Mount Koya - 10/10/12 - 18:14

I'm the only person sat on a bus waiting for it to leave. The bus driver is outside having a fag, biding his time before the exact time approaches for the two of us to head off. I'm quite sure I'll be his only passenger because he is the first person I've seen for half an hour (having just escaped a rather ghoulish fate at the hands of 9th century zombies). Despite it being 6 o'clock, it feels more like midnight in this remote mountain-top town; everything shutting shop as soon as the sun goes down. To be honest, I think the driver is keeping his distance. He's probably understandably curious about this strange out of breath gaijin who five minutes earlier was frantically chasing his bus (thinking it was leaving, when in fact it was just arriving), babbling to him words of gratitude in an alien tongue. However, I don't care. I'm just waiting for my heart rate to slow down. My rational mind is telling me to pull myself together, for goodness sake, it's not like I was in any real danger… Was I?!

I'll start at the beginning. I had decided to shun the bustle of Osaka for one day and venture 900metres above sea level to the monastery town of Koya-san, hidden in the lush and lumpy landscape of the Wakayama region. Getting here was no small feat; three trains, one steep cable car and a bus got me to the centre of town, and even here I found the standard hoards of snap-happy tourists. Despite the ancient temples, shrines and age-old Buddhas around, what impressed me most were the sheer deluge of monasteries built. Back in the 9th century some holy dude (Kobo Daishi - the 'master of all trades' Da Vinci of Japan) decided to set up his own school of Buddhism here; Shingon Buddhism. A few thousand monks hastily jumped on the bald-headed bandwagon and at one time there were 1500 monasteries here, which make the current fifty-two seem a bit paltry in comparison.

Getting into the backpacking spirit I decided to venture to the East of town into the famed cemetery of Okunoin just before dusk to experience the place at its most quiet and atmospheric. As far as I was aware, several hundred lanterns light up the trail that separates approximately 200,000 moss-covered stone stupas. Although I was informed that this is the largest graveyard in Japan, I wasn't prepared for the sheer spectacle of ancient stone; every patch of land inhabited, ten-foot high monuments looming over you with venerable grace. Giant cedar trees stood scattered among the stone, so old they looked like you could snap their crumbling barks in two.

This is the 'Hollywood Walk of Fame' of the Buddhist world; apparently everyone in Japan wants a piece of the action. Even Panasonic has a plot reserved for employees, with a convenient box where people can drop their business cards (a popular social custom in Japan - though I can't think what these spirits will want with your email address in the afterlife).

Every crooked route I took off the path led to further shrines, deserted mausoleums, rows of smiling Buddhas serenely contemplating the view. Many of the smaller Buddhas were dressed in brightly coloured bibs, hung there by grieving parents to help their lost children find peace in the afterlife. It goes without saying that my Sony NEX-3 and I were in snap-happy HEAVEN. So much so, I happily ignored the fact that the only people I met along the way (among them several bald-headed pilgrims) were headed in the opposite direction - the exit. Stubborn as ever, I was getting to the end of that two-kilometre pathway if it killed me. By the time I reached the mausoleum of Kobo Daishi, in the centre of the forest, it was already quite dark. Besides the giant mausoleum, what faced me was a wooden building filled with ten thousand oil lamps that are kept constantly alight (seriously…who risk assessed that? No wonder most of the traditional historical structures in Japan are modern replicas of buildings lost in fires). According to legend, two of the lamps have been kept burning since the 11th century, which I suppose accounts for that giant hole in the ozone layer…

I was suddenly very aware that I was the only person in the middle of this vast, unfamiliar cemetery and decided it was probably time to calmly (but briskly) head to the nearest exit. Only, I wasn't exactly sure where that was. And the thing about Japan is, if you're lost on your own with only kanji characters for directions and a bad map...you can either wait for someone to come along or keep walking and hope for the best. The 'ten-foot high monuments looming over you with venerable grace' didn't seem so endearing after all and I remembered a local man earlier that day teasing me about the spirits that lingered in the cemetery after dark. I had laughed at him at the time but as I was making my way down the interminably long pathway I half-expected Michael Jackson and his hoard of '80's clad zombies to crawl up from the mossy growth... Yes, I did learn the 'Thriller' dance at drama-school but I've never been one for co-ordination.

So there was I - less 'Rage, rage, against the dying of the light' and more… casual jog.

By the time I found the exit my rational mind had finally decided to show up and as usual he begrudgingly cleaned up the mess left by my reckless imagination. Street lights! Cars! Civilisation! Hurrah! I suppose I didn't really need to worry; an ancient Buddhist cemetery is the last place you'd need to whip out your rape alarm. If you're going to get chased by some mean-looking ghouls, 1200 year old vegans are probably a good way to go.