It takes some time getting to Chikubujima. You first must take a train up to Biwa’s narrow northern shoulder, eternally bullied by the brawny peaks of Hirasan above. A boat will then take you to the island. On approach it looks in decay, centuries of guano having stripped many of the trees and eroded the slopes. Just off the boat, a photographer snipes you paparazzi style, then later will try to bilk you of 1000 yen. A flight of very steep steps begin here, leading up to the main grounds. Our group of five detours first to the shrine. Along the way, a couple of smaller shrines hug the islands ridges, one to the white snake god (which I now know is a manifestation of Benzaiten/Benten) and another to the black dragon god of rain. It is easy to imagine the latter, rolling slowly across the waters of the lake, to wreak fury on the islanders who’d chosen to live in the middle of one of the oldest lakes in the world. No one lives there now, except for a handful of priests. One of them sells religious trinkets in a small structure that seemed to defy gravity. For a couple hundred yen you can buy two small disks, write prayers on them, then fling them sidearm through the torii arch that rests on a rocky promontory below.

We wander down a small path to find a cluster of buildings that offers the required view and place to sit. Lunchtime. Above us, cormorants play gargoyle in the bare trees. Now and again a hawk will cruise by, eyeing our food but acting cool about it. We follow the trail a bit more down to the water, where we find what has probably been an old boat launch. Compared to the busy port on the other side of the island, this is very low tech, with a mere two pieces of rope. I wonder how many monks escape at night, to row over to mainland bars and brothels.

We walk back through the shrine and up to the Buddhist buildings above. There used to be more of a fusion here, but now the two religions have been sent to their neutral corners. The buildings are amongst the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, with gorgeous curved roofs, faded wood, and detailed animal carvings. Hōgonji’s main hall elicits respect as it climbs skyward above the trees. Among other things, there is a carving of En-no-Gyōja here (though under a different name), a long hall built from the wood of warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s boat, and Kannon statues showing her in all her various manifestations, as if it were Oscar night. Plus the obligatory statue of Kobo Daishi standing proudly overlooking all.

I stop by the noykojo and get my last stamp of the Saikoku Kannon 33 Temple pilgrimage. I’m quiet for a while after this, and I’m not sure why. When I started this pilgrimage in June 2002, I did it for my former father-in-law, then diagnosed with stomach cancer. I’m not much one for prayer, but I want to dedicate the spirit of my efforts to him and his fight. Little did I know then that I’d lose my own son four months later, with my father-in-law following three months to the day after that. I suppose my quiet today is due to their being with me as I close this sacred circle.

As we make our way back down to the boats, dragonflies swirl above us, appropriate to an island where the spirits of the dead are reputed to live. The ride back is cooler, the humidity and clouds of the morning burned off, the sky rich and blue, the details of the surrounding peaks vivid. A short walk off the ferry in Omi Imazu we find a quiet stretch of beach and baptize ourselves in the waters of the lake. Later, back in Kyoto, we’ll take sacrament in the form of pizza and beer.

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For more by Edward J. Taylor, please check out this travel piece along Korea’s east coast, or this account of the Hoshi Matsuri, or this personal account of Japan’s hosting of the World Cup, or this article on visiting Cuba, or this lighthearted look at walking along the Kamogawa.