Shikoku Pilgrimage: Impressions and Highlights

Shikoku Pilgrimage. Three syllables. Three weeks. Hundreds of images, landscapes, memories... After this adventure that ended too quickly, I finally take the time to settle down and write down my feelings.

In other articles, I will recap our adventure, address my concerns listed in the pre-departure article, and also talk more in detail about traveling with a baby. I also dream of writing a travel diary, maybe even in the form of a book...

But here, now, I will talk about emotions and sensations. I take you into my memories...

Since our previous long trip in 2015, we dreamed of walking, for a long time, far away. It was this desire, coupled with our love for Japan, that inspired this project.

However, we always struggle to answer these questions:

Why are you here? Why are you walking in Shikoku?

And these questions, received hundreds of times, we faced right from the first day, from the very first steps.

I can see us on the crosswalk separating the shop where we had just bought the complete perfect henro outfit (pilgrim) from temple 1. An elderly woman crosses beside us, not hiding her curiosity, especially towards our baby. She guides us to the entrance, and I feel her gentle gaze upon us as we take our first steps into the first temple. Where to go? Where to start? It is with hesitant steps that I follow François while trying to mimic the walk of the other people present. Senses on alert, I tried to capture everything: the sound of the gong, the wind in the early cherry blossom flowers, the prayers rising like songs towards the blue skies alongside the smoke of incense... I felt amazed, and lost. Wonderfully lost.

During our stops at the first temples, we received a lot of astonishment and admiration for our family walking endeavor. After barely walking a few kilometers... out of the 1,200 that awaited us, I felt like a fraud, an impostor. Like receiving congratulations for an achievement not yet accomplished... one that we might never realize. I always replied, > No false modesty. Just the desire to get down from this pedestal where I was placed against my will to find solid ground. The one where I anchor myself, step by step.

In retrospect, I don't see this modesty as a harbinger of our early end. Life is unpredictable like that. It's what makes it interesting.

If I had to summarize my experience of the Shikoku pilgrimage in three words, I would say: roads, temples, encounters. But maybe not in that order. Perhaps encounters, roads, temples. Yes, that seems more accurate.

Humanity at the heart. Of walking. Of the quest. Of everything. Always and again, humanity. Through smiles, help, generosity, laughter, teaching...

Upon returning from Japan, one of my dear friends who closely followed our daily adventures via our Instagram Stories (still available on this account) told me:

I felt that every day you had encounters even more beautiful than the day before. That each time you felt like you had discovered the pinnacle of kindness... every day! You seemed at a loss for words to describe these records of kindness as they multiplied!

Yes, so much kindness! Acts of pure goodness, pure generosity, day after day, again and again. And the most surprising part of it all... is that it continued to amaze us! A woman offering us food, a man driving us to a department store to buy supplies for my knee, a couple of hosts driving us from temple to temple for half a day, a couple of pilgrims accompanying us as we lagged due to knee pain that made me want to quit... Some gestures were sometimes insignificant or so small in their eyes, but they meant so much to us.

It was all these encounters with other pilgrims, Japanese people, and the hosts each night that truly set the tone for this pilgrimage. A tone filled with empathy, thoughtfulness, and attention. A tone where one cares for the other, even if they are strangers. A tone where the stone at the entrance of each temple takes on its full meaning:

May peace prevail on Earth

Walking, one step after another. Left, right, stick. Left, right, stick. The three-step dance. The endless dance that sometimes fills my thoughts, enchanted by the rhythm enhanced by the sound of the bell hanging from our pilgrim sticks. The dance that sometimes fades away, absorbed by the landscape, an animated discussion, or the wide-eyed gaze of my baby.

Various kinds of roads: paved, wooded, sloped, flat, shaded, peaceful, busy, noisy, frequented, mystical, endless...

I didn't enjoy all the roads we took in the same way. I have a strong preference for tranquil paths, whether they are high up in the mountain forests or peacefully winding along the coastline.

I also remember those first days of walking where each evening we asked ourselves whether we should stop or continue. Each evening, the exhaustion from walking was such that we felt discouraged... Discouragement often diminished after a good meal shared with other pilgrims, who also know these mood changes. And a discouragement always completely dissipated at the first rays of the sun, our feet joyfully responding to the call of the road. It took us about ten days to find our rhythm, to feel anchored in the route of the Shikoku pilgrimage. It was a pity that knee pains came to take over just as we felt (finally) launched...

Because they punctuated our walk. Because they gave us goals to achieve and rituals to ground ourselves in and mark our steps, I loved discovering the temples. Of the 88 that make up the Shikoku pilgrimage, we saw 36 (minus one for me, who missed temple 20). While I reached the majority of these temples by foot, others saw me arrive by car, train, or bus, in my vain attempts to spare my knees to make the distance.

All these temples... each so different, both in their architecture and in their location or, simply, in the personal experience I lived in each of them: the sun rays illuminating the cherry blossom flowers, the wind making the colorful flags dance... and of course, the encounters we had there.

It is very (too?) difficult for me to answer the question I have already received several times: What is your favorite temple? I, who have not seen all the temples and should choose one from 36 rather than among 88... find myself with my eyes glazed over, mouth open, and the gears of my brain running at full speed. I don't know if I have a favorite. I know that some left me more indifferent (even if the word is strong). Maybe not a favorite, but favorites...

I will also add to this list of themes that marked and punctuated this pilgrimage, our accommodations. It may seem trivial, but these rooms for a night (sometimes more) were our homes. We laid down our bags and our fatigue to leave rejuvenated and filled with new energy. We saw our baby blossom and develop at an incredible rate: in just a few days, he learned to sit up alone and stay seated, to crawl, to stand with support, and to climb a step... It's certain that if we had stayed two months in Japan, he would have eventually learned to walk, and two more months, to ride a bike, to cycle, to fly... (this child has no limits!).

So here are some of our accommodations that marked me the most.

So here I am, awkwardly yet emotionally, sharing my first sensations and memories of the Shikoku pilgrimage. I still have so much to say about it, more articles will come out soon... and I feel that as long as I write about this journey, it won't be completely finished. I always keep a small door open towards the paths of Shikoku, hoping to return there one day...

Soon, I will talk to you about the more practical aspects of the Shikoku pilgrimage. If you have any questions, feel free to post them here in the comments, and I will answer them in upcoming articles.

To continue reading