Pace Yourself
We zigzagged our way out of Uwajima City. Directional stickers hung onto telephone poles, walls, guard rails and anything else that would take their adhesive. It felt like a treasure hunt to spot and follow the arrows.
Once outside the city limits our signage relaxed as did we. Following Matt’s stride was a little uncomfortable at first. My walk has always been fast, but soon the slower rhythm became meditative. Without an urgency to put in kilometers, details of the walk became heightened.
At 10:00am Matt spied a metal structure with a big Coca-Cola sign, however it was not thoughts of the drink that made him stop. The ice cream promotion and promise of a vanilla breakfast cone lured him inside. The elderly proprietor happily filled his order and even zipped up his backpack when he put his wallet away. They stepped out into the sunlight so I could snap a photo of both of them. Her smile shined brighter then all the metal wind chimes that hung outside the shop.
The route to Temple 43 (Meiseki-ji) is best described as green. A verdant reservoir with a single brilliant orange koi fish swam by as we passed it. We walked into emerald mountains that could not be photographed to do them justice.
The casual pace continued for most of the afternoon, but then the inevitable climb. Heart beating, sweat pouring down backs, straps digging into shoulders have all become familiar. Our second zigzag of the day and then the summit. As always, the views on the pilgrimage do not disappoint. The downhill walk was a fairy tale path through a cool forest. The leaves spongy underneath us. Sunlight our beacon through the trees.
Late afternoon the decision was made to push onto Temple 43. We had six kilometers and ninety minutes between us and a stamp office that would close at 5pm. The slow pace we had been enjoying throughout the day turned hyperspeed. Witnessing our hustle from her front porch, a senior lady wearing the best Jackie O sunglasses and scarf yelled Gambatte! (do your best) repeatedly, her hands over her head in a double fisted wave of support and enthusiasm. She kept up her cheerleading long after we passed her house and into the next block.
With 20 minutes and 1.6 km remaining to reach our destination, we had a chance. We joked that as long as the last meters didn’t involved stairs or a steep incline we would make it. Jokes on us. There were stairs AND a steep incline. If the office closed we would need to come back in the morning to collect our stamp. With hearts pounding and legs burning, we took the walk-run to a new level. Halfway up the last stretch I felt a wind building behind me. I swear it carried me the last few steps. Seiko’s words came to me “Your dad is the wind”. My tatus (dad) was helping us reach our goal.
That sounds unbelievable. I believe.
Seeing a line at the office brought relief. It was open and we would receive our stamp.
Our lodging for the evening was further away then thought. Another hour of walking. Once checked in, our room felt like grandmas house. Familiar and comfortable. The red floral patterned linoleum throughout the entire property was something my parents would have embraced. I liked it immediately.
After dinner the stoic clerk at the front desk formally guided me through the directions of the washing machine, but when he fumbled with the laundry soap, unable to figure out how to open it, we both had a good laugh.
The 31.7 kilometers of the day left their mark on us. We were tired and achy. We vowed never to push that hard again, so we came up with a new mantra:: “Twenty kilometers a day. Light backpacks. Hotels.”
Now that’s a pace that will never tire.
May 4, 2016 - Temple 41, 42 & 43
