Filling the Gaps along the Ise-ji IV

 

I linger over breakfast, not enthused about my upcoming day of five passes.  Luckily I've already down the Hōbō-toge, so I wait on the train platform with a handful of school kids heading toward more populous towns.  I debark in Nigishima, where I had intended to spend the night during my aborted walk through here back in December.  I really wanted to pass a night in this town that had once been a film set, but there had been red flags when I'd made that booking, mainly that I'd nearly had to beg to convince the owner to do a simple dinner for me, as there wasn't a single restaurant or shop in the village.  This time around Owase Seaside Hotel seemed (and proved) to be a more cozy alternative. 

All was quiet on this morning but for some fisherman offloading the morning catch.  The large concrete shell of the fish market is far bigger than their needs, a hint of a population base so diminished that they can no longer host what had once been a famous and lively festival here.  I rejoin the Ise-ji as it climbs steeply out of the village, literally through a house that is disappearing into the hillside.  Tiles from the bath jut from the earth like a set of teeth spilled in a vicious bar fight.  

 

 The ascent peaks out surprisingly soon, the trail continuing as a pleasant undulation through cedar forest.  The beach town vibe of Atashika seems a pleasant place to stay a night, especially if doing the walk in weather warm enough to swim.  But jeers to whomever decided to pave the steep trail climbing out of town.   The brief stretch of forested trail at the top leads me through the front garden of a pleasant woman hanging her laundry on a pleasant day, and past the coop of some rather raucous chickens.     

After a brief pop-in to Hadasu Jinja and its vast views, I drop drop drop down to the town proper.  Midway along I hide my bag in the trees for a quick detour over to Jofuku-no-Miya, dedicated to Chinese alchemist Xu Fu, who crossed the waters in search of the elixir of life.  (He never returned from a 210 BC voyage, so I suppose it could have gone either way.)  An ancient woman gingerly makes her way uphill from the train station, a walk that could be her own version of the elixir of life.  A few others are out resuscitating the vegetable plots after the long winter.  A massive boulder field contains the former site of Otake-chaya, but I get no place to rest as I climb again out of town toward Obuke-tōge, but I pull up short to at the trailhead.  I intend to double climb this pass later in the day, so instead follow the road back down and around to the quaint little Hadasu station, where I have lunch on the sunny platform as I await my train. 

 

 It is a short five-minute ride to Odomari. I wrap myself up and out of town and soon enter the forested Kannon-no-michi, which is the more atmospheric, if not more challenging, of the two passes. I detour at the top to the old Tomari Kannon ruins, and am surprised to find that it is in the process of being rebuilt.  But there are no workmen here today, so I sit and recharge with some chocolate but pushing on.  It is a wonderful roller-coaster stretch that rises and falls beside more of those Shishigaki stone walls, with a rewarding view of the upcoming Matsumoto-toge and the crescent of shoreline beyond. 

I reach Obuke-tōge, where I stash my bag in the forest before racing unencumbered down to the trailhead that I'd tagged a couple of hours before, and back.  The descent off the pass is gradual and smooth, but near the bottom, as I ponder a large sinkhole in the forest floor, I hear the unmistakable sound of a bear lumbering through the thicker on the opposite bank of the stream.  I don't remain in the forest for long.   

 

 

The Ise-ji moves through a pair of small fishing villages and over a towering concrete breakwater to Odomari.  I'd crossed the upcoming Matsumoto-toge about ten years ago, but from the other direction. Ever the purist, I climb again, but regret it quickly, as the steep set of stone ishitatami steps tax legs weary from a day of passes.  Once atop, I admire the tall Jizo marking the pass, this one complete with bullet hole from the 19th Century shinbutsu bunri version of the MAGA lunatics.  

 

I hadn't time or daylight during my previous visit to follow the lateral trail heading through the forest toward the Onigajō ruins, and this too was another reason to repeat the climb . Rather than following a straight line, this path too rises and falls.  The views over sea in three directions proves the effort.  Then quickly back down the other side toward the outskirts of Kumano City.  As I sit with a cold drink from a vending machine, I startle the attractive middle-aged woman opening up the Okonomiyaki shop on whose bench I'm resting. 

 

One last section to go, following the path that winds around the base of Onigajō, up and down steps cut into the soft sandstone cliffs and terraces.  Being a Friday night, a group of rather rough looking youths are drinking chu-hi and staring out toward the sun now beginning to set.  I pass more of them as I move along the narrow paths, like I'm a spectator at a chimpira parade. One of them looks old enough to be someone's mother, yet she too had affected their funky look.  Now I know who bought the booze. 

This truly is a magnificent place, and my delight with it would be further enhanced if I weren't so damn worn out from the day.  After passing through a pair of tall arches, I finally reach the carpark on the far side, then pick up pace in the falling light, reaching baths and beer and food at the oasis of Hotel Nami.

 

On the turntable: The The, "Infected"