Yesterday we walked only 12 miles and got to our destination at 2:30pm, so today we scheduled a 15 mile walk to the temple with our lodgings, the Minshiku Kissaten Kiraku just across the street. Let me tell you we both noticed the added miles. Makes us wonder how we ever walked 20 miles.
Today's minshiku is slightly different. It is located above a kissaten (coffee shop), hence its name. Emi had to call 3 times before the owner answered and said that we could stay there but she would not be cooking dinner, only breakfast. We quickly assured her that that would not be a problem. We could buy our dinner at a grocery store; I love Japanese bentos. When we got there with our bento dinner in hand, no one was there. Fortunately she had told us our room number, 201, so we walked into the room left our bags and went up to the temple, Dainichiji. When we returned there was still no proprietor but the furo was full and so we took our baths and later Emi started the wash. Much later the lady who ran the minshiku knocked on our door and asked what kind of breakfast we wanted, American or Japanese. We jumped at the choice of bread over rice. You can't eat cake every day. The room was small, only 4 and half tatami mats, but it had everything that we needed; a TV, beer and mugicha in the refrigerator located next to the sentaki (washing machine), bedding, and our own toilet and sink. What else do you need? Our bentos only cost $4 each and I can't wait to eat.
There's a subject that I need to cover, equipment. Emi and I thought that we had brought the right stuff to do the trip, and we were close at times and completely missed the mark on other equipment. For example, the boots that Emi bought was picked via the salesperson recommendation after we had told him what we were going to do. We tested them on several short hikes, but here in Shikoku it isn't working, Emi's feet swelled up like hot dogs ready to be eaten and blisters formed like pimples on a teenager. We were forced to slash her relatively new boots to give her toes more room.
Our rain gear, we had used many times at home, but not in this context. I don't care what kind of modern fabric that your rain wear is made off; it doesn't work here. Your real world choice is to be wet from the rain or to be wet from your perspiration, salty or fresh water either way wet. Our clothes were of the new synthetic wicking material, very cool. It dries so quickly that you can wash them in the sink and by the next day they are dry and ready to wear. The only problem is that during the day they're always wet with your perspiration so that after a while it's a good thing that you're walking in the desolated country so that you will not offend others with the smell of clothes gone rotten in the sun. And forget style; think practicality. Emi's stylish pants cut at the calf allowed the mosquitoes and horse flies(?) to readily attack her bare flesh.
It was opportunity not fashion to the beastly bugs. Lastly, and surprisingly, not all socks performed the same; some were more prone to give you blisters than others. The only way to find out is to walk 20 miles a day for 2 weeks in Shikoku. What did work well were our light weight hiking poles, Leki by name, our pack covers, and our light weight umbrellas. You win some; you lose some.
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