Chapter 6 Pilgrimage Day 3

Diary of the White Bush Clover

Day 3 (8 October) Moriyama to Omihachiman

I had already paid the ryokan fee, so before the attendants woke I started to walk again. All along the way I kept looking at the triangular shape of one big mountain. In this area the surrounding mountains were low but this mountain stood out, shaped like a mountain made of sand. I liked this mountain. From some places it appeared to be one mountain but in fact there were three peaks, so it was called Mikami-yama, Three Spirits Mountain. I walked along the busy road, looking at these peaks in the clear morning air.

I was hungry because I started without breakfast. In a small shop I drank a bottle of milk. I just stood because when I sat I felt pain in my knee.

Walking on I found a very nice house on the right with a low stone wall. The stone was very old and every stone had a groove running straight across the face. I touched the groove. I could tell it was not carved by anyone but it looked like a design. I asked an old man working beside me, “Is this stone made of lodestone?” It looked like the lines made in old times by iron wheels on the stone pavement. This line is wonderful, I thought, it’s very interesting. The design is very smooth, not sharp. It could not have been made by human hands. This house has precious treasures.

Afterwards I walked and walked but there were no houses. I wanted to ask someone about a ryokan for the night but there was no one around. Someone had told me I could find places to stay if I went to the train station so I hurried there. As far as I could see there were only rice fields, golden colored, the heads bending down. The time was near sunset. The sun would go down soon so I was worried and hurried on.

As I walked through the golden rice fields, a mendicant monk came toward me from the opposite direction. He was powerfully built and walked with long strides. He was wearing a kasa, a wide domed hat made from wheat straw, and black koromo, the robes flapping in the wind. When we passed I caught a glimpse of his bearded face under his kasa. It was an extremely stern face but just in the moment we passed we both smiled a little. We bowed to each other. We moved on and the distance separating us grew and grew. I walked to the east, he walked to the west. We did not know each other but at that moment I felt a very warm Buddhist teaching. That one tiny point in time was magnificent. I thought of the saying, ichi go ichi e, one time, one meeting.

aki ōmi

tabi yuku so to

emi kawashi

Autumn in Ōmi –

crossing paths with a wandering monk,

exchanging little smiles.

After that I arrived at the station. I asked, “Are there any ryokan around here?” They told me the location of one. Standing in front of it I wondered if I should stay there. The sign on the house said it was a ryokan but it looked rather decrepit. I decided I would not stay there. I went back to the station to check the telephone book for another inn. I found one, a youth hostel, and called. They said ōkē. But I was surprised to hear where this yūsu-hosuteru was, twelve kilometers away. I thought it was impossible to walk there this late so I apologized to Buddha and took a bus.

When I got there I found that the hostel was built halfway up the mountain and you had to walk up. As I started climbing up an old lady in a shop called to me. She said, “You’ll need a walking stick but you don’t need to rent it. I’ll give this tsue to you for free.” Even though the road to the hostel was very steep I thought I did not need a walking stick, I could climb by myself, but I accepted her offer. Bending forward I climbed step by step, clasping the walking stick behind my back.

At last I reached the hostel and gave thanks for the day’s trip. I had already walked three days but I still had not walked half way around Biwa-ko and the lake seemed as big as the sea. I felt really tired. I took a bath, massaged my legs and put menthol plasters on all the sore spots on my body. My daughter had put the shippu in my bag and now I really appreciated her thoughtfulness. I went to bed still sore. It was hard to write in my notebook but I knew I would forget if I did not. Sitting beside the window I wrote a letter and an entry in my diary.

I could see the moon reflected on the lake and the lights of Ōtsu bridge. I had seen these lights for the past two nights. I really liked this bridge and I got a little nostalgic when I realized I would not see it again as I journeyed on. Because I had been walking slowly on my pilgrimage, the impressions of the lights on the bridge went much deeper in my heart. Thinking of Ōtsu bridge, I went to bed.