North with the Cat People

今治 Imaharu

2011-07-27T12:57:00.085+09:00

– Imabari 今治

One Thursday, in December of 2009, as I was cycling my city bike – a one speed Bridgestone girls bike, standard issue - down a small residential street, meandering along the edge of a hill, to work, I chanced to glance down at a strange bundle of books placed by the side of the road, for recycling. Among the tidily wrapped lumps of magazines and paperbacks were seven or eight photo albums.

I stopped and stared. Someone’s memories were being disposed of. Probably someone had died and their children, or grandchildren, burdened with cleaning up and the daily grind, had just given up and decided to get rid of these things. Or so my thoughts went. But people around here often live to be quite old; it’s not in the least unusual to see people in their eighties out and about. There is one man I see periodically, riding a bike, who I swear looks about….a thousand and ten years old. Methusalah! On a bike!

One should never pick up things that are not one’s own in Japan. It is almost stealing, even if it’s garbage. And the local neighborhood association ladies (they’re usually old ladies) would be sure to be somewhere close by. But, after a moment’s thought, I quickly picked up those albums, unable to bear the thought of their being burned at the city incinerator. I furtively pedalled the rest of the way to work and took them into the back room (the storage room) before opening them.

The view from a biplane.

There were photos, many of them from what looked like middle or high school, many from the beach, some from, obviously, elsewhere. They looked like they were taken in the twenties, or thirties and perhaps into the early forties. Some bore the stamp of a local photo shop. Some were quite beautiful, like the picture of the young woman with hair down almost to her ankles (!)

I showed a few of them to my English students, among them my landlady, Mrs. Nagai, and she recognised one of the landscapes as being from a neighborhood just to the west of my GEOS school, perhaps 4 kilometres from her house, where I lived, and where we were sitting. She had grown up there sixty years before.

I thought I could recognise Karakohama beach, at the south end of town, from it’s distinctive rows of pine trees. Everyone agreed this was so.

Imabari Kita High School - possibly then a girl's school

I recognised Imabari Kita (North) high school, not a block from the house outside which I picked up these books. It looked very different, but not as much as one would expect, given a couple of renovations over seventy or more years (!!)

Katsuhiko told me the picture of a young man with a catcher’s mitt, taken in a middle school photo, became a famous baseball player in Japan in the thirties. He took me to a small museum at Botchan Stadium in Matsuyama, when his sons were playing a match there, and, sure enough, there he was.

Much of the time people had trouble working out the ‘old’ kanji (pre-1945, that was when the Kanji system was overhauled, and some symbols mothballed. Japanese Kanji were just overhauled again a couple of years ago). Eventually, on a pennant, I stumbled over the name ‘Imaharu’ (now-stomach?!!). I am told Imabari means ‘ocean place’; this older name seemed strange. Katsuhiko told me that this was indeed the old name for Imabari. In 1945, after being carpet bombed (there is a plaque in front of Nanko-bo temple), the people of the town apparently changed its’ name.

After they’d been sitting around for a few months, I decided that the photos should perhaps be placed into the city archives, so I took them to my friend Akiko Tokura at ICIEA and asked her where I could find the archives. She said she would take them and try to place them (something about the library).

On further reflection, I wanted to document these pictures by making digital copies; these images are from that collection.

This picture was taken on Ishizuchi-san, a sacred mountain about 50 kilometres southeast of Imabari. These are the first set of chains, a test of faith set by Kukai.

Below: the trail on the ridge leading to the final flank of the climb. Ishizuchi-san is surrounded by a special mountain ecology, more here.

It looks like the view south eastward from the north side of TenguDake, Ishizuchi's co-peak.

Finished high school, or joining the army? I read a book recently about the life of a country geisha in this period, called 'Autobiography of a Geisha', by Sayo Masuda. Masuda-san just died a few years ago.

This looks to my eye exactly like one spot on the ohenro walking trail up to temple 58, Senyuji, from Asakura, in south Imabari. Not outrageous if you consider this trail has been here, and in daily use, since about 800 AD.

As for the name, apparently the combined Kanji making up Imabari - 今 and 治, can be pronounced ‘Imaharu’ as well…so the written name didn’t change, just the pronunciation.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michu 18

2011-06-24T17:09:00.048+09:00

Day Eighteen: Home to Imabari, Temples 51 – 54

After the obligatory local bento, I headed off to temple 51, Ishiteji. A large complex of shrines, in beautiful grounds. It seems almost always to be busy with tourists and pilgrims. Near the priest’s office, I found, stuck to a post, an old photo, pre second world war, depicting two henro in traditional garb, walking. A wonderful picture.

Besides the unique and very cool covered entry avenue into the temple, where the pilgrim can buy all sorts of things, from straw sandals to prayer beads – these streets have a name, but I can’t remember what they’re called – there are lots of nice nooks and scenic spots within the temple grounds.

There is also a shrine to Japanese fallen soldiers here. I went over to take a look.

A relaxed 11 kilometre ride through Matsuyama to temple 52, Taisanji, which is tucked off to the northwest end of the city.

It is a lovely old temple on a big hill, with the mon at the bottom of the hill. There is a tea house about two thirds of the way up the half kilometre road.

Beside the gorgeous old hongan (original posts!!), there is a strange small tower off to the right with paintings all over the walls and ceiling.

There is no priest’s office up at the temple, so a couple and I walked back down to the large, and very nice priest’s house, which seems to be where they keep their office.

Collecting my bike from the mon, where I had left it, as usual, I rode the few kilometres to Temple 53, Enmyoji. A nice, small, quiet temple.

There I met an arukihenro, from Nagano I believe. He looked to be in his mid thirties, dressed very rough, very tanned. He said this was his tenth walking pilgrimage on the circuit. He told me he had run away from his job, when on a business trip, to do this walk, back in April (!!?).

He seemed to have a few issues, but was very kind and gentle, and showed me the famous ‘hidden madonna’ in the garden, secretly worshipped by Christians in the late Kamakura, and Edo eras, when doing so was punishable by death. I hope he found a measure of peace in his walk.

Technically, I was now finished the pilgrimage, but I still needed to go back to the first temple I visited, Enmeiji in Imabari, to get my final, duplicate nokyocho. Henro are also supposed to go to Mt. Koya in Nara both before and after completing the pilgrimage, but I was not able to do that this time.

April 4, 2009.

I rode the seaside road to Imabari, rte. 96, as I have a dozen times before, cycling to Matsuyama and back. It is a lovely ride, with the ocean views, the sound of the waves, and the breeze off the water. There are a few spots where it is narrow, and a bit risky for bikes, but I just ride on the sidewalk/ bikepath on the inland side for those parts. The one spot where this is not possible is the hill just to the west of Onishi – it’s very narrow, with no shoulder, and a 2 foot deep concrete ditch with no barrier ten inches outside the white line. But this lasts only for a kilometre or so.

I stopped in Awaii, at the mall, to look in on my old schoolroom there. I had four schoolrooms that I taught in for GEOS for Children – this one was the westernmost one. I last taught here on Saturday, April 16th, four days before GEOS’ bankruptcy and this one’s immediate closure. I continued to teach until the end of June at the others. In the three months since I had been here, it looked like nothing had been touched. Everything was just sitting there.

A strange feeling came over me as I looked at it. I felt pretty bad for my students here – though I only had six or seven. They probably lost their lesson contracts with GEOS, as the Matsuyama school closed and they almost certainly wouldn’t have received refunds.

In Fuji Palty, I had a nice chat (in Japanese! Yay!) with a clerk who recognised me. She asked what I was up to, and I told her. It was nice to connect with someone in Hojo.

I arrived in Enmeiji in Imabari around 1:30, prayed, left my staff in one of the stands, got my final signature in my nokyocho, and headed down the road to SATY for some groceries.

At GEOS, I saw the other foreign teacher, Hiroki, and the new manager there. After a chat, I headed home to the Nagai’s house.

My little cat, LBK, now re-named Miiko, was very excited to see me. She had been pretty good, but seemed a bit depressed. She had run away for a few days, and was covered with fleas. I went out and got her a flea collar, and when we took her to the vet a few days later he said she was fine. The Nagais very kindly decided to keep her as their pet. A few months later my friend Akiko sent me some pictures of her and she seems to be doing well.

New Years, 2011. Taken by Akiko Tokura.

Three days later I caught the Orange ferry from Toyo overnight to Osaka, and the next day left Japan.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michu 17

2011-06-12T00:26:00.079+09:00

Day Seventeen: A logging truck, a long downhill, Matsuyama; Temples 44 – 50

My host seemed much happier, and friendlier, in the morning. A nice breakfast, rice and fish, and two fried eggs! Perfect. I even had a coffee. Only ¥5200 ($52), for a nice, comfortable, quiet traditional room, and breakfast. I recommend Yasuragi no Yado Denko.

Temple 44, Daihoji, is not a kilometre from the minshuku; backtracking 500 metres, I popped up Rte. 12 a few hundred metres as it rises up the mountain to the east of town, then cut right along it on a small city road for perhaps three hundred more. Then I had to wind my way through a neighborhood a bit for another hundred metres before finding it.

Retracing my path to Rte. 12, I climbed up for a couple of kilometres to a small, dank, narrow, much too long tunnel. My mapbook calls it the Tonomido. Luckily there wasn’t much traffic. Checking behind me, and the small round bright hole at the other end, I started in.

It’s one of those tunnels with about 14 inches between the car lane and the wall. No sidewalk. Bits of this and that scattered about (hadn’t been cleaned in a while), some-times seeping water. My tent and foamie on the back of the bike are about 1 metre wide, so they stick out about 14 inches on either side of the rack. On these tunnels I ride on the white line or just inside the lane to the right of it, with my bar ends clearing the wall by perhaps 6 inches. Two way traffic will force me onto the white line, but this is a bit risky as there is water, and sometimes garbage, or sticks and so on, collected there. And occasionally the camping stuff will brush the wall, sending me off balance.

This tunnel was fine, until I reached about the half way mark. The acoustics were very bad, as they sometimes are, and I could tell that a large truck had entered behind me. The sound quickly rose to an ugly, roaring crescendo, then got louder still. This continued for far too long (maybe twenty seconds) when, as it seemed I must surely be run down in the gutter by this monstrous apparition, I heard the enormous sharp exhalations of air brakes released, twice, it felt like about 2 feet behind me, almost causing me to jump right off the bike. Only knowing that if I were to do that, or swerve into the wall, it would possibly send me under the truck and result in grievous injury or death kept me fighting for control of the bike. A foot away from my right elbow, swept past…a fully loaded logging truck. No sweepers, or hanging branches, thank goodness.

I was never so happy to get out of a tunnel as that one. Stopped for a well-earned break, and to adjust my knickers.

With this behind me, however, the road widened, gained a spacious sidewalk, and became a nice ride up and down, mostly down, through a small mountain valley, past the Kogen Golf Club, a few interesting onsen/spas (I’d check these out if walking), Koiwaya Rock, a national scenic spot, and a small bridge…not shrine, exactly, but...spot.

It seems that people here just like it under bridges. I like it too, so was happy to explore.

It’s only seven or eight kilometres on the map, but seemed to take some time to get from the Tonomido to the parking lot of Temple 45, Iwayaji. Iwayaji is a cliff temple, and in this case is built up the mountain perhaps three quarters of a kilometre from the parking lot.

There is a wide, and very pretty trail up through the beautiful and well maintained old growth forest owned by the temple. I think it took perhaps half an hour to walk up there.

A number of o-jiso-sama markers along the way commemorate those who have died here…this was one of, if not the most remote of all the temples on the circuit before the days of highways and cars. Just below the temple is a shrine and large collection of these markers.

I found a very old mon at the back of the temple for arukihenro. Of course, everyone is an arukihenro here, but this is where the old trail from Kuma, over the mountain, comes out.

A small group of shrines.

The priest there was young, in his late twenties, I would guess. As he was signing my nokyocho with the temple kanji, I heard an infant in the next room. He smiled at my raised eyebrows. This would be a challenging place to bring up a baby. There seems to be no road, so supplies would have to be either walked up, or brought up in what looks like a four by five foot cable car that runs through the trees.

A long, hot uphill slog back to the tunnel and down into Kuma, followed by a longer slog up into the Misaka Toge pass and a crazy 13 kilometre ride down route 33 to Matsuyama. There’s a sign saying not to take your bike down here, which I ignored. I tried to be cautious, however, as there’s lots of traffic, lots of trucks, and they’re hard to control on grades like this. I didn’t want to make anyone angry or get turned into road pizza.

The highway dropped me out at the base of the mountain one valley west from temples 46 and 47, so I took the first available city road east, through the Athletic Park, to rte. 194, then back up towards the mountain a couple of kilometres to get to them.

I bumped into 47, Yasakaji, first, but continued up to temple 46, Joruruji. Along the way I found this water drainage making a very strange sound.

I also saw a peculiar stone waymarker for walking henro.

Temple 46, Joruriji, was quite different: small, and the interior of the compound was more or less completely treed and planted, a kind of forested garden. Winding paths led to different shrines and points of interest. The priest was very kind and offered me ice water. The picture of the turtles at the top of the post comes from here.

A strange shrine (dinner plates?).

This stone looks rather like a Metal Slime from Dragon Warrior, a very popular early nineties NES game...

Temple 47, Yasukaji.

There are some interesting paintings in the hongan.

Yasukaji has a wonderful old garden, quite wild looking, full of old stones. It also has some Kamakura era stone pagodas.

I continued down rte 194 and within about 800 metres came to a strange, small-ish complex with a big stone statue out front, of Kobo-daishi. No mon, so it wasn’t a Buddhist temple…maybe. Intrigued, I went in and did my prayors anyway, and, thinking this must be another bangai temple, went to see the priest. There were two nice, big cats in his office. He signed my nokyocho, and I asked him haltingly, what this place was. I couldn’t understand his answer, so, thanking him, left. As I was standing outside packing my stuff to ride off, he ran out with an A3 sized colour Xerox, pointing to one of the entries and telling me this was it. I thanked him, glanced down at the paper (in English!) and immediately realized I was at a special place; the temple dedicated to Kukai’s first supplicants, Emonsaburo Kawano.

It’s called Monjuin, and is, indeed a bangai temple. Emonsaburo was a wealthy man who refused to fill Kukai’s rice bowl when he asked for dinner. Like all mendicant monks, he begged for his food. Emonsaburo refused repeatedly (for a week) to feed Kukai, and finally smashed his begging bowl into eight pieces. Kobodaishi left, cursing him.

Emonsaburo had eight children; all died. He realized his error, began wearing white clothes (the color of death, and the color of the clothing of all henro since), and spent the next eight years walking the temple circuit, looking or Kukai to ask his forgiveness. He even walked it backwards (harder) and finally met the saint as he was dying on the trail. This is the site of his house. Subarashi! I still have this paper; it’s invaluable if you wish to visit all the bangai temples. I don’t know where it’s available as I have only seen it at this temple.

Popping half a kilometre east to rte. 207, and continuing north four kilometres or so brought me to temple 48, Sairingi.

Sairingi is one of those temples that are very open, showing lots of sandy ground, with pine trees. I like the style. I met two arukihenro here, young men, who seemed a bit taken aback with my limited Japanese, and interest in talking to them. I wished them well and pressed on.

Jodoji, temple 49, is just 3 km. north and a bit west, off rte. 334. There are lots of onsen in the neighborhood.

I saw another 'haiku postbox' at some other temple, but I can't remember which one. Where do the haiku go?

Temple 50, Hantaji, is 1.5 kilometres north, just behind a reservoir. A bit tricky to find in the maze of neighborhood streets. I saw a young henro travelling by car here, whom I had also seen at temples 48 and 49.

Hantaji has a nice view of Matsuyama. As I was leaving, I noticed the two arukihenro from Sairingi, jogging in at 4:40. A taxi load of obaachan, a mum and a boy arrived and they rushed in, performed their ablutions, visited the priest, and spun off again in a cloud of dust, all in about ten minutes. I supposed they might be trying to knock off Ishiteji, temple 51, by five. I wished them luck.

That finished my temple hopping for the day; I also headed over to the Dogo area, home of Ishiteji, and the fabulous Dogo Onsen, and found my hotel for the night, a very nice, small business hotel with friendly staff, called Business Hotel Sakura. It is wonderful that practically everywhere on this trip, I was able to find cheap, clean, friendly hotels without reservations. Possibly in the winter henro season this might not be the case, but in the summer it was.

Only three more temples in Matsuyama, and the temple I started at, Enmeiji, in Imabari to visit and I will have completed the circuit. Just in time, too. My sunburn is starting to worry me. Tomorrow!

Totoro, I believe.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michu 16

2011-04-28T21:20:00.056+09:00

Day Sixteen: Bridge Shrines; Uwajima to Kuma Kogen

Weather: OMG it’s hot! And sunny. Soaked at 4:30.

Up and at ‘em at six am, around the corner at ten to seven for the regular combini obento and can o’ café.

Then a scenic ride through downtown Uwajima, famous for bullfights and huge mukade (it’s the heat and humidity). I saw the one above on Oshima Island in June. It was crossing the four lane highway. It knew I was there and was unperturbed. It waited until the traffic was clear then scuttled across the road. I kept hoping a car would come along but none did. This one was five inches long in early June; by September I expect it would have been somewhat larger.

Then I hied out route 56 to 57, and then alongside 31 on a smaller road. I prefer to use the smaller roads when I can, it’s more restful and I can spend more time looking at the landscape (as opposed to dodging giant dump trucks and semis).

Ryukoji

I found Temple 41, Ryukoji, ten or 11 kilometres along. Not easy to find at first, it seemed dominated by a jinja, and appeared to have no mon. I wonder what happened to it; perhaps the temple never had one. There was also an interesting clearcut just behind it on the hill. I didn’t see any bicycle henro, but did see a group of arukihenro. They seemed somewhat aloof.

Temple 42, Butsumukoji, is just 2.6 kilometres further along route 31 on my map.

I came across this retired locomotive, C12231, somewhere along the way. I've forgotten just where; before Uchiko, I think.

Temple 43, Meisekiji, is 10.6 kilometres further along – on the other side of a mountain range. The Hanaga tunnel cuts through the pass.

Meisekiji had a couple of beautiful, weathered old Shinto shrines in the trees, moss covered rocks and gravestones all around, and this series of small shrines. They are about 3 to 4 feet to a side. I had no idea what they enshrined, or why there should be so many of them, most apparently enshrining similar objects, which look like metal discs, suspended. I suspected they were Shinto, but could they possibly be representations of Ameterasu's mirror? I had no idea, the discs simply suggested the sun and mirror symbols. Subsequently, however, I found this entry describing these 12 shrines as 'Kumano' in origin. According to this wikipedia article, Kumano shrines are a blending of Buddhist sacred images with older Shinto gods.

Then there’s a good long hike up to temple 44, on the Shikoku plateau. The map shows it as 67.2 kilometres. But there’s a lot to see along the way, as the road winds through the usual farmlands, but also through Ozu, a nice small city with a bangai temple, and then through Ichiko, with it’s restored edo era streets.

Toyogahashi Eitokuji is a bangai (un-numbered) temple in Ozu. There are (I think) twenty bangai temples; Mikurado, Kukai’s cave on Cape Muroto, is a bangai temple – and also one of the holiest places in the pilgrimage. This is another special temple for Kukai, commemorating the night he spent under a bridge at this place 1200 years ago. I wonder if this site and event was the basis for the practice of walking henro never to tap their sticks on bridges as they cross, for they may disturb Kukai’s rest.

There is a temple beside the bridge (which is a modern four lane structure), and a stairway leading down. Under the bridge is another shrine. It’s way cool! There was an older man sitting down there, in the shade, feeding the pigeons, and, from the presence of a rather large school of catfish around him, the fish. He seemed a little suspicious of me, but I smiled and said hello anyway, and did my prayers, and took my pictures.

Around 1pm, dazed by the heat, in Uchiko, I stopped into a Marunaka supermarket. I needed lunch, a soft drink, or the air conditioning, all, it seemed, in equal measure. While I stood there for a moment, monitoring the drop in my body temperature (I could feel it; what relief!) a 30 - something woman ran up to me and asked me if I was a pilgrim. It was a rather obvious question; I was wearing my pilgrim vest and sash, as I always did unless eating or going to the bathroom - but she was just being polite.

Still dazed, I stared back at her for a moment, before collecting my wits and answering, as politely as I could, that, well, yes, I was...whereupon she handed me four or five candies as o-settai. I found myself quite touched, broke out in a big smile and thanked her profusely. She smiled back and ran away. It made my day.

Much refreshed, I continued, leaving rte. 56 and climbing along the Odagawa on rte. 379 toward Kuma. But I missed Uchiko! Next time I will stop there. If the pilgrim is interested in Japanese architecture, this place is a treasure trove of restored buildings and streets, as individualistic yet representative as Gion in Kyoto.

I came upon a walking pilgrim who was pushing a loaded cart, as big as he was, up the pass to Kuma Kogen! I waved but he ignored me, lost, I assume, in the effort to get up the mountain. It must have been a miserable push in the intense heat. In hindsight, it would have been nice to stop and given him some water…but I was busy with the climb myself. This ascent is about 13 kilometres long, up onto the plateau. I believe I saw a sign naming it the Sato Pass, though my map book identifies it as the Mayumi-toge...it's a long steep haul.

Being a cyclist, I found I had to continue east on 380 to where it meets 33, and turn left and northward up the hill along the Kuma-gawa for a few kilometres to reach Kuma Kogen, a small farming and logging town, with a popular ski hill nearby. I’d been here a couple of times before with my friends Katsuhiko and Chiomi Ochi, and their boys, Kazuma, Toshiki and Ryota, to watch them play baseball. The walking trails cuts across the mountains at this point; it would be an interesting hike!

I made it to Kuma around 4:45, soaked by a squall in the last few kilometres, and decided to leave Temple 44 for the morning. Daihoji is right near downtown Kuma, but I wasn’t sure exactly where, and as it turns out I missed the turnoff; the temple was not really visible from the main street, so instead I looked around for a minshuku or business hotel…and could not find one that was open.

I finally got a room at a slightly swank looking place called the Yasurage no Yado Denko. I think it was about ¥5,200 ($52). There appeared to be no one else there. The young proprietor didn’t seem overly happy to see me, but the traditional tatami room he showed me to was nice. A long, hot day was over.

From my notes: A sense of completion is building now; in two more days I’ll have finished the circuit. I’m looking forward to Iwayaji, the cliff temple, and the ride down into Matsuyama tomorrow. I have a sense of being back on home turf again.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michu 15

2011-04-21T22:13:00.044+09:00

Day Fifteen: The Ocean and Uwajima, Temples 39, 40

Weather: Another broiling, beautiful day, with surprise showers (four of them).

A late start, 8 am, but I nevertheless covered 110 km. to Uwajima by 7pm.

Dinner was so good that I wanted to eat breakfast also at the minshuku I was staying in on the tip of the Cape, so rather than leave at my usual time, I stayed till 7 am when it was served. Well worth the wait, a traditional Japanese breakfast of broiled small whitefish, rice, tofu and tea. Nice! But I missed not having coffee. No matter; after loading up and saying goodbye, I hit up the nearest combini for one, and headed around the corner of Cape Ashizuri.

The road is lovely here, almost as nice as the approach on the east side of the cape; a small, often one-lane, cliffside highway, winding around on the side of the mountains 50 metres off the water, often tree shaded, with sudden views of the ocean to the south.

Forty minutes into my ride, I saw a beautiful, dying butterfly on the sidewalk right near where the route 347 cuts across the tip of the cape, in a town called Shimizu.

A bit further on, I decided to try to cut inland to the next temple, number 39, Enkoji. It looked as if taking route 28, switching to 344, then cutting left on 21 to where it meets the major route 56 cutting across the peninsula would bring me almost to the door of Enkoji. On the map it has a kind of certainty I find often vanishes in the small streets of the villages, and the hills. Any way I turned right, inland, at a small village. A local, when asked, told me I had to go a little bit west, then cut in to get there. So I followed some tiny streets west to the next, sort of major street running north, and followed it. In a couple of blocks I was out of the village, cycling along a lovely stream I assumed was the Soro-gawa.

The road, twisting, quiet, rose gently through a small, narrowing valley of farms and woodlots. I decided I didn’t care if I got to Enkoji quickly or not, this was wonderful!

The road, though still paved, also got very small, as they often seem to when they hit the hills, and sported a few turnoffs not marked on my maps. Interestingly, my confidence at this point was much greater than earlier in the trip; I knew I was going generally in the right direction, so it was ok! I found I was much less worried about getting lost. I found a lovely roadside monument.

A few cars passed, the drivers curious. I smiled and waved, and kept going up. Just as I was beginning to conclude I really was totally lost, I hit what was obviously the top of the small pass I had been climbing, and coasted down, the new valley rapidly opening up to more farms. Half an hour later I was at route 56, Enkoji only a couple of kilometres to the left and up the hill. It was lovely countryside.

Enkoji's main gate.

The distance from temple 38 to 39 in my map book is set at about 53 kilometres; one of the three walking routes shown follows the exact route I took, leaving the roads only in the last kilometre or so. I did not see any arukihenro, however.

Leaving Enkoji, at the junction of 56, I met the two bike henro I’d seen the day before. I told them I would see them at the next temple, Kanjizaiji, but I felt that I was moving much faster at this point than they were, so... I probably wouldn’t.

My route took me down highway 56 to Sukumo, and north along the shoreline to Misho. Just outside of Sukumo, I found this dead cat on the sidewalk.

Temple 40, Kanjizaiji is sited in downtown Misho. The distance from 39 to 40: 26 kilometres or so.

An octagonal shrine.

Temple graveyard.

Leaving Misho, I continued north along the ocean to Uchiumi, then inland and over a pass into Uwajima. Along the way, some wonderful ocean views, and a large exposure of black shale. I checked it for fossils but came away disappointed.

Just before turning inland I found a wonderful surprise along one of the long tunnels: a large bike and pedestrian tunnel! If I recall, it was just over 1 kilometre long. What luxury, not worrying about having an elbow removed by a logging truck. Two days later, near Kuma, I almost did have one taken off.

A few kilometres past Uchiumi, I discovered a large camping park (not so common in Japan) called Nanrakuen Park. It looked like a great place to hang out.

I ran into two young cycling henro, riding fast, and I rode fast just behind them, just because it felt good, passing them as they stopped to rest. I kept expecting them to pass me again going down into Uwajima but didn’t see them.

I reached Uwajima and found a small downtown hotel by about 7:30. The manager seemed quite reserved, but willing to accommodate me. I nicked out after a shower to pick up some combini bento. It was a long but very rewarding day.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michu 14

2011-02-18T16:01:00.034+09:00

Day Fourteen: The Beautiful Cape and Temple 38

Weather: HotHotHot! Sun and a bit of rain.

A bad start to the day; I loaded up the bike and noticed my back tire had gone flat. Took it off and examined it, but couldn’t find a puncture, so refilled it and headed of to a combini for breakfast….and the tire went flat. Ate breakfast, returned to the parking lot and examined the tube again, more carefully. I found what looked like a small leak; after fixing it the tire ran fine all day.

I rode down rte. 56, inland for the first 15 km. or so, through the farmland and rice fields – and lots of tunnels, which I avoided whenever possible…I passed a lot of walking henro, though I didn’t see the guru walker. I found that when I said hello as I passed them I sometimes startled them, so instead I began to just bow over the bars as I passed. It seemed more kind not to intrude.

I came across an ocean-side park just south of Saga, with a lovely view to the south east. Deciding to walk down the steep road to the beach, I came across these. A Kabutomushi slaughter. Beloved by Japanese of all ages, but idolized by children, the Stag beatle is an icon in Japan.

Every summer for a few weeks, after transforming from grub to adult beatle, they fly forth, clumsily, bravely, on the breeze to create a new generation. These ones looked like lunch to some crows or ravens. Do not show these photos to any Japanese children. They may weep.

A strange little futuristic….bathroom on the beach. Since bathrooms by repute have good reverb qualities, I decided to record the beach from inside. Listen here. At least it’s out of the wind. Recording of the beach here.

Riding along the coast for a bit, then inland to the Shimanto-gawa, the last remaining undammed river in Japan. Legendarily beautiful…but I have to admit I must have been thinking about something else, because I didn’t even notice, never mind take a picture of it.

Inland again and through the Shin-izuta Tunnel. It’s 4.8 km. long! Yuck. I was a bit worried about making time to the tip of the cape; next time I would take the small municipal road that hugs the coast and avoid this inland stretch. The little road looks like it climbs and drops a bit for this 12 km. route – the views might be great!

South of the hamlet Shimanokae about 3 km., I found the aptly named Oki no Hama (Big Beach), stretching for 3 or 4 kilometres and dotted with surfers. The waves are not huge, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The tip of the cape, and town of Ashizuri-Misaki was only another 15 kilometres south.

Kongofukuji

At temple 38, Kongofukuji, in Ishizuri, I met two bike henro from Yokohama. They were camping in the area and said they would see me at 39. The temple itself was very busy (Saturday!), a bit of a circus, and I was not encouraged by the crowds to linger.

I did not visit Okunoin, a jinja on Mt. Shirao, 3 kilometres inland up the Ashizuri Skyway. Okunoin is also the name of Kukai’s resting place on Mt. Koya, in Nara, south east of Osaka. It is also the largest cemetery in Japan. Perhaps this shrine simply retains the same name (there’s also one in southern Kyushu, apparently). I’m not sure if this one is a cemetery as well, though I think perhaps it is. Next time around I will visit it.

They seem to be stalagmites.

On my third try, I was directed to a ryokan down near the water, run by a sweet old couple. At first the woman was a bit apprehensive, but when I reassured them that I loved sleeping on tatami, and would eat Japanese food, she was fine. When I came down to dinner in my yukata (properly tied) she was happy; dinner was really good! My room had a view of the ocean.

They even let me set up my tent to dry it out properly, it having gotten rained on…it was very kind of them.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 13

2011-02-11T15:14:00.040+09:00

Day Thirteen: Truckdrivin’ Temple Priest, Walking Monk and Lamborghini Boy; Temples 35 – 37

Weather: very hot and sunny.

This turned out to be one of the most memorable days of my trip. In the morning, before leaving temple 34, I put a new set of brake pads on the front wheel of my bike. The old ones, like those on my rear wheel, were worn almost down to the metal, well over their wear limits, and had been noticeably less efficient in the few days previous. It felt good to have the increased control over the bike back – I felt sure there were lots more hills to come!

A nice 10 kilometre ride through the fields and clusters of houses to temple 35, Kyotakiji. I stopped at a store for some bento and a coffee for breakfast; ate it on a bench in the parking lot, and continued on. Kyotakiji is a bit of a climb for the last bit, but has a very interesting hidden shrine.

In the main courtyard, near the parked fire truck, there is a 3 metre statue (Kwannon?) on a stone plinth, itself perhaps 3 metres tall and about two metres wide, with a narrow door in the front of it. Inside the plinth, there are two very narrow stairways, the one on the left descending, the rightward one ascending, around a wide central column. I descended slowly into the pitch blackness about a half turn, and ended standing in a space under the centre of the pillar. I couldn’t see anything, and did not feel like exploring by touch, so went back up, and, ascending on the right side about a half turn, suddenly came to a small shrine built into the central column, very faintly lit by candles.

It was quite surprising, and lovely. I stayed briefly, made a small prayor, and left.

The temple is serene, has an old mon down the hill, a big priest’s house, and a wonderful view down the valley. A very nice place.

The view.

The ride to 36 was longer than expected, got lost once, but found it eventually, more or less on schedule. I rode over the Usa o-hashi bridge on the bike path/sidewalk. It’s not so wide, but preferable to the road. The bridge is pretty high. Shoryuji is very nice, not so close to the road.

There I saw…Lamborghini Guy with his obaachan. I smiled to see him, and he seemed more relaxed as well. Funny I should meet them, I should have thought they’d be in Matsuyama by now…

Leaving temple 36, I had a longish ride ahead to (58.5 km.) to the next temple, Iwamotoji, and a choice. I could go back over the bridge and left along the coast, or continue up along the Yokonami Skyline route 15 or so km. to where both roads rejoined to head south and west down the peninsula towards its tip. Reason forsaking me (why do I never learn?) I chose to ride the skyline route, completely forgetting, or more likely ignoring, the obvious – skyline routes climb tortuously to a ridge, wind up and down, and up and down some more, and some more, then drop precipitously back down to something that looks more like a normal road. I keep forgetting this. I proceeded to get lots of good exercise going up, up and so on.

Kokoro no Akari: the mothership has landed.

The views were wonderful though.

I also noticed lots of cats hanging out at the rest stops. Someone feeds them, as evidenced by some empty cat-food cans. Someone else obviously dumps them here, as there are no houses nearby for them to have come from… I also saw two dead cats, both white, one a kitten, run over.

Eventually, around 4:30, I arrived at temple 37, Iwamotoji, a wondrously compact, well laid out temple, with 575 paintings, painted by many different people of all sorts of things, including a portrait of Marilyn Monroe (!) on the temple ceiling. All were painted 30 years ago, in 1980 or so. Some kind of project or contest, I would guess.

I went and got my nokyocho, the temple seal in my pilgrimage logbook, then returned to my bike and prepared to hunt for a hotel. An older woman in a track suit came up to me and started talking to me.

Iwamotoji; the ceiling of the main shrine.

She asked me if I had a place to stay. I said no, not yet, but I would find a hotel, perhaps. She bluntly informed me there were no hotels in this town. I asked if the temple still offered shukubo (there is a large building which was, supposedly, available for henro to stay at, for a fee). She told me it was closed, whether for the summer, or permanently, she did not clarify.

She spoke in a very blunt, straightforward way, uncharacteristic of my experience in Japan, especially in speaking with older women. She sounded like a truckdriver, except all the truckdrivers I’d spoken to (not that many) were much more diffident.

Anyway, she said they had some sort of other shukubo and insisted I go back to the office and register. This sounded more fun than looking for a hotel – so I followed her, and watched her tell the priest to get out the book (!) This was when I realized she was not quite as she appeared. I signed the book and she took me by the arm and, after I had collected my bike, we started walking down the small street along the front of the temple property.

While in the temple, I had noticed a handful of men in suits, obviously from a bank or, more likely, the city office, way higher up management types, wandering around with clipboards. In the small parking lot, two of them were getting into their car, a nice Mercedes coupe, as we walked by. She asked them if they had what they needed, and they practically snapped to attention, saying yes, yes, thank you….somehow managing to look like little boys. That was when I decided she was the head priest.

We walked towards a small house on the corner…then past it, to another, empty, parking lot. She led me to a two-car garage, heaved open the sliding door, steel screaming, and showed me my room. A concrete floor, a table and old couch, a couple of chairs, a stack of two by fours with some cardboard on top. Overhead, a fluorescent tube. She said something like ‘this is it’ in Japanese, and asked if it was ok. I laughed and said sure! She seemed a bit surprised, looked me in the eyes, and asked again. It seemed like some kind of test, but I thought, hey, it’s free! She pointed out the temple washroom nearby, with water, which she claimed was ok to drink. She also pointed out that there was an open shelter up the hill a bit behind the washroom where I could stay, but that it was full of mosquitoes…I thanked her, and she left in peace.

An hour later, having searched out a local combini and some bento, as well as a box of cookies I felt I’d earned today, I pulled up the screeching door to find a middle aged orotund man sitting at the table, smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in a sweatsuit combo looking much the worse for wear, but with a cheerful grin said Konnichiwa!
I returned the greeting, and over the next half hour learned he was a walking pilgrim, and had completed the entire circuit 55 times (!!!). Whoah. That’s a serious amount of walking. He was a full time arukihenro. He had nothing, it seemed, but the knapsack on his back. He had just walked 40 km. this day, and was cheerfully examining his feet for blisters.

Feeling guilty, I asked him if he had any food. He laughed and said yes! And showed me two large onigiri (rice balls) with tofu wrappers. That was his dinner, after walking 40km! I offered him some cookies, and he took a couple.

It was getting smoky in the garage, and after he found out I didn’t smoke, suggested gently that I might wish to put up my tent in the vacant spot up the hill. I accepted his gracious suggestion (I would not have been so comfortable in the smoky garage) and headed out to set up my tent. There was a young man, his walking companion, camping in the shelter.

I had a lovely night, my first in my new tent. It turned out there was a train line twenty metres up the hill, though.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 12

2011-01-21T16:13:00.049+09:00

Day Twelve: Kochi, Temples 29 – 34

Weather: Rainy, then clearing to mixed sun and cloud. Warm.

I enjoyed a good breakfast at the hotel: I think it cost only ¥300, and the service was great. A nice place.

Kokobunji (Kochi), temple 29. Each of the four provinces in Shikoku have a 'provincial' temple: these are all called Kokobunji. Temples 15 in Tokushima, 59 in Imabari, and 80 in Takamatsu are the other Kokobunjis.

Temple 30, Zenrakuji.

I went to temples 29 and 30, both in Kochi, on schedule, but, reflecting, decided that today was a good day to break for a few hours to check my email at KIA, Kochi’s expatriate organization. Most cities in Japan have expatriate offices where one can find information and, often, use the internet. I had been out of touch for almost two weeks at this point and was worried that my friends might be concerned about my whereabouts. KIA has an office just down the street from the Kochi Castle, downtown.

I had about 30 emails to answer, so I spent about two and a half hours doing that. Then I found a local bike shop and purchased some brake pads for my bike. Mine were uncomfortably close to the metal, and no longer very effective. Cyclists should bring an extra set on this ride, as they will almost certainly have to change theirs…

Now, having lost a lot of momentum, and feeling that I needed to ‘catch up’, I tried to motor along. My goal for the day was to get to 36, and prepare for the long ride down the peninsula the next day. I got lost on the way to 32, however…and my stopping place for the night turned out to be temple 34. All day I felt distracted, and, I think, a bit tired. The bus henro I met were not so friendly.

Temple 30 was a stately, grand temple facing the rice fields. Very beautiful grounds.

Temple 31, Chikorinji, was odd – it had no gate. But it did have this extraordinary approach path. I swear it must be half a kilometer long.

Temple 32 was occupied by a seeming army of obaachan – grandmums – cleaning it. It also boasted a statue of maneki neko, the cat of good fortune, and a sign about a lucky cat who lived here. There were living cats all over the place.

There were also some extraordinary rock formations, like the ones behind this statue. Very different; quite beautiful.

A view of Urado Wan Bay in Kochi, between temples 32 and 33.

The 7.5 km. route from temple 32 to 33 requires a ferry crossing of Urado Wan Bay. It's free and runs often, perhaps every half hour or so. The crossing takes maybe ten or twelve minutes.

Sekeiji, temple 33.

Temple 34, Tanimaji.

Temple 34 was very friendly, run by a young couple with two cute kids. While he was signing my nokyocho, the priest asked me where I was going to stay, and I replied that I would find a local hotel or camp (I had a tent). He proposed I stay at the temple, where they maintain a room for walking henro, which was empty today. This is called shukubo, and in this case was free accommodation, offered as o-settai to the pilgrim. I accepted his kind offer; and when I opened the door, found a very nice tatami room.

Dinner was a bit trickier; when I asked if there were any combini around (all one could see was farmhouses and rice) he pointed out the Laundromat across the street, with its’ attendant row of vending machines. I thanked him, but thought…I might head down the road later to see what I could find. Immediately after settling in, I jumped back on my bike, and after a meandering 4 km ride, found a supermarket, where I bought some bento for dinner.

Back at the ranch, I used the shower and, after dinner, found twenty minutes in the fading light to replace one set of pads. The old ones were worn well past their limits. Tomorrow would be another long ride.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 11

2011-01-01T16:32:00.048+09:00

Day Eleven: Inside Cape Muroto, Temples 24 – 28

Weather: mixed sun and rain.

Breakfast is only served from seven at this hotel, so a late start. It was nice, though; traditional Japanese, tofu, fish, rice, tea. I grabbed a coffee afterwards at a vending machine, and set out at 7:30.

Just down the road, at the giant statue of Kobo Daishi, Mikurado. Kukai’s cave. This is where he came, legend says, to find his life’s work and gain his powers. He spent some time, perhaps three years, in one of the three caves, meditating, and presumably looking over the line into the otherworld. This cape, along with Ashizuri to the west, is the place where home (Japan) ends and the unknown begins. I can imagine that the typhoons could be impressive along here.

And it is the place where he took his name - Kukai, according to this author, means ‘Land and sea’.

I stopped into the caves and prayed at the shrines. While I was there I made some recordings. Here and here are recordings of these two caves in the bottom of the little cove. Both were dripping with water.

Walking up a path, I encountered another, smaller cave, enshrined, which was more or less dry…it seemed perhaps a much more comfortable place to stay!

There was a woman with a couple of cats in a small building at the entrance to the parking lot area. I went over to see what she was doing, and it turned out she was a priest and this was a bangai temple! She found a blank page on my nokyocho and signed it for me, and insisted on giving me an apple.

I climbed another path starting nearby towards temple 24, Hotsumisakiji. The hill is higher than it looks, about 150 metres, and it took some time for me to get up there. It was hot, with an annoying cloud of mosquitos hanging around. I stopped at the viewpoint to take a rest and look at the ocean. This is what it sounded like.

Temple 24, Hotsumikaji

Shinshoji. A 'downtown' temple - very pretty!

Inside the mon near the top of the stairs

Temple 25, Shinshoji, is only a 6.5 km. ride around the tip of the peninsula, and temple 26, Kongoshoji, is on a hilltop just under 4 kilometres further northwest.

Looking southwest

It’s a bit of a climb as well, and as I was grinding my way up through the rice fields, I heard an annoying rumble behind me, and was passed by….a large, red, expensive looking sports car. Some of the access roads to the temples are not in great shape, although this one is, and I was surprised to see someone in such a car in such a place…

I saw the driver, who appeared to be in his early twenties, uneasy, with his obaachan (grandmum) at the temple. The car was a Lamborghini Countach, one of a handful, perhaps, in Japan. I immediately nicknamed him Lamborghini Guy, and I was to bump into them at different temples repeatedly over the next two days. Each time they were sporting new henro paraphernalia. I grew kind of fond of them, though we never spoke, except to smile and say hello.

In the lower parking lot, in a converted freight trailer-box, was a taciturn man selling things and a cat, which allowed me to pet it, but seemed somewhat standoffish.

A way cool bikepath

Temple 27, Konomineji is a thoroughly enjoyable 27.5 kilometre ride along the seashore, much of it on a combination bikepath/walkway. The temple itself is a stiff climb, however, up onto the mountain.

Temple 28, Dainichiji, is in Kochi, 37.5 kilometres further west. It felt like a long haul; I arrived at the temple at 5:10, but the priest signed my book anyway. Lucky again!

I found a room in a small business hotel called Nankoku. The staff there were very kind and helpful. My room had a view south across the city, with a tram running past.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 10

2010-12-31T19:45:00.020+09:00

Day Ten: Tires Blown and Muroto!, Temples 22 – 23

Weather: Rain, sun, rain, sun, rain, sun, rain…

Today I rode down and out of the mountains towards the sea, then south along the coast down to the tip of Muroto, stopping for the night about 2 kilometres away from temple 24. The hotel manager was very nice; he gave me a great breakfast and a bath towel as I was leaving! I was touched.

Temple 22, Byodoji, was about 6 km. south of Emoto where I was staying. The photo at the top of this post is of the ceiling of the main temple there.

Yakuoji is a twenty kilometre ride south in a small town called Hiwasa, along the ocean. It's a seventy five kilometre ride to temple 24 from here, though, so I moved out smartly.

Yakuoji, temple 23.

I blew my back tire out at about 2:30 in a place called Shishikui; it had been wobbling and behaving increasingly badly all morning, but, though I looked, I had seen no bike shops. I now took the bike across the road to a parking lot near a coffee shop, an eccentric modernist structure, and tried to fix the tire. The strains of karaoke drifted out the door. Realising I could ride no further, I went into the shop and asked the manageress where I might find a bike shop. She helpfully pointed out, then drew a map to a place just a block away! Lucky, lucky…

The bike guy was there, and put a 28 cm. tire (all he had) on the front rim, moving the 35mm tire to the back. I thanked him and headed off. The bike felt good, solid again, and the front tire was responsive. He was a cool guy, had another Bridgestone road bike of the same basic model as mine (mine was modified), and was able to tell me how old mine was. It was only six years old (I thought it was about ten to fifteen).

I love ocean views, and there are wonderful ones down this peninsula. Encountered a bad headwind for the last 30 kilometres though. The weather was windy, rainy, gusting. The landscape is powerful, but somehow brooding, a little somber. I lived on Haida Gwai, the Queen Charlotte Islands, off the coast of British Columbia, for two years, and in some ways this landscape had the same wild energy as that place.

I stopped at a hotel near a giant statue of Kukai, just south of Sea World, probably about two kilometres away from the tip of the peninsula. This was the most expensive hotel room yet, at about 9500 yen ($95), though it included dinner and breakfast, a good thing as I had not seen a combini for miles, and there was nothing much else around. Most restaurants and houses seemed abandoned or closed up. People I passed on the street seemed shy, or a bit sour. I got the feeling Muroto was a bit depressed, perhaps feeling hard times due to the recent recession.

I wore my dirty bike clothes to dinner as I wasn’t sure if I could wear my yukata to the restaurant. I had plenty of time to feel silly, as I sat in my soaked shoes and dirty clothes, watching the handful of other guests, dry, comfortable, and enjoying themselves.

Dinner was Japanese style, sashimi, miso, tataki (seared bonito), and one of those whole, six or seven inch long fish (I ate it, of course). There was also a bowl of oden, bubbling away in a spirit heater. Yum!

My room overlooked the water, and I fell asleep listening to the wind and waves crashing on the rocks 30 metres away.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 9

2010-12-30T13:04:00.035+09:00

Day Nine: Riding out, Temples 14 – 21

Weather: Pouring rain till 2 pm, then mixed sun and cloud, fog at the top of the mountain.

Jorakuji. Strange decorative rock forms built into the temple grounds.

I backtracked nine kilometres to temple 14, Jorakuji, as it started to pour rain. To my astonishment, the priest there gave me 500 yen o-settai when I gave her my book and 300 yen for the temple calligraphy in my nokyocho. Cheered, I put my head down and pedalled out.

Kokobunji, temple 15. More lens fogging.

Temple 16, Kanonji. There is a sacred well here, said to cure all manner of illness. They sell the water as medicine.

Temple 17, Ijodoji.

Temples 14 through 17 are all within about seven kilometres of each other; then there is a longer ride of 17 kilometres to temple 18.

I stopped at a Mcdonalds a few hours later, utterly soaked and feeling slightly chilled. I ate near the door, and left a puddle two feet wide when I left twenty minutes later. Often the problem with riding in hard rain is that if the rain gets cold, or the temperature drops, it can get very cold. So I took one of the large, transparent, garbage bags I’d brought along for this purpose, cut holes for the neck and arms, and put it on. It worked, and kept me, not dry of course, but warm, until the sun came out later. I rode south down route 55 to temple 18, Onzanji.

Temple 18, Onzanji.

Tatsueji, temple 19

Riding through rain like this is, for me, a matter of keeping my head down and slogging away. But it still seems to take longer to get anywhere…

The rain eased off around two and I took off my raincoat a little later. I climbed route 16, up a steep municipal road, then up route 146 to temple 20, Kakurinji.

I think it must have been close to three thirty when I decided to try for temple 21, Tairiuji, the mountaintop temple. I dropped over the south side of the mountain from Kakurinji, then was able to follow route 95 east, turning north onto route 28 to climb up and round to Tairiuji from the small, little-used, steep back road. There is a ropeway running up the other side of the mountain. I found myself racing the clock up the mountain, walking the last kilometre or so on a path and arriving at the top, exhausted and convinced the place would be closed.

There's a daruma watching me! Or maybe he's just looking at the scenery.

It was empty, except for the ropeway operator and the priest, who signed my nokyocho without comment. Lucky two days in a row! I had resolved to pitch my tent and stay there dinner or not, till tomorrow, rather than climb back up the mountain again. Luckily, I didn’t have to. I took half an hour to pray and shoot some photos.

Tairiuji is an extraordinarily beautiful temple, but must seem quite isolated in the winter, with no one about. It was foggy up there, though it had been sunny on the way up, and I came back out of it, later, twenty minutes down the highway. It had a very special atmosphere and some gorgeous big trees.

At six I was standing by my bike in the parking lot; by 7:15 I was talking to a man at a hotel in Emoto, about 12 km. away, and got a room there. He was very nice; most of his trade in the hotel seemed to be work crews and factory workers in the area. My room was comfortable and I was able to do my laundry.

I cycled three kilometres back up the road to a combini for some bento, as I was too late for dinner. A tough but rewarding day. I had a major rash on the inside of my upper thighs from the rubbing of my soaked shorts and the seat. Also noticed the front wheel bearings making funny noises again

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 8

2010-12-27T12:59:00.043+09:00

Day Eight: Bushwack, Temples 11 – 13

Weather: hot, started rainy, ended sunny.

Up and at ‘em at 6:30, found the usual combini bento and canned coffee, and headed off to Fujidera, temple 11. It is situated on the south side of the valley, tucked up against the bottom of the mountains, a small, and it seemed to me, quiet temple.

From here arises the trail up the mountain to Shosanji, a mountain-top, barrier temple. The walking trail, a 12.9 kilometre section, is reputed to be the toughest on the entire circuit. The road, route 242, hooks right to route 43, which then runs westward, up and over a ridge, up a small valley and over it’s saddle, snaking around and up in a complex series of hairpins and switchbacks to the temple. It looked pretty straightforward on the map, but of course I got lost…

Just before this, however, I chanced upon a Japanese clearcut, the first one I've seen 'in production' so to speak. I have a lingering professional interest in such things; I believe this is called a hi-lead setup, where the logs are clinched to a cable and dragged, or suspended in the air, then pulled up to the landing by the motor, called a donkey, under the blue tarp. It is considered to be a practice that has a lowered impact on the forest soils, as there is relatively less dirt displaced and general ecosystem mayhem inflicted.

Riding route 242, rising west along the flank of the mountain, I took a small road switchbacking up and east. Later I realized it is not on my map, but at the time it seemed possible that this was route 43. This road, while still rising, quickly got smaller and smaller. This is usually a bad sign. Finally it deposited me in front of a standing stone, and a small abandoned house.

This house has been empty for some time as it is completely over grown with kudzu; the forest looks like a re-plantation of cedar trees, about twenty to thirty years old. This was done all over Japan in the seventies and eighties, a subsidised program to aid farmers. It resulted in a large scale shift in the number of cedar trees in Japan, a massive drop in the price of the wood as too much came into the market later, and, recently, a big upsurge in pollen allergies to all those trees. Oh dear.

Anyway, I came up the road with the small farm shed on it, and, feeling stubborn, or something, decided to continue down the road to the left.

Which quickly, within 100 meters, turned into a rutted, washed out rockpile useable only by serious four wheel drives. I could see it used to be a road. Noticing one of the small metal henro signs stuck to a tree, and feeling stubborn, or something, I continued, walking and pulling the bike, as I couldn’t possibly ride it over this terrain.

Long story short, I ended up dragging the bike uphill and back across the flank of the mountain on a path about a foot wide, cursing and swearing all the way. I found spent shotgun shells at one point, leading me to think this might be someone’s hunting trail. Finally, around nine am, I dragged the bike up a seven meter incline and emerged at…

A path. I mean a real, sort of flat path, with a, what is it, a jinja? The light began to dawn, and I pulled my maps out. Oh dear. The jinja’s name was Chodo-an, and I was about 3 kilometres up the mountain from temple 11! I was now standing on the walking pilgrim path to Shosanji.

I had a choice: I could walk my bike back to Fujidera, then start again around the mountain on route 242…or I could continue up the mountain on this path. Naturally, feeling stubborn, or something, I decided to go right.

The day quickly went from being bad to being horrendous. Occasional flat sections of perhaps twenty or thirty meters were interspersed with rock strewn steep sections, where I was essentially lifting the bike up the path, and long upward sections where concrete, imitation logs had been placed in the path to create steps, forcing me to do the same. It was exhausting and slow, and the weight on the back of my bike from my tent, the drybox, and the rest of it made it difficult to lift.

At one point, I was approaching a corner when a man bounded around it, running toward me with two henro sticks as outriggers. He stopped dead on seeing me, and burst out into a loud laugh. ‘A bike!’ he said. ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen one of those on this trail!’ I explained that I had gotten lost, which provoked another laugh. He asked if I was American. I explained I was from Canada, whereupon he wished me the best of luck and ran off. I continued. Up, and up and up…on this inhospitable, rocky path.

I popped over a tight ridge and could hear voices. Stopping for a moment to catch my breath, I could make out, 70 or 80 meters away and 30 meters down the ridge ahead, a group of Japanese hikers resting at a hut. When I got there I was greeted with frank astonishment and a little disbelief. You came up the trail?! You’re going to Shosanji?! When I explained that I was from Canada, nothing else (apparently) needed to be said.

They were a group who liked to hike the trail recreationally. They wished me luck. This showed on my map as Ryusui-an (Dragon water place?).

And onward. The same, only more so. Sometime later I suddenly came to a set of impressive stone stairs set into the mountain. At the top of the stairs was a large statue of Kukai, a small shrine sitting under a huge sacred tree surrounded by a fence, two stone signs neither of which I could read and an abandoned priests’ house.

And the middle aged Japanese couple who had overtaken me and wished me well several hours before, eating lunch. This, I think, was Joren-an. I don’t know what its importance is, but someone had gone to a considerable amount of work, here in the middle of nowhere. I was quite impressed with the stairs.

Finally, at 2:30, I staggered out of the bush at Shosanji, half disbelieving that I was actually there. It had taken me five and a half hours to cover the 9.7 kilometers from Chodo-an to the temple. I felt knackered, but on reflection, somewhat self-satisfied that I had contributed to the local legend of the trail. Another first!

I ran into FriendlyBikeHenro under the big trees, and told him what I had done. He laughed, and said ‘a learning experience’. Truer words were never spoken. After praying, getting my Nokyocho signed, and drinking a well-earned coke, I headed off down the other side of the mountain, on a road and thankful for it, towards temple 13, Dainichiji.

An hour later, studying my maps where this road, rte. 438, met rte. 21, FriendlyBikeHenro rode up to me. We agreed to bike along together for a ways, and continued down along 21 along the Akuigawa River. His rear wheel now had no brakes and the rim was wobbling dangerously so at 4:45 we separated at a bridge where he could cross over and continue (slowly) down to around Shimoura or Ishii train station to try to find a bike shop and get his machine fixed. I had fifteen minutes to continue on rte. 21 to Dainichiji. Feeling stubborn, or something, I wished him luck, and hared off down the road as fast as my exhausted legs could push me.

I kept riding as fast as I could until, amazingly, closing on five pm, the temple appeared. I walked up to the priest’s office at 5:02, by my watch. She was in, smiled, and signed my book.

I took twenty minutes to pray and, after another glance at my maps, headed 10 kilometers downtown, to stay at a small business hotel called Eigetsu, just off the main drag, route 192.

This was a small place run by an aging couple, quiet, very nice, no other guests. It had an amazing bathroom upstairs, quite large, done up entirely in black, glossy tiles, with a deep red plush toilet seat cover and accents. I thought of Elvis, for some reason; the owner was quite proud of it.

When I asked, he said they didn’t have laundry facilities, but I could find some just down the street. After my combini bento dinner (I always made sure I was close by to a Lawsons or Circle K) I went out and combed the neighborhood for a Laundromat, and sure enough, eventually found a tiny, hole in the wall place, no one about. I threw my laundry in – blessings! - clean clothes – and found the end of a long but eventful day.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 7

2010-12-23T00:37:00.027+09:00

A barrier,
a gate,
a landmark.

Day Seven: Start again, Temples 1 – 10

Weather: sunny, hot and hazy, with a breeze in the afternoon.

I’m not sure why, perhaps it was simply having reached the 88th temple, a landmark of sorts, but the ride down into the Yoshinogawa valley just north of Tokushima seemed soooo easy. Around 9am I stopped to take a photo of a rice field with my camera, which for this trip was my iphone.

Unfortunately that was the last photo it took that day. The iphone has two, I think, moisture meters inside it, designed to shut the camera down to avoid damage if moisture levels are too high. I had been having problems with lens fogging (see day two photos!) every day since starting out, and the camera was definitely having some trouble coping. Now the operating system shut down completely. Later that evening, luckily, by hooking it up to my macbook and rebooting it, I was able to reset the thing so it could be a camera again.

Meanwhile, however, on a day with ten temples scheduled, no pictures. Maybe that was why I managed to complete the tenth visit by four o’clock. In any case they were all crowded, and not particularly amenable to shooting. I only got lost once, to speak of.

Temple number one, Ryozenji, was a circus. I think I counted 12 buses in the parking lot, and there were cars everywhere. I marvelled for a few moments, then remembered it was Saturday so all the weekend pilgrims would be about. Here is a website in Japanese with some pictures of Temples one to four. This one, from 'The Temple Guy's page, might be easier to follow.

I met three bike henro; one distinctly unfriendly, one more friendly, and one who seemed nice.

At temple five, Jizoji, I met a cool old guy with a small cart who travels around the circuit, painting postcards of drawings he’s done with water-color washes, and selling them, to support himself I suppose. I bought a few; they are done in a kind of hypercute bubbly style, which, when I first came to Japan, I found hilarious and disturbing, all at the same time. As I bought them, however, it dawned on me that now I was starting to like this style of drawing/painting.

This made me nervous at first, but I have come to realize that, like the sculptures of the Umakoshis, father and son, the roundness and the, what to my western eyes appears as a kind of vacuous lightness is a formal structure which contains a deep seriousness of purpose. Like the statues of o-Jiso-sama which can be found everywhere on Shikoku, and all over Japan; these apparently childlike images take on a completely different hue when it is remembered that they are always a memorial to, and a plea for intervention in the fate of, a dead person. Or at least it changed my perception when I realized this.

And there is something about the roundness of form in Japanese art which seems deeply enculturated; it is a thread ancient and central to Japanese-ness; from Otafuku’s face, considered most lovely and lucky, to these modern sculptures and this man’s drawings. It’s no accident that the sun is Japan’s flag, the circle of completeness, of wa, of family and nation, of the island. And Ameterasu, the goddess who is the mother of Japan, came down from the sun.

Anyway I liked his work a lot; bought a couple and he insisted I take a few more. This was his work and he was not a rich man; I found his generosity touching.

After visiting temple ten, Kirihataji, I took route 237 down and across the Yoshinogawa to the south side, on a strange kind of bailey bridge down in the flats across the river. It felt like much too small a bridge for the kind of road it served, but once across, I felt more like I was on the right track. I decided to head towards Kamojima, the local rail station, as my maps showed a business hotel near there. In Japan, there are nearly always one or more business hotels right by the railway station, which is nearly always in the middle of small or medium sized towns.

Just east of the bridge, I discovered a closed amusement park, and simultaneously bumped into the friendly bike henro. He told me he was going to sleep out in a park picnic shelter. I wished him luck and headed off to where I thought the station might be.

The business hotel had gone out of business, alas, and it was the only one nearby the station. As I was standing in my bike, looking at my maps, in front of the station, I glanced up and saw a young woman, in her early mid twenties, with an infant in her arms, in a small shop. She waved, then came out to talk. She told me she had visited Canada a few years before, and suggested I stay at a nearby minshuku, or traditional lodging house.

I said sure, and, giving the babe to her mom, she walked me 150 metres to a small side street, knocked on a door, and introduced me to a woman who, after ascertaining she wouldn’t have to feed me, told me I could stay there. The price was great; just ￥3300 ($33). I thanked the young woman; I found such kindnesses were shown to me almost every day.

The ryokan was called ‘Shigeru’, and after finding out I like onsen, both insisted I go to Kamojima う. This is the symbol for a public onsen (and the character sounding ‘oo’ in hiragana), and this onsen was one my friend Katsuhiko had urged me to go to by name.

So, after settling my things, and with a map provided by the landlady, I was sent off looking for the hotspring. It didn’t prove too difficult to find, but was surprisingly small when I found it. There was a campsite there and in addition I found the unfriendly bike henro, standing on the grass off to the side, starkers, dumping a pail of water over his head! I smiled and nodded hello. He seemed surprised to see me.

The attendants were both women, both friendly, and one of them seemed to enjoy hanging out with all the naked men in the change room. They all seemed to be regulars. She gave me a nice bath towel with a duck on it. The water was excellent, hot, simultaneously relaxing and invigorating.

I have been having dreams about LBK, my little cat, and she is not happy. I should phone the Nagai’s and check up on her.

Heard an unhappy, lost cat under a big bridge when I was crossing over, could not help. I felt sad.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 6

2010-12-15T01:38:00.063+09:00

July 9; Day Six: Climbing Mountains, Temples 84 – 88

Weather: Rainy, cloudy, a little cooler, some sun. Sunburned legs.

Today I climbed three mountains. I made it to temple 88, but riding down out of the mountains towards temple 1, in a narrow valley, I passed Shiratori Onsen, a large mineral spa, and decided to stay there as it looked interesting. But first things first.

Temple 84, Yashimaji, is up on the 293 metre high Yashima Plateau in Takamatsu. The plateau is the site of an ancient battle and a popular hiking and viewing spot. There is a road going up there which goes to Yashimaji, but it is restricted to cars only for some reason. So I rode up a road marked route 14 to a cemetery, where I found a sign indicating that I might walk up to the temple from there. At least I think that’s what it said…maybe. In any case my map indicated a walking path of only about 1.6 kilometers up the mountain, so I left my bike and decided to walk up. The sign turned out to be (maybe) for route to a jinja, Kuwazunonashi, but my small, dirt footpath continued along the side of the mountain after that one turned off…and ended up to be the correct path to get there after all. It met a wide, stone, pilgrim walkway, which I followed up the mountain for some way to the temple. The walkway is steep in places.

A spring, called Kajisui, reputed to have been founded by Kukai - and never dry since. I took a drink.

The temple, when I found it, was grand, old, stately – with a big, new, stone museum-like structure added into the mix. I think it housed some treasures, but did not appear to be open, so I didn’t try to go in. Next time.

A shrine dedicated to Tanuki, the badger, who features large in Shikoku history!

A very interesting (white!) gate.

Back down the mountain to where I’d left my bike, and it was fine. Jumped on and away, around the plateau to temple 85, Yakuriji. I had a bit of trouble finding route 145, clear enough on the map, but not obvious on the ground, to turn up the mountain towards the temple. Eventually I found it, and followed the road almost to the temple itself, right up alongside the ropeway!

I had to take a short detour on a small, very steep, pretty much unused little concrete road up to the parking lot. Passable but not ridable; very steep, tree shaded and covered in slightly slippery green moss! I walked it with my bike.

I found a small shrine consisting of a shaped rock. Probably Shinto, I think.

Across the road was a small family gravesite with this samurai gravestone. Definitely Shinto. These are not uncommon on Shikoku.

Further up this dark little road, in a dark little corner, I found this odd, old shrine.

As I mentioned, there is a cable car running up to the temple. However, I chose not to use any I might find, preferring to cycle where I could, or walk where I couldn’t ride.

Temple 85, Yakuraji's gate.

Yakuraji

There is a beautiful big, sacred old Gingko Biloba at this temple. Usually the sacred trees, with ropes around them, are Kusunoki, or Camphor trees.

There is also a gorgeous red pagoda.

I rode down the other side of the mountain on route 145 and continued to temple 86, Shidoji. This temple is very nice, old, with lots of trees and flowers, and cats, looking very photogenic.

Unfortunately it has been taken over by a construction oni and is in shambles.

Scaffolding, stones of all sizes, piles of materials, piles of earth, all apparently for multiple projects, from an excavation for a large pond to various walkways and perhaps a building or two, lay scattered around impeding the view. It looked to me like it was completely out of control. There is a shokubo, or temple lodging, there, but I think it was closed for the summer.

Nice painting.

A lovely old jinja out in the back, in the parking lot.

Number 87, Nagaoji, is not a mountain-top temple. It is a small temple with some very old, very interesting torii beside the temple mon.

It was an easy 12.3 kilometre ride, during which I passed a beautiful old building, a place where sake used to be made.

After that however comes a 19 kilometre climb up to Okuboji, Temple 88, and the next to final temple if one started at temple one.

I took route 3, and then cut off onto a smaller, unnamed municipal road that wound, hairpin corners, all over the mountain, to get up there. This road was full of large (industrial sized, not road sized) dump trucks; sometimes I had to stand off the bike, and off the road to let them go by! They came by every two or three minutes. It was dangerous, unpleasant, and had me muttering nasty things for a while.

Eventually I got away from them onto an even smaller, but mercifully quieter road – which, although nice, seemed never-ending. I finally made it to the temple however, to find it very beautiful, very simple.

I saw another bike henro, but didn’t stop to talk. I also saw a motorcycle henro.

I then enjoyed a nice ride on route 377 down towards Tokushima, turning off onto the municipal road (smaller, more fun), down a different valley, where I eventually encountered Shiratori Onsen.

The walking trails come down along this valley and it’s much quieter and more picturesque than route 377. I met a dog with three and a half legs; further along, two young, large dogs were lying on the sidewalk/bikepath, acting like they weren’t going to let me pass – but I talked them into it :)

Shiratori Onsen was great! A bit expensive, at ¥6100 ($61) but, of course, including a soak in the piping hot baths. Unfortunately I forgot about my sunburned legs, although they reminded me quickly enough when I tried to submerge myself in the water! I spent 20 minutes acting the fool, climbing in, and, 30 seconds later, out, from the pain.

A nice Japanese dinner was thrown in for the price as well, and I was even able to do my laundry. A quiet, fragrant six tatami room with a nice view of the grounds and the henro trail running along the valley wall, which arises twenty meters from the building made it a very relaxing place to stay. I love the smell of tatami, and I slept well.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 5

2010-11-28T12:05:00.066+09:00

July 8; Day Five: Getting more lost, Temples 78 – 83

The weather: hot, hot, hot! I got lost again, two or, maybe, three times.
I met an older arukihenro again at temple 78, Goshoji. I offered him o-settai; it seemed to embarrass him a little, but he accepted. He treated me as his equal, something I did not always see in arukihenro. There is a hierarchy amongst henro, with the walking pilgrim at the top – and perhaps rightfully so, as theirs is the most arduous and exacting circuit. And a lot of them can really cover ground.

Temple 78, Goshoji.

I ate more today - maybe trying to gain energy? I feel as if I’m not going far enough every day, not trying hard enough.

I try to remind myself not to race, to slow down enough to meet more people. I need to remember to take their pictures! I seem to always forget this. But there are still the countervailing pressures of time and money...

Tennoji, temple 79.

Temple folk today seemed largely disengaged, but I had more interesting conversations with others, like the man above. Some older men and a truck driver helped me find my way when confused.

Temple 80, Kokobunji's main gate.

Road sign between temple 80 and 81.

Ancient (and very twisted!) tree at Temple 81, Shiromineji.

Maneki-neko on a torii at Shiromineji.

Shiromineji's gate.

Ten foot high pagoda made with strangely colored small pieces of rock.

Main shrine at Shiromineji.

My legs were a bit sore, and I walked the bike in the steeps for about four kilometres between temples 81 and 82.

Temple 82, Negoroji, and Godzilla's grandpa!

Negoroji's hongan.

At the main shrine in Negoroji, there is a hidden temple reached by walking around a corridor inside the gate.

I rode down and right around the mountain to get from temple 82 to 83.

Temple 83, Ichinomiyaji.

Ichinomiyaji is one of the big and beautifully kept up temples. I found another water sculpture, called suikinkutsu, near the priest's office. I made a short recording of it. Yes, I got the date wrong. It's not a great example of how these things sound, though, because the people at the temple were running water continuously with a hose onto and into the container. Perhaps they were cleaning it...

Anyway here is another recording I made in June, on Omishima, a large island in the Seto Sea north of Imabari.

This Suikinkutsu is a modern sculpture in a small park just opposite the entrance to the famous Oyamazumi-jinja shrine in Yomiura town.

Somewhere in one of the many small villages around Tadotsu, I found this nice little store.

Stayed tonight in a nice, small business hotel in downtown Takamatsu, near Ritsurin Park. I did not take the time to go into the park, though I probably should have…the Japanese gardens here are said to be exceptionally beautiful.

After I had my room key, I went back out to my bike, and leaning it up against the wall, locked, dirty, took off my gear and was preparing to take it inside when a sedan pulled in beside me, and the driver, a business man in his mid-sixties, got out, in seeming high dudgeon. Glancing at me in a look uncomfortably close to contempt, he muttered something in Japanese about bicycles and stormed inside. He looked like he might be the owner, but I didn’t see him again.

I discovered later that evening that I had left my spare shirt and shorts in the hotel room the night before. Mountains are tough.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 4

2010-11-23T21:59:00.072+09:00

July 7; Day Four: Getting Lost, Temples 68 – 77

I got lost three times today, twice seriously.

Old sacred tree at Jinnein, Temple 68.

Temple 68, Jinnein, is notable for a large, two story modernist concrete gate or entrance to one of it's shrines.

I asked the priest who the architect was; I believe he said he designed it himself. I liked it but was, still, happy to see the traditional hongan standing gracefully nearby.

Temple 69, Kannonji,had a beautiful mandala painting on the wall near the priest's office; I don't know what it's name was, or much about it at all, and the photo I took did not turn out very well.

Motomoyaji, temple 70, was one of those temples I find oddly beautiful; those with lots of sandy space and trees lining long walkways to the shrines.

It also had a very old, lovely, five storied pagoda.

Looking for Iyadaniji, I got lost for the better part of an hour, disbelieving, second guessing my own map sense. Finally I asked a tinsmith, building tin cans in a tiny roadside shop, where the temple might be, and he kindly set me on the right road.

Iyadaniji, temple 71, is built into a cliff, tucked into the end of a narrow valley. An amazing temple.

The main complex, housing the priest's office, has three major shrines in it and the most exquisite woodworking I have yet seen in Japan. I think it's extraordinarily beautiful.

A small flower display in a shrine cut into the rock.

A feature of Iyadaniji is this very special cave shrine for Kukai.

I saw a nice looking onsen below, though, as it was still morning, and I still had some way to go, I didn't visit it. Also lovely looking walking trails coming away from the temple site, long, tree shaded, tempting avenues.

I got lost again on the way to temple 73, Shushukaji, in the hills. I saw a martin. He told me I was going the wrong way. I turned back. Eventually, within about a kilometre, I found the temple.

Temple 74, Shushukaji's mon.

I did not go up to the inner shrine on the mountain lookout, revered as the spot where Kobo Daishi, at seven years of age (!), threw himself off the cliff, commanding Nyorai, the Buddhist deity, to save him. Lucky kid, apparently she did.

A statue of kukai, and a sound sculpture beside it. On occasion sound sculptures can be found in Japan. I think they relate most closely to the traditional suikinkutsu, where a large urn, like a funerary urn, was buried, and water dripping spines and steps built into its inside. A hole was left open at the top (it's underground, remember), and when water seeped into the top of the sounding chamber, would create small symphonies of dripping water. I had something like this at Yano Taku, created by a metal pipe of about 60 cm in diameter, sunk into the earth, and covered with large old paving stones. There was a hole in the middle between two stones and water flowing down would create a faint cascade and dripping composition. It was beautiful. There is a recent, modern sculptural Suikinkutsu in the park opposite Oyamazumi-jinja on Oshima Island, north of Imabari.

This one is not a water sculpture, but when I tapped my walking staff inside the hole, I can hear echoes from the resonating chamber, perhaps 5 or six feet below...

Koyamaji, Temple 74.

I repeatedly met an arukihenro at temples 71 to 74. He was keeping up with me! This says something about my riding skills, and much more about his walking abilities! A young guy in his mid twenties, he was striding along at a jogging speed.

Temple 75 is Zentsuji, built on the site of Kukai’s birth home. It is a large, very beautiful temple with a number of culturally very important shrines, paintings, statues and so on. It was packed with worshipers; it probably is every day.

Most interesting is the ‘kaidan-meguri’. Kaidan means stairs, and the kaidan-meguri is a walkway under the main shrine, perhaps 75 meters long, running in a horseshoe from the front right, with a hidden, barely lit shrine in the middle. Except for perhaps five feet around the shrine, it is completely black. The pilgrim takes off their shoes, walks down the stairs into the blackness, and slowly, trailing the fingers of the left hand as a guide along the left wall, intoning ‘Namu Daishi henjo kongo’, walks along.

It was definitely spooky, especially about 15 meters in, when something startled about five or six feet away from me. Thinking for a moment it might be a worshipper, I stopped, and whispered ‘sumimasen’ (sorry!). I heard nothing more, so continued. I could not hear footsteps, or any other sounds. So, not a pilgrim, or at least not a human one. Perhaps a snake, perhaps a rat, I was in any case thankful not to be bitten. The thronging crowd fifteen feet above me might as well have been on the moon. The sight of the shrine was a benediction in itself. Then comes another trial by darkness; an interesting walk!

Temple 77, Doryuji.

Heading towards the station area from temple 78, Goshoji, I got lost again. Somewhere near Marugame Castle, riding down a small street near the water, I rolled past a Phillipine grocery store and small restaurant. The front of the store was almost covered with plants in pots. It was 5:30 and I thought this looked way better than McDonalds, so I stopped and went inside. As I opened the door, a cat on a longish string popped out, glanced up at me, and took a seat a few feet outside the door.

There was a large man inside, silent. He spoke no English, and my Japanese was clearly not cutting it. He was a bit intimidating, but called someone on his ktei who spoke some English. She told me she could be there soon and would cook me dinner if I waited. I felt like I had walked into their living room and invited myself to dinner, but could not think of any graceful way to back out. So I thanked her and sat down to wait.

The silent man and I watched TV together. I made a little bit of conversation in Japanese, and this time he seemed to relax a bit and replied. A young phillipino man came in and bought a bottle of shochu. He put it on his tab.

Half an hour later the woman I’d spoken to on the phone arrived, introduced herself, popped into the kitchen and started cooking. She told me she had been here for eleven years and that life was good. I was hoping for adobo, but she served me up a steak, eggs and vegetables! The food was great, and the silent man even spoke a bit and helped me locate where I was…

They were so kind. The meal cost a little bit more than I would have paid at Micky D’s but was, in so many ways, so much more nutritious. I thanked them profusely and wished them the best as I left. They were special people.

An hour later I was standing two kilometres away in a raunchy, ratty hotel room that smelled of stale cigarette smoke. The hotel business has suffered in Japan since the recession of 2008; sometimes I found it difficult to find reasonably cheap hotels still in business…at this one, the proprietor was cheerful, but it was the least prepossessing of all the places I stayed in.

‘We wish you a beautiful mind’

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 3

2010-11-19T16:46:00.110+09:00

July 6; Day Three: Over the mountain: Sankakuji, Unpenji, Daikoji

In the morning, after the obligatory bento box and a can of coffee from the nearest combini, I climbed back up to the roads around the freeway to continue along the side of the mountain. I liked it up there, I could see where I was.

I found a nice little tea house; perhaps private.

An old boy (that’s what my friend Katsuhiko calls older men) at Mishima Park insisted on accompanying me on his bike to the municipal road that cuts steeply up the mountain to temple 65, Sankakuji.

It was a slow ascent, but through pretty, shaded, slightly cooler woods; another old fellow on a Honda cub stopped to give me advice and encouragement. I nearly always found people to be very kind and helpful; it’s very cheering!

I also met these: mountain crabs! Yes, they exist. Fiesty little guys; if I stopped to take a picture, they would often come after me, waving their pincers! They’re quite quick; most of my photos of them are out of focus.

A rest stop for walking pilgrims at a spring. I drank at most of the ones I found, with no ill effects.

Sankakuji's Gate and bell tower. It's a very pretty temple.

Leaving the parking lot of Sankakuji, I took the small, dodgy looking, un-named road running high along the mountain, then down over route 5 near where the tunnel comes out, then up and down again to route 192, then right along that, up the valley east and south into the mountains. Long, brake burning downhills on some parts. It’s advisable to carry spare sets of brake pads; mine were worn almost to uselessness when I replaced them in Kochi.

Sakaime Tunnel was scary and dangerous. Many tunnels have wide sidewalks, but some, especially the older ones, have white lines more often than not 20 trash strewn inches from the concrete wall! A few times I felt lucky to make it through in one piece. No joke. Later, in one such tunnel I almost got smoked by a loaded logging truck.

Unpenji is on the mountains on the northern side of this valley. I turned left and upward at route 8, a steep but smaller, quieter road. After about 3 km. of climbing and right after another tunnel, I turned right onto a very small municipal road. It was paved, as practically all roads I’ve encountered in Japan are.

This little road climbed up to the spine of the mountain and then proceeded to run along the ridge for about 6 kilometers to Unpenji. It is quite steep in spots and I found myself walking a lot of it…

It does not seem traveled much; there is another, bigger road up to the temple further along the valley.

A few cars passed though. I smiled and waved, walked on. It was hot. Finally, after what seemed a very long journey, Unpenji’s gate appeared.

Relief. Unpenji has the reputation as being the toughest hike on the circuit for the arukihenro. It was a steep slog even riding up there, but I also saw some pretty views.

The temple itself is wonderful, surrounded by big (big!) trees, and boasts a beautiful statue of the reclining Buddha, surrounded by, I don’t know, perhaps 1,000 life size statues of enlightened beings (monks, I suppose) playing with various animal familiars like ryu-inu (dragon dogs).

The main road down from Unpenji, route 268, continued into the valley ahead, towards Tokushima. What looked like a separate road, however, smaller, branched off and led up and over the mountain on my left. I turned left. This was also route 268. On my map it showed, where it wasn’t obscured by an infobox about the Unpenji Ropeway, as a normal highway. Soon route 6 branched off, left again, showing as a small highway.

For the next hour, as I strained sweated and cursed my way up route 6, this road became smaller…and shabbier…and shabbier. Only a few cars passed, the drivers momentarily surprised, then passing on.

The woods became darker. I saw some bolete mushrooms growing. Some had been pulled out and chewed a bit, probably by deer.

Just about the time the road started to level out into some sort of pass, I was questioning my decision to come up here. I stopped several times to look at my maps but couldn’t discern exactly where I was…but, bloody minded, continued guessing, going left at one unmapped fork.

A few minutes later, and I could tell that I had crossed the apex of the pass, and the road (miraculously!) was turning back into something resembling a normal, if small, highway. Coming away from Unpenji, I had dropped over into the valley on the southerly side of the mountain range and climbed back up; I was now about to drop back down the northern side. Which was good, as temple 66, Daikoji, was to the north.

The next half hour was a whoop! The highway, smooth pavement now, snaked and crossed back and forth in the narrow valley, dropping all the while.

At one place I found this sedimentary rock cut. Some small coal seams, holes where someone had dug, very friable rock, no fossils, sigh.

Near the bottom, I found my way, via another municipal road, to route 240, and rode towards Daikoji.

But I bumped into this temple along the way...it's not on my list of bangai temples, so perhaps it is some commingling of jinja and Buddhist temple...no torii, however, just this red bell tower, the bell in the Buddhist style. I think it's called Daifukuji, though I don't know where I found that name (!). It also has a wooden statue of the little pilgrim guy used on the 88 temple circuit to indicate where to pray - but without the temple number usually written on his chest. As far a I can tell, this is not an 88 temple...it may be associated with temple 67, Daikoji.

A very well dressed statue of the pilgrim Kukai.

Statues of o-Jiso-sama alongside one of the Shinto Seven Lucky gods. The deity shown here is Hotei, I think, also known as the Laughing Buddha, god of contentment. Imabari, where I lived, to the west, was historically a fishing village, and one of it's guardian shinto deities is Ebisu, the fisherman.

A very Shinto shrine to happy marital life!

Daikoji has a nice old Kusunoki tree with a sacred rope around it. Workmen were trimming the hedges in the bottom, making a mess and a lot of noise.

If I had elected to take the ropeway to Unpenji, I could have stayed on the north side of the mountains and accessing the temple would only have taken a short while; it’s perhaps 3 kilometers into the mountain from route 241; Daikoji is perhaps a further 8 km. by local road directly from the ropeway terminus. But I wouldn’t have missed these parts of the ride for anything.

A small Jinja in an empty lot. There's a big one across the street.

I stayed in a small family run hotel near the station, I believe it’s called the Park. Nice rooms, a restaurant, but no laundry facilities (so they claimed). Oh well.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 2

2010-11-16T18:23:00.037+09:00

July 5; Day Two: Saijo eastward to Chuo City

Yokomineji, oh my. Awake at 5:50, feeling good, I had breakfast and coffee in the hotel, then packed up and retraced my route west about nine kilometres to the road heading up to temple 60, Yokomineji.

A kilometre along, I found this interesting structure and a jinja nearby.

The jinja gate held guardians somewhat similar looking to the Buddhist guardians found in the gates of all Buddhist temples. But these are, I think, Shinto warrior guardians.

The road climbed gradually, a comfortable ride. At places it got steep; I got off and walked, at first feeling out of shape. But the heat, already building, and my sense of pacing precluded going all out. And, for me at least, it was important to remember that this was never a race.

There is a small coffee shop along the way, closed for the summer (I think), called Café Tentomushi (Ladybug Café). It and a handful of homesteads were the only structures on the upper portion of the road.

A small shrine with the Kobo Daishi encourages arukihenro.

An intriguing Jinja, no village here now to support it, though it’s still taken care of, and nearby, another standing stone.

The mapbook shows 6.2 km. to the end of the road; still it took me an hour and three quarters to get there, though I stopped a number of times to photograph jinja and standing stones I found along the way.

The last quarter kilometre was quite steep, so I walked it. There’s a small shelter where the road ends, with a spring. The path to the temple starts here. The sign says 2.2 km. Another sign on the trail said 3.5. It certainly felt like the latter!

The path starts out quite civilized looking, but rather quickly gets steeper, with the occasional fallen tree across it.

It’s an exhausting, steep climb, but beautiful, as it winds its way along, crisscrossing the streams of two valleys and round the brow of a ridge, eventually up the top of the ridge to approach the gates. The last kilometre had me out of breath; I would count fifty paces and stop for a minute…

This forest must be lovely in October, when the leaves are changing.

A short portion is paved with freestones, in the same way as a photo I have seen of the Nakasendo, the old mountain road from Edo to Kyoto. I believe it's called 'ishidatami'. Another short, climbing section has been washed out by the creek; new path winding from tree to tree.

Occasional statues of Jiso mark the spots where pilgrims have fallen, some so old that the features on the stone are obliterated. There are perhaps forty on this small section of trail…in places the trail is worn five or six feet deep into the soil by the passing of the faithful.

At the top, as the Temple gate comes into view, so do the gorgeous old growth (Japanese) cedars that surround the temple. The temple itself is nice but small, tucked into a fold on top of the mountain.

I met a young arukihenro there; he told me he was 31, from Osaka. He was feeling blue, he told me, his body was breaking down. He had walked from Temple 1, Ryozenji, in Tokushima, around Shikoku in the summer heat, in 33 days! A smokin’ pace. He had only perhaps 250 or 300 kilometers to go…I advised him to head down to Saijo, and soak himself in one of the famous onsen there for a few days to rejuvenate. The spring water of Saijo is wonderfully clear, sparkling, limpid, and is celebrated throughout Japan.

I was back on my bike by about ten thirty and enjoyed a great coast down to the plains.

Temple 61, Kouonji. Another Umakoshi sculpture. The soft focus is the result of moisture in my camera lens. The rainy weather and moisture sensor in the iphone caused some problems with taking pics.

Temple 62, Hojuji.

Temples 61 to 64 are close to the main road running nearby the base of the mountain. The sun came out around 1:30 and it was hot hot hot.

Temple 63, Kichijoji. The large rock with a hole in it is a kind of test or game. The pilgrim, holding their staff in front of themselves, walk with eyes closed twenty paces to try to stick the staff through the hole in the rock.

Temple 64, Maegamiji, being renovated.

Another shrine at Maegamiji. The small silver dots are 1 yen coins.

After visiting Temple 64, I followed the green dotted ‘culture’ route in my guidebook, up and along small access roads that follow beside the highway. Though they wind up and down (a bit more work!) they are quiet, and allow me a vista north to the Seto Sea, and keep me generally apprised of where I might be…

It’s worth noting that there are three routes marked in my mapbook. One is the traditional walking path, which now sometimes follows modern roads, but at least as often strikes off through the mountains: marked with a dotted red line, not always passable by bike. Another route is considered the ‘cultural’ route and takes local detours for cultural landmarks. Yet another route is considered the ‘nature’ route.

I mixed and matched, more on that later.

Looking ahead, mapwise, I noted the presence of a youth hostel along my route. For a while I couldn’t find it and considered camping, but couldn’t find a place that might not cause alarm at the sight of a stranger putting up a tent…eventually, a few friendly folks directed me towards it, tucked a few hundred meters into a small valley up from a quiet neighborhood. Shin chokokuji is a local Buddhist temple that has been gracing the valley since the Nara period (700 AD).

The temple is small, very beautiful, with a large, recent shukubo (lodging) building in modern traditional style. The shukubo was closed, as they often are during the summer. Most henro walk in the fall and spring, some fewer in winter, as they have to traverse considerable distances in the snowbound uplands. So those are the arukihenro seasons. Summer arukihenro are uncommon, though I saw a few from time to time.

The proprietress was very kind and spoke English fluently, sparing us both my Japanese (though I tried). She gave me a room for Y3300, though there was no food available. I had already bought some bento at a combini, so this was fine with me. When she took me to show me the showers, we passed along a corridor into an older building (early Showa or Meiji) with a nice little Japanese garden, and other living quarters in the back. A beautiful, quiet place.

My room was a traditional Japanese tatami room – my favorite! I find the grassy smell of tatami very relaxing, and sleeping on futon on tatami is much more restful than any mattress…

Even though I didn’t even make it out of Saijo City, this place made a stop worthwhile. This day also served notice to me that mountaintop temples were going to require some planning, timewise.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi 1

2010-11-15T22:29:00.049+09:00

July 4; Day One: Imabari to Saijo

At ten thirty am, late, I was packing my bike when my landlady came up to me to chat. Casually, she mentioned that she and her husband wanted to adopt Little Bitty Kitty.

I thanked her and mentally put it on the list of things to confirm upon return. It was a kind offer, but I wanted to see what the cat might destroy while I was away. LBK was a feral kitten when I took her in, and though affectionate, still was not particularly gentle to walls, furniture, or anything she could catch to eat, though I fed her plenty. Cheered, I jumped on my bike and started off.

The main shrine at Enmeiji, Temple 54

Temple 55, Nankobo's Gate

Of course I was about three hours late; most henro start between 6 to 7 am in order to get a full day in before the temple offices close at 5pm.

Temple 56, Taisanji.
Kobo Daishi and a group of o-jiso sama.

My schedule had me hitting the six local temples starting at 54,(about 25 km of riding) then a 40 km ride to Saijo, and finally a ride up the mountain to temple number 60 – before 5pm.

Temple 57, Eifukuji

Temple 58, Senyuji.
The gate leads to a path climbing 50 metres or so up to the temple itself.

Not such a big deal, I thought, but I had not considered the logistics carefully…it takes at least a half an hour to pray and get the Nokyocho signed at each temple, and taking pictures takes another 15 minutes or so… and the ride to 58 (Senyuji) is a long slog up the mountain…at 3pm I was leaving temple 59 and realized I probably wouldn’t make it to temple 60 by 5pm.

Kokobunji, Temple 59. Shake the Daishi's hand or stroke the ball for good luck!

I decided to try for it, but immediately, in a narrow lane leading away from Temple 59, I met a former student, an obaachan whom I hadn’t seen in about a year. We stopped to chat. Sadly, her memory seemed to be going; she told me she was almost 80.

An hour later, I got lost in the fields in the last 10 km to Saijo. An elderly farmer set me straight. I wasn’t even sure where the route leading up the mountain to Yokomineji, temple 60, started, so when I reached the area around 4:30, I scouted around for a bit to check it out, then turned left and headed towards downtown Saijo to get a room at a business hotel. I used to teach one day every week in Saijo and wanted to try the small hotel beside the station.

Along the way I found this statue by Umakoshi san, the father of a friend of mine, Michico. He is a famous sculptor in Japan, who until recently lived in Imabari. His style is unmistakable. His son, going by the name Sensshin, is also a stone carver and also works in this style.

This is a stone statue of O-Jiso-sama carved by Sensshin. I bought it and brought it back to Canada for my friend Thomas, who has not been feeling well. I thought the little guy might help.

The hotel was quiet. The two attractive young women at the desk appeared a little nervous at my arrival, but I did my best to look small, attractive and nice smelling, and it seemed to work. I was even able to wash my clothes. This became a daily search, as I only had one change of clothing.

One wonderful thing about Japanese hotels, even cheap ones: they always give the guests a yukata, a cotton kimono to wear inside the hotel. I love wearing them, they’re totally comfortable, but also feel somehow a bit festive, I suppose because of their connection to summer festivals and onsen. And that’s the second wonderful thing about Japanese hotels: they nearly always have hot baths (onsen). When I come back to live in Japan it will be because of this.

I bought some convenience store (combini) bento and dragged it back to my room. No beer on this trip, as one is encouraged to abstain while on the pilgrimage. By the time I categorized my daily photos and wrote a few lines in my journal it was time to go to bed. Of course it had started to rain.

Saijo Hotel Room View.

Cycling the Shikoku no Michi

2010-11-15T16:08:00.034+09:00

Introduction

One of my goals when I went to Japan in 2006 was to walk the Shikoku no Michi pilgrimage, a 1200 km. circular route connecting 88 Buddhist temples, founded by Kukai around 800 AD and walked by thousands of pilgrims in the many years since. Kukai, also called Kobo Daishi, was an extraordinary man; not only did he bring Buddhism to Japan from China, but he also created Hiragana, one of the three Japanese writing systems (Kanji and Katakana are the other two). He grew up in northeastern Shikoku, a local boy, and was also renowned as a civic engineer, building reservoirs for the farmers, at least one of which is still used today.

I was in Imabari for four years, but debt obligations meant I wasn’t able to save enough money to walk the circuit. It takes about six and a half weeks, and would cost me at least $3300 to complete it. A related problem was that I felt that I would probably not have enough time to do this and visit my family in Canada before taking a new teaching job.

Around March, a gentle suggestion from one of my friends led me to realize I might be able to cycle the route, cutting my costs roughly in half, and the time required to perhaps 20 days. I would miss out on walking some of the ancient trails, (not accessible even to mountain bikes) but at least would be able to complete the circuit, and keep my promise to myself. So I decided to bike the pilgrimage.

I chose to start from Imabari, though the norm is to begin from Tokushima at Temple 1. Tradition has it, however, that it is perfectly acceptable to start from any point on the circuit, though an extra trip to Temple 1 is required to obtain the final calligraphy in the record book, called a Nokyocho, that most pilgrims carry. I chose to start and finish at temple 54, En Meiji, in Imabari.

There is a certain amount of costuming and gear required for the traditional henro, most of it available in nearby Matsuyama. However, my friend Chihiro’s mum had given me a vest and sash, emblazoned with the Kobo Daishi’s name, and this, along with a simple wooden staff, and a Nokyocho along with some ofuda, or paper slips to be dropped in the altar boxes, was all the gear I took. I wanted one of the really cool straw hats, but opted for my helmet instead!

I did pack a small tent and insulated sleeping pad, though I only used them once (!!). Foolishly, I chose to take my macbook along in a plastic box. A bad idea! It was much too heavy. Because I didn’t have proper touring panniers, I carried about 7 kg. on the back of my bike, and about 5-7 kg. on my back in a small backpack. This did not seem so heavy, but eventually came to make my neck and shoulder ache every day. Next time I go on a tour like this I will use proper panniers. I promise. No backpack.

I used a small mapbook, only recently published, in English, reviewed here. I got my copy for about 1600 Y ($16.00) at the henro shop right near the entrance to the gintengai in Matsuyama, near bus loop. My friend Akiko also gave me a large single sheet map of the circuit, very recently available. Yay! No longer do Japanese challenged henro have to puzzle through a maze of Kanji to figure out their route!

Anyway, after finishing work on the 31st of June, I spent 4 days cleaning my apartment. I was supposed to leave it (I was no longer paying rent, after all) but my landlords, who lived above me, were very kind and said that I could keep my luggage there while I was gone.

A bigger problem was LBK, a cat that I had adopted a year before and which I could not find a home for.

At my GEOS going away lunch, however, I talked Hiroki, a teacher at my school, into feeding her while I was away, decided to let the chips fall where they might, and fix whatever needed fixing when I returned.

Imabari 88

2010-06-11T12:08:00.127+09:00

This is the blog version of a project I did in cooperation with the Imabari Expatriate Office (ICIEA).

The Shikoku no Michi ‘Shikoku Road’ pilgrimage is a 1200 year old, 1200 kilometer route circling the island of Shikoku, Japan. 88 Buddhist temples mark the waystations of the journey. Although temple number one, Ryozen-ji, is in Tokushima, pilgrims can start anywhere. To complete the pilgrimage they must proceed until they return to their first temple. It is also known colloquially as the ‘Hachi-jiu hachi’ or ‘88’.

The pilgrimage was created at the time of Kukai, or Kobo Daishi, the Buddhist saint from Shikoku who is credited with bringing Buddhism to Japan, along with creating the Hiragana script (!). He lived in the late 7th and 8th centuries, during the Heian era. After a trip to China, he returned and became an itinerant monk. Most of the temples date from this time…

Pilgrims, if they walk in ordinal sequence, proceed south and west, clockwise from Tokushima’s temple #1 around the perimeter of Shikoku. It may be done by automobile, bus, motorcycle, bicycle, hitchhiking or walking. Walking, the slowest method, takes about forty-five days to complete the circuit.

Imabari contains six of the 88 temples. Visitors wishing to get a brief glimpse of the life of a ‘henro’ or pilgrim, can experience it in two days by walking this route. This guide will walk them in order, from Enmei-ji to Kokobun-ji. The total distance on paper is approximately 19 kilometers: if starting reasonably early, they could probably be done in one day. Note that all the temples close at 5pm however; you won’t be able to get your nokyocho signed after that time.

Taisan-ji and Senyu-ji offer reasonable accomodation. Please note that you will probably be expected to rise early for morning prayers!

You’ll also need a few accessories: not required but the norm…such as a sedge henro hat, vest, walking stick and a blank book called Nokyocho, for obtaining calligraphic certifications from the priests at each temple. Temple #54, Enmei-ji, sells some henro accessories including route mapbooks in Japanese. There is a pilgrimage supply store as well, an hour west in downtown Matsuyama, beside the entrance to the arcade near Mizoguchi department store, and temple number one in Tokushima sells all the stuff. I bought the very cool English ‘Shikoku Japan 88 Route Guide’ at the store in Matsuyama for 1524 yen (C$15).

Henro, upon arrival at a temple, enter, go to the hongan (main temple), pray (the heart sutra is the minimum), then pray at Kobo Daishi’s temple, after which they may seek out the priest’s office to receive the unique calligraphic stamp signifying that they have been there…it costs 300 yen (C$3).

You will probably meet other arukihenro (walking pilgrims) on the road or at the temples. Walking henro are not the most numerous pilgrims – you’ll also see large crowds of henro traveling by tourbus, and many do the pilgrimage by car. You may be stopped on the street and offered ‘o-settai’, money or gifts. You may not refuse them. They are gifts which the givers hope will bring blessings to themselves by helping you complete your journey.

I decided to walk the six local temples as a way of introducing myself to the pilgrimage proper. I hope to walk the entire pilgrimage later this year.

I took the local train three stops west to Onishi to start walking. The distance walked from Enmei-ji to Kokobun-ji is only about 20 km. so I felt I should lengthen the walk a bit. Walking from Onishi station adds about 4 kilometers to the tour. Of course I slept in, procrastinated and shallied about until at 10am I found myself at the train station, hoping to catch the 10:08 local west. Unfortunately there is no 10:08 local going west. And the Shio kaze (Sea Breeze) semi express trains don’t stop in Onishi. I counted three locals going east while I waited till 11:05 to catch the train going west. If you can’t check schedules, be prepared to do some creative lounging.

So I started walking at Onishi station at 11:20 or so. Most henro start walking around 7 in the morning: it’s the only way to cover 40km., with temple visits, by 5pm. This is the average distance required to complete the journey in 45 days or so. I had only a light pack with me.

Carrying rain gear is recommended, and a sweater if you’re walking in the winter. The weather is changeable in Imabari, though usually sunny, and in winter tends to be quite windy. Rain squalls are common then as well. June is the rainy season and a bad time to walk, unless you like being utterly drenched.

I got to Enmeiji in about an hour; there is English signage on the roads to the temples. There will only be a few of these. However, there are also the traditional stone plinths with the pointing hand on them: these are the old henro route markers.

As well, you'll find kanji markers stuck to road signs along the routes. Sometimes you will see the Henro symbol, a stick figure of a walking man with a walking stick and sedge hat; these are also route markers. This is somewhat important as the henro routes often split, traverse neighborhoods and unmarked old roads etcetera. This pilgrimage is about wayfaring!

Walking through this semi rural area, I saw a Shikoku Garden Shed: an abandoned car used for storing garden stuff.

After leaving Enmei-ji, my route took me away from the busy, narrow 196 through Noma, to neighborhood roads and up onto a local mountain containing a large cemetery. At the height of land I found a pyramid of o jiso-sama statues.

My friend Chiomi told me that these are abandoned gravestones.

Having walked through the cemetery I came upon this small building, from the Meiji (1868 – 1912) or early Showa (1912 – 1945) eras.

An interesting example of European influenced architecture. I have no idea what it was for (it’s tiny), though it was probably a mausoleum (with windows!). There is also a large war memorial at the south end of the cemetery. Two blocks further along, tucked around the corner on the mountain, was the temple associated with the cemetery.

I stopped at a convenience store and bought some bento for lunch. I ate it in a local park, while being stared at by two soccer playing boys and a few passing obachans.

Temple #55, Nanko-bo, was moved here in 714 (!) from Oyamazumi jinja on Omishima, fourth in the chain of islands that run north through the Seto Sea to Honshu. The temple is associated with a large jinja by the same name next door; Buddhist worshippers can enter by the large gate or ‘mon’ south of the torii entrance.

Torii, the large, rectangular arches, always mark entrances to Shinto shrines; Buddhist temples are marked by gates which are building like structures which pilgrims walk through…often with large, somewhat fearsome statues of warrior deities on either side of the entrance.

Nanko-bo was burned in the bombing of Imabari in 1945, but rebuilt after the war. The very nice priest there gave me a Xerox map, in Japanese, which clearly shows all six temples, and the next five, in Saijo, as well.

By this time it was 2pm or so. The walk to Taisan-ji runs through Imabari’s neighborhood streets. Taisan-ji is a large temple with some intriguing smaller shrines. The hongan has nice shoji in the single (one large piece of glass) style, rather than the wood lattice and small pane style. Outside the temple, at the parking lot, I took this picture of a wonderful collection of jiso statues. O jiso-sama is the Buddha who takes care of travellers and children, and can be seen everywhere, often to mark the place someone has died. They are recognizable by the usually round, cherubic style of representation, and the handmade bibs and hats they sport, made by local grannies.

The walk to temple Eifuku-ji, number 57, is a bit complicated. It is tucked into the mountainside about 3 km. south and west of Taisan-ji. I used a small path (marked) along the edge of the mountain at one point…the temple is very pretty, and has some henro accessories for sale.

Outside, on the street, a car rolled up and stopped. In it was a young man with his granddad. He asked me if I was a henro, and when I said yes, immediately offered me 300 yen o-settai! I was about to refuse, when I remembered I couldn’t...After a somewhat lengthy explanation on my part, he told me he had completed the walk last year and wished me luck. This is so cheering!

However it was 4:30 or so, starting to get dark now, and I decided to attempt Senyuji (3km…). I turned left, at the first corner. At this point I did not know that the temples all close at 5pm…

The roads to and from Senyujji were the most interesting on offer.

The street I walked up, quiet, residential, shady, soon turned into a small road, then a path. Within two hundred meters I was standing at the edge of a chicken farm and the footpath wound away. At a small bridge over a drainage ditch, looking up the mountain, the path disappeared into woods. The old path!

I had been hoping to find a section of the original, or older, or at least unpaved path. Here it was. The next kilometer or so made the day’s walking more than worthwhile.

The path winds through the woods up the mountain, occasionally crossing the paved road that leads up to Senyuji. The pilgrim can of course walk up the road…but this is so much more peaceful and lovely.

O-jiso sama dot the margins of the path, in places worn three feet deep into the volcanic soil by the feet of pilgrims. They mark the spot where someone died, and serve to remind the walker of those who came before.There are lots of them. It was a wonderful experience to be walking up the mountain in their company.

It was already getting hard to see when I came back out again onto the main road. Continuing up the road, I reached the garden and resting place just below the main mon. It was almost dark at this point, but I decided to walk through the mon and take the stairs the remaining distance up to the temple. I climbed them in the dark, and was thankful for the railings provided. A false step and I could have ended up in the creek!

An erasure, encountered in Imabari.

The temple was almost completely dark, only a few lights burning. A young priest was sweeping up the hongan, the doors almost closed. When I bid her good evening, she replied in English. ‘The temples all close at five, you know.’ I apologized and asked her to sign my nokyocho. She rolled her eyes (!), hesitated, then, finally, agreed to do so.
‘Are you staying here tonight? No? Well, you’d better take the road back down…’ I thanked her and headed back down the road. It was pitch dark.

Of course I got lost, and ended up going the wrong way, walking towards Sakurai. The moon was lovely, enormous, full, orange. It was cold.

As soon as I could, I turned left and made my way back north and east until I recognized the neighborhood near Taisan-ji. Then I limped back to the station, picked up my bike and pedaled home.

Two days later, I came back to finish the walk from Senyuji to Kokobun-ji, temple number 59. This guide would assume the walker to have made reservations at Taisan-ji or Senyuji and stay there overnight. However I live in the north of Imabari, near Chikamiyama, which is 7 km. or so from Senyuji. So I decided to ride my bike to the Tonda river, where I had seen arukihenro stone markers and knew the path wound along the river a ways. I left my bike locked to a sign and walked west and north towards Senyuji.

The distance between them is a little over six and a half kilometers. I soon found the corner where I’d turned the night before, but took a different route, hoping to find more forest path. And I did, about two kilometers. Using my ‘88’ English guidebook, I walked through neighborhoods until I came to a small shrine set up on a hill. A road wound up towards it. I decided to take it, and followed it past the shrine, a few fields, to where turned left into the woods.

Straight ahead of me I found a path with an arukihenro marker on it.I took it but this section of trail proved to be rutted, washed out and badly in need of repair. It was the only such section I found.

About 200 meters along, I came to a fork. I turned left, upward, and the path continued through pine and leafy wood, climbing and traversing along the mountain.

Occasionally views opened up of Imabari.

Following one short but steep section, on the saddle of a ridge, I found two stone torii lanterns, and a signpost.The sign relates the story of Gorobei, a fisherman from Sakurai, who, hearing the large drum at Senyuji and believing it to scare off the fish, came up and slashed the drum, also casting insults at the Buddha. On his way back down the mountain he fell down this section of the trail, and hurt his back so badly he died. He is immortalized at this place for his troubles.

The trail carries on from this spot for another few hundred meters, after which it comes out at the garden below the main mon. I had missed this the night before in the dark…

Retracing my steps up the mountain, I rang the large bell this time, before leaving.

There is a very nice view of Imabari from the road right in front of the temple.

I returned back down the path, curious about the fork.

I took the left turning route this time, and found a much better maintained path, leading further down the ridge, through a nice bamboo forest, exiting about fifty meters north of the same jinja I had turned at earlier. The road took an abrupt right hand turn on my left, so I went this way.

I found myself wandering through the more rural edge of the city. Western Sakurai is full of big old farmhouses.

I found a beautiful abandoned house along the way.

As I was walking, I passed some greenhouses at the side of the road. Glancing inside I saw row upon row of low, leafy green plants. A farmer was harvesting something from them. I waved a good day and simultaneously saw a small flash of red: strawberries! This was on the 4th of January.

The route is not so well marked or obvious here, though, so there is a bit of wayfaring to do to keep more or less on target to get to Kokobun-ji. There doesn’t seem to be one route: I found signs, put up at different times, on what were clearly different routes.

However if one aims for the Tondagawa, the path runs east along the river for perhaps a kilometer or so. Then the walker can turn right (south) along a busy street, cut through some neighborhoods east of this road, and walk southerly to Kokobunji. This is what I did. So the experience of getting lost, of wayfinding, is central to the pilgrimage, though efforts have been made to post routes.

Along the roads, I found a kofun site, a burial mound. There are over 3000 of these in Japan, dating from about 4000BC to about 700(?)AD; they were built by the Yayoi culture of ancient Japan. This one seems to be very recent and has a display of farm implements and straw boots and such.

Across the road I saw an old minka or farmhouse, with a tin roof. The roof has suspiciously deep eaves, leading me to suspect it may cover the original thatch roof. This is a common site in rural Japan, as the cost of re-thatching, (which used to be a local skill, and practiced communally) has become prohibitive to almost everyone.

Kokobunji is the designated provincial (Ehime) temple. It’s been sitting on a small hill since 741, and, like all the temples is quite beautiful. It sports a life size stone statue of Kobo Daishi with his hand extended: you can shake his hand! So I did.

That was the end of my six temple walk. The determined hiker can continue to the next temple, number sixty, Yokomine-ji, - but it’s a twenty seven kilometer stroll!

I highly recommend this hike. It offers unique views of Imabari and Shikoku life not seen on tours or at the usual organized tourist sites. The best times to walk are from September to November, and March to May. The summer is very hot and humid, sometimes with heavy rain, the winters cool and windy with occasional storms. You’ll find snow inland.

Some useful numbers:

Lodging:
Ask for henro accommodation (shukubo).
Senyu-ji 0898-55-2141
Taisan-ji 0898-22-5959

Shikoku no michu websites:
Shikoku Henro Trail
Echoes of Incense

Guidebooks:
Shikoku Japan 88 Route Guide by Tateki Miyazaki, pub. Buyodo Co., Ltd. (2007)
ISBN 978-4-8297-1054-8

I can’t recommend this book highly enough: not only does it have maps with train stations marked, it also has lots of information about the pilgrimage, including phone numbers for all the temples and distances between them. An invaluable resource for the English speaking pilgrim.

There is also a two volume map book of the pilgrimage available at Ryozen-ji, the bookstore in Matsuyama I mentioned earlier, and at Enmei-ji in Imabari. It may be available at other temples as well. It’s in Japanese.

A Henro Pilgrimage Guide to the 88 Temples of Shikoku Island, Japan
By Bishop Taisen Miyata (Koyasan Buddhist Temple, Los Angeles, USA) (2006)

I haven’t seen this book: apparently it’s available at temple number one, Ryozenji, in Tokushima, as well as from the author, in Los Angeles.

Japanese Pilgrimage by Oliver Statler (1983)
My copy was located second hand, but it looks like it's back in print. A lovely, semi-fictionalized account of the pilgrimage. Statler walked the route four times.

Arukihenro, an ethnographic documentary by Tommi Mendel and Atsuka Toda. It's great!

Pay-san

2010-02-22T16:53:00.020+09:00

Happy New Year!

Okay, it's a bit late for that, but this was published a month ago in the ICIEA newsletter in Imabari...meant to post but been too busy!

I thought I would share part of a letter I sent to my friend Christian a week ago. Although it’s officially the year of the Tiger, for me it might also be the (unofficial) year of….sourdough bread! Christian and his partner Julie own and run Pantry Press, a small printing press in Toronto, Canada. They recently published their first book with author Erin Turcke, about sourdough bread. Paysan is a wonderful rustic bakery on Oshima.

Dear Christian:

The sourdough bread book looks great! Have you been taste testing the recipes? A month ago, I finally discovered, in the land of faux (alcohol added) $2 beer, and fluuuuuuffffy white bread, a true, honest to god rustic, sourdough baguette! And in the local SATY depato to boot! Yahoo! In all fairness, I have been able to get excellent bagels at a bakery called Fukusuke. Now if I could only get black turtle beans and lentils...

Last week my friend Chiomi brought me some rustic bread she said she got on Oshima Island, the third of the chain of islands running north to Honshu from Shikoku, with a big highway bridge system running through the middle of it. The Shimenami Kaido was supposed to bring tourists to all of these tiny sleepy, historic fishing villages but mostly the tourists are on their way to Hiroshima; one can cross the entire chain of islands (about 77 km) in an hour and a half or so on the highway. So the villages remain for the most part somewhat sleepy and tiny.

Anyway Chiomi brought me this bread (pumpkin buns, rustic, white, yes, sourdough bread, etc...yum!) from a bakery called Pay-san in a village called Yomiuri on Oshima Island. A couple from Kobe have been running Pay-san for the last five years or so. They are part of the growing ‘back to the country’ movement in Japan.

She said one could order the bread on the internet, from a site called Rakuten, and I found it...they also have a web page. We went to visit them Sunday, though they’re only open to the public Thursdays and Saturdays...We came away with some more bread...

Ah, back to the bakery, er, land! Here’s hoping they have a great year, and I get the chance to pick up some more great bread!

Paysan
Rakuten (Japanese).
Paysan at Rakuten (English)

Pantry Press

Thanks to Nagai-san for the tiger!

Geta, Zori and O-Hanami

2009-08-15T08:01:00.015+09:00

ICIEA O-Hanami, or cherry blossom viewing, was April 19th this year...and surprisingly, there were cherry blossoms on the trees! O-Hanami is supposed to occur at the maximum blossoming of the cherries and is notoriously difficult to predict, which ICIEA had to do to organize o-bento (lunches), get the word out etc. Around Imabari, it was almost completely finished by the time of the event...but up on the hill at Shimi no Mori, the Sakura were still in full swing!

Like last year, I was part of a group that performed tea ceremony there. It went much better this time; I didn’t walk into the tree this year. And I now own my very own, traditional, boring dark blue kimono, and a pair of really cool zori (formal sandals) which don't fit me, to go with the geta (the other kind of trad shoes) that don't fit me either.

Japanese traditional shoes: there are two kinds, the really odd looking everyday kind, geta, which are made of wood, have two pieces of wood on the bottom, and a thong strap on the top. And there are the formal (but to my western eyes, oddly, less formal looking), zori. They are usually worn with kimono, as kimono today are reserved pretty much for formal occasion. Zori are usually made of glossy, glossy, glossy plastic, dark red for women and black for men...I think they replicate the look of expensive, hard to take care of shiki (enamel), but they look cheesy, at least to me. I usually do my best to ignore them when i see them, out of respect for those forced to wear them...

Disbelieving the horror stories, (fool!) last August I bought a pair of geta for 5000 yen to wear to On-maku, the fireworks celebration here in Imabari. They only come in one of two modes for my size 9.5 feet: much too small, and too small. I was reassured that it was normal, even for Japanese, to wear geta with their heels hanging an inch off the back...(!!). Ok.

No socks of course. By the end of the evening the thong straps had rubbed skin off my feet and they were bleeding. Needless to say it hurt. I thought the scars were permanent but it seems they have faded just in time for this year’s Traditional Shoe Adventure.

In February, I was told that I would need a pair of zori for my tea ceremony performance. Last year I borrowed Yano-san's (not Minami's, another Yano), and later caught him wandering around barefoot at the festival. He was risking catching a piece of glass in his foot so I insisted he take them back and wore my running shoes for the second round of tea ceremony. Scandal!

Anyway, this year I would need my own...Needless to say I wasn't interested in some groovy black plastic ones (for 4000 yen), so I headed back to the mom-and-pop shop where I had bought my geta previously, in search of some alternative zori. I had seen some woven straw zori (echoes of the uber traditional, hand made farmer's sandals) with white cloth thongs and....bicycle tire attached to the bottom! Sort of like the hippy car tire sandals of yore.

I thought these were super cool, and decided to get a pair. I was able to obtain them for the reasonable price of 3800 yen. Yanagihara-sensei thinks they must be Chinese. Of course they don't fit (see above)...and when I put them on, they reminded me of this, rather fiercely. I limped around for a few hours.

But they worked a charm for the tea ceremony.

I was much more relaxed this year, and as a result the complex details of the tea ceremony seemed to flow much more, and, well, it just went entirely more smoothly. As mentioned, I didn’t walk into any overhanging branches, knock off my zori, and so on...For the first time, an enjoyable experience.

Two weeks previously, on my way to tea lessons one Monday, I noticed on the Tonda river a glorious explosion of blossoming trees stretching west on both sides of the river! Quite beautiful.

My tea teacher, Tabusa-sensei, suggested I check it out, and, upon exploration in the early evening, I found a large tent stall selling food and groups of people picniking under the blossoms. It was a wonderful neighborhood celebration, which I had been entirely unaware of previously.

Botchan Stadium, Matsuyama

2009-07-27T14:28:00.009+09:00

Saturday, July 19th, on my way home from teaching in Natsume, at the train station, my keitai rang. It was Katsuhiko.

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’, he asked. I truthfully answered that I wasn’t sure, though I knew there were lots of things I should be doing… ‘Oh, in that case, let’s go to Matsuyama for Saijo Koko’s first game of the Ehime Baseball Championships!’

Katsuhiko’s son, Kazuma, attends Saijo High School and plays for their baseball team. He was recruited. Saijo is a town 35km southeast of Imabari, with a strong team. The Ochis, including all three sons, are mad for baseball.

This team has a good chance to win the Ehime championship, meaning they could go to the Japanese National Championships (Koshien) later on in August. There are two national championship tournaments in Japan every year. They are as popular as professional baseball, televised and all…Saijo went to Spring Koshien in Osaka in March, but lost their first game and were put out of the tournament.

Kazuma just joined the team as a junior this year and so wouldn’t be playing, but it was a chance to see the team play on the professional pitch of Botchan Stadium. So of course I said yes.

We left my house in Imabari at noon, arrived in Matsuyama around 1:00 and were seated in the stadium by 1:45. The admission was 500 yen. The game was pretty good, though Saijo lagged a bit in the the fifth through eighth innings. The game concluded after nine innings, with Saijo winning 7 to 1. The other team played better than the score might indicate, but couldn’t score runs. Saijo was repeatedly lucky, ending innings with opposing players on bases, unable to score.

The Saijo team is focused around Takumi Akiyama, a physically and technically imposing (though sometimes wild) pitcher probably already pegged for the majors. There are a number of other very good players on the team, though; I saw some wicked catches and cool, intense plays.

Japanese high school baseball games come complete with cheerleading squads and a band. I got to sit with the fathers, all in their special Saijo shirts and baseball caps(!!) We were given two yellow plastic megaphones, not to yell into, but to knock together in time with the cheers. Good fun!

Saijo’s next game was on Thursday, July 23rd. I don’t know how it turned out yet…

Omishima Art Trip

2009-06-15T13:27:00.030+09:00

My friend and macha teacher, Tabusa-sensei, invited me to join her in a trip to Omishima, the fourth island in the Seto Sea group north of Imabari. The islands are joined to Honshu and Shikoku with the Shimenami Kaido, a road system comprised of a freeway and multiple bridges, so we could drive there. The normally expensive highway tolls on all Japanese freeways were being relaxed for Golden Week (the first week in May, when everyone travels), so the trip would be much cheaper.

Tabusa wanted to see a collection of sumi-e, black and white paintings made on paper with calligraphy ink. They were being shown at the Omishima Museum of Modern Art, in the town of Omishima just opposite Oyamazumi-jinja. These paintings were mounted on fusuma, sliding paper doors used in traditional buildings in Japan. There is a long tradition here, of painting on fusuma.

These were comissioned by a large buddhist temple in Kyoto, called Chishakuin, and would be installed there later in the month.

Minami, my landlady, and another friend, Kazu, also came along, so Sunday at nine we jumped in Tabusa’s car and headed off to the islands.

The sumi-e show was quite wonderful, large 4 to six panel scenes with landscapes depicted in the four seasons. One featured a weeping cherry tree, another bamboo grass(?), a third a meadow at a misty sunrise.

The artist Toshio Tabushi has spent five years creating a series of 60 panels, landscapes with a seasonal theme, on the sliding paper doors called fusuma, used in traditional Japanese houses and temples. These are masterworks by this artist, the culmination of a 40 year career.

He applied the ink, then removed it selectively to create delicate layers of grays. There is a wonderful crossover between drawing (line, edge) and painting (the liquid flow of the ink) and, surprising, the atmospherics, the air, created by the removal and smudging. The landscapes really do breathe.

There is also somehow a photographic property to these images; they call out to the negative, to silver. This is created partly, I think by the use of both addition and removal of the ink. At times the paper appears to become saturated and greys out, contrast is lost, there is no white, and no black. This begins to look remarkably like something that happens with a photographic process called solarization, when the image sometimes goes both negative and positive.

This photographic aspect is also reflected in how he places the images on the panels: he makes drawings from photos, then projects those by overhead projector onto the panels, and paints the projections onto the panels.

Photography was not allowed in the exhibit, and I could find nothing about this show online, so I’ve taken a couple of pictures of foldouts from the catalog:

A landscape featuring a weeping cherry tree.

A meadow at sunrise.

We spent perhaps an hour viewing these quite wonderful paintings, then walked across the street to Oyamazumi-jinja to take a look at the 2,600 year old Camphor tree (!).

Local comentary has it that this tree, which has lost it’s higher canopy many times over it’s long life, was shortened to about 20 meters by bomb blast during the second world war. Apocryphal, probably.

South on the local coastal road about ten minutes or so is the Tokoro Museum Omishima, a mid size gallery with Japanese and international modern art in it. Before we went in we had some coffee, and Kazu tried to show me how to make a whistle from one of the small mame (bean) plants we found growing there.

It was hopeless; I couldn’t make any sound at all, though Kazu could make his whistle! Ah well.

The gallery is a concrete structure which stairsteps in about 6 floors down the hillside, facing onto the strait. It’s an interesting structure; stairs run down the outside in a gallery and inside of it…and there, a nice Japanese installation made completely of, I think, Japanese cedar, of a…it seems to be a life size street kiosk, selling magazines and books and stuff, all made of…cedar.

Around back there’s a post box and phone booths. Cool piece! Artist: Yamemoto Hideyoki.

Also a nice wall piece of figures made of twirled tissue paper. A Dantean world of ghosts. Didn’t get the artist’s name.

And a wonderful sculpture, quite small, perhaps 20 inches high, of a seated bishop, mounted on a little shelf, high up on a concrete wall, with a view of the beautiful strait in front of the bottom floor of the gallery. Italian.

After returning to Imabari, we stopped in northern Imabari for lunch, at a place called Kane Tani (Golden Valley). A traditional Japanese luncheon, including a tempura-ed fish backbone (!), which was a surprising, crispy treat. A very nice meal at 1500 yen. Later I found out from Yumi that this restaurant was owned by the same family as a well known fish shop nearby.

Sazae

2009-06-01T10:55:00.004+09:00

At the beginning of January, at the dawn of the new year, I was treated to a meal at a small Japanese bar/restaurant in Imabari. I was served slices of sashimi Sazae, uncooked giant (Horned Turban) sea snail dipped in shoyu (soy sauce).

My host, Katsuhiko, sincerely told me that this was his favourite food (of all!!!). He asked if I would try it, so of course I ate a piece. I think it was mostly near the foot. It tasted like shoyu flavoured rubber with small rocks embedded in it. As I chewed, (and chewed, and...), I considered the state of my teeth (not good, at the time), and listened for the sound of cracking enamel. Lucky, lucky, not this time! I turned down a second piece. Three days later I told my Japanese teacher, Yanagihara-san, this story, and she told me it was HER favorite food, too! I thought maybe she was pulling my leg.

Katsuhiko meanwhile, or just after my taste test, told me a story of his childhood in Imabari, to whit: he grew up near where he now lives, Oshinden, in the north of Imabari, down by the beach, where many fishermen used to live. I live a few blocks from him, in Oshinden as well. He said in the summer that he would run out of the house in his shorts and bare feet, play baseball all morning at the neighborhood sandlot (he's still baseball mad), then, at lunch time, go swimming off the beach and pluck some of these Sazae off the rocks at about four or five feet down and stuff them in his pockets. Out of the water, he would crack them open and eat them out of the shell with some shoyu brought from home! He'd do this every day all the summer long.

It was worth the tooth risk to hear that.

This is a picture i took of the jetty in Oshinden, as it looked in January 09.

ICIEA Cookoff 2009

2009-02-15T16:59:00.026+09:00

Sunday February 8th. Kurushima Lion’s Club and ICIEA hosted their annual cookoff at Ailand, near Fracasso’s in Imabari.

Mix:
Six gaikokujin:

Maher: Egypt
Grace: America
Chiori: China
Daniel: Australia
Khunpo and 2 friends: Indonesia
Ian: Canada

and 42 chugaku gakusei (middle school students)!

Everyone met at 8:30 am, when we were introduced to the students and chosen by our student teams. They were from various middle schools around Imabari. I was also introduced to my very able assistant, Ito-san, who would help translate, facilitate and make everything work. She did a great job!

Menu

Beef Kabob, toast and middle eastern tomato salad

Siu Gyoza (!) and a very strange Chinese desert

Grilled baby snapper in a sauce, fried potatoes

Baked Salmon marinaded in Ginger shoyu

Fried rice with vegetables and egg

Tourtiere (meat pie) and Poutine

After visiting Marunaka for supplies, we headed into the kitchen and cooked up a storm until 11:30. The girls were very organized, and no one cut themselves.

Due to a miscalculation on my part, however, our team was 10 minutes late, but no one seemed to mind.

Maher's team kababs, my fave:

Grace and her team's salmon and Khunpos' teams' fried rice, which had a Japanese name, but I didn't catch it. It was nice and slightly spicy, the chicken was really nice, too

Some very presentable baby Snapper...

And what's Tourtiere without Poutine? For those who may not yet have had the opportunity, Poutine is a heart stopping combination of french fries, cheese (supposed to be curd, but, well...) and beef gravy. The recipe claimed 2100 calories for four servings. Cholestoral overload.

Siu Gyoza and the mysterious Chinese wet mochi with fruit, anko and strange dried things, which was sweet and very mild tasting.

Just to make sure, Nihon ryori!

Team Canadian:

After generous noshing and lots of compliments and so on, winners were announced and prizes given out. Such is the lamentable state of my Japanese, however, that I didn’t even realize we had won first prize til I was told later (!).

Many thanks to the Kurushima Lions Club, to ICIEA, to the cooking leaders who gave of their time, and most of all to the students who made it so much fun!

Kakemori

2009-02-04T09:26:00.010+09:00

A few weeks ago I went to Matsuyama with Tokura-san for a meeting, and just to go. After the meeting she went, as is her habit, to see her father and cook lunch for him. While she was visiting I, having never met her father, decided to take a walk around the neighborhood.

He lives south of Dogo, easterly towards, but not yet at, the mountains. There is a large, steep hill poking out of the great river plain right behind his apato, which I decided to climb.

I walked east along a narrow neighborhood lane, a large onsen on my right, and took the first path heading up the hill. Immediately I found myself in a fairly large 'Kakemori' or bamboo forest. I had not really been in one before; it was a beautiful space. I was reminded of my friend Oliver, whom I had helped plant a number of species of bamboo one year in Vancouver, a while ago now. I felt he would enjoy this place, so I shot a composite photo of it.

Another version:

Continuing upward, past the cemetary (often placed closer to the gods on hills), I found an old, unpaved, muddy path heading up to the top of the hill. Along the path I found this:

...which is a Samurai gravestone. It was just sitting off in the leaves by itself.

At the top of the hill was a beautiful, small jinja, and a large standing stone commemorating the battle of 'Hoshi no Oka Kosenjo' in 1200AD, on the plain below (I assume). In this battle the emperor's forces (the capital of Japan then being in Kyoto) were completely routed by the righteous fury of the combined Shikoku Samurai.

There was another Samurai spirit house, and two New Year's mochi, piled up like a little snowman on the steps of the jinja. The light was magic, the photos were there, and my camera was....dead.

On the second, steep path heading down the opposite side of the hill, which, it turns out, is the normal approach to the jinja, I found more little Samurai houses, keeping company with 39 stone O-Jiso-sama statues. Jiso is the patron god of children, travellers, and pilgrims especially. I love finding odd spots like these. This is just a neighborhood shrine, which happens to commemorate a major episode in the history of Shikoku.

A week earlier I went to another kind of shrine, Freshness Burger, downtown near Kinokunya. Kinokunya is the only bookstore in these parts carrying english language books. Daniel, a kid's teacher for Peppy Kids in Imabari, told me about it. I didn't have a burger, but will, next visit. The fries however were great, the coffee ok, and the atmosphere pleasant; a true cafe.