Oh, Mountain Road!

One of the things about living in Kochi is that most people think you need a car to get around. This is mainly due to the fact that Kochi is the second-largest prefecture in Japan (after Hokkaido, which is another island, so I consider that cheating) and one of the least densely populated. Of the 700,000 or so souls in Kochi, almost 350,000 of them live in the boundaries of the capital city (Kochi). The others live in the almost uninhabitable land surrounding the port city.

The other reason it is convenient to have a car is, as I may have mentioned in a previous post – please see archives -, Kochi is 85% mountain terrain. Every country road climbs a mountain and winds through the cedar trees like a pre-summer snake climbing the little tetrapods on either side of a rice paddy gutter (yes, I have seen this happen – it was pretty amazing considering the reptile was slithering almost straight up). This makes that little pilgrimage around the island of Shikoku rather daunting when you hit Kochi prefecture. If you see a sign that says, Such-and-nani-temple, 5 kilometers ahead, you can take that to mean 5 kilometers up into the sky.

Mine is a case in point for my side of the argument.

Not having a whole lot to do on Saturday afternoon, since my internet is still down for week number 5 – they are coming this week with a new modem that will supposedly solve the problem – I decided to go for a bike ride. I have been trying to push my bike riding skills to some farther-off towns, at least on this side of Aki, and I found myself on the far side of Yasuda in the early afternoon. I encountered a little criss-cross of roads with a little criss-cross of signage all pointing up the mountain to a temple, a shrine, and a sky and air “viewing park”. As if you can’t see the sky and air from every point from Shimanto to Muroto. But whatever brings the tourists in.

Some time ago, I attempted this climb, but I gave up when I encountered a pilgrim who told me it was too damn far to finish the ride. I took his estimation on faith and turned back. Now I know, from experience, that he was right.

First you go up this wide, sweeping, and curving road that looks like man made it only to shoot car commercials on. It’s pristinely clean, the lines are freshly white, and the scenery is the type to make any man’s man grab the sides of his barcalounger and declare, “I need a BMW M5! A convertible!”

At the bottom of the mountain is a sign that says, Konomineji Temple: 5 kilometers (or 4.7 if you want to get picky about details). When I made my way up the wide sweep of this feral sports track, I found myself at another cute little sign that said, Konomineji Temple – that way. No more kilometers! I must be way more in shape than I thought I was! I passed a couple of pilgrims on their way down from the temple and cheerfully parked my bike in a little side-path leading into someone’s farm. No more kilometers, means not far to go, and the road had suddenly become very steep. No worries. I got this.