Missing
Footsteps echoed in the quiet city. Today there wouldn’t be the leisurely pace I adore. Instead there would be mountains to climb.
That anxiety rose inside me as we visited Temple 79 (Tennō-ji) and then started hiking toward the hills.
Back in 2009 these were the first mountains Matt hiked when he joined me for a week. The path would be recognizable for him.
Was he anxious like me?
Also familiar to both of us was the bad habit of missing trains. Just like the one we again missed that would have taken us to Temple 80 (Kokubun-ji).
A 35 minute wait for the next ride was required.
The rural station we were at also shares its tracks with frequent express trains. They scream by the platforms shaking everything on them. A single painted yellow line is the only barrier between you and these bypass bullets. The noise and wind they create is exciting. If you’re expecting it. If you’re not paying attention, and they blow your pilgrim hat off your head, that is not quite as appealing.
What is thrilling, however, is the entrance into Temple 80. Ancient, tall, majestic pine trees line the walkway right up to the main hondo (hall). The smell of pine thick in the air. It reminds me of childhood summer trips to Wisconsin and lazy days.
This is where our pace would really slow down, not for want, but because of stairs, hundreds of them. They were all the way up the steep mountainside leading us to Temple 81 (Shiromine-ji). Sweat dripping from foreheads. Dewy arms. Legs sticking to pants.
And we had only climbed the first few dozen steps.
After the past few days of relaxed walking this climb was proving harder than 2009.
The path between Temples 81and 82 was impressive. The rains had made the colors brilliant. It had also made it muddy. Slippery rocks, puddles, and running water gave it an authentic feel. For centuries, rain or shine, pilgrims have been traveling the kilometers of this forest road.
Today, we had eleven left. Kilometers that is. A daunting task for a couple of Shikoku’s slowest pilgrims. We remained optimistic. Well, until we realized we were lost.
A butterfly net caught our attention. The senior man holding it stood next to his car, watching us approach him. We asked if we were still near the “Henro no Michi” (the pilgrims path)? With a “Hai” (yes) he launched into a long set of directions with lots of pointing that would help us get into Takematsu City. I only understood “Signal, turn right.” Secretly my hope was that he’d give us a ride to “signal.”
It was just a hope. Off we went, trying to eat up the distance.
With three kilometers remaining to the bottom of the mountain, however, the sound of brakes behind us made us move off the road. It was butterfly man. More long statements and again the word “signal,” but this time he pointed into his car.
He would drop us off at “signal” Yeah!
As we walked through the front door of the most blinding lavender hotel my eyes focused onto the expression of a terrified young clerk at the check-in desk. If she could have run, she would have.
Gaijin!! (Foreigners).
Nervous and uncertain how to communicate with us, she pulled out her English translation sheet and gave us the run-down of the hotel and onsen (Japanese bath) facilities.
Not our first onsen rodeo, we presumptuously started taking off shoes and putting them into lockers. The uneasy clerk ran over to us, hands in the air, instructing us “matte matte” (wait wait). A second, less frightened clerk, joined our trio. She told us that this was not the hotel. She would escort us outside and across the parking lot to a slightly less lavender building where we could take our shoes off in private.
With the day behind us and sitting down to our evening meal, we reflected on some difficult news. Mikael, a young pilgrim from France whom we met and befriended on our very first day, had gone missing. Pierre, our mutual friend had texted us with the shocking and sad information. Mika had left Shikoku and the pilgrimage a few weeks after we had camped with him. He was last seen five days ago in Atami, on the mainland of Japan. They found his passport and belongings inside a rented kayak but no signs of him. While there was some press on-line, there were no answers. We joined a Facebook group for him where I added a photo we had taken together during our overnight together only a short month ago. If his family of friends ever wanted to reach out to us, we gave them our information. We hope he and his family will not suffer long and will be able to find some peace.
May 19, 2016 - Temple 79-82
