Posted by Lu Barnham on March 09, 2010 10:10 a.m.
The day I bowed goodbye to Tokushima and entered Kochi, my feet went on full strike as I hobbled 6km to a surf lodge and collapsed on the beach, wondering how on earth I could continue. Kochi forms the belly of Shikoku Island, and the pilgrimage route hugs the coast. It’s a long way to walk, and there are relatively few temples. Traditionally, this part of the pilgrimage is considered a real trial, ‘the pilgrim’s testing place,’ and it truly was a time of highs and lows. Some days I could walk without pain, through driving rain and thunder, singing to myself and loving Japan. Other days, water blisters would burst and I would hobble along wondering what on earth I was doing. However hard the stretches between them, the temples were stunning, tranquil places where I could lose my worries and soak up the beauty. The statues of Bodhisattvas and deities became familiar, as did the clanging of temple bells and the gentle chanting of sutras. On these Kochi days, following coastal roads and discovering rugged capes, I ate more seafood than ever before in my life. Home-cooked meals in the traditional inns were delicious, and heavily fish orientated. It became normal to dine on octopus, and to eat great chopsticks full of tiny, raw sardines with silvery eyes for breakfast.
A centuries old custom on Shikoku that never failed to surprise me as I strode along the coast was that of giving and receiving o-settai. The people of the island believe that helping a pilgrim is akin to helping the saint, Kobo Daishi, himself. From my very first day walking, complete strangers would come up to me and give me fruit, coffee cans, candy, corn on the cob, sometimes even money. In Kochi, historically regarded as the toughest prefecture to travel though, its people considered hostile to outsiders, I found the locals were kinder than ever. It was a good time of year for grapes and I was given them on three occasions in abundance. One hot afternoon near Cape Ashizuri, a husband and wife working in their garden called me over and gave me a huge slice of watermelon. Drivers pulled over in their cars to offer me energy sweets, and people came out of their houses to give me drinks. I will never forget the busload of grannies who stopped to give me boxes of juice as I sat in the shade of a tree on one of the hottest days. It was a totally new and unique experience, and I felt lucky that I had a chance to bond with people in such a way.
Enkoji, the 39th temple, was Kochi’s last. I had risen at dawn after spending the night in a rural inn by a stream. There had been a huge thunderstorm in the night, and as I waved goodbye to the host family, heeding their directions, I followed woodland paths where the air smelled like vanilla, and a fine mist hung over the hills above the river. Walking for 8 hours through tiny towns and villages, I passed old Shinto shrines and little farm houses. A light rain fell but it couldn’t dampen my energy. At the temple, a group of pilgrims on a coach trip were chanting and the sutras sounded beautiful recited by so many people at once. I sat in the drizzle, admiring the temple and watching gold koi carp swim in a little pond.
I knew that I had survived my stint in Shikoku’s ‘testing ground’ but Kochi had one more secret for me. To leave it, I had to climb a mountain. First I narrowly dodged a snake, then I met a beekeeper singing to himself in a woodland glade. Next, I kept finding bags deserted in the mountain path, prompting me to wonder where their owners had gone as I glanced around me at the thick woodland undergrowth. Huffing, puffing and – I admit – swearing, I arrived at the top and said goodbye to Kochi, after tipping an entire bottle of water over my head. August in Shikoku is sweltering, and I felt I’d definitely worked off the previous evening’s seafood dinner (a spread which, I worried, seemed to include hermit crabs.) It had been tough, but my feet and I had come the distance. I was ready to face the next part of my journey, though I secretly hoped I might take a break from cuisine with gills, tentacles or shells, if only for a day or so.