“I’m going to take the stamped pages from the book and frame them on my wall when I get home,” says Sherrell, a vivacious 60-something henro (pilgrim) from Australia. She’s referring to the goshuin temple stamps, and each of the 88 temples on the Shikoku Island pilgrimage trail has its own design. They really are beautiful—aside from the bright red stamp, the temple workers also add elegant strokes of black calligraphy, using a traditional brush.
My partner and I are doing Walk Japan’s self-guided Shikoku Wayfarer tour. There are two other couples starting at the same time, and our paths cross frequently, especially at mealtimes. Some days we walk parts of the journey together. It’s fun to compare notes on our experience.
Shikoku, an island known for its beautiful nature, is surrounded by the Seto Inland Sea and the Pacific Ocean. Less populated than the other islands, it’s a relatively off-the-beaten-path destination, with a very rural population, plenty of farmland and fruit orchards.
The Shikoku pilgrimage trail is associated with the ninth-century Buddhist monk Kukai, who founded the Shingon school of Buddhism after returning from China in the ninth century. When Kukai died in 835, pilgrims started visiting the sites where he had been affiliated.
There are many reasons to do a pilgrimage. Several pilgrims are deepening their spirituality; others are doing it simply for recreation, or just to prove to themselves that they can complete a multi-day walking tour.
Unlike some other pilgrimage trails, such as the Camino de Santiago, the Shikoku trail is still very quiet, so for me it was an ideal time for reflection. I had lived in Japan for two years in the mid-90s, and I was curious to see how things had changed.
One of the few circular pilgrimage loops in the world, the Shikoku trail is 1,200 kilometres, and the entire route takes about 45 days on foot. My tour with Walk Japan is a brief excerpt—five days and nine temples.
The temples are scattered mostly along the perimeter of the island, some on the coast, and others in the mountainous regions. It’s usual for temples to be located at the top of a mountain, for symbolic reasons, meaning that there are many climbs up and down, adding to the fitness challenge.
On our tour, distances ranged from 17.5 km on the first day (mostly flat walking) to 10.8 km. However, each day Walk Japan provides a “more relaxed option” to cut walking distances, in case the longer route feels like too much.
Initially, I had worried that because our tour was self-guided there could be plenty of wrong turns and backtracking. However, thanks to the 144-page Walk Japan “route booklet,” there are instructions for every junction, street-level photos, Google Map screenshots, and QR codes that link to a “real-time” location on Google Maps.
The first day walking from Bando, where Temple #1 was located, to the monastery at Anraku-ji (Temple #6) was the most challenging for route-finding, as we became familiar with the noted signs and symbols. This route went through several small villages, forests and alongside country lanes and rice fields.
The routes on days two and three were up over forested mountain passes, so route-finding became much easier. These trails took us through lush red cedar and bamboo woodlands, with forest floors heavily blanketed in ferns. Although we had missed sakura (cherry blossom) season, in early May there were brightly blooming azalea and camellia trees along the way. The final walking day was along the coastal cliffs at Hiwasa, where the views of the Pacific were stunning.
Accommodation each night was traditional, either at small ryokans (traditional Japanese inns) or onsen (hot spring) hotels. Traditional Japanese rooms look very different from your average hotel room. The main room is floored with tatami mats, with a low coffee table, a safe and mini-fridge often being the only furniture. Futon beds and pillows are stored in a closet with sliding doors. Slippers and a yukata, an unlined kimono, are provided to wear around the hotel.
At all but one of our ryokans, there was a communal onsen, divided by sex. After long days of hiking, a soak in the hot springs was the perfect therapy for sore muscles.
Mealtimes at the inns were exceptional—traditional kaiseki dining. Kaiseki is a small-plate, multi-course meal of Japanese food, considered haute cuisine. Presentation is as important as taste, and meticulous attention to detail and choice of dishware are critical. Regional delicacies and seasonal ingredients are always used.
Common dinner elements include appetizers (such as pickles and sashimi served on a long tray), a grilled dish or hot pot, a deep-fried dish like tempura, soup, lots of fish and seafood, rice and pickled vegetables, and a light dessert.
Kaiseki breakfasts included steamed rice, salad, an egg dish, grilled whole fish, miso soup and a selection of side dishes such as vegetables, pickles and seaweed. We bought our own lunches each morning at a local convenience store.
As we walked through several small towns, one alarming change I noticed—different from when I lived in Japan in the 90s—was how many local stores and services were shuttered. Often, there were no people on the streets.
It’s well known that Japan’s population has been declining since approximately 2010, and there is a trend for young people to migrate to urban areas. As Japan’s smallest, least-populated island, Shikoku has had difficulty maintaining services and infrastructure in its rural communities.
I was glad to learn that in recent years, the Japanese government has implemented programs to incentivize families to move to rural areas. One small town where we stayed, Kamiyama, located in a lush green valley next to the Akui River, has had some success.
Historically dependent on forestry, sudachi citrus and plum farming, Kamiyama had been flagged as being at high risk of disappearing. In 2004, the community launched a revitalization plan to stimulate the economy and encourage cultural development through art programs, forestry management, a movement for organic farm products, and IT satellite offices. Businesses such as bistros and a local brewery have repurposed vacant houses, and this beautiful community is starting to thrive. En route, I remembered what I loved about Japan: beautiful countryside, mouth-watering cuisine, kind, peaceful people and an organization that people wordlessly agree to for the collective good. I hope that revitalization projects continue to be successful on this charming island, so that small communities can thrive into the coming centuries.
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