An extract from the sold out Japan magazine - walking the Kumano Kodō

I’ve always been fascinated by Shintoism, Japan’s indigenous religion which celebrates nature’s power and beauty, its divine natural elements embodied by kami - deities that can take almost any form and order our increasingly chaotic world. With no set rules or identifiable founder, Shintoism appears to be about embracing the good things; honesty, purity and respect. And in a country as dramatic as Japan, where earthquakes seem commonplace and volcanoes are icons, it’s easy to understand how this intimate relationship with the natural world came about.

But Japanese spirituality doesn’t end with Shintoism. In the 6th century Buddhism arrived, travelling from India via China. Rather than opposing Shinto principles, the two faiths mixed, their rituals and practices working in harmony. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the Kii Mountains in Wakayama Prefecture where Japan’s gods have dwelled for centuries. It is here that you’ll find the Kumano Kodō. One of only two UNESCO pilgrimage routes, it leads the devout and curious along a network of trails to three of Japan’s most sacred sites, known collectively as Kumano Sanzen. These include Kumano Hongū Taisha, which stands near Japan’s largest torii gate, Kumano Hayatama Taisha, and Kumano Nachi Taisha, which is found by Nachi no Taki waterfall, believed to link the spiritual and human realms.

Aware that this was a powerful region - and one that would surely satisfy my Shinto curiosity - I felt it was right to brave the Kumano Kodō with Walk Japan, a company dedicated to introducing visitors to the country’s cultural and geographical wonders. Over our nine day hike from Osaka to Ise, my group of fellow adventurers found, almost immediately, that the ancient landscape we journeyed through was as rich in history and meaning as the shrines we were walking towards.

This was not the easiest walk I had ever braved. Legs ached and breath caught as we tramped ever upwards, yet any sense of discomfort was secondary. Instead, with a mind near-empty, no thought able to linger long, it was the surrounding beauty that proved all-consuming. Passing from forest to farmland, wilderness to rural villages, I spied persimmons drying from rafters and moss-covered stone steps dating from the 11th century. We walked by the foundations of tea houses once known to promise passing pilgrims their last stop for miles, when in reality a competitor was just down the road. There were stone statues called Jizō - believed to protect children and travellers, coins and sake amassed at their feet - and jinja, where kami are enshrined. Mountaintop clearings would reveal peak after peak tumbling into the distance or, at one point, the mighty Pacific, gloriously blue and dotted with islands, like the gateway to another world.

Travelling in early November meant seeing the country’s leaves begin to turn, a phenomenon as unpredictable as the sakura. As temperatures dropped, the Japanese maple glowed while the ginkgo became a near-fluorescent yellow. It was on our first day of walking, floored by the autumnal scenery, that we encountered Buddhism’s Japanese epicentre. Descending from the calm of the forest, we came to the Daimon Gate - guarded by two immense stone warriors - which signalled our arrival at Kōyasan. Framed by eight mountains thought to reflect the flowering lotus, a symbol of enlightenment, Kōyasan is a sacred city created by Kōbō-Daishi, founder of the Shingon School of Buddhism. Rich in temples and monuments, here you can visit Kongōbuji Temple, where murals reveal Kōbō-Daishi’s tale, gaze upon Japan’s largest rock garden, spin prayer wheels that mirror the rhythm of the universe, and wander through Okunoin, a cedar-filled cemetery containing the mausoleum of Kōbō-Daishi, who remains in eternal meditation.

There are 117 temple inns that offer lodging in Kōyasan and Walk Japan, who arranged every possible part of our pilgrimage, had chosen Ekoin as the ideal spot for the resting of heads. Whilst the idea of passing the entire evening in the onsen was tempting, our group forgot aching muscles and city formalities over a dinner of Buddhist vegetarian cuisine, shōjin ryōri. There were pickled radishes, curiously-shaped tempura and a sponge-like local tofu, invented when a monk made tofu and forgot it was outside, allowing it to freeze and unfreeze and become increasingly squishy in the process.

Come dawn, Ekoin’s monks led us in morning meditation - our breath visible as the sky grew lighter, burning incense creating the illusion of warmth - and a Goma fireceremony that honours the divine and eliminates negative energy. In both rituals the monks’ movements were almost dance-like; candles extinguished with the flick of a wrist, footsteps making no sound, drum beats and chanting growing as prayers, written on wood, were placed into the flames.

Our accommodation changed almost every night and we slept everywhere from an abandoned school and a resort perched upon an island, to the charming Yunominesou, found above Yunomine Onsen, one of the world’s oldest hot springs. Yet it was our third night, swapping tatami mats for mattresses, the soothing onsen ever-present, that seemed most dreamy. We were at Kiri-no-Sato Takahara enjoying our hard-earned dinner when the ever-smiling owner brought out his Spanish guitar and started taking requests. As we tucked in to mackerel (head, skin, bones and all), he strummed his melodies and we were transported from the Kii Mountains to Catalonia, the collision of cultures making perfect sense. This was simply a musical reminder that the Kumano Kodō has a sister pilgrimage, the hallowed Camino, and that there is clearly a whole lot more world left to explore.

Few things remind you of nature’s power more than the elements turning on you. Wakayama Prefecture receives more rain than the UK and when the heavens open, they really open. Sipping coffee brewed with onsen water in a small mountaintop village, we watched as the clouds descended, summit after summit disappearing behind a wall of rain. With Kumano Hongū Taisha calling we had no choice but to set off, walking in determined silence as our trusty waterproofs began to fail, unable to battle the deluge. Resigned to my watery fate and hearing no sounds other than raindrops through the trees, the path restored my calm and I eventually arrived at the shrine truly purified (and completely bedraggled); while visitors wise enough to travel by car were understandably curious as to where on earth I’d walked in from.

With the remaining shrines getting ever closer, our days upon the mountains were coming to a close. But what magnificent sites to end with! Kumano Hayatama Taisha is a more traditional Shinto shrine, visited by those seeking forgiveness and luck in love. Nearby, on Mount Kamakurayama, is Gotobiki-iwa Rock where the three gods of the Kumano first met for tea. Found up 538 steep and uneven steps, this is a site for the sure-footed - a skill that is tested each February when men don white, drink sake and race down the steps with burning torches as part of the Oto Matsuri Fire Festival.

It was Kumano Nachi Taisha, which sits beside Japan’s tallest waterfall, Nachi no Taki, that I found most powerful. Should you wish to pray here - or at any shrine - bow twice, clap your hands twice, utter your prayer and then bow a final time. Cleanse your hands and mouth before doing so and take care to never walk through the centre of a torii gate as this is reserved for the gods.

Arriving at Ise Jingū on the final afternoon (not the walk’s traditional end but a stop worth making), I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly relieved. As beautifully enlightening as it may be, the Kumano Kodō is physically challenging. But that’s part of the allure. For you leave with more than just a sense of achievement. Instead, you suspect you’ve tapped into something far more powerful - a history, landscape and faith that has given the Japanese meaning for centuries. The Kumano Kodō isn’t just a walk, it’s a way of reconnecting, of appreciating the wonders of the natural world and our own small place within it. And that in itself is worth a cramp or two.