Walking the Kumano Kodo

The sunlight was already softening by mid-morning, spilling through the pines in undulating ribbons. Dust floated on the air like glitter, and the forest smelled faintly of rain. A warbler sang somewhere above as we stepped lightly on the muddied path, stopping every few minutes to capture the beauty of the shifting patterns of light and shadow on our phones.

Years earlier, when I lived in New York, a friend and I had made a pact to visit Naoshima island together. But life intervened. I moved to San Francisco in 2006 for a design job, met Richard, now my husband—and 20 years later we made good on that promise. But Richard had the brilliant idea that while we were there, we should also walk a section of the Kumano Kodo, the sacred network of pilgrimage trails looping across the Kii Peninsula in Southern Honshu.

For more than a thousand years, pilgrims—emperors, monks and commoners—have crossed these paths in search of spiritual renewal. The Kumano Kodo is one of only two pilgrimage paths on earth recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, alongside Spain’s Camino de Santiago. Here, two faiths—Shintoism and Buddhism—live side by side. It is the wettest part of Japan, often battered by landslides and typhoons, thus the forest feels charged with stories and the weight of prayer. Of the seven Kumano routes, we chose the Nakahechi, also dubbed the Imperial Route, as it was favored by Japanese emperors. The Kumano Sanzan is the collective name of three of Japan’s most sacred sites: the grand shrines of Hongū Taisha, Hayatama Taisha and Nachi Taisha. Paying homage at all three is said to ensure a happy, auspicious and productive life, but like all good things, salvation doesn’t come easily. If you want to get to heaven, first you have to climb.

We started our 6-day journey in Tanabe, the second largest city in Wakayama Prefecture, on the Kii peninsula. We arrived a day early to orient ourselves and read through the copious material that our outfitter, OKU Japan, had sent to our hotel. Even on a Sunday the town was eerily quiet, as if preparing us for an inner journey. At the bus station (where the Ryujin and Meiko buses stop), we collected our credential booklets and first ink stamps. Collecting these stamps is required to reach pilgrim status, which many opt not to do. I, however, was on a quest to be a dual pilgrim, having done the Way of St James (Camino de Santiago) some fifteen years ago.

We were tired and hungry by the time we left the station, and fortunately there was a 7-11 next door, which revived us with freshly made egg sandos and onigiri (Japanese triangular rice balls wrapped in nori/seaweed)—Japan’s version of the convenience store deserves its legendary reputation. We also picked up snacks for the trail and dopp kit items we’d forgotten.

On our first morning, we took a bus to Takajiri from the same bus station. Our maps and guides were to be followed to the letter: it’s imperative to be on time, as we had to be in our nightly accommodations by 5 pm, before sunset. This is why plotting your hike the day before is important, as each day’s walk would be five to eight hours. Figure out the weather, the time of sunset, and put the walk on Google maps for an estimated ETA to your next accommodation. Then you can plan to walk the entire route or do a combination of walking and bus-ing.

Not being experienced hikers, the forecasted rain on Day 1 made us anxious. The grounds were steep and not what we had expected: the stone paths were covered in mud and dirt from hikers before us, and the terrain was a mix of wet rocks, roots and mud. Thankfully, we came prepared with hiking poles and proper footwear (see the sidebar for more prep tips).

We had arranged for luggage service—$100 for our bags to be picked up and transferred to the next inn—so our backpacks held only water, our cellphones, a change of clothes, maps, some snacks and a flashlight. Everyone we encountered—teenagers who sped by, and older hikers advancing with steady deliberation—was intent on reaching their destination before dark and uttered only simply greetings like “good morning” or “see you at the next stop.”

The route was marked by colored squares painted discreetly on posts and stones, like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs: blue for easier valley stretches, red for mountainous sections and indicating more strenuous hiking. The black squares, we were told, led to dangerous high-elevation trails. We kept to the blue markers but still faced the unexpected: leeches on wetter trails, and shallow streams to cross. (Which is why it is wise to wear trousers—some days we even tucked our trousers into tall socks.)

Along the trail, wooden posts appeared every half kilometer, tracking distance and elevation. These posts also indicated oji shrines (usually made of stone) that house the “child deities” of the Kumano and serve as places of both worship and rest. There were few benches, so rest meant finding a flat rock or patch of dry ground. Many times, we were sure we were lost: no markers, no signposts, no people, a sign we had strayed from the Kumano Kodo route. Our number one rule: don’t panic. Richard trusted his instincts in nature, my friend excelled at deciphering maps, while I oscillated between optimism and contingency planning. Together we recalibrated whenever doubt crept in.

Each day, hours slipped by as the path threaded through cedar groves, the light changing with the rhythm of fellow travelers. We noticed more local flavor when we walked through small villages that appeared at the forest’s edges, clusters of wooden homes with sloping roofs and smoke rising from their hearths. Hills rolled outward, stitched with tea fields, herb gardens, persimmon and tangerine orchards with the Kii mountains beyond them. But before the villages, when walking through forests where everything was a dense blanket of green trees and lush bushes, we barely noticed the views as we were looking for our “breadcrumbs”—the markers that ensured we were on the right path.

Occasionally when the sun was setting and we were still a long way from our nightly stop, we defaulted to Google maps to cross check our physical maps or Richard’s instincts. (We were surprised to get some signal even in the deepest of forests.) After the first day, we realized we needed to allow an hour for the unexpected. When we didn’t think we could arrive before sundown (or when we were beat), we would decide to take the bus, following the maps and departure times at each stop. 

Our accommodations varied across the six nights. Mostly we stayed in minshukus, a kind of intimate Japanese bed-and-breakfast, typically run by a local husband-and-wife team—with only about six guests at a time, they truly gave us a local feel. (My husband and I owned and managed an inn for ten years in Napa Valley, so we understand the “other side.”) After days of walking, their simplicity felt luxurious: tatami floors, futons laid out at night, shared baths, and dinners served promptly at a set hour. We slipped out of our boots at the door, donned cotton yukata (cotton kimonos), and sat for bento-style breakfasts with green tea or black coffee before collecting our packed lunches—usually onigiri with salted salmon or pickled plum. Evenings were quiet. Conversation drifted at the dining table as we compared routes with other foreign pilgrims: a mother and daughter, a father and son, a single man traveling alone, and three lifelong friends. By 9 p.m., everyone was asleep.

Twice we were billeted in a ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn that serves kaiseki (an exquisite, multi-course Japanese meal) and houses an onsen (communal bath). All Japanese ryokans (be they 3 or 5 star) won’t have elevated beds, rather comfortable futon mattresses (called shikibuton) spread directly onto tatami mat floors and covered with a duvet (called kakebuton). The highlight of a ryokan is the communal bath, which took some getting used to: washing your hair and body in public (there are no stalls), then stepping naked into the hot, mineral-rich water. My favorite was Kawayu Onsen, on our final night. We crossed by a tiny turtle-shaped ferry to a sister property built into a cave overlooking the Pacific. Immersed in the deepest pool near the cave’s opening, I watched the sunset dissolve into the sea, waves echoing against the jagged rocks. My legs were tired from days of ascent and descent, yet in that water the strain seemed to lift.

The Kumano Kodo is not a single linear path but a network, a choose-your-own-adventure book. You can start anywhere and end anywhere, walk them in any order (we met people on Day 3 who were ending where we started). To earn the pilgrim credential, we needed to walk a significant section of the Nakahechi and visit three grand shrines of the Kumano Sanzan: Hongu Taisha, Hayatama Taisha, and Nachi Taisha, and collect stamps at both oji and the main shrines. Observing tourists and locals along the way, we learned the proper form of devotion at each shrine: bow two times, ring the bell, bow again, then clap twice and bow once more. Though weary, we continued on to the remaining shrines, collecting our completion stamp at the Kumano Hongu Heritage Center. After wandering so far without mishap, something compels you to finish properly.

We chose not to hire a guide. We wanted to experience the walk as earlier pilgrims had: using our intuition and faith and relying on the information we gathered from locals along the way. Over six days, endurance sharpened into clarity. Everyone we met was on a personal quest; we walked alongside them respectfully, as strangers sharing a temporary fraternity.

Spirituality revealed itself through repetition: step after step over the textured land and accompanied by the whispering wind through the trees; bow after bow; the promise of the road, unknown, ahead. We are now dual pilgrims as we embrace the duality of travel: we confronted outer challenges but also experienced an inner shift. When we talk about the whole experience, we agree that endurance begets enlightenment. There is no preparation for the Kumano Kodo. Like faith, you simply begin somewhere—and carry on.

THE INTEL

Plan ahead

• Don’t overpack: Some minshukus have washers & dryers (for a fee).
• Consider luggage transfer. We paid $100 per bag to have ours forwarded between inns, so we did not have to carry much on our backs.
• Reserve Shinkansen (bullet trains) luggage space in advance if your suitcase doesn’t fit on an overhead rack.
• Use a travel advisor or outfitter. We were happy with the service of OKU Japan, who were quick to reply to our emails. However, their service is limited to FAQs for the Kumano Kodo and could have included other aspects required for travel in Japan.

Be sure to bring

• Insect repellent and personal toiletries. Most inns provide only shampoo and soap, and the route goes through many remote towns where convenience stores are sparse.
• Proper hiking boots (with Gore-Tex waterproof uppers and lugged soles with traction) and hiking poles for steep, uneven terrain.
• Long pants and tall socks to avoid the leeches and other forest floor critters
• Slippers or socks with grips if you don’t love walking barefoot indoors.
• Layers. We traveled in October and temperatures could drop quickly.
• A small daypack with water, snacks, rain protection and a flashlight.
• Gallon-size Ziplocs, as there are no trash cans on the trail and you should take care (or the spirits may not bestow you with your certificate of completion).
• Cash. Many places along the route do not accept cards or the Suica card (similar to NY’s metro card used on your phone), so bring coins in these denominations: Japanese yen (¥50, ¥100, ¥500) and banknotes (¥1,000, ¥5,000, ¥10,000).

On the Kumano

• Plan each day carefully. Map your route, note bus stops, and allow extra time for weather or fatigue.
• Carry coins and small bills. We budgeted 3,000 yen a day for transportation, snacks and other incidentals (souvenirs, donations for temples). Have the bills changed at souvenir stores as you go along so you don’t end up with too many.
• Local bus 101: Board from the rear. Take a numbered ticket (your starting point). Check the electronic display in front, which shows fares corresponding to the number on your ticket and how many more stops you have. Put your number ticket and the exact fare into the fare box as you exit. If you don’t have change, the driver will break your Y5000 or Y1000 bills (not larger) and you can drop the exact fare in the box beside him/her.
• The three Japanese words you must know during this hike are: Konnichiwa (Hello), Sumimasen (Excuse Me) and Arigatou (Thank You)—and always have your Google Translate handy.