Professionals-turned-pilgrims embrace Shikoku’s divine boredom

Wake up, walk, visit temples, walk again, bathe, eat, sleep. And repeat.

While this may sound monotonous to some, for those accustomed to working across time zones, maintaining ultra-connectivity via smartphones, social media and video chats, and trying to juggle work, family time and friendships, perhaps attaining boredom is the ultimate luxury?

Throughout Jane McBride’s 31-year law career that saw her serve as head of Hong Kong-based firm Deacons’ financial services regulatory team, downtime was the enemy. Then, when she retired, everything changed: From rounds of meetings and schedules divided into minute-long slots, her days became dedicated to walking for hours on end across the 1,200-kilometer loop of the Shikoku pilgrimage.

“As cliche as it sounds, besides the physical challenge of completing the whole pilgrimage, I also wanted to do it for the mental part,” says McBride, who split her time during her career between Hong Kong and Japan before relocating to Australia post-retirement. “In a way, this experience of just walking for hours every day is totally unproductive, and I wanted to move away from the mindset of having to be productive every minute of the day.”

Also called the 88-temple Shikoku pilgrimage, the circuitous journey is said to have originated in the 800s when the Buddhist monk Kukai, according to legend, spiritually trained at many of the stops along the way. The trail circles all four prefectures on the island of Shikoku with stops at 88 temples along the way. The total length can vary from around 1,200 to 1,400 kilometers depending on how you decide to route your journey and usually takes between four to six weeks to walk.

The physical challenge and chance to detach from regular life, just focusing on placing one foot after the other for hours on end, has a certain stoic appeal. For most Japanese pilgrims, the Buddhist connotations are the most important reason to set out, but international walkers feel the pull of the pilgrimage as well — around 2,500 non-Japanese people took on the journey in 2017, with at least some surely in search of the same solace and headspace to focus on nothing but the immediate challenges of the day that compelled McBride.

The career lawyer had been aware of the pilgrimage since her time as an exchange student in the city of Kochi in 1982, and it had been a fixture on her bucket list for decades yet perpetually postponed to a point in her life when she had enough time. When McBride finally retired at the end of 2020 and turned her back for good on high-pressure days subdivided into six-minute billable sections and on-call weekends, it was finally the chance to throw herself into the long, empty stretches of nothing but pounding pavement that make the Shikoku Pilgrimage famous.

When McBride told her friends and family that visiting all 88 of the temples was less important to her than the physical and mental challenge of completing the whole route (starting at “Temple 1,” or Ryozenji, in northeastern Shikoku and returning there after completing the full 1,400-kilometer circuit in the process), they were rather surprised at her reasons for going from executive to itinerant.

McBride herself had to plan to slow down by giving herself and her husband who joined her on the trip the option of taking days off from walking instead of powering through. Like a devout pilgrim, McBride was rewarded for her newfound mindfulness when she came across the most memorable stop of the journey at “Temple 37.”

“Iwamotoji in Kochi Prefecture was my favorite,” McBride says of her unrushed, two-day stopover at the temple known for its unique decor of paintings donated from across Japan back in the late-1970s. “The priest was so kind and friendly, and the Shimanto River and the scenery were serene and beautiful. And while it may seem obvious since it stands out so much, I also loved the temple’s ceiling, which is decorated with hundreds of different paintings in all sorts of styles.”

However, there’s no need to walk the entire 1,400-kilometer loop to get a taste of the benefits of unplugging from the daily grind.

Larry Bates, former managing executive officer and general counsel at Panasonic, completed the first 47 temple-stretch of the pilgrimage in one week in May 2022 by combining a transport service with sections of walking.

“Immediately after officially retiring, I saw my chance and took the plunge,” says Bates. “I booked a packaged service that included transport and accommodation just five days before setting out.”

With his responsibilities at work as well as to his husband and two children (who had returned to the United States before him), it had been 35 years since Bates had this kind of opportunity to explore. On his first night on the pilgrimage, Bates stayed in a temple lodging in Tokushima Prefecture and by chance was able to take part in a ceremony to pray for the deceased. Lighting a candle and watching it float aboard a small raft down a stream flanked with statues showing the life of the Buddha made him think about those dearest to him, Bates says. Before developing even one sore foot, the experience that first night gave him a reminder of the importance of life outside of the C-suite.

“Being fully present in the serenity of the temples and diverse landscapes and (during) spontaneous conversations with monks, shop owners and fellow pilgrims — the journey reminded me of the beauty and authenticity of traveling in the old days,” he says.

However, his week exploring Shikoku was not without some sobering realizations.

“My greatest takeaway from the pilgrimage was probably the physical challenge of the steep hills and stairs, which brought home that I want to keep myself in better shape,” he says. “It was an eye-opener to think about what I need to do at age 64 to see my kids properly grow up.”

If Bates’ and McBride’s experiences on the Shikoku pilgrimage mean anything, it’s that old dogs — even those used to wearing the whitest of collars — certainly can learn new tricks. However, these once timesheet-obsessed careerists had to use a few shortcuts to achieve their new introspective mindsets.

“There is a perception that you need so much time to do the pilgrimage,” says Bates, who wouldn’t have been able to walk the trail without his package transport and accommodation deal. “But there are services to help you organize it within the time you have.”

McBride, too, found herself with more peace of mind by forgoing pre-booking nightly lodgings and paying for laundry services and meals at trail-side minshuku (guesthouses) and ryokan (traditional Japanese inns) that she happened across when she grew too weary to go on.

“By not obsessing about the small fees, we were able to keep our luggage light and just focus on walking,” says McBride.

Perfection is indeed the enemy of good, and while its pursuit might have helped Bates in his professional life, he sought out the Shikoku pilgrimage — and recommends others do, too — for the antithesis of that results-driven urge.

“Just do one part, combining walking and transport (if you have to),” he says. “There is no need to do the whole thing by foot.”

But for those who do intend to seek the ultimate, mind-clearing clarity promised by the pilgrimage’s full route, that’s still no excuse to treat it like a multiclient project with an approaching deadline, warns McBride.

“You can’t be in a rush or penny pinch,” she says, “or you will miss the forest for the trees.”