To Be a Pilgrim
by John Baker
I have been privileged, and it was a privilege, to hike and experience the two UNESCO World Heritage Pilgrim Walks — the Camino de Santiago across the north of Spain and the Kumano Kodo, on the remote Kii Peninsula of Japan.
As a dedicated hiker, in both Australia and internationally, the Pilgrim walks appealed because they had the potential to add even more than usual. Together and in their own ways, they certainly did.
I have sometimes said that by the end of each of these pilgrim hikes, I had undergone a personal spiritual experience. But what is a spiritual experience? In its simplest form I believe it is a combination of the body, mind and spirit coming together to produce a feeling of being at peace with life and the world.
Both pilgrimages are over 1,000 years old and both have a basis in religion. However, how they have evolved is quite different, partly due to religion, partly due to location and partly due to culture. As a result, the spiritual experiences are quite different.
The Camino, due to its fame and location, draws many people from around the world every year. Despite the numbers I found it was quite easy at times to “get in the zone’, where the mind wandered and the senses were heightened. The sights and smells of new spring flowers on native bushes, the sounds of small birds attracted to the flowers and the touch of soft new leaves on the trees all contributed to feeling at peace with the world.
Another point of interest was to meet with new people every day. I set myself a goal of meeting and chatting with at least one person from a new country every day. Two such experiences still come to mind. On one particular day, I started a conversation with a German hiker about my own age. In the space of an hour together we found so much in common — running our own businesses, going though succession planning with other family members, and making more time for exploring the world. It was hard to part company, but part we did.
On another day, the conversation was with a well-informed nature-lover from the UK. He talked about how early May was the best time to experience the Camino. The deciduous trees still had their lime-green new leaves, not yet torn by winds or covered in the dust of the dry Mediterranean summer; the flowers of shrubs and trees were in full bloom and there were fewer people.
With these and other similar experiences, I felt as though I was closing a zipper as we came together, then opening it again as we went our own separate ways.
The remoteness, topography and vegetation of the Kumano Kodo was very different. In was easy to understand why the Pilgrimage walk was established by the followers of the Shinto religion, with their strong beliefs in the power of nature. When Buddhism was subsequently introduced from China it was largely integrated with Shinto. In fact it was only by decree in 1868 that Buddhism and Shinto were separated.
There were days when I could almost feel the presence of the original pilgrims from 1,000 years ago.
One particular day stands out in my memory. This day was the hardest, with an initial steep climb for the first 5km, scaling over 800 metres.
I found the remote area was both challenging and inspiring. The total silence in the cypress forests was deafening, made even quieter by the fallen leaves creating a soft carpet on the trail. The trees reached up to the sky, and to their canopy, broken by the morning sun filtering through, making it very special experience. To sit beside the track and admire the wonder of nature, without another human being seen or heard, was a once in a lifetime experience and a wonderful way to clear the mind.
It is no wonder this was the area chosen by so many mountain (ascetic) monks, in the past and up to the present. A poet walking this section in 1201 stated on reaching the 870 metre summit ‘This route is very tough and difficult; it is impossible to describe precisely how tough it is’. I presume conditions have improved somewhat since then.
Beyond the summit, the downhill section ran alongside a stream, populated with beautiful bright green moss-covered rocks, babbling away at plentiful little waterfalls. Along the way there were signs of animal digging in the softer soil, evidence of moles, which are quite common although rarely seen.
For some time after lunch the trail ran parallel to streams, with more pleasant sounds.
Then another climb brought more deafening silence deep in the forest. At the top there were glimpses of the Pacific Ocean in the mid distance. Soon after, on the other side of the ridge line, the ocean could be seen much closer, with the night’s ultimate destination clearly visible on a bay through the forest.
Approaching the Nachi Taisha Grand Shrine and adjacent revered waterfall, the sound of falling water was heard clearly at least 500 metres away. The 133 metre waterfall is the tallest single fall in Japan, close to the ocean and used as a marker by sailors in previous eras. A closer inspection of the waterfall showed why it was so important — the water has a mind of its own as it cascades down and splits in different directions.
The day ended in spectacular fashion, with the full moon rising over the ocean, captured with uninterrupted views from the rooms, plus the treat of an Onsen in an open cave, which also overlooked the ocean.
Naturally a beer eased the pain of an arduous day’s hiking.
Truly a day to remember.
©John Baker 2020
Except where indicated, photos by John Baker.
John Baker loves travel, particularly when it involves hiking. While on the road he writes each evening, 300–600 words to post on his wife’s FB page.
In June 2020 John attended Jan Cornall’s class, Writing your Travels at WEA Sydney.
For many years Jan has been taking groups travelling and writing to international locations.
www.writersjourney.com.au
