I Thought I Knew

When I signed up for the Nakasendo Walk with Walk Japan, I had no idea what was ahead. So I used the next best thing—what others had experienced.

1. My friends, a couple in their seventies, had completed the same walk. I asked them probing questions like, “What did you love most?” and “What did you hate?” Rough terrain didn’t come up.
2. I watched two vlogs of a leisurely-paced “Nakasendo Walk,” mostly featuring slow strolls through the charming towns of Tsumago and Magome. I made a mental note of the steaming hot buns that looked especially inviting.
3. I watched the official promo video. It showed paved paths winding through forests, with sweeping views of mountains and valleys. I made another mental note: I’d be fine even without sunblock.

With these references, I concluded I could handle whatever came my way. My daily routine of jogging or walking 5km on flat ground would be enough.

By the end of the five-day walk, I had learned otherwise. I had been sitting in the false comfort of “knowing.” I knew nothing.

Our Day 1 began at Nakatsugawa-juku (中津川宿), winding through suburban towns on the yellow-and-white speckled pavement of the Nakasendo.  There were some slopes, but nothing too intimidating. In fact, it was more manageable than I had expected. My ego inflated when fellow tour members said that I looked “very fit.”

By Day 2, I started asking better questions about the walk by comparing everything to Day 1. When the tour leader mentioned two steep inclines between Magome and Tsumago, I asked,

“Is it steeper than yesterday?”

“Will we still be on paved roads?”

I was trying to anchor my expectations in what I had experienced. But the truth was, I hadn’t experienced enough for those reference points to be meaningful. Not yet.

Then came Day 3—the killer. It started at Karasawa Waterfall Walking Course where the sudden, steep, narrow incline caught me off guard.  Until then, I never had to stop mid-trail to catch my breath, but I found myself doing so numerous times on this one. From there, we moved onto wide mountain roads, then slipped straight into another round of forest trails. Just when I thought I had seen it all, we reached the descent from Shiroyama Observatory. That’s where I became Mike’s “rescue mission” for the day.

On Day 4, we had a decision to make. It was raining, and the tour leader gave us a choice: continue the hike or take the train straight to Narai town.  This time, I asked smarter questions:

“Is it like the forest trail we went through in Day 3, or is it paved roads like Days 1 and 2”?

“Would the trail be slippery in the rain?”

“Is the slope as steep as the one I could not get down from?”

With those answers, I chose to sit out from this one. Now I understood what the terrain actually meant, and what I could or couldn’t manage. “Wet slopes” weren’t just words anymore. I had slipped on one the day before.

Sometimes we ask too much upfront because we want guarantees. But until you’ve walked the path, most answers won’t make sense.

What matters is knowing how to keep going, stay alert, and recognising when to make the right call.

And yes, I did get to eat the hot, steaming bun in Magome. It was every bit as good as the vlogger promised!