At the end of the street was the entrance to Ryozenji, Temple 1 of the 88 temple Shikoku pilgrimage. I had arrived here 46 days earlier, eager yet cautious about the epic walk I was about to undertake. Ryozenji was a tranquil Buddhist temple on the outskirts of Tokushima, a city on the island of Shikoku, Japan’s fourth island. To see this beautiful temple for the second time meant I had officially closed the circle and completed one of the world’s great pilgrimages. I looked at Ryozenji now through the eyes of someone who had lived a lifetime in the month and a half since I first arrived at that spot. In that time I had walked 1200 kilometres, visited 88 temples, made friends with fellow travellers, visited places of incredible beauty, and enjoyed the kindness and hospitality of the Japanese people.
The gate of Ryozenji stood as a permanent, immovable object. Many people crossed its threshold everyday. Lots of those were my fellow travellers, who were drawn to this place and this path out of a sense of fate, adventure or destiny. All had a story to tell about what brought them here, and what brought them back. This temple had seen all comers. I was one of many.
I was a veteran of five caminos, all which passed without any major incident, and thi
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