Early on a Sunday morning in May, I departed from a commuter train station in Osaka on a perfectly ordinary train to an extraordinary place - Koyasan - Mt. Koya. The train made its way almost straight across the plain, through tightly-packed apartments, to less crowded-looking suburban towns, to fields, and into the darkness of the mountain woods. The woods loomed ever larger until the trees, tall, thick and perfectly straight, enveloped the train, the tracks and the people.

The train wound up the slope of the mountain, stopping frequently at little platforms serving little villages tucked in the folds. Then, about halfway up, the passengers were obliged to move to the front of the train, as its full length made it too heavy to travel the steep grade from there. From the shortened train, I looked out and down at the scenery outside - trees all around, hundreds of feet tall, and perfectly straight; punctuated by an occasional rushing stream. It looked like the perfect place for the Sunday hikes ubiquitously popular in Japan.

At the end of the train line, we disembarked to a waiting cable car that rose at a 45-degree angle for about 20 minutes to the top of the mountain. The scenery changed. No more little villages, no hiking trails visible, just the track, undergrowth and forest.

The passengers had winnowed down to a small number of middle-aged and older Japanese who talked excitedly among themselves and took pictures of each other standing unsteadily on the raked floor of the car. They were not tourists, exactly; they were pilgrims, spiritual tourists, as it were; like myself, in a way.

The Shingon Mikkyo sect of Buddhism is headquartered here on Koyasan, as it has been since its founding by a holy man, Kobo Daishi sama, 1200 years ago. Koyasan is mentioned in many old texts as an important site of pilgrimage for nobles and members of the warrior class. References to Koyasan are scattered throughout the Heike Monogatari, as members of the Heike clan journeyed there to make peace with their faith before surrendering themselves or (more likely) taking their own lives. Though I would spend the next two days exploring the huge temple complexes and incredibly vast graveyard at Koyasan, I had other reasons to go there.

At the cable car station I was met by a smiling middle aged American. His head was shaved, making him look younger, and he was dressed in a blue work suit of sorts - loose trousers and a tunic that tied across his chest, and white sneakers. Back in the 70's in the U.S., he was Tom Dreitlein, Columbia University graduate student. Now, since the mid-1990's he is Eijo, an ordained monk of the Shingon sect.

Tom Dreitlein was also an early NY Iaikai (now NY Budokai) student. As an East Asian Studies major at Columbia, "Tom Sensei" turned his penchant for observation and note-taking into our Dojo manual, An Introduction to the Technique and Principal of Japanese Fencing (copyright 1978, 2000), twenty years ago. I was there not just to explore the old temples and renew my acquaintance with Eijo san, but to get his opinion on the rewrite of the manual, which I had brought with me. I was also looking forward to having the opportunity to chat with someone who has become a sort of legend in our dojo. That would make him laugh, but along with Otani Sensei, Tom Sensei has become a mentor to two generations of iaido students at NYB who have read endlessly reproduced photocopies of his meticulously organized curriculum guide.

Eijo san led me to his gray minivan in the station parking lot, and we set off on the ten-minute drive to the center of town. The weather was pleasant and the air was cool and clear. The little town of Koyasan consists of a few streets of houses, shops and restaurants, all surrounded by and interwoven with over 100 Buddhist temples - BIG Buddhist temples, with commanding gates and imposing entryways. We stopped at the edge of one whose outer wall met the street and he led me inside to register for my stay. This temple, like some others, was also a ryokan (traditional Japanese guest house) for visiting pilgrims and strays like myself.

We were shown into a very comfortable room with sliding glass doors that overlooked the temple garden. Eijo san made tea while we caught up on dojo news (for him) and lore (for me). I had told him about the dojo manual rewrite project (in part, to make sure I had his permission). He expressed surprise that the manual was still in use. He agreed we could do what we liked with Part I, which is technical and deals with aspects of NYB's curriculum. He asked that we not alter "Part II: Principles" - the section that contains translations of philosophical stories, poems and observations on the Japanese martial arts. Eijo san said one of the things that led him from iaido to older martial arts forms (eventually to Yagyu Shinkage ryu) was the lack of a formal canon of philosophical writing underpinning the techniques. Though iaido is based on older forms of swordsmanship, as a modern budo form, it lacks a specific literary or philosophical history. Therefore in Part II, Eijo san felt it was important to include some writings that could fill this gap. Were the translations all original, as he stated in the introduction? Absolutely, he replied, having done them himself while at Columbia. Pretty cool.

The next day, I got up early for morning chant at the temple (jetlag makes you do things you never thought you could). After a superb vegetarian breakfast, I set off for the cemetary.

This was not just any cemetary. There were tens of thousands of gravestones stretching off from a wide path in every direction into the trees and rocks of the mountainside. Many notable figures from Japanese history (including Lord Asano of the the Ako Ogishi story) have gravestones here, though without a guide map it is nearly impossible to find a specific stone. A grave is not quite the same as we normally think of it - a stone could just as easily mark a piece of clothing or a lock of hair as a body (or body parts). For example, Musashi Miyamoto has (at least) three graves in different parts of Japan.

The stone path ultimately led to the grave of Kobo Daishi sama, housed in a splendid, though somber temple across a small bow bridge. Among many other accomplishments as a scholar and teacher, Kobo Daishi sama invented the hiragana method of writing Japanese. As a perpetual student of the language, I owe him a debt for my small measure of literacy, so it was nice to pay my respects.

I spent the balance of the day wandering around the vast temple complexes and some of the small shops. I also visited the Nyooin-do, a women's prayer pavillion located outside of one of the city gates. So closely was Koyasan connected with monasticism, women were not allowed to enter the town until the 1870's, so the prayer houses were built to accommodate them. This was a very popular spot with the mostly-female pilgrims, and was therefore a very moving place to visit.

I returned to the temple ryokan in time for another incredible vegetarian meal accompanied by a huge bottle of beer, and a bath. I can honestly say there isn't much nightlife in Koyasan.

Eijo san came to the temple after dinner with a big plastic container full of pages from the original typewritten manuscript of our manual, pages of translations of writings on budo and best of all, old maki (scrolls) on various martial arts. We played with these for several hours; though he admitted he hadn't looked at them in years. A Genroku period scroll with stick figure illustrations looked familiar. It should be, he said, as he used the sword-wielding stick figures as illustrations for the manual. While other scrolls were picked up at Tokyo flea markets, this one was a gift from Otani sensei and was one of the finest in his small collection.

Tuesday early afternoon, it was time to return to Osaka. Eijo san walked me to the bus stop that would take me to the cable car station. Earlier in my visit, I had to ask him: did he still practice? He smiled. No, he said, though he noted that would probably disappoint some people he knew. He pointed out, in spite of the popular and mostly Western notions connecting martial arts with Zen and/or Buddhism, Buddhism's prohibition of killing was directly antithetical to most martial arts practices. Like the kabuki play Kumagai Jinya, I said. Kumagai was forced to take the life of his own son in order to spare the son of his lord. Immediately afterward, he took the tonsure to become a monk. He left the life of a warrior forever, exiting down the hanamichi runway to the strains of a lone shamisen. Was it like that? Yes, he said, it was just like that.