out into space.
We finally reach the road, completely drenched. I pull out my umbrella for the next stretch, which follows the Kumano-gawa to a michi-no-eki that promises curry rice and a hot bowl of noodles. Inside is a small exhibit showing the day by day travels of a traditional pilgrim, making a 28-day return journey from Kyoto.
Warm now but still very wet, we return to the tempest, which has lost none of the typhoon-like fury we've experienced all day. Luckily this is without wind. We climb again over the next kilometer, to the teahouse that marks the intersecting Nakahechi route. I've passed this a half dozen times, and never failed to look up the trail we just walked, thinking someday, someday... But now the Kohechi is fianlly done.
But we still have a couple of kilometers down to Hongu proper. The trail is more a series of interconnected lakes, waterfalls spilling through the stonework steps on the hill. We eventually pass that odd housing develop that sits behind Hongu, and a minute later, are praying before the grand shrine itself.
On the turntable: Dave Brubeck & Paul Desmond, "The Complete Storyville Broadcasts"
No comments:
Post a Comment