A story end to my Kumano Kodo
- cherylmurfin
- Sep 23
- 5 min read
These walks are all about stories—the ones we bring in the backpacks of our hearts and the ones we discover on the trail. So, I'll end this series of posts on our Kumano Kodo adventure with a story a found along the way.
Before I do, I bow to each of my co-adventurers on this road—to Joe, Ruth, Stephen, Colleen, Mike, Jonathan, and Tracy–whose words and stories and laughter and strength remain inspiration to me.
And to those who have read along, thank you for sharing the journey.
The things I have seen
by Cheryl Murfin
"Many ghosts in these mountains, tiny babies, big warriors," the old man said. "Also, old women and emperors and gods and farmers. Many ghosts as many trees."
The white woman laughed.
"What a bunch of hooey," she said, not caring at all if she offended her host.
"You will see," he added. He was light about it, as if his prior words explained everything, the air they were breathing, the boots on their feet, what happens when people die, and the woman's ignorance.
"So much you'll see," he thought, but didn't need to say.
They started up the mountain, a path for pilgrims for nearly 1,000 years, in silence.
It wasn't long before everything annoyed her. The tightness of her boots, the itchiness of her shirt. The roots, the rocks, the sweat building up quite unladylike on her brow.
Halfway up, she was furious. Her guide just smiled and continued. She swatted at gnats and cursed the bees, large as bullets, that buzzed just in front of her with each step.
They reached the top of the first peak, he buoyant, she exhausted and no longer playing nice. "
Call somebody to come and get me immediately," she blasted. "This is all so ridiculous."
"Oh no, no," he smiled, his eyes brighter than ever. "Impossible. We only keep going."
"That is NOT what the book said," she puffed, pulling out the travel guide, which still had the plastic on it. "
Look, here!" She opened the book to the route.
"YOU SEE? It says if you tire, there will be help!"
"Yes, yes," he smiled. "There will be help!"
With less than 10 minutes' pause and a bite of rice ball, he picked up his bag and began to ascend. The path was rocky and slick. The tree roots grabbed at her boots, causing her knees to buckle. She cursed.
"I must have help, NOW!" She bellowed.
"Yes, yes! There will be help," he chuckled. "Soon, soon."
After several more ours, they came to the valley. Surely he would hail a taxi.
But there was no road at the bottom; only an arrow that pointed up. Up another steep and winding path. She began to cry.
"You terrible old man" she said under her breath. He must have a cell phone on him.
"Yes, yes. There will be help!" His smile shone like the sun.
She could not feel her feet, and as she walked, the trees started moving in and out with her breath, undulating like a slow river. She thought she would faint. Her heart raced. He offered her water from his tin.
"You drink," he said, kindly. She wanted to spit at him, but was so thirsty she simply gulped. Then swallowed some more.
At the second peak, she thought she was beginning to hallucinate. She had expected a leisurely walk of two hours. By her watch, they had been going for 11. Each tree had a white edge. They glowed. She worried she was losing her mind.
"You must call for help," she cried. She looked at him urgently, beseechingly. He patted her on the hand.
"Yes, good," was all he said. But he did not reach for his phone.
On the second descent, she stopped noticing her feet. Her head became empty. She wondered if this was what it felt like to begin to die. Every muscle hummed.
And yet she continued behind him. Every now and then, he would turn and smile, all teeth, happy.
"Yes, yes, good, good," he said and then, in answer to a question she no longer asked:
"There will be help!"
They reached the bottom at 13 hours. The miles no longer mattered. She no longer complained when he stopped at every shrine to bow and drop a coin. So many shrines. They started the third ascent.
They arrived at the top as if floating. Every step had been a knife through her aching back. And yet, she could not remember a single step. I am that far gone, she thought. She knew then that she would not make it back.
Back to where she wondered. Questions came at her with fierce speed, like sheet rain. Who was she? Where had she come from? Why was she here? Where was she going? How would she get there? And the only answer she heard:
"Yes, yes, there will be help."
When they reached the bottom, she found herself smiling and realized it was not a forced smile, not a fake smile. It was not a thank-god-it's-over smile. It was the smile of a warrior coming home from battle. Triumphant. It was the wisdom smile on a baby in the instant they are born into the world, courageous and trusting. It was the smile of an old woman, reflecting on a beautiful life, one of overcoming and being stronger than she thought she was.
He smiled back more brightly, this time, than the sun, and repeated:
"You see, now? Many ghosts in these mountains, tiny babies, and big warriors. Also, old women and emperors and gods and farmers. Many ghosts as many trees. They help you, you see?"
She did see.
Looking around, she saw them in the sway of the tree limbs and the solidness of the rocks. They were in the mist rising in the evening and whispering in the wind on the mountain she had just walked down. Her heart exploded in gratitude.
She bowed as far as she could, given her spasming lower back. If she could have bowed lower without falling over, she would have.
"Dōmo arigatōgozaimasu," she said. Thank you. And even though it was not needed and probably rude since the religion of the country was not her religion, she clapped twice for emphasis as she'd seen done in the temples/
She was once more a baby. Finally. The smile on her face, she knew, was the same as the one on his, as real as his, as true.
"Arigatōgozaimasu," she repeated.
Up in the mountains, she heard the ghosts clap back.
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