Elis Parry completed the Shikoku Henro pilgrimage in Japan, walking 1,350 km between 88 temples across Shikoku Island. Guided by Buddhist philosophy and carrying minimal kit, he spent two months exploring mountains and coastlines while testing Moggans merino socks and thermals over 2,000 km without suffering blisters.

At the start of the year, I decided that I'd like to slow things down a little. Instead of jumping into another running training block, I wanted to make the most of my time between jobs to do something different. This coincided with a time in my life where my interest in spirituality was increasing, particularly aspects of the Buddhist philosophy. I decided that I wanted to go on a pilgrimage. The primary goal being to become a better person. So, I started looking for pilgrimages that I could do by foot that would take around two months to complete. This helped constrain my options and I soon stumbled upon a pilgrimage in Japan called the Shikoku Henro. It sounded cool - a journey on foot around the smallest of the four main Japanese islands, visiting 88 Shingon Buddhism temples along the way. I was aware that this was an esoteric thing to do, but after calling a close friend to discuss my options, I decided to press ahead. I knew that the culture would be nothing like I was used to, having never travelled outside of Europe. Flights booked, I was excited to leave in a couple months' time.

Before heading out to Japan, I needed to make sure that I had everything I needed for a long distance hike. Aiming to consume as little as possible, I first checked what I already had. Then, anything else that I didn't have, I either checked if Moggans made them, or bought second hand or from ethical outdoor brands. I knew that I'd need some quality socks to keep my feet in good nick - ones that would last a couple thousand kilometers of walking, too. I also knew that the temperatures could drop around freezing, especially in the mountains, so I wanted to take some wool baselayers with me to stay warm and also protect my sleeping bag. I ended up packing two sets of crew length midweight merino socks and one pair of crew length midweight running socks. I'd use the first two pairs for most of my hiking, keeping the other pair clean to be worn in my sleeping bag at night. For my baselayers, I packed a 100% merino thermal longsleeve, knowing that it would need little washing and keep me warm even when wet, as well as a pair of the 3/4 Schiehallion merino blend leggings. Having made sure that I had everything I needed, choosing to pack as minimally as possible, I was ready to head to Japan. But there was one last important thing to buy before heading out - the guidebook for the pilgrimage. I planned to rely as little as possible on navigating using my phone, having been running and walking without a GPS watch since last August as part of a project that I've started called joyrun. This meant that the maps in the guidebook would be my primary way of navigating the island.

I tested the socks before heading out, following the rule of thumb of not trying anything new on race day, despite this being very far away from being a race. They were very comfortable from the start and I liked how they hugged my foot, keeping them warm but also wicking away sweat. But the real test was still to come. I knew that the Henro would be interesting in terms of my feet as it is around 75% paved surface, which could break my feet over a few weeks. I opted for a pair of trail shoes that were wide at the forefoot, as I always try to do with my shoes. My goal was to wear one pair of shoes for the whole trip, minimising how much kit I was consuming, squeezing out every kilometer I could out of it. Another factor that I was a little nervous about was the Japanese heat, especially during the later part of the pilgrimage in April. I crossed my fingers that my socks would let my feet breathe and wick any sweat away.

Landing in Japan, I took the bus from the airport to Tokushima on the island of Shikoku, where the first temple on the pilgrimage was. The Shikoku Henro is interesting in the sense that it has no real 'rules' unlike other long-distance pilgrimages like the Caminos. People can undertake it in whatever way works best for them - driving between temples in a car, cycling, taking weekend trips to complete the pilgrimage over a few years, and anything in between. But a small number of people choose to walk the entire way, visiting the 88 temples in numerical order. This is the more traditional way of completing the pilgrimage and, in my view, also the best way of doing the pilgrimage, as it allows for deeper immersion in nature and the island's culture. Since I had the time, I also planned to visit the 20 additional Bakkaku temples along the way, which would add a couple hundred kilometers to my walk but more importantly, allow me to explore more of Shikoku. Arriving in Tokushima, I hopped on the local train to Bando station, the nearest station to the first temple. From there, I decided to treat myself to the luxury of a guesthouse for the first night, as I planned on sleeping outside for the next couple of months.

Waking up the next morning, I headed to the start of the pilgrimage with a couple of people that were also setting off that day. It was a crisp morning and I could certainly feel a different energy in the air of the first temple. I felt both nervous and excited for the weeks ahead, going in blind to what would be my first long-distance walk beyond a week. I guess time would tell how my mind and body would respond.

Leaving the first temple, we wound along the streets of suburban Tokushima for the next couple of days, taking a detour up a small mountain to the first of twenty Bakkaku temples. Walking down from this temple was a particular highlight of the first day, with the sun beaming on my face as it set, the birds singing their birdsong. I set up camp for the first night beside a rest hut, bumping into three fellow Japanese pilgrims who were already settled, enjoying sharing stories with each other. I laughed along with them as they spoke in Japanese, the limited Japanese lessons that I did before heading out coming in handier than I thought they would. The first couple of nights were colder than expected them, but I knew that it would only get warmer as the season changed to Spring.

On my third day, having spent the night feeling like Henry Thoreau sleeping in a cabin halfway up the mountain side, I set off on the second half of what was know by pilgrims to be the most difficult ascent of the pilgrimage. Atop the mountain lay the twelfth temple, which I reached early in the morning. It was peaceful and the unseasonal snow made it feel like a winter wonderland.

However, with my hands starting to get cold from the lack of gloves, I soon headed down the mountain. In my haste, I rolled badly on my ankle, letting out a small screech when it happened. Potentially sprained, I felt like things couldn't have gone any worse. I wrapped my buff around the swollen ankle, and hobbled my way down to the valley. My low morale was soon lifted when I happened upon a small shop ran by a lovely Japanese lady. I bought some food and she kindly heated some things up for me in her kitchen, even giving me some broccoli as a gift. By now, I was starting to understand one key aspect of the Henro - the concept of Osettai.

As a Buddhist pilgrimage, the Henro has many associated traditions related to aspects of the Buddhist philosophy. One of these is the concept of Osettai, which means giving gifts with no expectation of receiving anything in return. An important life lesson, but one that can only really be understood if put into practice. In the first couple of day in Shikoku alone, I'd received many gifts. Often small, from tangerines to bottles of green tea, they are a way for the giver of the gift to develop good fortune for their good deeds - the law of Karma, if you like. Over the coming weeks, I'd realise myself how powerful such a small act can be, proving as beneficial to the giver as to the receiver.

Along the Henro, there are various different types of accommodation. My plan was to sleep outside every night, occasionally making the most of the different donation based lodgings available along the way. One type of lodging are what's called Tsuyados, which are simple lodgings on the grounds of some of the temples. Having done some research before heading out, I'd marked the temples that had Tsuyados in my guide book. That night, with the help of the lovely shop owner I met at lunch, I managed to book myself a spot in a temple's Tsuyado. I arrived around 6 pm, feeling like a broken man. My body was aching and my ankle was in a lot of pain. I wrote in my diary: "ankle is very bad". Luckily, like many places in Shikoku, there was a convenience store just around the corner for me to grab some supplies for dinner and breakfast. I set up my bed in the Tsuyado and fell asleep soon after the sun set. This would become the norm during the pilgrimage, working with nature's cycles and rhythms, falling asleep as the sun set, waking up as it rose.

For the next few days, I hobbled my way between temples, passing through small villages and forests, before weaving back into the south side of Tokushima. I started experiencing what I'd heard about before visiting Japan - the Japanese people's kindness and hospitability. I wanted to put myself out there, so I tried to talk to the locals whenever I bumped into them. The trip was as much a cultural experience as it was a spiritual journey. On the Henro itself, I noticed something interesting - many of the pilgrims were older Japanese people, often in their 70s and 80s. I was told that this was because it is difficult to book enough time off to complete the Henro on foot when working a job, so many pilgrims set foot on the journey following retirement. But this didn't change the fact that there were people of this age undertaking such a big feat of mental and physical endurance. I now understood what people meant when they say that the Japanese are healthy - these pilgrims were concrete examples.

After a week or so, I was beginning to settle into the rhythms of the pilgrim's life. Things were simple. All I had to do was to sleep, eat, and walk. Everything was stripped back to its essentials. My decision not to purchase a sim card also meant that I was having to put myself out there a lot more than I otherwise would have. Asking locals for directions, ordering food using my memory's limited Japanese, finding places to camp using my guidebook or often organically. It felt nice. It felt like exactly what I needed.

The next few weeks felt blissful. Perhaps type 2 fun in the eyes of many, but a type of fun and joy that I think one can only experience when they immerse themselves fully in nature and the unknown. I weaved my way along rugged shorelines, up the side of steep mountains, and even along some pristine beaches. I slept in countless different places, from bus-stop like shelters, to campgrounds, to abandoned nurseries, and many of the rest huts that were built along the route, always making sure to leave no trace and to respect the locals. Before the trip, I decided that I wouldn't bother buying a fancy sleeping pad, as I wanted to remove the complacency that I'd develop towards my sleep. I wanted to become comfortable sleeping on the bare minimum, in whatever environment that was thrown at me. I succeeded in doing this, although my tent deciding that it no longer wanted to be waterproof did make this goal become more literal as it meant that I often slept on solid concrete floors with a small roof to shelter from the rain. But I persisted and did not complain, viewing it as ascetic training feeling lucky to simply have a warm sleeping bag to hop into at night.

For the last two weeks, I felt like I was able to self-transcend to a degree that I have never been able to before. Walking from sunrise to sunset every day, I enjoyed exploring my mind and body in new ways. On the last day, as a final dance, I walked into the night, arriving back at the first temple just after 1 am, 20 hours and over 100 km later. But the statistics were redundant to me. I knew that I had self-transcended based off how I felt both in my mind and body and no number helped me realise this.

My goal before the pilgrimage was to become a better person. A vague goal, I know, but I feel like I achieved this goal, and will continue to work towards it even after completing the Henro. By following the Buddhist precepts during my walk, I feel like I was able to live in closer alignment with nature and myself. I caught a glimpse of the harmony that one can feel when we act not from a place of greed nor selfishness, but from a place of gratitude and compassion.

Here, I intentionally only touch on snippets from the first part of my journey around Shikoku, as to give you a taste of what undertaking the Henro is like. I plan to delve deeper into things in writing in the near future, but even then, my suggestion is that anyone who has not yet set out on a longer journey on foot to do so. And it doesn't need to be in Japan. In fact, I now plan to stay close to home, for I realised that the grass is never in fact greener, and it is the grass of the mind that must be trimmed and maintained if we are to live a good life.

Regarding the Moggans kit, it all worked flawlessly. After finishing the Henro, which I believe was around 1350 km in total, I continued to explore Japan by foot. Taking much needed rest between hikes, I explored the boundaries of Kyoto through the Kyoto trail, gained a taste of what it was like to walk the old Nakasendo postal route between Kyoto and Gifu, and finished with a full-circle moment by walking the Shodoshima 88 temple pilgrimage just off the North of Shikoku. Upon returning home, I caught the train from the airport up to Scotland to hike the West Highland Way with a couple of friends. All in all, I ended up walking nearly 2000 km in total, all in the same kit. I wore one pair of shoes for the entirety of the trip and rotated between two pairs of the crew length midweight hiking socks. I had no blisters at all, and washed my socks perhaps only a handful of times during the entire trip. It turns out wool is as good as people say about staying clean and odor-free, although I can't quite say the same for my shoes... I liked how tight the socks fitted around my foot and the fact that they didn't roll down my ankle at all whilst walking. Regarding the thermals, they were also fantastic. They kept me warm during the entire trip whenever the temperatures dropped at night and in the mornings and they still look like new. I reckon the key with any piece of wool kit is to wash as little as possible so that they last for longer. I'm very grateful for the support that Moggans give me.

Having arrived back in Wales last week, I'm now turning my attention to September, when I'll be running around Anglesey in the Ring O' Fire race to raise money for an incredible charity called Mind Over Mountains. There are some exciting things lined up alongside this that I can't wait to share. For now, if anyone would like to read my full account of my trip, I'll be writing a longer piece on my website in the coming weeks (elisparry.github.io). If anyone has any questions about the Shikoku Henro, then please feel free to contact me through my website.

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