On the second day, I set out to conquer the Ogumotori-goe, one of the toughest sections of Nakahechi. At the entrance of the Nachi Taisha shrine, I encounter two young Japanese women dressed in the seven-layered pilgrimage kimono of the Heian period. It took them 15 minutes to don the complete outfit, and the pair have just completed a two-and-a-half-kilometre walk in full costume and makeup. But it’s not only about the photos. It’s also about getting a sense of the past.

“With these tight robes and straw sandals, it was hard to walk – every step had to be carefully thought out,” one, whose family name is Ueto, tells me. “But since we couldn’t do the whole of the sacred trail, we wanted to get a sense of how it used to be.” It’s said that the longer you stay on the trails and the more effort you put into your hike, the likelier it is that your prayers will be answered. Opinions may vary. But to me, even over just a kilometre or two, every step leaves a trace.

Spanning 14.5km from the Nachi Taisha shrine to Koguchi village, the Ogumotori-goe is physically challenging because of its 500m elevation and an 840m descent over rugged terrain towards the end. The path is covered in moss, making it particularly slippery during and after rain, and refreshment kiosks are rare.

I come across a group of eight German hikers at the rest stop which marks the one-time Jizo-jaya Teahouse, about halfway along the route. Each had set their own pace; each turned inwards as they walked, sometimes together; sometimes alone. They laugh and talk now, resting in the heart of the forest. The joy of a long mountain journey; a snapshot of the journey through life.