Side Quests

At some point over the past few weeks we gave them a name.

Side Quests.

You leave town with one clear objective: walk to the next temple, to the next town, but along the way only to become distracted by a river so pristine that it is begging to be swum in. Or some summer festival that you knew nothing about.

That’s become the Henro.

Sure, we are walking from Temple 1 to Temple 88 all around Shikoku.

But more and more it feels like the temples are simply joining together a collection of cool little adventures that we’d never have experienced if we’d stayed on a set mission and timeframe.

Our first side quest was rafting the Shimanto River.

The second arrived completely by accident.

After both Cam’s blisters and my overly bruised heel pad finally convinced us that a few rest days weren’t optional anymore, we caught a bus to Uwajima hoping to do absolutely nothing.

Instead we accidentally arrived during one of Shikoku’s biggest summer festivals.

Not exactly the quiet recovery we’d imagined.

Ossetai Keeps Giving

At the very beginning of this walk I made myself one small promise.

Every single person I pass, I’ll smile, make eye contact and say hello.

Sometimes people stop for a chat.

Sometimes they smile.

Sometimes they ignore me completely.

I just tell myself they’re old and can’t hear properly.

Even other pilgrims. Especially other pilgrims.

The funny thing is that once you begin acknowledging people, they start acknowledging you too.

Some days it feels like the Henro has its own way of looking after those who are willing to say hello.

One afternoon we were completely spent.

The heat had drained us.

Our packs were off.

We’d collapsed into a tiny patch of shade beside the road trying to summon the motivation to walk the last few kilometres. It’s always the last few kilometres that are the hardest.

A motorcyclist rode past.

Acknowledgement nods were exchanged.

A few minutes later we heard the bike again.

He’d turned around.

He pulled into the rest area, opened the luggage box on the back of his bike and handed each of us an ice-cold bottle of water.

No fuss.

No speeches.

Just, “Here, please drink this.”

I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated a bottle of water so much. It wasn’t just the water but also the act of kindness when you really need the boost.

He was from Aichi and was riding around Shikoku camping on his motorbike.

We chatted for a few minutes, waved goodbye and he disappeared down the road.

A day or two later a lady stopped her car in the most awkward spot imaginable, jumped out and handed us two bottles of icy mugicha.

“It’s such a hot day,” she said.

“Please take these.”

Another evening, walking back to our guesthouse carrying groceries, a father and his young daughter stopped to ask where we were staying.

“I’ll drive you wherever you need to go,” he insisted.

“It’s too hot to be walking.”

“Really, it’s fine. We only have eighty metres left to go.”

These moments happen over and over again.

Sometimes it’s fruit.

Sometimes drinks.

Sometimes just encouragement.

Ossetai keeps finding us.

And it always seems to happen exactly when we need it most.

The Roundest Leaf on the Tree

Not every encounter makes perfect sense.

Or any sense for that matter.

Some are simply… strange.

Weirdly strange.

We’d stopped at a bus stop beside a vending machine.

Backpacks off.

Dripping with sweat, and I mean dripping.

Completely exhausted.

Out of nowhere a man appeared carrying a can of coffee.

He handed the coffee to Cam.

He gave me a caramel chew.

Then, after bowing with his hands together, lit a cigarette and launched into what can only be described as the world’s most interesting and completely unstructured conversation in Japanese that I both could and couldn’t understand.

Artificial Intelligence.

Donald Trump.

The World Cup.

Japan’s highways.

He scratched “AI” into the concrete with a rock to help explain everything.

Then he wandered over to the enormous tree beside us, plucked off a single leaf and returned.

“This,” he announced proudly, “is the roundest leaf on the tree.”

“There is only one.”

“You must share it.”

“It’s a present.”

“It’s a big tree and this is the only round leaf. This one small leaf from this giant tree.”

He also said everything three or four times—not because we didn’t understand, but I think simply for added emphasis.

Then he wandered off to inspect leaves lying on the ground before saying goodbye and heading back to his house.

Neither Cam nor I had enough energy to question any of this.

After he left we spent another five minutes resting before one of us finally said,

“You know what… there are no other round leaves on that tree.”

“Yep.”

“I was looking for one too.”

Maybe he really had found the only one.

Are You Willing to Walk If You Can Feel the Heat Around the Corner?

You would think the walking gets easier.

Nope.

It doesn’t.

You might become stronger.

But the kilometres accumulate too.

Every day is another half marathon.

Sometimes more.

Throw in mountains, humidity and a backpack full of things that shouldn’t weigh as much as they do and eventually your body starts negotiating.

Every morning I climb out of bed feeling and sounding like a pigeon-toed Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I guess it’s better than feeling and sounding like a Tyrannosaurus Rex-toed pigeon.

It takes a good forty-five seconds before my Achilles decide they’re willing to join me for the walk to the bathroom, let alone another day on the trail.

The humidity hit 87% the other day.

That’s only 13% away from actual water.

Another 13% and we could have been swimming.

By lunchtime my shorts aren’t really pieces of clothing anymore.

They’re just wet pieces of fabric attached to my legs.

It’s like I’m constantly walking around having just climbed out of a swimming pool.

Walking after one or two o’clock in the afternoon feels like you’re inside a hot sandwich press.

The sun smacks you from above.

The road hits back from below.

Call me Captain Panini.

The summer sweat melt.

My shoe soles feel like they’re melting.

Some days my spiritual soul is melting too.

Shade breaks have become a genuine life-saving strategy.

Starting to walk again afterwards feels like an old truck taking off in third gear.

Your legs forget how to walk.

Your feet are fumbling around.

You move like C-3PO after a hard reset.

Eventually we begin rolling again.

And somewhere along the road…

A tunnel appears.

Six weeks ago tunnels meant loud trucks and traffic.

Now they are terrific.

Now they mean cool air.

Sweet, sweet cool tunnel air.

Everyone loves a 1620m tunnel in summer.

Ludwig Van and Eggy Wegs

I’ve never eaten so many eggs in my life.

Boiled eggs.

Egg sandwiches.

Eggs with spinach.

Eggs for breakfast.

Eggs for lunch.

Eggs on eggs.

Eggs on eggs on eggs.

Raw eggs on rice.

Raw eggs on raw fish on rice.

You can do whatever you like with eggs.

I am the Egg Man.

You are the Walrus.

Japan also appears to be conducting its annual Beatles festival.

Summer time is beetle time.

Giant rhinoceros beetles.

Double-horned beetles.

Weird tunnel bugs.

The other day at a temple we watched a hornet dragging a massive spider backwards across the ground.

At first we thought it was some kind of deformed crab.

Nope.

Just a hornet that had won a fight to the death.

Bugs.

And a little bit of ultra violence.

Everyone Loves the Smell of Blister Cream in the Morning

Eventually Cam’s apocalyptic blisters became infected.

The jungle wanted him dead.

We caught a bus to a doctor’s clinic.

Antibiotics.

A few days’ R&R.

When you’re relaxing in an air-conditioned hotel all you can think about is getting back to walking.

When you’re walking all you can think about is getting back to an air-conditioned hotel.

I could feel it.

My feet were getting softer.

“Every minute we stay in this room we get weaker.”

We needed a mission.

Eventually we got back to walking.

We were headed north, up river, through the mountains and towards Ehime.

Three days later my heel decided it had another plan.

It brought the pain to me like room service.

Ice packs.

More buses.

It felt like cheating.

It wasn’t.

It was an air-conditioned dreamland on wheels.

More rest.

Dr Scholl’s inner soles.

Sometimes the pilgrimage decides you need to slow down.

Sometimes your body makes that decision for you.

Side Quest: Demon Bulls

Finding accommodation in Uwajima turned out to be almost impossible.

That had never happened before.

Everywhere we’d stayed until then had been easy.

Eventually we discovered why.

We’d accidentally arrived for one of Shikoku’s biggest summer festivals.

We managed to snag an offbeat business hotel for one night and somewhere more pleasant (and expensive) for the next.

Instead of resting quietly, we found ourselves watching traditional bull fighting in the afternoon followed by an evening of what felt like a never-ending dance parade with performances from local groups like Soul Cream and the WONS.

The next day rounded it out with giant demon bull floats carried through the streets, taiko drumming, and thousands of people celebrating together.

The side quest had found us again.

Summer in Japan isn’t just hot.

It’s festival season.

And somehow we seem able to sniff out a good one.

The Things Between the Temples

Along the way we’ve also met Tom, a French pilgrim who hadn’t had a beer for ninety days.

“I love beer,” he told us while Cam and I were partaking in our favourite cool amber carbonated pastime.

“I love the taste of beer.”

“When I finish this walk…”

“I’m going to drink so much beer.”

Beer brings the world together.

We also agreed on another truth.

Whenever the guidebook or a henro direction sign says Scenic Route…

…it’s probably a trap

These traps usually involve abandoned mountain paths requiring multiple machetes and the jumping skills of a ninja to reach the other end.

We’ve also become experts in Lawson air-conditioning.

Forget the drinks fridge.

The best cold air is beside the potato chips or in the aisle between the personal items and the magazines.

Also directly above the ice cream freezer.

These are the things you learn after walking hundreds of kilometres in a Japanese summer.

Many of the guesthouses we stay in are run by elderly couples.

Sometimes it’s just one person.

Usually an older lady who is happy to cook for you and even happier watching you eat.

These places have history.

You can see it hanging on the walls.

Old photographs from decades ago.

Walking sticks left behind by pilgrims.

Guestbooks filled with messages from around the world.

Many of these places won’t be here in five years.

Almost certainly not in ten.

It’s not like there’s another generation waiting to take over.

Some of these guesthouses sit in tiny villages that are already beginning to disappear.

Others are perfectly positioned between temples, exactly where a tired pilgrim needs them.

One day they’ll close.

I wonder what will happen to the Henro then.

The next generation of pilgrims will probably have to catch buses between larger towns with business hotels.

And that would be a shame.

Because the best part of the Henro isn’t just visiting the temples.

It’s the people.

The old guesthouses.

The bottle of water that appears exactly when you need it.

The father who insists on driving you eighty metres.

The strange man who somehow found the only round leaf on an enormous tree.

The bull festival you never planned to attend.

The conversations.

The kindness.

The little adventures that pull you away from your carefully planned route.

Maybe that’s why we started calling them Side Quests.

Because somewhere along the way it becomes more than just visiting 88 temples and follow a pilgrimage route. It‘s about the things between.

Dispatch #5: Side Quests

Published: Day 49 of the Pilgrimage — July 26

Temples visited: 41/ 88
Distance walked: 902km with side quests/ 1,300km (I don’t believe this number anymore)
Distance bused: about 52km
Current location: Uwajima, Ehime Prefecture.
Kilograms of enlightenment achieved: 5 plus
Onigiri eaten: too many - lost count
Beers drunk: Lost count as well, but due to extreme heat .. beer money has officially become electrolyte drink money. Any generosity from the button below is being converted directly into water, electrolytes and the occasional ice cream or kakigori. Future beers will definitely appreciate your patience.
Granola bars reluctantly consumed: 35 or so …
Blisters acquired: only 5!
Shoes - on my 2nd pair.

I am currently here on the map. And the black line is where I have walked. Except for the part in the ocean ... that should be on land.., there’s only so many things I can do with an iPad and walking on water isn’t one of them.

The Henro is definitely taking its toll… this is a massive journey .. thanks for joining me for the ride. More to come soon!

Welcome to another edition of “not your average travel journal”

And a little bit of HEAT ..