{Shikoku Hachijūhachikasho Meguri}

--Thoughts during Week Two--

Started off with the usual breakfast and, as has become usual, only ate the rice, a few of the vegetables (spinach, i think), and the miso soup. Washed it down with a few cups of tea, paid the bill and was on the road at seven. Also as usual, the bill was 6,500 yen ($55) for the room, dinner on the night of arrival, and breakfast the next morning.

Instead of the typical space heater, this minshuku had wall units in each room that served as both air conditioners and heaters. They told me to leave it on all night if i wanted so i did and felt much improved this morning.

As i left, i was really feeling good. I was still blowing my nose, but every fifteen minutes instead of every one. My left foot even stopped hurting after only a few minutes on the road. What got to my feet wasn't the walking, per se, but the climb down the mountains. Walking on flat ground, or even climbing, hasn't bothered my feet. But, coming down was something i was unable to prepare for in Chicago. As you descend, your toes are crammed into the toes of your boots and if you don't have calluses already, you are bound to get blisters on the toes - just like i did.

I have my toes taped, so they aren't getting worse, it is just taking time for them to get better because i was still going up and down mountains as late as yesterday. Today was a long day, but not as bad on the feet. All in all, i'd like to think they'll be better by this time next week.

The mind is a funny organ, though. While the feet can be killing me for the first few minutes. As i limp along i wiggle and scrunch the toes until they seem to be in the least uncomfortable position. I then consciously make the effort to forget about them. And, sure enough, after about 5 minutes they no longer bother me and i'm fine until i stop somewhere. When i restart walking i have to go through the same mental process of forgetting. I call it 'walking in the zone.'

After about a half hour of walking this morning i caught up to a man in his sixties who is walking (he told me later) only through Temple 30. Since we were walking in the same direction we stayed together until about ten-thirty. He recently retired, to give you a sense of his age (in Japan you retire at sixty), but he set one heck of a pace.

It turns out the reason i could catch him is because he walks slower on streets than he does in the mountains. Don't ask me why, it didn't make sense to me either. But, when we hit the first mountain trail, he all of the sudden turned into a squirrel. It was as if he was at home in the mountains - scrambling from rock to rock up the mountain steps. His pace was so fast that i was wheezing and puffing to keep up with him all the way to the top.

I wanted to stop and take a break a few times, but admit i didn't have the courage to admit to him that i was having trouble keeping up. And that was only on the way up! Going down the other side, i actually had to break into a trot a few times to catch up with this guy! I have absolutely no idea how he does it - without ever breaking a sweat or breathing hard.

Actually, i do know how he does it. He told me that there are one hundred famous mountains spread throughout the four main islands of Japan. He has climbed thirty of them and is planning to climb the rest some time before he dies. This guy looks like an ordinary sixty-something businessman, but is a real mountaineer.

We chatted about this and that for the few hours we were together but one interesting thing he told me was that the three most common (or popular, i wasn't sure which he said) flowers during the spring in Japan are the Tampopo (Dandelion), Sumide (Which is purple and small, but not in my dictionary), and the Renge (which my dictionary calls a Lotus Flower or China Spoon). He has been hiking since he was a child so knows the names of everything.

I asked him why i hadn't seen any kids in the last few days. All the way up the mountain to Bangai 3 and back down, and from there past Temples 20 and 21 there just weren't any people younger than their sixties. Granted there were occasional people that might have been in their fifties, there just weren't any twenty or thirty-somethings with young kids.

He thought about it for a while and said he hadn't thought about it, but he agreed that i was right in the observation. But, he couldn't offer an explanation. Typically, the oldest son would move back to the home town (if he had moved out to the big city) to care for the parents and run the farm, ranch, or orchard.

Lately though, he went on to say, that system is breaking down and most children will just not move back to the countryside and give up the life in the city. If most towns in Shikoku are like what i've seen in the past few days, Shikoku (except for Takamatsu, Kôchi, Matsuyama, and Tokushima) have a bleak future ahead of them.

We went our separate ways and i continued on towards Temple 23. I stopped around noon at a roadside restaurant and had kitsune soba (soba with a slice of agedofu, deep-fried tofu, laid across the top). She gave me a cup of coffee as settai and i thanked her profusely. I miss my coffee.

The owner of the restaurant was also in her sixties, but i think the restaurant was old when she was young. I have few doubts that many in my family would have refused to eat in the restaurant it was so dirty. But, the food was OK, so i was content. She told me that the number of people making this hike has increased since there were a spate of programs about it last year on NHK, the Japanese equivalent of PBS.

The guy i had been walking with told me that the reason that only older people make the hike is because of the typical trade off between time and money. When younger they have a job and, therefore, the money. But, also because of the job, they aren't free to take the time. Once you retire, it is the opposite - you have the time, but not the money.

I walked on the side of a major highway from about ten-thirty until i got to Temple 23 at about two-thirty. While the mountains were pretty, as usual, it was noisy and not very noteworthy. Since i got to town early, i sat around at the temple resting my feet until after three. I then went to the train station where i was fairly certain i'd find a telephone with a data jack. They are just plain impossible to find outside of the cities.

After downloading e-mail and updating my journal, i found a coffee shop where i could rest and read all the mail over a cup of coffee. I'm going to miss a lot of these new e-mail friends i've made once the trip is over. Maybe i can find a way to keep us all in touch with my web page as i make it better. Something where we can all contribute our experiences for future walkers.

Nothing else to say for the day. I checked in at four, relaxed until six, ran to the grocery store for tomorrow's breakfast (sweet rolls) and lunch (a few slices of ham, some bread, and an apple). I then had Tonkatsu (fried pork), rice, miso soup, a few mushrooms, and an omelete for dinner. I washed it down with a beer since my room tonight is only costing 4,800 yen.

I may have had the chance of free lodging tonight, but opted for the hotel because i felt so good after sleeping in a heated room last night. I thought it would do me good to do the same for one more night. Starting tomorrow it is back to minshuku. I called ahead and made a reservation for tomorrow night at a place i think reads Kokumin Shukusha Kashimazo. I have no idea what to expect but am assuming it is like a minshuku. I also made a reservation for Wednesday night at Marutaya Ryokan.

It is 83 kilometers (51.5 mi) to Temple 24 on Cape Muroto. It is supposed to be a three-day walk, but i have the time so will stop about one kilometer short of the temple on the third night, arriving bright and early on the fourth morning. No reason not to let the left foot heal.

By the way, i think i saved the toenail on the right foot that was all red and swollen. A little preventive surgery with my trusty Swiss Army knife worked wonders and it hasn't caused problems since. Maybe i should just use the same knife and amputate the little toe on the left foot? Forget the American Express card, but i can't imagine going anywhere without my Swiss Army knife.

Time to turn off the lights and get some sleep (nine-thirty). More later.

--4/6 Day Nine--
Slept well last night and was up and out of the hotel at seven, as is usual. I ate my coffee rolls while i walked for breakfast. Not nearly as good as my usual rice, miso soup, and tea, and not even comparable to my cereal, OJ, and coffee.

Almost as soon as i got on the road, i saw that i was following another walker, a woman. Without hurrying i knew i wouldn't catch up to her and i was enjoying my own company, so i just stayed a constant half-kilometer (quarter mile) behind her. That lasted about thirty minutes before she had slowed down to the point that i couldn't help but overtake her.

Once i caught up we walked together until noon when we reached Bangai Temple 5, Saba Daishi Honbo. She's 47 and happened to see a book about the pilgrimage two years ago. She was immediately interested so connected with Miyazaki-san, the man who heads the society that is marking and preserving the trail, and the man who wrote the guidebook that almost all of us walking henro use.

She walked the first twenty-three temples with one of the groups that Miyazaki-san leads himself each year. As she told me, she felt that she was just tagging along on Miyazaki-san's pilgrimage but that she wanted it to be her's so knew then that she was going to have to walk the rest without him.

She's walking through Temple 28, i think, now, and will come back in the Fall with her husband to walk more, and again next year to finish the entire trip in four installments. Her dream is to come back someday in the future and walk the whole thing nonstop.

The mountains on this part of the island just aren't as pretty as the mountains i was walking through up to Temple 13. These are full of cedar trees, but not much else so the colors are mostly green, green, and more green. There are precious few cherry trees in these mountains.

We walked along the side of a major highway all day. Yuk! And, Yuk again!. It is noisy, unfriendly, and detracts from the walk. But, i have to do it for the next few days, so i might as well just accept it and live with it, i guess.

We arrived at Bangai 5 at about twelve-thirty and parted ways there. She was continuing on for another 7 kilometers and i was only going two. I thought i was walking further than i ended up walking. On the map, the distance back to Temple 23 is marked as 30 km at a point just past my minshuku for tonight. So, i made a reservation here.

When i told the woman i was walking about 28 km, she said 'No way,' or something to that effect. She said she was walking that much, but i was stopping before her. When i showed her on the map where the distance was printed, she showed me that that number was if you used a different road than we were using for the first portion of the trip away from Temple 23. If you use the road we used, you had to subtract about 8 km. So, i ended up with an easy 22 km (14 mi) day - and had walked all but the last 2 km (1.2 mi) by twelve-thirty.

After visiting the bangai temple, she ate in a nearby restaurant but i had already bought some ham, bread, and an apple so told her that i would eat at the temple. I hung around the temple for about a half hour eating and looking over my maps. When the woman who had stamped my book saw me eating, she brought me a can of apple juice as settai.

The legend that surrounds this Bangai is one of those i've never understood why it developed. I certainly don't believe it is true. The story is that one day when Kûkai (the guy that became Kôbô Daishi) was walking around the island, he happened upon a fisherman with a load of Saba fish on his horse. Kûkai begged for one of the fish but was refused in a rather rough manner.

Kûkai left without saying a word, but the poor fisherman's horse immediately fell over with colic and laid there immobile. The fisherman then remembered that he had heard that a famous monk was walking around the island and, figuring out who it was, realized what he had done. He ran after Kûkai and when he found him begged his forgiveness.

Kûkai gave the man his bowl and told him to go to the sea and fill it with water. When he had done so Kûkai performed a secret rite over it and told him to make the horse drink it. When the man did this, the horse immediately recovered. The man then gave Kûkai one of his fish and was awestruck when Kûkai put it in the sea and it came back to life and swam away. At that very instant the man gave up everything and became a devout Buddhist monk.

I can understand why stories and legends develop around the images of people like Kûkai, but why would a story develop which shows him as vindictive and willing to kill this man's horse simply because he was refused a fish. That is definitely not a very Buddhist image to project and not a very good legend, in my opinion.

A little after one o'clock, or so, i headed to the beach just across the highway. It was a deserted beach overlooking the Pacific with two small islands just a few miles off shore. It was sunny and warm, so when i saw a small flat-bottom row boat laying upside down on the beach nearby, i headed for it. I took off my boots and using my pack as a pillow, took a nap for about forty-five minutes. Quite the life here.

What woke me was the change in winds. It was supposed to rain this afternoon and tonight, and by the time i woke up the winds had picked up and the clouds were coming in. I put on my boots and pack and headed for my minshuku. It was still a little early to check in (usually set at four o'clock) so i sat and had a Coke on another beach. When it started sprinkling at three, i headed for the minshuku and they told me i could check in. Once in my room, though, i saw that the clouds were gone and it was sunny again. I'm in a room less than one hundred yards off the beach facing the bay. The mountains come right down to the beach. Actually by the time they get seaside they are small hills more than mountains. It is incredibly beautiful watching the waves break on the rocks along the coast and listening to them break on the beach downstairs.

The bath tonight was really something special. The bath room (and in Japan that means what it says; the room in which you take a bath, not the toilet.) was about fifteen feet by twenty feet in size with a ceiling about ten feet high. On two of the walls glass windows went from the floor all the way to the ceiling - with no curtains.

Now, i admit that the minshuku is located on a hill, and that the closest neighbors aren't right next door, but if i had wanted to stand in the window and show off to the world, i could have and people in the parking lot and the neighbors would have known that there was a naked foreigner standing in the windows butt naked.

Not being so inclined, i didn't do that but simply showered. After the shower you get in the bath and soak and relax. In this case, the bath itself took up about a third of the room and was big enough for ten people or so. Imagine just sitting there relaxing and letting the hot water relax the muscles and bring life back into the legs. And doing this while sitting there watching the cherry trees outside and the boats out on the bay behind them. An incredibly beautiful scene. And almost a true one.

Unfortunately, what ruined this perfect picture was the fact that the water was so hot that as soon as i put my legs in, the glue on the tape on my feet immediately dissolved and all the tape fell off. I think the toenails are still there, but my legs have been scalded red. You just can't imagine how hot this water was.

But, being college educated and reasonably intelligent, i had one of those rare (for me) ingenious ideas. I'll use the shower and keep increasing the temperature until i get used to the hot water and then i should be able to get in. But, that brings me to the point where i need to explain the Japanese shower.

Before you get in the bath, you wash all of the dirt off yourself first since everyone uses the same bath water to relax in. In minshuku and ryokan, that means that the walls around the bath are lined with faucets for you to use to do this. Until recently, (and still, in the older minshuku and ryokan) there was just the faucet. You sit on a little 6 inch high stool, fill a little plastic bucket, and pour that over yourself - continually refilling the bucket as often as you need to.

Recently, though, they have been putting in faucets that allow you to turn a knob one way or the other to direct the water through the faucet (so you can still use that little bucket if you want) or up to a shower head on the end of a long flexible hose so you can take a shower instead. There is also a knob to adjust the temperature of the water. But the catch is, they have safety buttons built in so that you can't turn the faucet past some unreasonably hot temperature and burn yourself without pushing the safety button in, which then lets you turn it up as far as you want.

On the faucet tonight (and this may be standard, i don't know) the safety button was at 40 degrees (104 F). Therefore, to get ready for this bath, i slowly worked the water in the shower up to the safety button and kept the shower water flowing over my body to get used to the temperature.

When i went back to the bath, i found that that hadn't even come close to doing the trick so i went back to the shower (not really went back since i only moved about 2 feet) and went through the same process again - this time overriding the safety and cranking the temperature up to 45 degrees (113 F). Well, when that didn't seem to make any difference what-so-ever and i was still unable to get in i gave up and decided that all i really needed tonight was a shower anyhow. But, it bears noting that there was no one else in the bath either, which is rare just after check in. Everyone immediately heads to the bath as soon as the bath opens at four thirty. Immediately and invariably. I can only guess that the Japanese also found it too hot to bear.

When i was shaving, i realized i must be a sight to see. In the first place i'm a foreigner, which makes me stick out. But, on top of that, my cheeks are red. Not burned really, but bright red and it looks like i'm wearing rouge. Anyone that knows me knows what happens to my nose each and every year when i go skiing.

There is just something about my nose that burns at the first sight of the sun. It doesn't matter what i put on it, it burns to a crisp. And, not wanting to let me down, it burned to a crisp last week and is now at the stage of being all scabby, red, and ugly. It really looks bad. (And this is above the scab which is now healing under my nose but was caused by blowing my nose twenty-four hours a day for about a half week.) I'm glad i don't have to look at it. Oh well, all the scabs will go away next week sometime. Until then, i'm surprised people are still willing to talk to me.

Finally, to top all that off, since the white jacket i wear has three-quarters sleeves, i am somewhere between tanned and burned (but closer to tanned) from a line about three inches above each wrist. Above that line, i have no tan at all. But the hands will be very tanned when i get back. In the end, all i can say is i look weirder than i did before i left - a lot weirder.

For dinner tonight it was almost all seafood. There was the standard plate with a few slices of maguro and hamachi sashimi on a bed of shredded white radish. Then there was a large bowl with pieces of several different kinds of white fish. I have no idea what they were, but they were delicious. None of them were raw, they all looked like they had been boiled. There was the usual potato salad and bowl of vegetables containing sweet potato, lotus root, carrots, and other stuff. And of course there were the several bowls of rice and the bowl of miso soup, all washed down with green tea.

Tomorrow will be the first day that i walk all day and don't visit a temple. That's good, i think. It reinforces the idea that i'm here to walk around a well-founded trail and see all i can see of the entire island. I'm not just here to see 108 temples and nothing else, but on days where you are constantly going from one temple to the other, it is easy to lose sight of that fact. I'm looking forward to two days of nothing but walking and talking to whoever will tolerate me.

The weather outside is beautiful and it looks like the rain missed us. The weather tomorrow, as well, is supposed to be clear and warm with a high of 13 degrees (55F). I've been lucky so far as i've only had to walk in rain on two occasions and i've been on the trail for nine days now.

--4/7 Day Ten--
Today was an incredibly beautiful day. It was sunny and clear all day with very little wind until late in the afternoon, maybe around three. The temperature probably hit a high of 15 degrees (59 F) which is almost perfect walking weather; it's warm enough that you don't need a sweater or jacket, but just cool enough that you don't work up a sweat while walking, even though you're carrying a pack.

Since i was going so slow, it took me eight full hours to walk the 22 km (13.5 mi) to tonight's minshuku. I think i took a break with about every fifth breath, or so. I stopped for a snack, and then later i stopped for coffee, then i stopped for a Pocari Sweat, and then, even though i had already bought bread and ham for lunch, i stopped for a big lunch (i'll eat the sandwich tomorrow), and then later again i stopped for another Pocari Sweat. Finally, i stopped and just sat and watched the birds and fishermen on the beach for about a half hour. All in all it was a relaxing day.

At the restaurant where i had lunch, i surprised the owners by recognizing all the pictures on the wall as being of a man i named 'Jumbo' Ozaki. He's the best pro golfer in Japan, but has never won outside the country. In fact, he's in Atlanta as i write this getting ready for the upcoming Master's. If you watch any of it, you'll see the guy.

Apparently Jumbo, as he's called, comes from this town and hangs around at this little coffee shop/restaurant. The owner is a huge fan, but says that Jumbo has no chance of winning the Master's because he doesn't have enough heart (or something like that). I think he was saying that Jumbo gets intimidated with all the English and, since he can't speak it very well, gets tied up internally and he can't give it everything he is capable of.

Something today reminded me of someone i met several days ago coming down off the mountain from Bangai Temple 3. I had come down as far as i needed to and was standing on a corner verifying that the corner i was on was the one where i needed to turn right to pick up a trail over the next mountain to get to Temple 20.

As i was standing there, an elderly man rode up on his Moped and stopped next to me. I said hello and told him what i was doing - he looked like that is what he was waiting for me to tell him.

As soon as i told him, he immediatley said that the trail over the mountain was bad and that i shouldn't use it. After i blinked and stutterd a few 'huh?'s, i told him i needed to take the trail because it took me to the next temple. To which he said, again, sorry, but the trail is bad. He told me i should continue on the road i was on for a few kilometers (a mile and a half, or so) and then turn right and cut back over the mountain from there.

So, to impress on him that i wanted to use this trail, i said something about it being short this way and farther the way he was recommending. To which he said, again, sorry, but the trail is bad and that i should continue on the road i was on for a few kilometers (a mile and a half, or so) and then turn right and cut back over the mountain from there.

Being the stubborn ninkompoop that i am, i showed him the map and pointed to where i wanted to go and told him that it was only about two km (a mile and a quarter). But, if i went his way (and i pointed it out on the map) it would be about five km (three miles). He nodded his head and said something like 'Yes, i see. But the trail is bad and you would add less than a half hour walk to your trip.'

I guess i was just trying to break the guy down and get him to tell me it was ok because i went on to say something like, 'So i can't walk it then?' To which he just mumbled something and said, 'Well i can't say it can't be walked, but it's bad.' To which i said, 'So it's walkable, but it's bad.' At that point he immediately started nodding his head and saying 'Yes, Yes, the trail is bad. Please go the other way.'

At that point i admited defeat and thanked him for his advice and told him i would go the other way. He rode off with a big smile on his face as i started walking down the street in the direction he wanted me to.

Today was an English day. As i was walking along, someone rode up on a bike from behind and said, in English, 'Hello.' It was some man doing the pilgrimage on his bicycle. He is a fish (usually salmon) importer and lives in Vancouver, Canada in the summers and Tokyo the rest of the year. Because of that, he speaks good, but stumbling, English. He apparently has a friend who lives on Shikoku and who gave him the idea of doing the pilgrimage.

Today was his fifth day on the road and he is averaging about eight km (5 mi) per hour. Given that pace, he thinks he can finish the trip in the twenty-one days he has alloted. But, lest you think this is some athlete on a super racing bike, he is a man in his forty's or fifty's riding an old woman's bike with a basket on the front and an extra one on the back that has been added to hold his sleeping bag and 'stuff.'

We talked about this and that for about fifteen minutes before he headed off to try and reach Cape Muroto by the end of the day.

A few hours later, i saw a twenty-something Japanese guy coming down the street with a bounce in his step like he hadn't a care in the world. He had a huge smile on his face and his hat was tilted towards the back of his head.

As we got closer, i was shocked when i heard him say, 'Hey, how ya doin?' It turns out that he is a university student in Kyôto and had spent a year living in Oxford, England doing volunteer work with the handicapped, the poor, and the homeless. His English was excellent.

This guy had walked the pilgrimage last summer when it was terribly hot and humid, in his words, and was now walking it in reverse order. He figured he'd be done in another week and this would be his last time.

About a half hour before meeting this guy, two women at a road side stand had given me four oranges as settai. Even though i wasn't going to eat them, i accepted them knowing that someone would take them. Well, i passed them off to this guy from Kyôto and he was happy to receive them. But, since he was walking in the opposite direction from what i was, i made him promise to hide them when he passed the two women who had given them to me in the first place. And if they give him some as settai as well, he is going to have a good load of oranges.

Shortly after getting rid of the oranges, i stopped for my last Pocari Sweat for the day and a lady running a stand out of the back of her van called me over and gave me a few fried Anpan's as settai. I don't know what these are called, but it looks like pancake batter on the outside with Anpan (bean paste) in the center. All fried on a griddle until the batter looks just like a pancake. It was delicious, but i only ate one of them so i'd have room for dinner later this evening. The other one got thrown away when i checked in to the minshuku.

Most of the afternoon was spent walking along the coast past beach after beach after beach. This is surfers paradise and, appropriately enough, one of the hotels was named that, i think. All but one of the beaches was deserted, but one may have had seventy-five or so guys out there in wet suits and sitting around on their surf boards. I was told that it is in July and August that this area comes to life. And then it is wall to wall people.

Tonight's dinner was plain, simple, and sparse compared to most minshukus, but it was delicious none the less. When i called and made the reservation the woman had asked if i needed anything special, but i assured here that no, i love Japanese food. Well, she admitted tonight that she wasn't really sure about that so there was no sashimi on the menu for me. There was a bowl of potatos with a several slices of paper thin fried beef. A salad of lettece and onions with a dressing. A plate with a delicious piece of white fish which had been grilled. And miso soup and rice. All washed down with green tea.

The husband and wife who own this minshuku are wonderful people. They only accept guests that are either walking the pilgrimage (walking only, no one going around in their own car or by bus) or people who are there in the summer to fish for one special fish delicacy. Both may be in their seventies and he is a retired member of the local house of representatives. He even has a plaque and ribbon on the wall which is signed by (then) Prime Minister Murayama in the Emperor's name for his services.

They know personally the man (Miyazaki-san) who wrote the guide book that almost all of us walkers use for this trip. I guess Miyazaki-san stays here when he is walking around the island. They have several pictures of themselves with Miyazaki-san, and several items that Miyazaki-san has given them over the years.

I was surprised when, during dinner, the husband got up and took a wooden placque off the wall that is a duplicate of what is used around the trail to give directions. It has a picture of the red stick man i have on the map on my Shikoku Web page, with the words (in Japanese) "Henro Trail" and an arrow pointing up to indicate straight ahead. When he took it off the wall, he had his wife dust it off and then gave it to me as a souvenir. I tried to decline, but he insisted so i now have a memory to put on my wall at home. Depending on how my budget looks, i may mail it home from Kôchi City instead of carrying it around with me for the next many weeks.

The husband gave me a lecture during dinner (a friendly lecture, of the advice sort). He wanted to make sure that i knew and fully understood that the temples are not as important on this pilgrimage as the time spent, and the people met, between the temples. Yes, at the temples you'll get your Nôkyô book stamped, and yes, you'll get your pictures for the scrap book, but the truely important lessons will all come from what you do, what you say, who you meet, and how you act in all the times you are not at the temples. He seemed happy to hear that i had written something to a similar effect in my journal only yesterday.

And, i forgot to mention that the wife did my laundry for me while i was in the bath. By hand. We hung it in the last rays of the dying sun but all except the trousers are already dry. Hopefully they will be dry by morning as well.

After dinner i called ahead and made a reservation for tomorrow night at a place called "Drive-in Mitsuura." I have absolutely no idea what to expect. They aren't listed as a minshuku, ryokan, or hotel - they just happened to be the only place listed on my map in the area where i wanted to stop tomorrow. It will leave me six and a half km (4 mi) away from Temple 24 so i should get to the temple somewhere between eight-thirty and nine on Friday morning.

--4/8 Day Eleven--
Woke up to an incredibly cold morning. In fact i barely heard my alarm because sometime in the middle of the night i had curled up in a ball under all the covers so that it was like i was in a cocoon. As soon as i worked up the courage, i jumped up and turned on the kotatsu to get some heat in the room (there was no space heater).

A kotatsu is another of those wonderful Japanese ideas. Since central heat is a recent addition to the Japanese home (and the majority still don't have it), it used to be that a hibachi was used to provide the heat with people sitting around it.

Well, with modern homes, burning a fire in the hibachi indoors is neither practical nor smart. The answer to this was the invention of the kotatsu. It is a table usually about one meter square (3.3 ft square) built low enough so that when you sit around it on the floor it is at the right height to write on, eat on, or whatever you want to do. You then spread a blanket over the table, using one large enough so that the hang over on every side is about one meter (3.3 feet). On top of the blanket, you then put another solid surface so that you now have a table that you can work on.

Underneath, and in the center of, the table you mount a small electric heater -one of low enough power that it won't burn you. People then sit around the table with their legs underneath and the blanket that hangs over the side pulled up around your lap. The result is a very comfortable way to work on a cold night.

But, as i said, this morning was incredibly cold so as soon as i got up i turned the kotatsu back on so that the room would warm up as i packed my backpack before being called to breakfast.

The woman must still not have believed that i liked fish, because this morning, for the first time since i arrived, there was no fish on my plate for breakfast - even though there was on her and her husband's plate. I was served two fried eggs in a bowl of boiled cabbage (i was surprised that i liked it), some rice, miso soup, a few vegetables, and green tea. I passed on the offer of coffee because it was instant.

I was out the door at seven, and for the first time in a few days had to wear a coat. Luckily, though, it soon warmed up and i had the coat back off at eight. The husband and wife walked me out to the street and bowed me off as i left. Luckily there were no neighbors out or i would have been embarrassed.

When looking through what i've written before, i see that i've completely left out an important observation i made back when i was near Temple 16. But, first i need to mention a little about Buddhism. One of the reasons that there has never been the equivalent of Buddhist Crusades (although the monks did participate in WWII) is because Buddhism is willing to include the deities of other religions in its own pantheon of deities and because it is willing to let its deities be coopted into other religions.

When Buddhism was introduced into Japan in the middle of the 6th century, Shintoism was already well established and worshipped by all Japanese. While Shintoism is not a religion, per se (or at all), people do worship the gods residing in mountains, rivers, and other forces of nature.

On its import from China, many of the Shintoists basically said of Buddhism, 'China is successful, powerful, and advanced educationally and culturally, so their deities must be at least as powerful as the ones we already worship.' Therefore, it was decided to add the Buddhist deities to the list of deities already worshipped in Japan. They didn't take the place of the Shinto deities, they simply sat next to them. And the Buddhists that came from China didn't mind. If the Japanese wanted to worship other deities in addition to what they were bringing over, that was OK with them. In fact, Buddhism and Shintoism virtually merged into one single religion with no discernable differences until the state forced their separation in the early 19th century.

So, having laid the ground work... I was walking from Temple 16 to Temple 17 when i happened on a rather wealthy looking temple on a side street. The temple, as is usual, was surrounded by a very tall fence but the fence had entrances on two sides. The courtyard of the temple was filled with statues of the various deities honored by that particular tradition.

But, this temple (maybe the entire sect?) has obviously decided that the US is now the powerful and successful society that needs to be emulated. In its efforts to do that, they have accepted into their list of effective deities the two most powerful deities in the American pantheon of deities. There, standing on each side of one of the entrances to the compound, amongst all the other deities, were two statues - one of Mickey Mouse and one of Minne Mouse.

I walked twenty-seven km (17 mi) today but my feet felt better since i retaped them last night. So, i ended up taking quite a few breaks just to kill time since you can't check in until four. It turned out to be a beautiful day and probably reached a high of 15 degrees (59 F). I had a ravenous appetite today and i don't know why. I ate what i had bought for lunch as a snack at ten and then had to buy more bread and ham for lunch.

I walked along the side of the same highway i've been walking on for the past few days. This time though, there were no beaches until the last few hours that i walked. Instead, the left side of the highway literally drops right into the Pacific Ocean. The only thing that separates you is the guardrail. On the right side of the road there is a cement embankment which goes up at a 80-degree angle.

Above the embankment is a three-meter (10 ft) chain link fence which i assume is to keep falling rocks off the road as the mountain climbs right from the side of the highway. Frequently i would hear something in the trees at the top of the embankment and, when i look up, see someone working. The local farmers must either raise bamboo there or have various crops growing right down to the highway. But, one time, when i looked up i didn't see a farmer, but two monkeys! They were just as shocked as i was because by the time i could get my camera out they had already run off up the mountain. I guess Shikoku monkeys aren't used to foreigners either.

Once i started getting closer to my room for the night i started to get back to the beaches and the surfer hangouts. I sat and watched some of the surfers for about fifteen minutes. They were all out in wet suits, but i never got a chance to ask any of them what the water temperature was. It was a beautiful day to be out on the water.

I am the only customer in the minshuku tonight so i had the whole dining room to my self. Actually this isn't a minshuku, but a restaurant on the side of the highway that also has rooms upstairs that they let out. So, the dining room is just a separate room off the normal restaurant. All the girls giggled when i came down in my yukata and slippers. But, it is tradition, accepted, and expected that guests do so, so once they got over the shock, they didn't seem to think anything of it. They probably don't see many foreigners around here.

For dinner i had a plate FULL of sashimi, a separate plate with a grilled fish called Aji (although i don't know what that is in English), rice, miso soup, and then a HUGE plate filled with various vegetables, seafood, cabbage, and raw beef. They gave me a porcelain plate on a stand with two candle-like things that you put under the plate and light with a match. The effect, once the candles are lit, is a hot plate on which you pour a little oil and then fry all those goodies that were on that last plate. As the food fries to your liking, you dip it in a sauce that you poured in another bowl, eat it, and then replace it on the frying plate with more food. Tonight i splurged and washed all of this down with a beer. I think i'm gaining weight.

After dinner i tried several minshuku for tomorrow night and was told no each time. I finally decided to call Temple 26 and ask them and was surprised when they told me OK. That is just the opposite of the usual practice. Since we are in the height of the pilgrimage season, the temples are usually already full so i have given up calling them. Oh well, at least i have a place to stay tomorrow.

I'll be visiting Temples 24, 25, and 26 tomorrow. Today was the Buddha's birthday, so it was too bad i didn't make it to one of the temples to see how they celebrated. I won't make it to Temple 27 until Sunday because it is just over thirty km (20 mi) between numbers 26 and 27.

--4/9 Day Twelve--
Woke up to a splendidly beautiful day. Had rice, miso soup, a few small slices of an omlete each about 2.5 cm (1 in) long and half that wide, a salad of cucumbers, tomato, and lettuce, and green tea. They didn't want to serve breakfast until seven, so that is when i ate. And, since i was the only person in the house, i ate in a completely empty (and not yet open to the public) restaurant. Felt kind of goofy.

I'm walking in Kôchi Prefecture now. While the first prefecture was the dôjo (training ground) for awakening the faith to proceed, Kôchi Prefecture is the dôjo for disciplining yourself. And surprisingly enough, the discipline i've held myself to on taking care of my feet, how often i take breaks, and how far i walk each day have all started to pay some dividends.

Today, for the first time in a while, was at least 90% pain free. While i still know very well that i have toes on the end of my left foot (most of the time we just take it for granted they are there but pay no attention to them) the worst is over and they are well on their way to recovery. Any limp today would barely have been noticeable. And the right foot is almost 100% back to normal. But, before i say too much, the next few days will each be about 30 km (19 mi) so i'll know better on Monday morning where i stand (no pun intended).

Because of the minshuku that i have had to stay in the past few days, my schedule has gotten off kilter a little. I'll be working on it over the next few days to straighten it out and get back on track by the time i reach Cape Ashizuri - maybe by the time i leave Kôchi City next week.

I started out with an early morning walk towards Temple 24. This area is important in the Kûkai legends because it is here that he came after he had dropped out of the university. If you remember, at the age of seventeen he left home and moved to the capital of Nagaoka where he began studying the Chinese classics with his maternal uncle.

This was sure to lead him to a rich and rewarding career in the court bureaucracy. It would also have helped to return some honor to his family's name (they were disgraced when relatives were implicated in the murder of a Fujiwara while the new capital was being built in Nagaoka). There was a lot riding on this boy's shoulders.

But, quite suddenly, at the age of eighteen he gave it all up. He quit his studies, left his uncle's house, left the capital, and gave up the possibility of a promising career. He left the possible life of riches behind and returned here, to Cape Muroto on the south east corner of Shikoku, the island on which he was born.

They say he came to where Temple 24 is now located and we can be fairly certain of the accuracy of this as there are still records in existence written in his own hand which tell us what he did. On the promontory where the temple now stands, he took the name Kûkai, and decided to meditate until he became enlightened and then dedicate his life to helping mankind.

He descended to a cave just at the bottom of the hill, and lived there for three years, during the ages from nineteen to twenty-one. After three years, his discipline paid off and he became enlightened. From here he wandered the island until the age of thirty-one when he finally found a way to go to China to study Shingon Buddhism.

The cave itself isn't spectacular. It isn't very large and three years living and meditating here would definitely require a lot of perseverance. The cave sits only a hundred meters (330 ft), or so, off the beach and faces directly towards the Pacific Ocean. What makes that important is the fact that typhoons generally always come towards Japan from the southeast so Shikoku (and this side in particular) is almost always hit first and hit the hardest. It is hit while the typhoons are at full strength and before they have the chance to travel over a little land and lose some of their tempers. Kûkai would have been in the heart of these tempests - and yet he chose to stay for three years.

It seems that most people on the pilgrimage don't stop here now-a-days. It was deserted when i was there except for a lady sitting in an information booth at the entrance to the parking lot who was willing to spend a few minutes chatting with me about some of the facts of the legend. It's not marked very well and there are no flashy signs or big billboards. There are actually two caves and both have small shrines built in them with the sacred white paper hanging in the entrances.

Just past the caves is the entrance to the trail leading up to Temple 24. There are some spectacular views of Cape Muroto and the Pacific Ocean while both climbing up to, and descending down from, the temple.

Because of the importance of this temple in the legends, it has always been supported by the imperial family and by the local warlords of Tosa Province (now Kôchi Prefecture). But, it only shows in its statuary. Many of the statues are considered state treasures, but the temple buildings look just like other temples - old, well weathered, and well worn.

I tried to ask the man who stamped and signed my Nôkyô book a few questions about the legends and about Kûkai's life while he was here, but the man admitted he didn't really know anything about it. His job was simply to sit there and sign and stamp henro's books; it was the priest's job to know all about Kûkai. I found that amusing for some reason.

While i was there a group of women from a bus tour arrived and made their rounds to both the main temple and the Daishi temple, chanting the Heart Sutra and others in front of each. Before i went up the steps of the Daishi temple, i decided to wait and let them finish what they were doing. While standing there, i noticed a small lady sitting on her knees directly in front of the entrance to the temple.

Even when the others finished chanting and i went up the stairs to look in and leave my name slip in the box, she still sat there quietly chanting to herself. After dropping my name slip into the box, i looked down at her as i turned to walk back down the temple steps.

The woman was probably in her mid sixties and was sitting with her face no further than twelve inches (30 cm) from the wall and with her legs folded back under her and then sitting on the back of the legs (this is called seiza in Japanese). She had one hand resting palm up on her lap while the other hand held her rosary up at about chest level. All the while, she was staring vacantly straight ahead of her and quietly, but very rapidly, chanted a sutra that i didn't recognize over and over. I have no doubts that she never knew i was there or that a few minutes before me a group of about fifteen other ladies had stood literally over her shoulder and chanted several sutras of their own. She was there for at least ten minutes that i know of and was still there when i left. I wonder what mishap she was begging Kôbô Daishi to help her with?

In the temple courtyard was an interesting stone. It was actually a boulder about one and a quarter meters high (4 ft) with a lot of 'dimples' in it. In each of the dimples was a smaller rock just big enough to fit into the palm of your hand. When you picked up one of the smaller rocks and hit the boulder with it, you heard a distinct musical tone. Not just the CLACK of one rock hitting another, but that CLACK followed by a noticeable tone. And by using different palm-sized rocks to hit the boulder you produced different tones. It was amazing and i have no idea how to explain it.

On the walk through Muroto City to get to Temples 25 and 26, i was amazed at how slow life is on this island. I asked someone several days ago why Shikoku doesn't have a professional baseball team. The island of Kyûshû does and it isn't a lot bigger than Shikoku. The answer was plain and simple - the economy of Shikoku will just not support a team. And as i walk through the cities and towns of this island i see that this is true.

Here, you are either in the fishing industry, support those who work in the fishing industry, or supply those who support those who work in the fishing industry. There seems to be no other industry, very few (if any, in places) restaurants, virtually no coffee shops, and nowhere to spend money.

Of course you have the farmers. They have been planting their rice over the past few days. All last week i only saw them preparing the fields, but yesterday and today i have see a lot of people out actually putting the rice seedlings in the paddies. You don't plant seeds like you do with corn and other crops. You actually grow the seed into a little seedling in a greenhouse (or somebody does it for you) and you simply plant the seedling in your paddy. It appears that most people now have little specialty tractors that you walk behind and which plants the seedling for you. But, there are still many people who do the backbreaking work of walking up and down the fields bent to a right angle at the waist planting them by hand. That is why some of the people (women in particular) are never able to stand straight again as they get older - years of working all day, day in and day out, bent over at the waist either planting, tending, or harvesting the rice. A grueling life, i would think.

The economy must certainly be small and weak on this island. Which leads me back to my question of an earlier day - what is going to happen when this generation is forced by age to retire? Who is going to continue? I still see so few younger people. School is back in session after spring break, and it was good to see the kids on their way to school this morning.

For lunch, i did finally find a small coffee shop/restaurant and had a chicken katsu bento (deef fried chicken box lunch). I even splurged and washed it down with a cup of American Coffee -what they call a weaker blend because they know all American's drink their coffee too weak.

Another thing i have noticed while walking is another of those wonderful things i just don't see in the US. In the US, it isn't rare to see a car wash at the local gas station. You simply drive around to the back of the station, put your car in neutral, and the wash drags your car through the building washing it all the while. Here, where land is scarce, there is no way they could have a machine that big on the property. In fact, most gas stations are smaller than the US car wash. So, instead, you drive over to the side of the lot, park in front of the car wash, put your car in park, get out, and turn on the car wash. The car wash then moves itself (the whole building!) back and forth over your car running the various cycles until you end up with the same effect - a clean car. Ingenious.

I am really into a serious routine here. I get up a six each day. Breakfast is at six-thirty (with rare exceptions), i leave at seven, i check in for the night at four, the bath opens at four-thirty so i go sometime between then and five, dinner is at six, and i go to bed at nine-thirty. And some of you thought my life was non-routine and interesting. :-)

For dinner i had the best sashimi i may have ever had. The slices of hamachi and maguro were HUGE and incredibly fresh. In addition we had tempura, miso soup, rice, and a pudding. The man who appears to be leading the bus tour that is staying here tonight as well came over to give me a glass of beer. When i asked him why, he said, rather gruffly, i though, Settai. I thanked him and drank it and that must have made him happy because he promptly came back with a whole bottle and gave it to me. Japanese beer almost always comes in bottles that are about the equivalent of two normal US beers, but it tasted delicious.

One thing that bears noting. Just because one stays at a temple, doesn't necessarily mean that you are staying in a temple. Tonight's lodging, while on paper it says that i am staying at Temple 26, is really a separate building completely and about a half block from the temple complex. It is all new and well furnished and they obviously earn a lot of money. But, you'd never know it was associated with a temple if i didn't tell you, even if you stayed the night.

They view from the dining hall was spectacular tonight. There were several cherry trees just outside the windows and that looked out on the bay at the bottom of the hill. The town lights were flickering and there were still several boats still coming into port from the ocean, which stretched as far as the eye could see. It truly would have made a good painting.

It started raining sometime after i checked in. Hopefully it won't be here in the morning when i check out. I just ran out to the telephone and made reservations for both tomorrow night and Sunday night. Tomorrow i'm staying in a place called Drive-In 27 at the foot of the mountain where Temple 27 is. For Sunday night, i'm staying at Ryokan Katori just four km (2.5 mi) short of Temple 28. That will have me in Kôchi City on Monday and Tuesday before heading down the coast towards Cape Ashizuri, the cape that sticks out on the other side of the island.

I still have a little time before going to bed, so let me point out that there seems to be five different categories of henro: a) those that go around on bus tours in groups of about 40, b) those that drive their own cars or motorcycles around the island frrom temple to temple, c) those that go around the island by public transportation (train, bus, and taxi) from temple to temple, d) those that ride their bicycles around the island, and e) those that walk. And each of these categories can be further divided into those that go all the way around in one trip and those that break the trip into sections, doing each section at a different time (sometimes over several years).

While there is no difference between the sincerity of the groups, and walkers are not better henros than bus henros, or any other group, walkers are definitely looked at in a different light by the others. By becoming a walking henro, you are assuming a role that has been fixed for as long as anyone can remember.

For the first time in my life i have become an actor. Just like in the age old tradition of Kabuki where roles are fixed and each succeeding generation must act the parts assigned to them in the exact same manner as their predecessors did, it is assumed that i will act the same as all henro have from the beginning.

I will wear the white jacket that henro wear, i will carry the walking stick that symbolizes Kôbô Daishi, i will always be gracious, and i will accept any settai offered to me. While the uniform can be more extensive, nothing other than the white coat (oizuru) and the walking stick (Kongo Tsue) seem to be required.

When i walk down the street, i am greeted by most people i pass and bowed to by many. When people take the time to talk to me i am almost invariably told that i am great (superior is another translation, but might be a little strong). The fact that i have committed to walking around these 108 temples makes me a special person to many, and therefore, one who should be treated specially. But, i was amused today when a group of junior high school students came up to me and one of the girls asked me if i was a henro-san. When i said yes, she didn't say that makes me great or special or anything like that. She simply said that i must be genki (healthy).

The significance of the clothing we are supposed to wear is interesting as well and the choices are remainders from the pilgrims of old. You wear a white jacket because white is the color of death here in Japan. When they bury someone here, that person is buried in white clothes. Likewise, in the past, if i were to have died on the trail they would then simply have used my jacket as my burial cloth and no one would have had to come up with the money to buy one for me.

Although i have chosen not to wear the cylindrical shaped bamboo woven hat that most walkers wear, it symbolizes the coffin for those that wear it. Since the people who buried you couldn't afford to buy your coffin, they simply put it over you when they did bury you and this was symbolically doing the same thing.

The walking stick, while it does symbolize Kôbô Daishi and the fact that he is walking the pilgrimage with you, was also used as your grave marker when you were buried. That way you don't just get dumped into an unmarked grave. Since the walking stick symbolizes Kôbô Daishi, the first thing you are to do when you get to your lodging for the night is to wash the bottom of the stick as a gesture of washing Kôbô Daishi's feet after a long day on the road. Only after having done this can you worry about taking care of yourself. And then, if there is a Tokonoma (an alcove and place of honor in which you hang precious scrolls or place valuable art objects) in the room in which you are staying, the stick gets put there for the night.

I chose not to wear the bamboo hat for the same reason i chose from the very beginning not to chant the Heart Sutra in front of the temples. I felt that that was taking me deeper into a role that i don't want to accept. For some people this is still a very religious pilgrimage, and they will wear the full uniform and chant all the sutras. By joining them i am making a statement, i think, that this is a religious affair for me as well. But it isn't. I don't chant the sutras at home so of what significance would it be for me to chant them 216 times (108 times 2) in my life? I have a hat that is more comfortable and not as hot as the bamboo one. Of what significance would it be for me to give that up and wear the later? I see no reason to give an impression of being some one i am not and don't want to pretend to be.

Yet, i have chosen to wear the white coat as that simply tells everyone who sees me who i am, what i am doing, and why i happen to be where i am. I am a henro and i am making the pilgrimage - nothing says that faster and more directly than simply wearing the white jacket.

--4/10 Day Thirteen--
I know you don't want to hear me complain. But this is my journal and i want it to fairly accurately reflect what is going on in my mind as i'm walking. So, i apologize in advance, but i have to complain. If i do this again someday (but in reverse order), i'd like it to accurately remind me of what i went through and not be some rosy collection of stories that have been filtered by selective memory. So, .....

Today was not a good day.

No, that doesn't say it well enough. Today was a terrible day. It was horrendous. It was monstrous.

Today was so bad that none of those words do it justice. The rain today was so incredibly bad that there were times when it was hard to tell if i was still walking on the road or if i had some how walked off onto the beach and was now walking in the ocean.

When i was leaving Temple 26, where i spent the night, it was just sprinkling. The guy who gave me the beer last night as settai is, as i thought, leading the bus tour that was also there. He drives the bus, his wife is the guide, and they both do all the arranging and organizing. They were loading their bus at the same time as i was leaving and were also going to Temple 27 so they offered me a free ride as more settai. I thanked them but turned it down and that may go down in the books as the singly most stupid thing i have done in the past few years.

As i said, it was only sprinkling when i left the temple at seven, and that was easily bearable. Within a half hour, though, Mother Nature had upped the ante to a steady rain. That, still, wasn't all that bad. I had on my rain suit and had the rain cover over my backpack so all was well. In fact, i was somehow enjoying it. The scenery takes on a whole new appearance when you walk in the rain. It forces you to focus on what is immediately around you instead of the usual wide area lost in space attitude.

Well, by eight o'clock all hell had broken loose. It was raining so incredibly hard that i was in awe. The roads soon water logged so that as cars and trucks drove by they would splash the water up on me. And you may think i am making this up, but when they did that, it was as if someone had just thrown a five-gallon bucket of water at me. But, since i had the rain suit on it still wasn't unbearable.

By eight-thirty i noticed that my pack was getting heavier. When i reached around back to push it up a little, i noticed the the bottom of the rain cover was full of water! What i think was happening was that the rain was washing down the back of my coat and catching on the bottom lip of the cover that went over the pack. It soon filled up and sat there in a pool.

Before long, i was taking on water just about as fast as i could bail it out. And at that time i had no idea what was happening to the top of the pack. Was the cover holding there or was that getting wet as well? All i could do was to keep draining the water out the bottom and hope the pack itself kept the insides dry.

By nine, though, my right boot gave up some of its water proofing. While i knew that it was still fairly intact, i knew that i was now walking in a wet sock and didn't know if it was going to get worse. (When i get back, you can bet i'm going to try and return them. Even though i treated them with the recommended water proofing, they quit working on the first serious rain. I no longer recommend buying Raichle boots!)

Get the picture? I had started walking at seven, and by nine i was soaked, cold, leaking like a sieve, and it was going downhill. You can't imagine how hard it was raining. And the ocean to my left was a mass of white froth as the waves were breaking out to sea as far out as i could see. The beach was no longer existent either. It, too, was nothing but white foaming water. Mother Nature was indeed angry at something. Very, very angry.

I persevered for another hour, but finally threw in the towel at about ten when i decided i couldn't bail as fast as i was taking on water. This is not what i am here for. This is not what i am trying to accomplish. Proving to myself that i am dumb enough to continue slogging through those conditions is not what i am looking to learn on this trip. At ten i stopped at the first bus stop i saw on my side of the street and waited in the shelter for the next bus going my direction.

By this time i had walked twelve km (7.5 mi) of the twenty-four km (15 mi) to the base of the mountain on which Temple 27 is located. The bus came after about a twenty minute wait and i rode it the remaining twelve km (7.5 mi) to where i saw a sign pointing up the mountain to the temple.

I got off the bus when i saw the sign and, after gritting my teeth and rezipping every closure on the rain suit, started walking up the mountain in an absolute DOWNPOUR. It was only four km (2.5 mi) up the mountain but it took me an hour and a half to get there. I was cold, tired, cold, and tired. The one and only bright spot of the day was that as i was walking up i met the woman i had walked to Bangai 3 with the other day. She was in good spirits but stopping after this temple and would head directly for the bus station when she got to the bottom of the mountain in order to head home.

I got my book stamped when i got to the top and then found a dry place to sit and rest. I must have looked pretty bad because the woman who signed my book come out and gave me a cup of coffee.

After letting the heat sink in for a while i climbed a little more to pay my respects at the two temples higher up on the mountain. But, since it was still raining i didn't leave the usual nameslips and i didn't take any pictures. I just went back down to my dry corner and sat down. I was so incredibly cold that i didn't think i would ever warm up again. It was the same old problem. The outside was wet because of the rain, and the inside of the rain suit was now wet because i had worked up a sweat climbing the mountain. If i ever do this again, i'll have to reevaluate the rain suit component.

I just sat there for about an hour before deciding the rain wasn't going to let up. The woman came out and offered to make me some ramen (noodle soup) but i declined as i knew i would want something warm as soon as i got off the mountain and if i ate now i wouldn't be able to eat again that soon.

The trip down got better about half way down and the rain dropped of to just a steady rain, but nothing spectacular. By the time i got to the bottom, though, it had picked up and when i got to the coast the wind was so strong that i had to take my umbrella down or it would have broken.

I headed straight for my minshuku for the night and found it with in a block of where the road from the temple intersected the main highway. The waved me in to the restaurant (i guess even in a rain suit a foreigner is obvious) and i immediately ordered and devoured a hot bowl of ramen and then a pot of tea.

The building were i'll sleep is about a block from the restaurant and there are three of us sharing it for the night. The first thing i did when they brought me over was to unpack my pack. I found that almost everything was damp, but nothing was soaked. I have no idea if the paper i have in there for the extra pages i need in my stamp book for the bangai temples will dry out in good enough shape to be usable. Obviously the computer came out OK as i'm typing this. Luckily the owner of the minshuku is letting us use her dryer so i can dry all the clothes.

The lead story on all the news programs tonight has been about the huge rain that we had. When i watched the news at four they were already saying that someone somewhere had gotten 150 mm (6 in) of rain today. I wouldn't be surprised if we were in that area.

The rain stopped just before we headed back to the restaurant at six for dinner. The forecasts for tomorrow are for cloudy skies, but no rain, in the morning and clear in the afternoon. Man i hope that holds up.

Actually there was a second bright spot today. A 100% pain free day. My feet performed almost as if they were back to normal. But, then again, i only walked twenty of the thirty-two km that i had covered today.

I now owe the trail twelve kilometers.

--4/11 Day Fourteen and end of week two--
Woke up to a clear sky and warm day. Isn't there a song about 'What a difference a day makes...?'

Had the usual breakfast and, again as usual, only ate the rice, miso soup, a few vegetables, and some of those little white fish i don't know the name of. Maybe Ojako? These things look scary, but they don't taste bad so i try and eat them to make the owner happy (since she is usually standing near by watching what i eat and don't eat).They are about 2.5 cm (1 in) long and maybe 1 mm (negligible) in width. They are bright white, with the two little eyeballs staring right at you when you eat the whole thing - eyeballs and all. Actually you don't eat the whole thing, you eat a lot of the whole thing at once. You pick up as many as you can with your chopsticks and then eat them all at once.

When i paid my bill, i reminded the owner that she hadn't included the cost of my ramen from lunch late yesterday afternoon when i checking in. She admitted she forgot and then said heck with it. She threw that in as settai, along with a box of white caramel candies for the road. I was out the door at about seven-twenty and headed towards Temple 28. I knew that i was stopping about four km (2.5 mi) short of the temple and staying in a ryokan, but i still had thirty km (18.5 mi) to walk today.

I was surprised that after noticing the day before yesterday that most farmers were already out planting their rice seedlings, on this side of Cape Muroto i only saw one field that had already been planted. I saw people all day long out working in their fields getting them ready, but only one with the seedlings already in place. I wonder why the difference?

Speaking of farming, i think every thing that isn't rice is grown in a green house here. Not fancy greenhouses, but wooden frames that are covered with plastic. Some are fancy enough to have sections of the side walls that can be lowered and raised to regulate the heat inside (i guess), but they are still just covered with sheets of plastic. These greenhouses cover everything from small potato looking crops (and therefore only stand 30 cm/1 ft high) to houses that are 4.5 meters (15 ft) high.

Spent the entire day walking along the coast. The ocean was a beautiful emerald green everywhere except where the clouds cast their shadows. There it was a deep blue. After yesterday it was a beautiful ocean with the waves just gently breaking on the beach.

About half of the day i walked along the same major highway that i've been walking for days and days, winding my way along the coast and through one small town after another. The other half of the day i walked on a bicycle trail that was just off the beach and separated from it by a breakwall. While walking here, it was nice and quiet as there was a row of houses between me and the highway that kept the traffic noise to almost zero.

I'm sure the name won't mean anything to any of you, but one of the towns i walked through (Aki) is the home town of a fairly well known Sumo wrestler, Tosanoumi (which means the Ocean of Tosa. Remember that Kôchi Prefecture used to be called Tosa Province). The minshuku i stayed in last night has sumo pictures everywhere as the owner is a huge sumo fan. I think i impressed her with as much as i know about it, the pictures i recognized, and who some of the hand written names on the wall were.

Pun fully intended here, but thinking of the crappy weather we had yesterday made me think to point out that with only two exceptions so far, every toilet i have seen has been what i call a Asian toilet. The two exceptions were in the two business hotels that i stayed in. I call it an Asian toilet because i have seen it extensively when i have traveled in other Asian countries.

To describe an Asian toilet (and maybe they use them in other parts of the world too, i don't know) let's start with the normal US toilet. First remove the water tank on the back as that can really go anywhere, on any other wall, and is only needed where it is so we can lean back when we are reading the newspaper.

That leaves you with only the toilet bowl itself. Cut the depth and width in half but leave the length alone. You now have a nice long oval. Take this new toilet and sink it into the ground so that the top of the bowl is at ground level. Now, mount a short little cup on the top of the front side next to the back wall (since we know guys never could aim straight this is built in protection).

There it is. To use it, you simply stand right over it, squat down, and do what needs to be done. It is the most uncomfortable thing in the world to use but they like it here because they say it is more sanitary.

I have noticed a distinct change in the climate here. Not just that it is warmer (tomorrow's forecast is for 20 degrees/68 F) but even the vegetation. On the climb up to Temple 24, i swear some of the trees were banana trees. And today, i saw many palm trees near the beach. Definitely a tropical climate.

For lunch i stopped at a restaurant and had a tonkatsu special again (deep fried pork cutlet). I doubt they are very healthy but i love the taste and eat them almost whenever i see them at a restaurant. I should learn how to cook them. Or, as one of the guys in the minshuku told me last night i should just find a wife while i'm here that can cook well and take her home as a souvenir. I hear that so often i'm just going to have to figure out an answer for it.

The same man that told me that last night would be interesting, i think, if i could just talk to him. I first met him as i was coming down from Temple 24. He was walking up and we said hello. At least i assumed what he was saying was hello; i just can't understand anything except one in every twenty or thirty words he says. He comes from Yokohama, which is near Tôkyô, so we should be speaking the same dialect, but something about the way he speaks makes it impossible for me to understand.

After we went our separate ways, he passed me on a bicycle again as i was walking towards Temple 26 that same night. We waved at each other but that was it and i didn't see him again that night. Well, low and behold, when i arrived like a soaked rat at the Minshuku last night, i found out that he was one of the three sharing our room.

He asked me to sign his "book" and showed it to me so i'd understand that he asks everyone to sign. All he wanted was my name in English characters, in Japanese hiragana, and the fact that i had lived in Sagami Ono back in the mid '80's.

The book starts in 1992 and he has signatures and business cards from several hundreds of people, mostly people having some relation to the Red Cross. Apparently, he has spent the better part of the past seven years criss-crossing the county (all four islands) on his bicycle raising awareness of the Red Cross and pushing this campaign or that. He has been in numerous newspaper articles and been interviewed several times. And, he was born in 1933.

For dinner both last night and tonight they added new item that is a specialty of Kôchi Prefecture. It is a fish called Katsuo Tataki and it is eaten in a soy sauce laced with garlic. Katsuo is Japanese for the Bonito fish, but i don't know if this is the same or not. I just don't know about that Tataki part. As i said, it is a delicacy of this Prefecture, but i don't care for it as much as a good plate of Hamachi, Tako, Maguro, or any of the other standards. But it is good. They have also served me Takenoko (the young root of a bamboo tree) and that is delicious. In addition, tonight they served me Cha Ramen. Cha is green tea, and ramen is noodle soup (very basically - it is really much better and not really comparable). Apparently you cook the ramen noodles in the green tea so that they absorb the taste and the green color. You then add them to the normal ramen soup broth and eat the whole thing. That too was delicious.

I have a stray sentence in my notes that says "Kôchi is still the land of Shintoism." I have no idea why i wrote that, where it came from, or what i was reading when i wrote it. I'm going to have to find someone to talk to about it. We do know that a lot of Buddhist temples were burned down when the Meiji government enforced a separation of Shinto and Buddhism after the Meiji Restoration of 1868. But, this happened all over Japan, not just in this prefecture. Maybe, when other prefectures went out of their way to rebuild the temples at a later date, Kôchi Prefecture didn't, preferring to stick with what they felt was more home grown - Shintoism. This might make sense as Kôchi is predominately a land of fishermen and farmers and they would want to worship the Kami (gods) that look after their fish, land, and crops.

There is a coin laundry in the ryokan i'm staying at tonight so i'm catching up in order to leave tomorrow with a full load of clean clothes.

After dinner i called ahead and made reservations for tomorrow night at the Business Hotel Town Eki Mae in Kôchi City, and at the Minshuku Kôchiya just in front of Temple 33 for Tuesday night.

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