ORANGE, BEIGE AND blue crabs surface from the leaf matter and scuttle sideways underfoot. Crustaceans in the forest? The closest I’ve seen is coconut crabs in the jungles of the Solomon Islands, but they were big, slow and few. These Japanese freshwater crabs are potato-chip-sized, fast and countless, pincering this way and that, narrowly avoiding death beneath my boot.
Ahead, a caretaker of the Tosa Salt Road, Shingo Nishoka, steadies his gait with a bamboo staff. Its sound, a bright and woody clack, is unchanged from 400 years ago when this trail was trafficked by merchants and beasts of burden ferrying salt inland from the coast, and mountain bounty, such as mushrooms, charcoal and mulberry tree bark, back out. Nishoka isn’t wearing the straw sandals they wore then. But neither…