Shikoku’s unspoiled Iya Valley, as seen from Hotel Kazurabashi.HOSITAMA/Tokushima Tourism Association
Just inside the imposing wooden gate at the temple grounds of Ryozen-ji in Japan, I’m transfixed by shimmering koi fish dashing around a sunlit pond.
Watching the changing patterns of red, white, orange, yellow and black is a calming and joyful experience – just as ancient landscape gardeners intended.
In Japanese culture, I learn, the carp are symbols of good fortune, strength and perseverance because of their ability to swim upstream against strong currents.
It feels like an auspicious start to our adventure on the island of Shikoku.
Earlier that week, I had arrived in Osaka to join a small-group tour. A drive across one of the world’s longest bridges brought us to the smallest of Japan’s four main islands, which sits in the south-west of the country between the Seto Inland Sea and the Pacific Ocean.
Wearing the traditional white clothing of henro pilgrims signals to local passersby that you are on a spiritual quest.Yasushi.K/Tokushima Tourism Association
Many travellers venture to Shikoku for surfing, cycling and stand-up paddleboarding, but within Japan the island is renowned for the pilgrimage to 88 temples located around the island. Henro, or pilgrims, follow in the footsteps of the Buddhist monk Kobo Daishi, who travelled the route more than 1,200 years ago in his search for enlightenment.
Our group gathered early the first morning to prepare for an 11-kilometre hike to the first four temples on the storied journey.
Shikoku-born Isao Murashita would be our guide in both spirituality and adventure.
Today it‘s customary, but not mandatory, to wear the outfit henro have worn for hundreds of years, he explained. There are good reasons to wear at least part of the traditional garb: it signals to local passersby that the traveller is on a spiritual quest.
While we decide to stick with our technical fabric hiking pants or shorts, we all put on the white cotton tunic and a conical hat woven from bamboo sedge that we pick up from a local vendor.
A cable car carries guests at Hotel Kazurabashi to steaming open-air mineral baths on the mountaintop.HOSITAMA/Tokushima Tourism Association
In the past, the pilgrimage over mountainous terrain was so dangerous that people would often die, Murashita explains. Pilgrims wore white so their garment could serve as a burial shroud if they expired along the route.
I hang a purple silk stole around my neck to represent a monk‘s robe and Murashita hands out walking sticks which symbolize Kobo Daishi himself – our constant companion on the walk.
We bow before passing through a two-storey wooden gate to Ryozen-ji, the starting point of our pilgrimage, where Murashita guides us through the purifying rituals that worshippers perform at each temple. We cleanse our hands and mouths in sacred water at the fountain, then gently sound a large bell to announce our arrival to the deities. We toss some yen in the offering box and light three sticks of incense which represent the past, present and future.
Only then do we climb the steps to the main hall – softly illuminated by dozens of hanging lanterns – and bow again. I make an offering and pray to the goddess Kannon for good health in general and an added boost of stability for my left knee for the hike.
I wonder how the people of Shikoku feel about tourists participating in such a revered tradition.
Temple No. 15. Shikoku is renowned for the pilgrimage to 88 temples located around the island.HOSITAMA/Tokushima Tourism Association
“We are very pleased to see the foreigners come all the way to Japan,” Murashita says. He finds it gratifying that travellers undertaking even one section of the route take the time to learn about the island’s deep-rooted traditions. More and more, he adds, travellers seem to be seeking an authentic experience beyond overcrowded tourist hot spots.
Our morning stroll brings us to Gokuraku-ji, the Temple of Paradise.
While the purifying rituals are unwavering, each temple is unique and this one is known for the sacred long-lived cedar that Kobo Daishi planted himself more than 1,200 years ago. The towering tree, buttressed by metal poles, provides the benefits of safety, healing and longevity to those who touch it, so we don’t miss the opportunity to pull a thick rope wound around the trunk.
In the temple office, I donate a few yen in return for a booklet of blank white pages so that I can collect the two red stamps and black ink calligraphy that are the insignia of each temple. A monk fills the first page with a flourish. In previous centuries, local officials required pilgrims to gather the stamps as proof of their journey. Today each handcrafted original is a meaningful keepsake.
By the time we reach Konsen-ji, the Temple of the Golden Well, I see a serene young woman in immaculate henro garb taking a break from the midday sun.
Zenia Fejerskov-Hansen of Denmark has set out to walk the entire distance to Okubo-ji, the Big Hollow Temple. She plans to pass the next seven weeks not thinking about her career after leaving her job at a biotechnology company in Copenhagen.
“It‘s a really nice exercise in minimalism.”
The Long-Lived Cedar, a sacred tree reputed to be more than 1,200 years old.Carolyn Ireland/The Globe and Mail
On Day 1, she still finds some of the rituals confusing, but she is committed to upholding the ancient customs. “I’m doing my best to be respectful of the etiquette,” she says.
As we continue our walk, a blue hatchback pulls to the side of the road and a beaming woman jumps out. She rushes over to hand out boxes of caramels. It‘s traditional for the community to offer food, drink, gifts and lodging to pilgrims to assist them in the journey.
Soon, the streets of the small town give way to a pastoral landscape of family farms and tiled-roof homes. A steep path takes us through a forest of cedar, pines and bamboo.
The remote setting of No. 4, the Temple of the Great Sun, is the most magical of the day in my view. Dainichi-ji sits just off the Tokushima rift valley in the foothills of the Sanuki Mountains. Inside the courtyard, Murashita leads us to the 33 statues of Kannon, the goddess of mercy.
It‘s a lovely way to end a day filled with uplifting experiences.
I collect my last stamp at the temple office and flip through the remaining blank pages. I hope I’ll be back to collect a few more some day.
If you go
Japan is a high-tech society, but when it comes to paying your way, money machines mostly take cash. Even in major tourist locations, foreign credit cards are unusable and if you venture into a bank, the teller may politely point you toward the nearest 7-Eleven. Many branches of the ubiquitous convenience store have foreign-exchange machines hooked into the international banking system. The safest bet is to obtain Japanese currency in advance or travel with a wad of euros or U.S. dollars that you can feed into a machine in exchange for yen.
We stayed at four-star Hotel Kazurabashi in Shikoku‘s unspoiled Iya Valley. A cable car carries guests to steaming open-air mineral baths on the mountaintop. Yakuta (a casual kimono) is the preferred attire for a dinner of fresh regional cuisine served around a sunken hearth. Some rooms come with western-style beds but this is the place to experience sleeping on a futon in a room lined with tatami mats. Rates vary with the season and package. A Japanese-style room that includes the “Iya Taste Plan” with breakfast and dinner can be found at about $200 per person during the off-peak season. Room rates can be around $330 per person at peak season, based on double occupancy.
The writer was a guest of Japan National Tourism Organization and Shikoku Tours Co. They did not review or approve this article before publication.
