Final photo of season, one of very first I took on Kii Peninsula some eight years ago, the peninsula along which we’ve been traveling together for twenty-two weeks, and here, in this first photo, having stepped off train at Kamikosawa, John asks for directions and you can see two men — station attendee and local — already ensnared by strange voodoo of John, him seducing flabbergasted countryside old folks (supernumerary to most walks, key to ours) into thinking about specifics of their environs, and they dole out delight (perhaps to their own surprise!) and they are bedazzled by the strange kindness of this strange Australian, and so these men here, standing before Kamikosawa — first to be charmed on our adventures — point towards a distant ridgeline we’d soon plainly roam, chōishi-no-michi, full path starting down below at Kudoyama, but us, on this first walk — this first walk into Kumano Kodō land — begin partway up, old wooden signage with handwritten letters pointing elsewhere, corner of a newer sign in bottom left of frame (probably pointing in yet another direction), heads of the men form a mirror ridgeline, fingers and hands and arms yet another, intersecting lines, what I remember most about this moment is how foreign and unknowable it all felt, an impenetrable newness, and for a second five lives (Derro just out of frame) converge and information is exchanged and, with a dollop of confidence, we take the very first steps of the long walk that starts it all.