Day 9 in Japan: The day I cheated (twice), fought a mountain, and got betrayed by my own bladder

Morning in Japan is starting to feel like a religious experience. Another amazing breakfast, this time handcrafted by Aki, my guesthouse host Guest House Kiyohime—eggs cooked to perfection, crispy toast, creamy yogurt, and a hash brown so good it should be illegal. If this is what mornings always tasted like, I’d be a morning person.

But let’s get to the dark part of the day.

I am a cheater. A fraud. A disgrace to the noble art of pilgrimage. And I will never forgive myself.

First, I committed the ultimate sin—I shipped my backpack ahead. That extra 10kg strapped to my back had become a form of medieval torture, and the thought of climbing yet another mountain with it made me want to curl into a fetal position and cry. So, I caved. I sent it forward.

And then, because apparently one act of betrayal wasn’t enough, I cheated again—though in hindsight, this one wasn’t so much a “cheat” as it was a cosmic joke at my expense. Aki’s husband generously offered me a ride to the detour pass, effectively cutting 6km from my 25km trek. Brilliant, right? Except… I left my damn trekking poles at the guesthouse, which meant he had to call Aki and arrange for her to bring them to me. Nothing like adding an extra errand to the morning commute of a man doing you a favour.

But here’s where karma smacked me right across the face. Instead of dropping me at the top of the mountain (as I had envisioned, in my delusional little cheater’s fantasy), he drove me straight to the bottom. What awaited me? A 52-story vertical climb straight up into the clouds. What was meant to be a 6km shortcut turned into a cruel joke where every person I had so smugly gotten ahead of leisurely strolled past me as I gasped for air. So, yeah. That backfired spectacularly.

At this point, I learned a crucial survival skill: Never be afraid to rest every 20 steps. Take a breather. Look around. Pretend you’re admiring the scenery while secretly trying not to die. And you know what? Eventually, you do get there.

A surprising motivator? Tiny, delicate red flowers kept dropping onto the trail in front of me like little whispers of encouragement. And also, those damn stamps. I am fully aware that I am a grown adult, yet I will apparently endure immense physical suffering for the sheer satisfaction of collecting a little ink stamp at each checkpoint. This is who I am now.

But now, dear reader, we must discuss the pee incident.

You ever have that moment where you kind of need to pee, but it’s not urgent? And then—BAM—you see a toilet, and suddenly your bladder transforms into an unreasonable toddler screaming, “I HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW OR I WILL EXPLODE.”

Well, that happened. In the middle of absolute nowhere.

I spotted a small toilet shack along the trail, and my bladder, which had previously been cool and collected, suddenly decided this was a full-blown emergency. I practically sprinted toward salvation, already doing the “don’t-pee-my-pants” dance as I fumbled with my gear. I threw open the stall door, expecting relief.

And then, horror.

It was a squat toilet. Not just any squat toilet. A squat toilet of nightmares. Whoever had been here last clearly had zero understanding of where their body was positioned because—without getting too graphic—the entire hump part of the floor toilet was absolutely covered in shit. It looked like someone had attempted a particularly disastrous game of toilet roulette and lost.

I stared. It stared back. My bladder, now in full panic mode, demanded immediate action, while my brain screamed, “ABORT! ABORT!” There was no way I was maneuvering into that stall without coming out looking like a casualty of a mudslide.

So, into the bushes I went. Dignity be damned.

But let me tell you, squatting in the wild with your pants around your ankles while hyper-aware that Japan has bears and snakes and god knows what else? Not exactly a stress-free experience. Every rustle in the leaves had me convinced I was about to get ambushed mid-stream. But, crisis averted. I survived. Barely.

Just when I thought I had made it through the worst of the day, nature had one more terrifying surprise for me.

I was walking along, minding my own business, when I spotted what I thought was a thick, blackish-blue hosepipe stretched across the trail. I had that moment where my brain calmly processed it as “huh, someone must have left a hose here.” And then—it moved.

Friends, this was not a hose. This was a worm.

A worm the size of a goddamn hosepipe.

My soul left my body. I jumped about five feet into the air and let out an undignified yelp, which probably sounded something like a drunk squirrel. I have encountered many creatures in my travels, but nothing prepared me for a worm so massive that it could have been mistaken for a mythical beast. I stood there, wide-eyed and traumatised, while it slithered its nightmarish, oversized, shiny self across the trail.

A few minutes later I came across a beautiful sight… an eagle soaring through some thermals – until – he nose-dives and steals a pilgrim’s lunch. Somewhere in the very near distance, I considered just lying down and letting nature take me.

But I pressed on.

Eventually, I reached Hongu, where I was awarded my Dual Pilgrim Certificate and a commemorative shell. But, in keeping with the theme of cruelty disguised as achievement, I had to first walk down 100 steps to collect it… and then climb right back up for a celebratory drum ceremony and then back down to grab a bus. Who designs these things? Sadists?

Final stop: @RyokanAdumaya Ryokan Adumaya. If you ever find yourself in this part of Japan, do yourself a favor and book a stay here. Absolute luxury. My private bath? Fed by natural hot springs. My 13-course dinner? Cooked in the mineral-rich water of the springs. We’re talking pickled fish, sashimi, wagyu beef shabu-shabu, rich pumpkin soup, clam soup, and a matcha dessert that could make a grown man cry. It was a three-hour gastronomic experience, and by the end of it, I was two bottles of plum wine deep and deeply in love with life.

Tonight, if I wake up in the middle of the night, I might venture into the onsen for a sleepy-time soak. Or maybe I’ll just lie here and let my body dissolve into the tatami mat.

Either way, I earned this.