After long flights, braving typhoon weather and cancelled busses to get to the starting point - and setting out for an anticipated 80-day solo walking pilgrimage - within 30 minutes of walking and less than 10 minutes on the mountain trail... it was all over.
The ground was still wet from the typhoon rains. My right foot slipped, spraining slightly. I moved to save it - and the left ankle went, with me twisting and falling over, gently...
Shaken, I had to take my pack off in order to stand up. The ankle was sore, but slow movement was tolerable... I knew if I took off my boot to inspect the damage the injury would swell - and that would be the end of walking, so chose to keep walking in case it eased.
In hindsight it was stupid to keep walking. But setting out, alone, in a foreign country, was one of the hardest things I'd ever done - plus it had taken months of saving and preparation and planning - so letting go was literally a slow and painful process.
I was on the Choi Shi Michi on Koyasan, and it took between five to six minutes to cover the 108/109 meters between each stone marker (with my 20kg pack). I set out just after 9 - the injury took place between 9.30 and 9.45, but I kept going until 2.30, when I finally accepted this was the end of the road.
I had come alongside or crossed the tar road twice, but this was my first goal. The idea was to read this point and ideally camp and see how the leg was, or simply see how the leg was... but I'd known for a little while before I got there, that the leg was not going to carry me much further.
I walked into a Japanese tea room for help. Eventually a couple who could speak some English formulated a plan and took me back up the hill to the hospital on Koyasan. I was strapped into a half cast and told that I needed to see an orthopedic surgeon.
It was only once I was safely in my room at a temple lodging on Koyasan that I was finally able to get through to Bob (who had gone to Johannesburg to represent me for the Vodacom awards).
Bob got repatriation plans in motion, while I was taken down to Wakayama to the Red Cross Hospital and accommodated in a hotel nearby. The Japanese doctors eventually agreed that I was fit to fly as long as I had an injection the day of the flight to prevent blood clots... and I started my journey back home on an Emirates business class fight (nice).
I've now been back one week, and am starting to process the disappointment while simultaneously finding myself increasing curious as to the lesson / reason / greater scheme of things - wanting to know just why the universe appears to have had other plans for me.
Apart from the uncertainty and drama regarding whether I would be allowed to fly, and miscommunication between the Japan (giving permission) and SA (who did not know of my permission to fly so had not booked flights) there has also been some uncertainty as regards my treatment.
I was given the clear impression in Japan that I would need an operation, but in SA the trauma unit doctor was happy to align the bones while putting on a cast and then checking via X-ray that the alignment was OK. So second and third opinions have been sought.
I am due for an assessment tomorrow...
The leg is not sore, although a number of other areas ache as a result of poor posture to accommodate the need for elevating the foot and the lack of mobility and exercise is becoming increasingly annoying.
The expression of love, compassion and support that has flowed from people as a result had me wondering is his was not a way to bring some of the elements of the Shikoku experience (where people give gifts of money or food to pilgrims who they see as representing Kobo Daishi) home with me... although I expect there is more to it than that...
Looking forward - I'm still feeling a bit numb, but enjoying the feeling of looking out on a fairly blank canvas. I will be able to focus on the next steps once I now that the leg is encouragingly on the healing path. Then I can decide whether to pick up work or plan the next adventure.
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