Last night, after the slip and slide hike on the Kumano Kodo, we stayed at a guest house in Aridagawa on the side of the mountain where orange groves are cultivated on steep terraces. To cap my day of misadventure, sleep was something I was supposed to achieve on a futon rolled out on a tatami mat. In other words, I was going to be sleeping on the floor. Was it comfortable? In a spartan no amenities sort of way, sure, and after the grueling hike I conked out immediately. The problem was this morning when I tried getting up. I ended up rolling over on my side and crawling over the tatami mat in search of furniture that I could use to help prop me to my feet. Furniture? What furniture? There was a plastic stool in the corner that might have sat a kindergartner, so I scraped my already bruised knees into the next room where there was a low coffee table that I could leverage up from. In the background I heard Ella yell, “Don’t get blood on the tatami mats!” The day had barely begun and I was already sore.
A taxi had been arranged to take us to the start of the trail at the Gonose Oji Ruins where some ancient stone covered in moss hid Imperial secrets from the days when the emperor walked the walk. From the ruins we toiled our way up the Kumano Kodo into the mountains.
For the first couple of miles the path was paved which was good because the ascent was a continuous climb.
No zigzagging for the emperor, no slowly rising switchbacks—the royal route was straight up. At the top after we stopped at a rest area to have our bento box lunch.
After lunch we followed what was supposed to be a “beautiful cobblestone path”. I don’t know about the inherent beauty of cobblestones; no matter how quaint they seem, they make for clumsy footing. My feeling is that when it came to the emperor choosing to go the cobblestone way he got footmen to carry him in palanquin.
For us, we chose to rustle up some walking sticks out of the forest detritis to help poke our way down the mountain. It was slow going. We weren’t going to be taking any falls this time. At some point in my laborious journey, just above where a glade of cherry trees were beginning blossom, I opted for a short rest, but when I sat down on the split log bench I wasn’t prepared for my pack to pull me backwards and I almost took another fall by doing a reverse somersault.
By the time we came to the end of the royal cobblestones my thigh muscles were so stiff, and the length of my step so short, I looked like an animated stick figure stuck in a jerky frame rate. Ella was convinced we would never make it to the Yamashita house where the owners were ready to host us with refreshments. But we did, and the first thing our host asked Ella was whether I had suffered an accident hiking the trail. After we had some tea and Ella and the host communicated by asking Siri to translate, we were offered a ride to the woodworking business that was meant to be the end of our walk. Siri didn’t have to translate my enthusiastic response.
It seems complaints about trails are international. We run into cobblestones on the Camino and we hate them, terrible to walk on. Sometimes they call them “Roman roads” but they are no better. It is better than sinking into the mud I guess. Also, switchbacks. In Spain they rarely use switchbacks. Interesting though, the Spanish highway engineers know all about switchbacks but the trail designers don’t use them much.
When I trekked in the Annapurna region of Nepal there also weren’t any switchbacks. In one place it was actually a “staircase” of what felt like at least a thousand steps. “Staircase” in quotes, since they were definitely stairs, but uneven in height and carved into the landscape, so not a “staircase” in any traditional sense.
In hiking the Kumano Kodo the conditions vary, but the minute I catch sight of stony stairs I groan the loudest because, yes, the uneven height is always unevenly too tall.
Yeah, no switchbacks. You go up, you go down. Repeat until utterly exhausted but keep going.
We’ve been spoiled by Rocky Mountain engineering.
Interesting that the host immediately thought you had had an accident on the trail. You must have looked like, what do they say, death warmed over.
Actually I had mud on my clothes and I was favoring one leg so it looked like I had an accident.
Maybe that woodworking shop can fabricate some sort of a walker for you.
Ha!