Day 24: Walking Day

The two partial days had improved our feet and our mental health, though, while my soles no longer felt like I was walking barefoot on cement, it was still a bit like have single-peg Legos taped to both feet.

Our plan was to reach Hirata Station (31 km away), two kilometers short of Temple 39, take the train to Nakamura Station back in Shimanto, stay the night, visit Montbell in the morning for a some equipment updating/replacement, and then train back to Hirata Station to continue on the henro michi.

When we start in the morning, I’ve gotten into the habit of plugging our destination into Google Maps to get an approximate arrival time if we walked the whole length without breaking for anything. That tends to give us a good gauge of how much time we’ll have for rest breaks, restroom breaks, and whether we can enjoy a sit down meal or find a shelter for a quick store-bought lunch. This morning’s estimate was a 1:00 p.m. arrival. Four hours of “free time” before catching the 5:10 p.m. train. It again was forecast and looked like it would rain lightly or mist throughout the day.

I had downed a few ibuprofen this morning, so my piggies were on a magic carpet ride. We were making a good pace as we returned up the road we had planted our flags on only days earlier. Our pace was so good that we began to consider the possibility that we could catch an earlier train to Shimanto. The 4:20 p.m. densha (“train”) looked like very viable alternative. That also meant we could hit Montbell today before their 6:00 p.m. closing time.

After getting something for lunch from Lawson’s, our road took us back into the small valleys leading up through the small mountains that cover the interior of Shikoku.

It was still only misting and we were still making great time, so we decided to chance crossing the Nakayama Pass. Maybe it would shave some time off or maybe it wouldn’t. The path was well maintained and large sections could be passable by small vehicles. While the trail wasn’t especially difficult, I did mentioned to Connor how much better I was handling the climb than I might have several weeks ago.

We gained an extra 10 minutes following the Nakayama Pass rather than following the paved road route.

We weren’t just making good time; we were making GREAT time. Not only could we have afforded the time to eat at a sit down restaurant, we could actually considered meeting the 2:44 p.m. train to Shimanto. Connor hesitated at the idea of entering a restaurant. He had something for lunch from the convenience store that he would rather to try out, so we sat in a small rest hut at the side of the road, sitting on our rain gear, and dined.

Getting up and moving again still feels like an organ grinder starting his instrument again after having left it to the weather for a few weeks. It takes a few minutes for the foot oblivion to kick back in.

Connor and I were faced with the temptation of attempting now to catching the 2:44 train to Shimanto. Our current pace had us arriving at 2:40 p.m. and we had a little over an hour until touchdown. We agreed that making the 4:20 p.m. train was good enough for both of us and decided to sabotage any temptation to push for the 2:44 train by taking a 20 minute break at the Nakasuji River Dam rest hut.

I had “Google scouted” this place as a potential campsite years ago and knew there was a large rest hut overlooking the dam with a nearby toilet and possible vending machines. During our brief stay, conversation tended to stray into statements like this, “I’m going to the dam bathroom,” “This is a fine dam hut,” “This dam Mets Black cola isn’t as good as Coca Cola.” We really couldn’t help ourselves.

We reached Hirata Station with over an hour to spare. An uneventful wait and 25 minute ride back to Shimanto followed. We checked into Minshuku Suzu and got to Montbell 40 minutes before closing. Connor picked up a new pair of pants to replace the one with the growing rip and and a pair of rain pants. I picked up a pair of lightweight hiking socks and a pair of sun gloves as one from my previous pair had slipped out of a pocket over a week ago. The long shot search for a new stick of “Body Glide” (anti-chafing stick) was unsuccessful.

Dinner followed at the nearby restaurant Joren. It wasn’t particularly busy and we were seated right away. The food was very good and the staff was friendly. I kindly fellow customer inquired if we were having difficulty with the menu until we informed him they had given us one that was in English. Back to the lodge, a shower and little laundry ended out the night.