The Shikoku pilgrimage with a baby: our recap

The title is written, now all that's left is to type the rest of the article on the keyboard. But what is it, my recap of the Shikoku pilgrimage with a baby? So many emotions still inhabit me... Where to begin?

We have been dreaming about this pilgrimage for years, not knowing exactly when we would leave or why this dream floated in our couple's imagination. Then my belly grew, and we said to ourselves: it's now or a very long time from now! Patience and François... well, they don't mix well! So here we are with plane tickets to Japan and that smile on our faces that only gentle madness can provoke.

Walking. 750 miles. With a baby.

This marks the beginning of an outdoor life for our Little Sushi (the nickname for Manoa before his birth) even before he made his grand entrance. I discussed the reasons behind this dream in more detail in the article published just before our departure. There, I presented my doubts and questions, as well as my concerns. And in another article, I already shared our emotions and highlights from this beautiful experience.

So let's recap... and see how it turned out in reality!

In my previous article, I listed 5 concerns. Let's revisit them in order and see...

Reality?

But how surprised I was!

Aside from my knee problems (I'll address that later), I found a source of energy I didn't suspect! Despite the short nights (I'll get to that too!), the weight of the baby, and the challenges of finding our bearings in the first few days... In short, despite the common difficulties of any pilgrim, a typical new mom, and those related to carrying a hefty baby, I really enjoyed walking. On some days, I felt euphoric. I have no other words. Euphoric. I felt so light. My feet barely seemed to touch the pavement and soared over the roots that intertwined on the forest trails.

We advanced in harmony, François and I, quickly becoming a well-oiled machine. When Manoa slept, we averaged over 6 km/h. When he woke up, our maximum speed dropped to 4 km/h... This brings me to the next point.

My living backpack, Tamagotchi version, was more than adorable. He actually slept. That might seem normal to you, but for me, saying my baby slept is a bit like saying he recited the alphabet backward in Russian. My baby slept! At home, naps weren't part of his routine. During our training walks, we noticed that fresh air and the motion of our steps helped him transition from our arms to Morpheus. And this trend was more than confirmed on the roads of Shikoku.

He would often fall asleep as soon as we left our accommodation in the morning, for about an hour to an hour and a half. Sometimes he would nap again late in the morning for another twenty minutes. And in the early afternoon, he would sleep again for at least an hour. What a joy to feel him surrender against my chest, in complete trust, not even flinching at the sounds of trucks passing us on the asphalt roads!

And when he was awake, he sometimes nursed while sitting in the baby carrier. If he was awake when we arrived at a temple, I would take him out of the carrier so he could participate and experience those moments as actively as possible. We also took the opportunity to change him... which sometimes proved to be a challenge. Our baby went through what's called the , which is accompanied by an intense need to nurse... often along with well-filled diapers. Without going into details, we had several catastrophic overflow incidents! This, combined with a logistics process as limited as the baby's wardrobe, can definitely cause some cold sweats!

Now, here's a fear that quickly became a reality. I thought practicing the physiotherapy exercises I learned early in my pregnancy would be enough. I thought that training before we left would suffice. I thought being careful on the stairs would be sufficient... Despite all these precautions, the pain settled in and never ceased to grow.

On days we walked more than twenty kilometers, I often ended up in tears, not knowing how to bear my own weight, let alone that of the baby. François and I noticed a sort of curse: the last 700 meters. There were several times I had to ask François to take Manoa in his arms, in addition to his backpack, for those last meters at the end of the day. I would walk with a stick in each hand, limping as much as possible, trying to relieve my legs of as much weight as I could. More than once, I wanted to hitch a ride to finish. I managed to do this once, thanks to a kind gentleman who took me back to our accommodation, less than two kilometers away.

Twice, I threw in the towel before even starting. Some temples are known to be difficult to access, their path even nicknamed . A physical destruction, due to the effort required and the difficulty of the steep and sometimes slippery stairs in the rain, as well as a psychological one.

With a baby, I decided to skip these passages. With regret. François also confessed to me that the path to temple 12 was one of the most beautiful walks of his life.

In the end, we had to be evacuated; I was no longer able to walk properly. And, although it was tough at the time, we made the right choice. It allowed me to discover that my knee problems stemmed from how I placed my feet. After some orthotic insoles and a few weeks of adjustment, it was no longer an issue! I also had to have physiotherapy sessions to relieve the sciatic and lower back pain that had me gritting my teeth. But thanks to that, I was completely by the time we set out for our next project: crossing the Americas!

I was afraid of being hungry. This may sound ridiculous. But breastfeeding turned me into a bottomless stomach, a monster capable of scarfing down nearly everything in the pantry without even realizing it.

In fact, my fear was justified! While convenience stores were my friends, they were not always available. And with François already carrying a backpack that was heavier than expected, I could not reasonably ask him to stock up for one or two days of walking... However, with experience, he got into the habit of checking maps to see if we would pass by small shops, just to stock up on snacks like biscuits, bananas, dried fruits, and other munchies for the road. The sight of that bag full of food bouncing behind his pack with the rhythm of his steps made me want to take him in my arms to thank him... Well, alright, also to snag a biscuit along the way!

Let the one who invented this expression reveal themselves and admit that they don't have children! As I mentioned in the first article regarding Shikoku, Manoa has his of his own. Everyone has their own pace... But the many nighttime awakenings worried me. This pilgrimage is known for being exhausting enough to send pilgrims to bed early for a big restorative night to recharge for the next day. However, long restorative nights, since I became a mom, I haven't known for quite some time! Manoa remained true to himself, and once he adjusted to the new time zone, he was waking up between 5 and 6 AM... which isn't so bad for a pilgrim's life!

I won't lie, it stung a bit! Before the trip, I took advantage of nap times and certain breastfeeding sessions to rest a little. Even though I didn't sleep, I was sitting and could breathe a bit. But during the pilgrimage, there was no chance of that! It was really tough, especially at the beginning of the journey when the time difference and the fatigue from before we left weighed heavily on our shoulders. Over time, the nights gradually improved, to our immense joy!

The questions I received the most via my Instagram account @Manoas_discoveries concerned food and sleep. I completely understand, these are the two primary needs of a baby that generally come to mind first. But these were two points I wasn't worried about. I know Manoa sleeps very well in the baby carrier. And for his nutrition, I am still breastfeeding him and we practice baby-led weaning (BLW). In short, easy!

I was more worried about diapers and changing (which wasn't always straightforward) and respecting our baby's need to move. On that last point, however, we had some pleasant surprises. Carrying him must have helped: Manoa made huge strides in his motor skills. Before he turned seven months old, in just a few days, Manoa sat up alone, crawled, stood with support, and climbed a step. We were jokingly wondering what the next step could possibly be!

I have an article in preparation about traveling with a baby. If you have questions or would like a specific point to be developed, feel free to let me know in the comments.

Manoa loved ringing the bell, watching the smoke of the incense rise, admiring the colors of the Buddhist flags, helping me with the purification ritual at the water fountain at the entrance of the temples, observing the trees, especially if they were in bloom... and especially smiling at everyone who looked at him with the happy surprise embedded in their eyes.

How I loved watching my baby grow and marvel throughout this journey. Just as I loved seeing the Japanese amazed by this little blond head peeking out of my baby carrier!

This pilgrimage has been a unique journey in our experience as travelers. We did not carry it out to the end, at least not this time. One day... We will resume this dream, either from the beginning of the journey or starting from where we stopped, temple 36. Either when Manoa is old enough to walk with us. Or when he is old enough to be cared for over long periods. We will either do it all at once or in small segments... We shall see. But one thing is for sure, we will return!