The end of the road (sort of): a Kumano Kodo epilogue

I woke up this morning, and every cell in my body screamed, “YOU. ARE. DONE.” Not in a poetic, enlightened way—more like a “you just got hit by a small truck and then reverse-rolled over by a bus full of overeager pilgrims” kind of way. Crawling to the toilet on all fours, I considered just living there from now on. But then I remembered: my ryokan has an onsen. So using the my toilet to lever my body in a semi-standing position I get moving.

So, like a broken warrior dragging themselves to Valhalla, I made my way to the hot spring, did the required ritual cleansing (because manners), and then plunged my battered, naked self into the sulfuric embrace of Japan’s finest volcanic therapy. Yes, it smells like questionable eggs. Yes, it also feels like the hands of the gods themselves massaging your soul back into working order.

Refreshed (and now miraculously upright), I returned to my room, where my angel of a room attendant had laid out a breakfast fit for an emperor—miso soup, an egg poached in onsen water (because, why not?), mackerel, tofu hot pot, and Japanese porridge. At this point, I’m convinced Japan’s entire national identity revolves around slowly drowning you in deliciousness.

Now, before I sign off, let me do you a favour. If you’re planning this trek, learn from my mistakes—because the company that organised my accommodations? Hot, steaming garbage. No communication, no guidance, no clue where anything actually was in relation to the route. At one point, a lovely lady at the Tanabe Kumano Kodo Information Center nearly passed out when she saw my itinerary. “There is absolutely no way you can do this!” she gasped, before spending 45 minutes trying to salvage my life choices.

So, for those of you thinking of taking this journey, here’s my actual recommended itinerary:

• Day 1: Spend a full day in Tanabe. Talk to the folks at the information center, organise bag transport, do the cleansing ceremony at the beach, and collect your first stamps.
• Day 2: Take the 09:10 or 10:15 bus to Takijiri. Grab breakfast if you need it, then begin your trek. You’ll reach Takahara by 2-3 PM. I highly recommend Guest House Kiyohime—they’ll pick you up and drop you off.
• Day 3: Walk 10-13km to your next stay. I stayed at 古道の宿　GuestHouse ひよどり Guest house Hiyadori, and it was fantastic.
• Day 4: Brace yourself. It’s a beast. If you’re walking the full 25km to Hongu, know that 9-12 hours of trekking awaits. There are shorter options with buses if you don’t want to fully destroy yourself.
• Days 5-6: DO NOTHING. Stay at an onsen near Hongu (for two nights minimum), soak in hot springs, and eat until your body forgives you. I stayed at @Ryokan Adumaya, and it was a transcendent experience. A must stay!

Now, for the worst place I stayed—T Green Something-or-Other. Imagine a smoky student dorm meets a dinner scene from a movie where the awkward main character eats alone while everyone else sits in groups. That was me. Look, I have no problem eating alone. I enjoy my own company. I can swirl a glass of brown wine, stare wistfully into the distance, and pretend I’m a mysterious traveler with a past. But this? This was next-level social exile.

Picture this: a long, communal table, the kind where strangers become best friends over bowls of miso and mutual exhaustion. Groups of hikers, buzzing with post-trail camaraderie, deep in conversation. Laughter. Clinking chopsticks. The kind of scene where, if this were a feel-good movie, I’d get absorbed into a circle of new friends who’d invite me on an epic side quest involving sake and secret mountain shrines.

Instead, I was placed in the dead center of a long table. Alone.

Like some tragic protagonist in a novel about solitude, I sat there—a full seat away from the nearest human—watching the joy unfold around me like an audience member at a play where I wasn’t given a script.

At first, I thought, Okay, maybe more solo travelers will show up. Nope. Just me. A human island in a sea of friendship.

To make it worse, I was physically too far away to even eavesdrop properly. You ever try nodding and smiling at a joke you didn’t hear? I did. Multiple times. It was painful.

The food? Technically good, but at this point, I was too emotionally compromised to care. The cod was overcooked. The beef was overcooked. The sashimi and tempura? Decent, but I wasn’t in the mood for decency. I was in the mood for a communal hotpot experience where someone passes me the soy sauce while laughing about the day’s hike.

Instead, I ate in silence, contemplating my life choices, nursing my brown wine and green tea like a defeated samurai.

So yeah. Not my favorite place. But hey—at least the vending machine ice cream was good.

So here I am, full of brown wine, whisky, and ice cream, reflecting on the absurdity of it all. This part of Japan? A MUST. Do it at the end of your trek. Do it even if you’re still walking. Just do it smarter than I did.

And if you enjoy my ramblings, feel free to follow me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/191N9aVXsT/?mibextid=wwXIfr —because the journey doesn’t end here.