We finished the last length of our Kumano Kodo Kii hike on Sunday. Leaving Chikatsuyu, I waved goodbye to the farmer stacking straw along with the applauding puppets on the side of the road across from the bus station.
It took two bus rides to get us halfway up the Kii mountain where we got off at Hossshinmon-ōji to take the trail leading through the woods to the Hongo Taisha Shrine. The path was paved at the beginning, nice and wide and bowered by high pines as we made a gradual descent.
We passed through some small villages that afforded views of the rice fields in the valley. Goats with thick white fur gnawed on leaves from the camellia trees. It was picture postcard pastoral.
Walking along the pine needle soft trail over even ground in the forest shade I imaged if the emperor did indeed hike the trail, this is the section he would have trod. It was a clear day. Every so often a refreshing cool morning breeze would threaten to whisk the neck-flappered cap off my head. And the great thing, besides not having to chug up a rocky incline, was that I wasn’t in my head calculating my footsteps. I was in the observational mode. Oho! I was bathing in nature brushing by the ferns bordering the trail, my own private Shinto.
It wasn’t quite an out-of-body experience, however. After a couple of hours the pack was making its weight known and I convinced Ella to stop so we could devour the bento box lunch that our hosts had prepared back in Chikatsuyu. It was a popular section of the Kumano Kodo. Families passed by along with energetic couples seemingly in a hurry to get to the Hongo Taisha Shrine.
Approaching the Hongo Taisha Shrine, the trail starting dropping and the stony, rooted steps appeared again jarring the knees and slowing an already leisurely pace. Okay, I thought, this is to remind me of the intrinsic nature of the Kumano Kodo. It’s a path, but not one easily taken.
The Shinto Hongo Taisha Shrine has a large gate at the foot of the mountain leading to a large terrace with three large pavilions. Underneath the curled sweep of the ornate wooden roofs dangle thickly woven prayer ropes. I was thankful for having completed the hike in the Kii mountains without injuring myself. I followed Ella in bowing two times at the steps of the shrine and jangling the prayer rope before concluding by clapping twice.
Back at the Onsen where we spent the night I donned a yukata and went and bathed in the large pool of the men’s bath filled by a hot springs fed waterfall. All my soreness seemed to float away. Later, when I flopped down on my futon, I felt the pillow and it seemed like it was filled with sand. What the hell? Ella said it was buckwheat. In lieu of feathers someone unloaded a surplus harvest? But wonder of wonders, it was actually conducive to a great sleep giving more support than softness which, on a futon, is perfect.