Despite a very early start, I didn't arrive at Kawazoe Station until around 10 a.m. Not any ideal situation, as I had a good deal of ground to cover, and the December day allowed me only six hours of daylight to do so. A steady pace would get me there, though I'd have little in reserve to explore more deeply things found along the way. I also wasn't looking forward to the fact that much of the walk would along the busy Route 42, but at least its steady buzz of traffic would keep me moving rapidly forward.
I recalled well the little station at Kawazoe, where I'd finished the last leg in the summer of 2022. The village (and all the other villages) must have been a charming place to live, before being denigrated to a place to blow past along R42. My map mentions some statuary beside the path, but despite my walking a few back-and-forths, they never reveal themselves. Perhaps they'd been moved when they renovated the brand new shrine on the hillock just above. I am further puzzled by an exercise bench set-up where the barbell is weighted by circular stones of concrete, Flintstone-style.
Route 42 comes up all too soon, and the wind whips me up and over the pass. A new religion has built a temple-cum-castle at the top, beside a large rock where a legendary princess of old had taken a break. A mysterious cluster of Jizo just off trail has me wondering if the route was dumbed down to have us follow the new highway rather than squiggle across a mountain route that I see on my map. That also matches the description in some of the older books for some other statuary that I never actually saw. There are plenty of historic information signs, but little trace of what they indicate.
At any rate, I am finally led off R42, down a gentle road that leads to the picturesque Yahashira Shrine on the outskirts of Misedani. There a junction here of sorts, with a small trail that wraps around the back of some houses and down to the banks of the Miyagawa. In old times, a ferry service led pilgrims across, but today it would need to be prearranged. I decide to go to the landing anyway, in the off chance I can blag a ride. But all is quiet along this jagged, rocky stretch of river, but for the flags whipping on the landing across the water.
A backtrack, then back along the new Ise-ji route. Apparently, no one under 60 lives in Misedani. The town hall shares a carpark with the michi-no-eki, which feels Reiwa appropriate somehow. I take a quick lunch, then head over Funaki bridge, a 125 year old concrete beauty, with waist-high, vertigo-inducing railings. Safe across, I have a long monotonous slog above the river, and paralleling for the second time the mountain pass that I'll be crossing posthaste. The eyes drawn repeatedly upward to the heights to follow, this approach takes a toll on the walker's psychology and spirit.
I finally reach the opposite boat landing that I'd seen earlier, just below another Yahashira Shrine, this one elegant and quiet and shaded by bamboo forest. The climb toward Misesaka-toge begins sharply and in earnest from here, but despite being the first day, the going is easy, and I suddenly find myself on the other side.
Takihara-no-miya appears like an oasis. I walk a long while under towering forest that shades her. It appears that the shrine is modeled on the grand Ise Shrines, and squares empty of all but stone suggest that these structures too are rebuilt every 20 years. I'd love to take a longer break here, even doze out of sight behind one of the grand trees, but the sands continue to fall through the hourglass.
Adjacent Taki has some very nice schools, old timey and made of wood, which always catches the citified eye more used to concrete prisons filled with shouting kids. The town also has a penchant for VW Beetles. A beautiful campsite of tall A-frame cottages stands at the bend of the Ouchiyama River, which brings giggles to my Anglophilic brain.
The jōyato of Aso are telling me to hurry up and get the hell to my inn. My knees and my feet and my rapidly dropping body temperature agree. Dusk is rising up too quickly. I take a long rest at a shuttered takoyaki stand, phoning my inn to mention that I am running late, and to check on the time for dinner. Six. Shit, I'm going to have to push it if I want a bath first. And that would be a need, rather than a want.
The stretch that follows is a mind-numbing trudge along R42, then finally onto a quiet road leading gently into rice paddies, still dormant for the season. Sadly, dark has fallen fully, one of the very few times that I've been caught out on my walks. Nothing to do but march toward the lights in the distance. The lack of visual stimulation brings my awareness to fall heavily on the condition of my feet, which are basically hamburger. Large blisters have colonized the balls of both feet, and each push forward is agony. I eventually arrive at Dairen-ji, and I plonk myself on the stone steps for a rest. I curse the dark, as the temple looks inviting, as does the Kiseiso inn next door. It is only after I return home to my notes that I realize that that was where I should have booked for the night, as recommended by other walkers I follow online. I watch a train disgorge its passengers at the station below me, then trudge the last 15 minutes to my own inn, which in my current condition takes twice that time.
My innkeeper winces when she sees my feet and mercifully lets my have a quick shower, despite it being well past six. I too wince when I notice there is no bath here, something my feet desperately need. Dinner brings respite, though I can almost feel my blisters bubbling under the kotatsu, and sitting on the floor is an agony for overworked hips. I never have walked myself into such a pathetic condition, yet somehow I covered 34 km, far beyond my predicted 24. That distance is simply masochistic for a first day. Sleep comes quickly, but often broken due to pain.
I depart at daybreak, the light just coming into the sky. The foot pain has receded to a dull throb, but with the promise of a steady increase. It is a beautiful morning, the river almost yellow in the rays of the new rising sun. I hug the twisting curves, along high berms bordering rice fields. I can smell the pig farm a good half and hour before I got to it. Despite the animals they process, these kinds of places always share the same scents: of shit and blood and death.
Luckily the trail keeps me off R42. The highlight is the shaded section of wood of Ashitani, though my mincing little steps between tree roots quickly returns the pain to my feet. By the time I hit tarmac again, all is agony. I also realize that it is 8 a.m. and I hadn't yet had any coffee, the walk thus far devoid of vending machines. I find my first at Ouchiyama Station and have a long sit to rest my feet. Satisfactorily caffeinated, my final stretch up to Umegadani Station is mainly along R42, though it is quieter here and the beauty of the morning brings out the best of the landscape.
The pre-trip intention was that I'd catch a train down to Kii-Nagashima, as I'd already walked the twin passes that split off from here. But for my feet. I could go no further today, or any other day. As I await my train, I mentally recalculate the rest of the walking days, and find a window next March where I could shift my accommodation dates. As my train arrives, I hobble aboard, disappointed when the doors close on a week of such perfect walking weather.
On the turntable: Jani Kovačič, "Thomas Alan Waits: A Tom Waits Homage"
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