DESTINATIONS

Matsuo Basho's haiku springs to my mind as I gaze upon the verdant, fog-cloaked mountains that tower above me on all sides. A silver stream gurgles gently over the rocks that line its bed. A cluster of wooden houses with grey-tiled roofs nestle in the fecund valley where farmers are busy preparing the soil for seeding. A late blooming cherry tree festooned with pale pink blossoms stands majestically at the top of the road overlooking a Shinto shrine.

The words of the 17th-century poet still resonate today: 'It is with awe/That I beheld/Fresh leaves, green leaves/Bright in the sun.' It feels a world away from the neon lightscapes of Tokyo and Osaka — the kinetic Japan of pachinko parlours, karaoke bars and shinkansen bullet trains. For a moment I am transported to the bygone era of shoguns and samurai, until I hear our guide's cry, 'Watch out!', and a Hino truck thunders past me, breaking the spell.

Welcome to the Nakasendo Highway, the Central Mountain Road of feudal Japan, which once connected the imperial capital, Kyoto, with the Tokugawa military capital Edo (modern-day Tokyo). It has remained relatively unchanged since the 1800s, something I discover courtesy of Walk Japan, specialists in off-the-beaten-track tours of the country.

This tour was first suggested to me last February, but then the earthquake and tsunami on 11 March engulfed Japan. The nuclear crisis made matters worse, driving away visitors, even from places such as Hokkaido, Osaka, Kyoto, Nara, Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Okinawa, which were unaffected by the disaster. For the thousands of Japanese who rely on tourism for their livelihood, the delicate, tragic beauty of the cherry-blossom season must have seemed like a cruel metaphor for their own travails.

Walk Japan temporarily suspended its tours. But when they were resumed in May, I knew it was time to go back. My only fear was whether I would be able to take the exertion, not having hiked in more than a decade. But Paul Christie, the knowledgeable and affable CEO of Walk Japan, assured me I would be fine. 'It's a walk, not a trek. If you can walk for three to four hours, you can do this as well.'

Armed with a backpack, some courage and the optimistic belief that, if nothing else, the trip might help me shed some weight, I take the shinkansen bullet train to Nagoya, followed by a local train to the quaint provincial town of Nakatsugawa. It is here that I join my fellow travellers — two Britons (Paul and a trainee guide), two Americans, eight Australians and our Japanese photographer. And just ten minutes later I'm walking the Nakasendo. It feels surreal to be traversing the same road that was once taken by royalty and imperial officials, feudal lords, samurai, itinerant merchants and pilgrims.

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