KADENA AIR BASE, Japan. -- WAKAYAMA PREFECTURE, Japan — The trip began with darkness and expectation.
At 4:50 a.m., Dec. 4, 2025, twelve members from Kadena Air Base, including ten active-duty Airmen, spouses, and two local guides, Mr. Naoki Uchida and Mr. Jun Izena, gathered outside the Schilling Center. Rucks were strapped tight, boots laced, and a quiet energy of nerves and excitement filled the cool morning air. It felt like a pre-dawn showtime for a mission unlike any other.
You could feel it before anyone spoke. This wasn’t just travel. This wasn’t just hiking. This was a pilgrimage.
Each person boarded the bus with a different purpose. Some sought a spiritual reset, others a physical challenge or an emotional release. The same trail waited, but for twelve very different reasons.
On the ride to Naha Airport, Chaplain Mark Bradshaw challenged the group to disconnect completely and let the ancient Kumano Kodo do what it had done for pilgrims for more than a thousand years.
“You will get out of it what you’re willing to let go of,” he said.
Then the sun rose. As the plane broke through the clouds, golden light filled the cabin. It felt as though the trail was already calling.
An Ancient Path of Purification
For centuries, emperors, monks and seekers of renewal have walked the Nakahechi route to the Three Grand Shrines of the Kumano Kodo. They climbed steep ascents, crossed deep valleys, and endured hardship to find clarity. The journey itself is a form of Misogi, a Japanese practice of purification through struggle and surrender.
That is what Team Kadena stepped into.
Day 1: Awe and Burn
The trail began with stone steps winding through 800-year-old cedar giants. At one point, the path passed between two massive trunks known as the “husband and wife” trees, a gateway into another world.
Soon, the burn set in. Legs shook, breath grew heavy, and sweat rose into the cold air.
At the summit, Nachi Falls came into view. Japan’s tallest waterfall thundered through mist and the smell of burning cedar. The moment silenced everyone.
But awe never erases effort.
Fourteen miles and 4,500 feet of elevation pushed each person deep within. When the group reached Koguchi, temperatures dropped quickly. Their guide, Naoki, quietly arranged access to a nearby onsen where warm water met frozen hands and feet. It felt like grace.
That night around the fire, Airman 1st Class Harley Silvia reflected, “Out here, you stop obsessing over small things. The trail forces you to look wider, to see the bigger picture.”
Later, Naoki admitted, “Today was much harder than I imagined. I felt like I should have done better as your guide.” His words carried the familiar ache of perfectionism, that belief that everyone deserves grace except you. The trail was already stripping things away, starting with that illusion.
As the temperature dropped below freezing, few slept well. Misogi had begun.
Day 2: Famine to Feast
We woke to frosted tents and stiff boots. The morning coffee tasted like survival. By mid-morning, cedar forests gave way to bamboo tunnels, and bamboo opened into glowing moss valleys.
Somewhere between trail markers, Staff Sgt. Kylie Glover shared, “I learned I don’t have to be the best at everything. When I slowed down and stayed present, I realized how blessed I am.”
After another eleven miles and three thousand feet of elevation, the group reached Kawayu, greeted by a riverside hotel, a feast and a hot river onsen beneath a full moon. Lanterns flickered along the water’s edge as steam rose into the night.
Conversations deepened. Jacob spoke about beginnings and endings, saying, “All chapters close the moment you begin. To open yourself to something new, you must also accept the end.”
Capt. Cristian Turain added, “Life is a mosaic of what we collect. But pilgrimages like this teach us the beauty of what we finally leave behind.”
Misogi cleans through contrast, and this day was in every direction.
Day 3: The Valley That Tested Everyone
The third day began beneath the towering torii gate of Hongu Taisha. The moment felt sacred. Chaplain Bradshaw gathered everyone for silence and reflection before the climb began.
Seventeen miles and three thousand feet of elevation tested both body and spirit.
Boots struck stone. Breath rose in the cold. Conversation gave way to endurance.
Senior Airman William Tabone reflected, “The trail forces you to empty your mind. Only then can you experience real presence, ichinen, and your own potential.”
Later, Chaplain Juan Reyes said, “We all have lids that keep us from going deeper, whether we put them there ourselves or others do. Out here, those lids have nowhere to hide.”
Mrs. Mari Kwawegen added, “Life is like a trail. When things get hard, keep your head down and stay present. Look up at the wrong time, and you fall.”
By nightfall in Chikatsuyu, exhaustion met transformation. The valley had done its work.
Day 4: Rebirth Through Stone
The final morning brought ten more miles and another three thousand feet of climbing. Bodies ached, but spirits stayed strong.
Near the end, the trail offered a final test: a narrow cave barely wide enough to crawl through, known as the “rebirth tunnel.” Emerging on the other side felt awkward, humbling and exactly right.
Senior Airman Noah Loomis said, “Every conversation becomes part of a bigger shared story. No single moment defines you. There’s always another step ahead.”
Naoki, guiding his first full Kumano Kodo trek, later said, “It was much harder than I imagined, and I felt like giving up many times. Each time, everyone’s support helped me keep going. The trail has ups, downs and flat parts, just like life.”
The trail finished us, and in doing so, made room for something new.
The Final Night: Seeds and Sparks
At dinner in Tanabe, Chaplain Bradshaw passed around small seed pods. At first they seemed simple, forgettable. Then he explained that one pod can become a forest if it falls, breaks open and gives itself away.
“The same is true for each of you,” he said. “What you gained here—your resilience, your clarity—can be planted in others. Every lesson, every struggle, every moment of clarity can grow far beyond this trail.”
His words brought me back to Naoki’s apology that first night. A seed pod isn’t perfect either, but its strength comes from breaking open. Maybe that’s what Misogi truly is: releasing what weighs us down so something stronger can grow.
We arrived as twelve individuals with our own hopes, doubts and battles. We left as something else: a team, a story, a forest just beginning to grow.
The Kumano Kodo didn’t just challenge us; it changed us. Like thousands of pilgrims before, we emerged purified by the path.
If you’re reading this, consider it your invitation. Do something hard. Something unfamiliar. Something that pushes you into your own peaks and valleys.
Misogi isn’t about hiking, Japan or mountains. It’s about stepping willingly into discomfort long enough to become someone new.
The outcomes are always the same: clarity, strength, humility and a renewed readiness to serve.
The path purified us.
What path will purify you?