Tokaido Day 1 – Thursday, 9 November: Nihombashi to Kawasaki (22 km)

Link to GPS track

Any sense of excitement at the dawn of the day that I would actually start this thing I’d been planning for so long was somewhat subsumed by the need to organise my gear and arrange for stuff I wouldn’t need for a couple of days to be sent on to the next hotel. The front desk staff at the Hotel Sunroute in Asakusa were, of course, extremely helpful and told me that the bag would arrive at the Terminal Hotel in Odawarra the next day. That still left me with a pack that was heavier than I’d been expecting – I guess about 15 kg – and it was with a slight sense of trepidation that I checked out and headed to the subway to catch the Ginza line to Nihombashi. 

Nihombashi – which I think just means ‘Japan bridge’ – marks the start of the Tokaido and is traditionally the place from which all distances to Tokyo are measured. Today its historical significance is not immediately apparent, not least because of the dominating freeway overpass that crosses above. However, the city has made some attempt to acknowledge the bridge’s past with markers denoting its role as the zero point and distances to various cities.

And so, at 9.30am, after a deep breath and a quick pause for a selfie, I took a single step and began the long walk to Kyoto.

The first few kilometres are an incongruous experience for anyone who knows a little about the history of the Tokaido. Today, Ginza is Tokyo’s swankiest shopping district, and I felt very out of place as I trudged past upmarket department stores and luxury-brand boutiques. A pavement-blocking crowd waited outside one department store, and surged inside as a nearby clock chimed 10 o’clock. In terms of scenic beauty, however, it left a lot to be desired.

A little further on I passed my first roadside shrine and stopped to pay my respects, doing my best to remember the proper etiquette (wash left hand, wash right hand, rinse mouth, throw the offering into the box, ring the bell, clap twice, bow twice, clap once, bow once). I plan to do the same each day of the walk, hopefully early in the day.

The juxtaposition of old and new in this photo seems very Japanese.

A little further on, two cartloads of preschoolers were being ferried across the busy street and into their nursery.

At Shinawaga, a section of the old barrier wall has been preserved on the footpath. This formed part of one of the Tokaido checkpoints, set up by the Shoguns in Edo (Tokyo) to keep weapons out of the city and women in. Weapons were kept out to prevent insurrection; women were kept in because daimyo (feudal lords) were required by the Shogun to maintain two residences: one in their home territory and one in Edo – and Edo was where their family had to remain. The daimyo themselves had to make the trip from their provincial home to Edo (and back) at least once a year, travelling along the Tokaido or other roads heading north or west from the city.

A couple of kilometres further on, the route swings left, away from the highway, over some railway tracks and into the back streets of Shinagawa.

This is the first taste of the Old Tokaido and a welcome relief from the multi-lane highway I’d been following until now. Plaques on street poles noted the street’s historical significance (Kyu-Tokaido means ‘old Tokaido’).

A few kilometres further on the Old Tokaido rejoins the modern highway at the site of Tokyo’s former execution ground.

According to Google, the translation reads, “Tokyo historical site Suzugamori execution ground ruins”. For anyone travelling on foot, this spot is a long way from the old centre of Edo. Plenty of time for the condemned to reflect on their misdeeds, or perhaps a recognition of the essentially shameful nature of state-sanctioned killing.

Along the highway, and then another fork to the left into quiet and narrow back streets. Here, the local authority has noted the history of the road with kerbside stones decorated with scenes from the past. 

Throughout the day, many people glance at the tall Westerner. One or two smile or nod. I don’t know if they realise what I’m up to: certainly I didn’t see anyone else who was obviously doing the same trek as me. Older people are generally a little more inclined to acknowledge me. One obasan stared as I passed her little shop.

At Ota the route rejoins the highway and continues straight as an arrow for 5 km to Rokugodate. This was boring walking in a semi-industrial landscape next to a busy highway. The monotony was broken only by a pedestrian safety controller working with a group of tree loppers, who blew his whistle as I approached to warn the workers (not that that seemed to make any difference to what they were doing), held out his red flag to indicate the (perfectly obvious) route of safe passage and bowed as I passed.

Eventually, after navigating a series of slip roads and overpasses, I climbed a set of stairs onto my first big river crossing, over the Tama River, with the towers of Kawasaki clustered on the far side.

Once over the river, it was only half a kilometre or so to the JR Kawasaki station, from where I caught the train onward to Odawara, my base for the next five nights. The train was packed with commuters for the first half of my trip, and I had to hold the pack in one hand while clutching a strap for balance in the other. After walking 20+ kilometres, my legs were not enjoying the additional strain. Fortunately, by the time we reached Ofuna I was able to get a seat and spent the rest of the journey in relative comfort.

It was dark by the time I got to Odawara, and I was too tired for sightseeing. The Terminal Hotel is very close to the station in a street lined with dining options, and after an attempt at a muscle-relieving soak in a tiny bathtub I tried my dining luck in a nearby izakawa. My attempt at ordering in Japanese was a dismal failure, but the extraordinarily patient waitress eventually managed to explain the menu to me and I ordered oden – which turned out to be a number of fish cake-like items plus a hard-boiled egg swimming in broth. That, along with a beer, hit the spot, and I was soon back in my room and ready to hit the sack.

I’m on the road to Kyoto.

Tokaido prologue

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