Kumano Kodō Day 1- A Pilgrimage begins: faith and tradition clash

TAKIJIRI to TAKAHARA 2.5 miles, 1400 ft in elevation. 

The start of the Kumano Kodō at Takijiriōji

A Pilgrimage Begins 

We picked up our free dual pilgrim credentials at the Kumano Kodō Kan Pilgrimage Center, where an English-speaking volunteer coached us on how to bus over to the starting point, Takijiri-Oji.   I’d wondered why the Pilgrimage Center was 30 minutes away from the official starting point until the bus dropped us off at the mountain entrance to the abode of the gods, as the promotional materials put it. There wasn’t much besides another Welcome Center, which had a fairly reasonable array of things pilgrims would need, but little else.  I bought a cute little bear bell.  In its prime, this area was known for its extensive halls, lodgings for Pilgrims, and residence for the holy orders.  Today, it’s a few run-down businesses that are not open on a Sunday in February, a bus stop, and the first official place to stamp our credentials at the first of the 99 oji or subsidiary shrines/temples.

Torri Gate at Takijiriōji-gū Tōgō Shrine. A Torri Gate separates the secular from the sacred.

At various locations along the Kumano Kodō, you stamp your credentials to show you have been there.

Pilgrim Defies Sacred Ritual at Japanese Shrine?!

We walk through the Takijirn-oji Torii Gate to visit the Shrine. A Torii Gate separates the secular from the sacred; this visit begins our pilgrimage, but visit is being generous.  We looked at it, I looked inside it, but didn’t bow, clap, or pray to the deity within it, as is the custom.  As a follower of Jesus, I have mixed feelings about what I do at Shrines. When we lived in Hanoi, Vietnam, there was an understanding that to follow Jesus, one must cut all ties with their past belief systems.  I’m not sure I have to be so hard-nosed about it; I want to be a good guest and respect their traditions, to engage/experience/honor the way of this pilgrimage. Sometimes in Hanoi, I’d see an ancestor shrine in the trash heap while walking home and felt overcome with sadness for the history lost, though it wasn’t my own.

Steve looks inside the Takijiriōji-gū Tōgō Shrine

The trail starts to the side of the shrine, and then we begin without walking back under the Torii Gate, so we’re on sacred ground from here on out.  Soon, we’re walking past a huge Zelkova tree growing around an equally large rock.  The tree trunk looks as if it was once molten and poured over it, like ganache on cake, almost being swallowed whole.  

A huge Zelkova tree growing around an equally large rock

Then the climb begins and doesn’t let up for the next hour. Well-placed steps navigate naturally through the mostly deciduous forest.  Thinking back to the visited shrine, I wonder why I didn’t follow its customs, that is toss a coin in, clap twice, bow twice, pray, and then bow again.  This didn’t used to bother me, and maybe it still doesn’t .  Then, I was just doing what I saw others doing, and doing it felt more akin to making a birthday wish and blowing out candles than placing another god before mine. Earlier today, I wasn’t feeling it. Suzanne rationalizes, “We can’t toss a coin at every shrine.”

The trail leads to a cave of sorts called the Test of Faith, or Tainai Kugari, which means to pass through the womb, or as some might say, reborn.  It reminds me of a cave at Enchanted Rock, in the Texas Hill Country, a cave formed from enormous rocks fallen in such a way that a cave came to be. Suzanne encourages me to test my faith while she walks around.

A Test of Faith cave

Inside the Test of Faith cave, the hat and fanny pack had to go for me to squeeze my way out.

Much shorter than Enchanted Rock’s cave, it doesn’t test my faith as much as it challenges my waistline. While I am squeezing through, Suzanne sees a Jizu associated with the 12c legend of a nobleman’s newborn baby that was left here. Childbirth made one unfit to continue the pilgrimage, and rather than leave the journey, they left the child. Wolves cared for him, and they gave this place the name Milk Rock because when they returned, they found the child alive and well milk-fed (from wolves). Modern-day Pilgrims have left an offering to the red-capped Jizu that oversees the spot.

Chichi Iwa, or “milk rock”, is a landmark on the Kumano Kodo pilgrimage trail in Japan. Legend says that a nobleman left his newborn child at the rock, where a wolf saved the baby by dripping milk down the rock.

Modern day Pilgrims have left their offerings on the red cape of the that protects Chichi Iwa, or “milk rock”.

An Ancient Path that Trees Grew Up Around 

The climb continues up, sometimes by stone steps, other times by exposed tree roots. The Way feels ancient, worn, as if the trees have grown around the path instead of being cut through the forest. A line from a John Denver song runs through my mind:

            “Older than the trees, younger than the mountains, blowin’ like a breeze.”

After a particularly hard assent, the trail turns downward, and I think, geesh, even the ancients had to endure PUDs (PUD – Pointless Up and Down).  Turns out we had fallen off track. Suzanne noticed a lack of way markers.  I learned to love this about the KK, how every 50ft or so a plastic blue or white waymarker had been pounded into the trail, in addition to the wooden sign every 500 meters.

Waymarkers, either blue or white

Suzanne and one of the wooden Kumano Kudo signs that were spaced 500 meters apart.

We backtrack until we find a waymarker, and then we’re going up again. To either side of the path is dense, canopied forest, and heavily wooded. Trees reach to the sky, and their understory is willowy and starved for light. It means we can see quite a distance through the randomly placed Japanese Cedars, and I look expectantly. For what I am searching for, I am not sure. Maybe a glance movement of Little People?  “The little people,” I tell my granddaughter, “live in the woods and are tricksters who love nothing more than to play pranks. Have you ever set something down to turn around and find it’s not there?  It’s the little people who are responsible for our lost things; they have taken them, hidden them just to mess with us.”  When we can’t find something, she catches my eye and gives me this knowing glance, and mouths, “it’s the little people.”  So now, as I’m walking, I search the forest walls for a glimpse of them scurrying around. 

Look closely, and you can almost see the little people scurrying around, creating mischief.

Up and up into the woods we go

My mind drifts back to other sacred places I have visited outside my faith tradition.  There is an ashram in India where I tried, I really tried, to engage in their spiritual practices and worship the part of the God I know that was worshipped there. I could not feel it. . Today, I wonder why I didn’t at least try to engage at today’s shrine as we began this pilgrimage.

We see another place to stamp our credentials and learn it’s just been 1 km since we started, 1 km up into the woods. This place is called Nezu-oji, which means ‘no sleep’, referring to the guards who used to stay awake all night to protect their emperors. Our sleep comes later.

The novelty of seeing a stamp box out in the middle of nowhere signified that something noteworthy had happened here, but this was our first.

The Geisha’s Guest House

The day’s hike behind us, we anticipated a simple evening in a rural guesthouse. Instead, we were whisked away to an extraordinary residence, a testament to unexpected luxury. Our host, Meko, shares its history during the drive: a geisha’s vision, built to entertain VIPs far from the city’s clamor. In a village barely home to a dozen, “Tonight, there will be 15 in the village,” she shares with a twinkle in her eye.

Kotatsu (the only warm place in a Japanese home) is a table covered by a quilt and a heat blanket) overlooks the river with a cliff on the other side.

Tatami Mats covered by warm quilts are our beds for the night.

Yes, that is a deep wooden bathtub and a thick wooden countertop for the sink.

Dressed up for dinner. At each place we stayed, yukata were provided (casual cotton robes), used during our stay, including a walk to the onsen, at meals, and as loungewear around the guesthouse.

This ain’t MountainHouse! – hot pot and a tray of Japan cold samplers. Our favorite was the marinated lotus root.

As I’m falling asleep, I review our day. This is the third pilgrimage I’ve done together with my wife Suzanne. Our first was the Kerry Camino, which was the first 60km of the Dingle Way in Ireland , and our second was the Portuguese Camino last summer .

The Kumano Kodo feels very different. We saw a pod of potential Pilgrams on the bus earlier, and a young man we will come to know on Day 3 named Freddy.  But today, we are alone. Though challenging, the trail is in excellent condition, well-marked, and thoughtfully laid out. Over its 12 centuries they have really worked out the kinks of this route and I can’t imagine it has changed much either.

Final Thoughts: Day 1

This pilgrimage is a unique blend of rugged trail and unexpected comfort. Carrying only our daily essentials, we’re greeted each evening with a warm bed/tatami mat, delicious home-cooked Japanese food, and the rejuvenating waters of an onsen (hot spring) or bath in a bathtub (ofuro). It’s a far cry from the wilderness trails of the AT or CT, where “stinky” was a badge of honor. Let’s be honest: “trail funk” is a universal hiker experience, but on the Kumano Kodo, we’ve discovered another way: onsens, washing machines, and clean clothes we didn’t carry. While the trail’s climb challenges us each day, the evenings restore us, offering us a sense of cultural immersion and a welcome reprieve from the rigors of the day. At least on day 1, it feels balanced between physical challenge, cultural immersion, and restoring rest.

One of the few mountain views we saw this day through the thick forests.