2026 Japan Dispatch Part II – Return of the Kumano Kodo

A Daughter’s Tribute

The Kumano Kodo is one of the most sacred walks in Japan, one that Big Five had to pause when Japan reopened after the borders post pandemic. We did so because there are only a few guides that are truly knowledgeable about the importance of this trail. My colleague Tatiana wrote what I think to be her best dispatch ever in this section. She had just lost her mom right before departing for this trip, and it was here that the true power of the Kumano Kodo was unveiled

Enjoy.

“I embarked on this adventure to hike the Kumano Kodo with mixed feelings. Part of me was driven by my exploring spirit, always eager to see the world, while another part carried the weight of my mother’s recent passing. She was the one who taught me about the world and encouraged me to discover it. I grew up listening to her countless stories of traveling through Europe with her sister and aunt in the 1950’s, a time when going abroad was rare in Chile, where she was born. She remembered every detail, and her stories were so vivid that I never tired of hearing them or reliving them in my imagination. They sparked in me a desire to see those places with my own eyes. She opened a door to travel that I never want to close.

I can still hear my mother’s words: “Always take advantage of any opportunity to travel,” and “Let the money suffer,” she used to say, “because seeing the world will enrich you in so many ways. Every time you travel, you will change, your mind will expand, your acceptance and understanding of others will grow, and so will you.” She was absolutely right. Her advice is what led me to pursue a career in the travel industry, beginning with my first job as a guide in Ecuador. And last month, when I found myself doubting whether I should go to Japan, I could hear her voice encouraging me to go, reminding me that she would be with me.

The Kumano Kodo, together with the Camino de Santiago, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I walked the Camino eight years ago, so when the chance arose to experience the Kumano Kodo this year, I didn’t hesitate. At first, our planning was purely exploratory,  as we wanted to re-introduce the hike into our programs since we stopped offering after Covid. I had no idea that the purpose of this hike would shift so profoundly, drawing me into something far more personal.

For over 1,000 years, pilgrims have walked these mountains. The region’s sacred peaks were once seen as otherworldly, places connected to death, the afterlife, and spiritual renewal. People come here for many reasons: to seek rebirth, to deepen their awareness, to transform, or simply to be close to nature.

Every evening, we stayed in small onsens, sleeping on tatami mats on the floor. I was convinced my back wouldn’t survive several nights like that, but to my surprise, I didn’t have a single ache. I’m starting to think the Japanese are onto something with these tatami mats. One night, we stayed in an old temple where monks still practice and train. At dawn, we witnessed a fire ceremony led by the monks, burning small pieces of wood while praying for the well‑being of loved ones, their chanting echoing through the hall. I learned about the Shinto practice of worshipping mountains (as it is the home of the divine), the arrival of Buddhism in Japan from China and the fusion of both faiths.

Every day, I felt as if I were dining in a Michelin‑star restaurant, each meal somehow better than the last. The sashimi melted in my mouth, and the combinations of flavors and ingredients were constant, joyful surprises. I tried everything, sometimes with reluctancy, and now I find myself longing for it all. Meals arrived on multiple tiny plates, offering a different texture and taste: lightly seasoned vegetables, fish, sweet fish, cucumbers, pickles, rice, seaweed, tofu, miso soup, all perfectly balanced and proportioned. Nothing was heavy, everything felt just right. We even visited a fish market in Ise, where people from across Japan come in the morning for fresh sashimi, and much of the tuna sold in Tokyo’s famous fish market comes from there.

Along the way, we visited many shrines and temples, but three sacred sites left the deepest impression:

• Hayatama Taisha, where ancient myth says the Kumano deities first descended to earth on a nearby rock, a stone still honored as sacred. Before entering, we performed the traditional purification: washing the right hand (actions), the left (thoughts), and then the mouth (words). It’s a simple ritual, yet it prepares your whole being to step into a sacred space.
• Hongu Taisha, magnificent and tall, rising above the surrounding rice fields. It was here that I saw a black crow , the guardian of pilgrims, a sign of protection, a bridge between the earthly and the spiritual.  For me, it felt like the mountains were acknowledging my presence.
• And finally, Nachi Taisha, perhaps the most beautiful of all, its pagoda‑like structure set dramatically beside a waterfall. It is no wonder it is one of the most photographed places in Japan.

This seven‑day, forty‑mile hike took us through cedar and cypress forests. Some days were easier, with flat stretches, others required tough ascents and careful descents. Most days we enjoyed beautiful sunlight, but we also proved our endurance through rain, and at times heavy rain. Along the trail, we found many Jizō statues, placed to guide and safeguard hikers. They remind you that you are not walking alone, and I definitely wasn’t. The moment I needed a push, there was a Jizō blessing my journey.

One day, we passed an area with fourteen stone poem monuments erected about thirty years ago by the Kumanogawa villagers. The poems are a mixture of old and new, multilayered in meaning, and difficult to translate because of their nuances. Our guide chose one poem to translate. No one knew about my recent loss, yet when I heard it, it felt like a vivid message from my mother. It read: “My deceased mother reminds me: every step on Kumotori is a walk for the repose of the dead.”

It means that your walk on Kumano is not just a hike, it is a sacred act, a way of honoring the dead, especially your mother. I knew in that moment that these words were meant for me, and that taking this hike was no coincidence. I needed it, and it arrived in my life with a kind of quiet precision, at exactly the right time. Every step became a personal prayer for me, and every breath helped me cherish many memories of my mother and me. The trail ended, but the conversation with my mother continues in every step I take from here.”