日本夏2026年 - Day 8 Hongucho Hongu to Kushimoto
The sun woke me at five, but I rolled over and managed another hour of sleep. Voices drifted from the levee above—early morning walkers starting their day. There was condensation inside the tent, so I spread everything out in the sun to dry before packing up.
I rode back to Kumano Hongu Taisha and had the place almost entirely to myself—except for a monk with a leaf blower. I took my time, sitting and taking it all in. Compared to other shrines, the simplicity stood out: wood, bronze, and gold, with no paint. The wooden shingle roofs and sweeping curved beams were both intricate and restrained, all set against a quiet mountain forest.
From there, I began riding back toward the coast, this time following the river downstream. I passed numerous hikers—pilgrims on the Kumano Kodo—and even a couple of bikepackers.
The return ride revealed steep cliffs I hadn’t noticed the day before. The terrain here is dramatic—sharp, unforgiving. I retraced the closed road section again to avoid traffic, enjoying the solitude despite the debris.
Back in Shingu, I visited Kumano Hayatama Taisha. In contrast to Hongu, this shrine was vividly painted—orange, green, blue, white. Monks were performing rituals as I arrived—drumming and chanting that echoed through the grounds.
Hungry, I stopped at a MOS Burger to charge my phone and GPS. The forecast called for rain tonight and tomorrow.
After a quick stop at Lawson for water and a small charger, I met a French cyclist named Caroline riding the Pacific Coast route. She had started in Tokyo with her boyfriend. Not long after, I passed him as well—another rider with a Brooks saddle. They planned to continue on to Korea after Japan.
I reached Nachi and turned inland, climbing steeply toward a place I’d long wanted to visit. The ascent—about 250 meters—was relentless. At Nachi Falls, a shrine offered access down a steep staircase to the base. For ¥300, I bought a small ceramic cup and drank from the waterfall—said to grant a longer life. Seemed like a fair trade.
Back on the bike, I climbed further to Kumano Nachi Taisha. More stairs—endless stairs—and plenty of tourists commenting on the effort. The buildings here were more ornate, though some inner structures remained bare wood. I continued to the iconic three-story pagoda, perfectly framed with Nachi Falls behind it.
There was a Kumano Kodo trail leading deeper into the forest toward more shrines, but it was already 3 p.m.—not enough time. After a well-earned matcha ice cream, I descended back to Nachi and stopped at Fudarakusan-ji Temple, where I learned about the practice of Fudaraku Tokai—priests setting out to sea in small boats as an act of devotion.
Before leaving town, I had an excellent tuna bowl at a local spot—exactly what I needed.
I continued south toward the tip of the Kii Peninsula. By 4:30 p.m., I was following pavement markings instead of relying on my GPS. For a stretch, I found myself on a beautiful, quiet bike path along a rugged, rocky coastline.
I lost the route briefly in Taiji and had to backtrack. Daylight was fading, but I knew there would be convenience stores and parks with gazebos in Kushimoto. Before reaching town, I found another shelter—perfect cover for the rain expected overnight.
I stopped at a FamilyMart for supplies, then returned to the shelter and settled in to write this.
Another full day on the peninsula.
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