HIKING THE KUMANO KODO

It started on June 14, 2017. It was Daniel’s birthday and we were travelling through Amsterdam on the way to a wedding in Germany. I was jet-lagged in the lobby of our hotel, browsing their book collection when I saw one titled “Epic Hikes Around the World.” I came across a page about the Kumano Kodo, an ancient pilgrimage in Japan and I just knew it was something I needed to do. Mind you, I was not a hiker by any means, but Japan has always called to me, ever since I was a little kid. I’d visited Tokyo twice before, but this hike through the majestic forests and mountains of the Wakayama Prefecture was calling to a deeper part of me. When Daniel had finished checking in and he came to meet me I told him, “I have to do this hike.”

On August 11th of the same year, my birthday, Daniel gifted me with a plane ticket to Osaka - and the implied commitment to solo-parent our 2 and 4-year-old babies for 10 days.

In April 2018, less than a year after I serendipitously came across the Kumano Kodo pilgrimage, I hiked it.

Here’s what I wrote on the plane on my way back home, based on my journal entries from the trail, as well as a few iPhone photos I snapped along the way (I didn’t bring a “real” camera, which was a big deal for me at the time!)

It was a profound experience. I was so aware of how rare it is for me to experience true solitude, and I was surprised by how much I embraced it. It was not as scary or lonely as I would have expected. I actually really enjoyed it and I found that being stripped from almost everything left me with thoughts that felt “raw”; I saw every thought that popped into my head as significant, or worth exploring. As I walked - and it was one of the most physically challenging things I’ve ever done - I felt like everything I experienced was a metaphor for life. I could look at the path I had taken up until this point, or look at how far I still had to go, I could be afraid of what laid ahead, or doubtful that I could make it, but none of that changed the fact that all I could do was keep moving forward, one step at a time. The terrain and landscapes changed regularly. One minute I was walking a smooth, flat path, and I would go around a bend and there would be a rocky staircase. Or I would walk a nice flat path, but on either side there was a cliff and one wrong step or loss of balance would mean disaster.

Rewards of the climb, featuring the boots I definitely did not break in enough prior to the trip! (another lesson learned the hard way!

You can face obstacles with determination or fear, either way you still must face them

Suffering, hardship, moments of pain, trials, tribulations, obstacles, conflict…

They are all inevitable. I’ve had a tendency to look at life as “it will all be fine if I can avoid bad things from happening.” Avoiding conflict, especially, at all costs has been a priority. Worse, still, is the fear this brings on. Fear of what awaits on the other end when an email comes in (an unhappy client or employee?), fear when the phone rings (bad news?). I didn’t realize how present it was in my life until I started seeing things differently; when I became aware that avoiding the unavoidable is impossible.

I learned this on the Kumano. You can face obstacles with determination and courage, or fear and anxiety; either way, you still have to face them. The moment this hit me, it felt like a divine truth.

I found myself accepting the challenging sections of the trail as I experienced them. It was really just an acknowledgement of the challenge, and the fact that yes, this was difficult and my body was working hard. Instead of thinking “I can’t do this,” I found myself thinking, “I am doing this!” I had a flashback of being in labor with our son Max when my doula replied “you ARE doing this” when I moaned, “I can’t do this.”

I am doing this. And it is making me strong.

Going one step further, why would I then want to avoid something that makes me strong? Why would I dread it? The fear of hardship, the control that this fear has over me, disappears once I accept that whatever comes my way will make me teach me something valuable and strengthen me.

Comparing yourself to others does not change what you have

On the second day on the trail I developed some really terrible blisters. My big toes bruised from the descents, and my backpack was heavy. When a younger girl with no backpack passed by me quickly on the path I found myself thinking, “I could go faster too if I didn’t have bleeding, bruised feet and a heavy backpack.” But I immediately caught myself and realized that comparing myself to others does not serve me in any way. I have a heavy pack and sore feet and I must learn to walk with them. This is what I have right now, it is my pain, my burden. Mine. No matter what my thoughts or attitude towards it are.

Fear and bravery are relative

At one point I stopped to watch a small snake slither around on the side of the path. There was a couple coming up behind me so I gave them a heads up and the woman freaked out. She had a full-blown panic attack, hysterical, in tears. She had a terrible phobia of snakes. I stood between her and the snake so she could pass safely. Fear is relative, I thought. And so is bravery.

The forces of the Universe function whether I understand them or not

I found that this trip was really about giving myself the time and space to be quiet, and leaning in some of the intense thoughts I tend to avoid. Essentially, I gave myself permission to contemplate tough stuff. On the bus and train rides I listened to podcasts about Buddhism and spirituality. On the trail I contemplated what I learned. I thought about Star Wars, the force, the light side and the dark side (it sounds ridiculous, but this was probably one of the most profound conversations I had with myself!).

I came to the conclusion that I don’t have to understand everything about the universe or life and death. I can contemplate it, try to make sense of it, but it all exists and functions whether I understand it or not. This was a breakthrough for me. I don’t have to understand. I don’t have to know why. This is faith, isn’t it? I can believe in forces and energy, without understanding how or why. I don’t need to define it. I felt a sense of relief when this occurred to me. I felt like it was worth going all the way to the middle of the woods, in the middle of a mountain range, in the middle of nowhere, halfway around the world, just to have this realization.

“Even a lovely walk has its challenges”

At the Ryokan in Yunomine, I was surrounded by retired couples from around the world. I was probably the only hiker under the age of 50, and the only solo female hiker I encountered. At some point we spoke about what trails we had hiked and where we were planning on going next, and one couple said they had hiked the two-day trail I was about to embark on. “It’s a lovely walk,” the man recalled.

When I began the hike the next day it didn’t take long for me to realize that what this man referred to as a “lovely walk” was actually very challenging, with many steep inclines that left me catching my breath. I lost 4 toenails on this “lovely walk” (they fell off later, but this day’s hike was to blame). And this brought on another realization: Lovely doesn’t mean easy… lovely can be challenging.

Focussing on fear and doubt and pain prevents you from seeing the beauty of the present moment

I could look down, focussing on the pain in my toes, the ache in my legs, the burden of the weight of my backpack, but then I would look up and see the beauty of the ancient forest all around me and realize that I was missing it. By focusing on the negative, I was missing the present moment, and it was so beautiful. It was existing regardless of whether I was paying attention to it, but wouldn’t I much rather be with it than be with fear, doubt, and pain?

Out of the woods… and into a very visually satisfying Kyoto subway station

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