The inns and outs of my walk into Japan's past

As I crouch to clamber through Maruya's tiny front door the words of its website come back to me. 'Here is not the haute cuisine which a famous cook makes. Here is not the luxurious equipment such as the high-quality hotel. But we do not think that we will change it. Because of we have you feel time of the travellers who do not change in old days.'

Yes it's clumsy, but as my eyes adjust to the dim light it strikes me as completely accurate. In the simple wooden hallway shoes lie in neat rows on the compressed dirt floor: only feet with socks on can step onto the worn tatami mat platform. To my right gently glowing embers heat a hanging kettle, the thick aromatic smoke drifting up into the rafters. Through a blue noren (a cloth room divider), a steep staircase leads to a second floor reminiscent of a granny's attic. It's overflowing with nick-nacks, dusty lamps squashed next to woven raffia donkeys. A half-finished tapestry sits on a large abandoned loom. It's dark and rustic and utterly charming.

Maruya is a minshuku, a class of small family-run lodgings usually overlooked by overseas travellers to Japan. Most tourists are seduced instead by the reputation of the ryokan, the high-class inns which offer exquisite antiques, a breathtaking banquet and glamorous kimono- clad staff. In contrast, Maruya's 60-year- old owner, Fujiwara Natsuko, is wearing a long black smock, loose beige trousers and thick pink socks. She wears glasses and curly hair piled high; her only nod to glamour is a slash of bright red lipstick. This is no tottering geisha.

But she successfully runs an inn that has given food and lodging to travellers since 1789. Kneeling by the steaming teapot she explains what makes the minshuku special: 'In a ryokan you arrive, go into your room and that is it, you don't get any communication with the people running the place, or other guests. But in a minshuku you meet people. In Japanese there is a phrase, kawaka sen, to meet faces. It is just friendlier.'

Then there's the cost. I've spent less that 24 hours in a ryokan and paid over £150. Minshuku offer a futon, breakfast and dinner for around £40. Found throughout the countryside, they offer good-value hospitality in family homes to travellers passing through.

I wanted to experience some traditional minshuku and had heard whispers of one particularly famous road, a 310-mile highway stretching from Kyoto to Tokyo. Called the Nakasendo, it was established in the eighth century and developed up until Edo times (the period from 1603 to 1868 when military rulers or shogun were in power) for the convenience of the travelling shogun and other feudal rulers. Snaking through the beautiful Kiso mountain region, it boasts 69 traditional post towns, many offering minshuku for the tired and hungry.

Problem is, my Japanese is as terrible as my sense of direction, so I join a walking tour being run by Paul Christie, owner of travel company Walk Japan and Nakasendo expert. The 12-day trip includes walks of up to 20km a day, with overnight stays at minshuku

In the small town of Ena I meet my fellow travellers, two Chinese-Americans, two Chinese-Canadians and a bouncing British family from Australia. We bond at the excellent woodcut museum, gazing at the exquisite images of the journey we are about to take. Then, merrily slapping ink onto wooden squares (think primary school potato-printing) we somehow transform our blank pieces of paper into colourful images of Edo Japan.

In the 17th century the Nakasendo would have been crowded with travellers. Now it is quiet, although we are far from the only pilgrims on the trail. Just outside Ena we meet Okamura-san, a white-haired gentleman in a traditional triangular woven hat and less traditional wraparound designer sunglasses. 'Lovely lady,' he croons, gripping my waist in what I consider a most un-pilgrim-like fashion. Like the sprightly pair of Japanese 60-somethings we later meet over a roadside green tea ice cream, he is spending weeks walking the entire Nakasendo, part of the growing number of Japanese to rediscover the road their ancestors might have trodden.

With the sun beaming down, we're on our way, past enormous colourful fish kites fluttering in the breeze and local farmers tilling their small rice fields. In the distance the mountains soar and by the roadside locals shout konichiwa while tending their lovingly-crafted gardens.

Paul is an excellent guide, a British born Japanophile whose passion for this region has not been dimmed by more than 50 journeys. Bilingual and with a wide knowledge of Japanese history and culture, he uncovers the mysteries of the road, translating the reconstructed proclamation boards (warnings of quack doctors and hidden Christians, apparently) and explains the most important rules of Japanese etiquette.

The afternoon's walk takes us through lush green valleys and up steep cobbled streets till I emerge, embarrassingly exhausted, at the door of our very first minshuku. Shinchaya used to be a teahouse, its two storeys of polished dark wood and curved ceramic roof tiles built at this spot in Edo times to entice weary walkers through its doors.

In the lobby, under the beady eye of a large stuffed pheasant, I hear the sounds of children playing: minshuku are family homes and here three generations live alongside the guests. I draw back the shoji (paper screen door) and enter my room, a smaller, simpler version of what I might find in a ryokan. It's tiny and tastefully shabby, with tatami matting, scuffed walls and a large square lacquered table.

I notice another difference. In ryokan the staff make up your bed; here you are on your own. Sliding open a second screen door to see a tower of futons, duvets, sheets and pillows I'm relieved to be called down to dinner.

In the long tatami dining room, dominated at one end by a large black statue and decorative dolls in glass cases, we sit on the floor and gaze at the numerous dishes before us. These range from the simple (vegetable tempura, including some mountain sprouts we were given as a gift by a shopkeeper along the way) to the downright strange (fried grasshoppers, which I immediately pass over to 12-year-old Max).

There are no en suites: toilets and sinks are shared and two piping-hot deep cedar ofuro baths are supplied to soothe aching bodies. The next morning I kneel on the tatami mat floor with owners Hara Norikazu and wife Takako, who are eager to share their secret to a great minshuku. 'Food. I am a farmer and everything on our table we produce. We use as few chemicals as possible. In the winter I hunt and everything else I grow.' How you hunt grasshopper remains a mystery but he does reveal the key to good service. 'It has to come from the heart,' he says solemnly, hand on his chest, before waving us on our way.

Nearby Magome is a town so picture-perfect it's like a Disney set. Low-rise dark wooden buildings have been converted into shops and cafes. On a steeply winding cobbled street a waterwheel splashes and dogs laze in the sunshine. Things take a more surreal turn when I meet the postman, who does his rounds dressed in traditional Edo costume: large hat, wooden box stuffed with letters and odd webbed boots. Revelling in his local celebrity status, he leads a double life - we meet again two hours later when he hands me a delicious bowl of steaming udon with mountain mushrooms at his nearby noodle cafe.

At this point we find ourselves sharing the Nakasendo with other groups. The stretch between Magome and the next town, Tsumago, has become a popular tourist destination, thanks to beautification efforts and the well-signposted 8km hike that links the two. Coachloads of Taiwanese shop up a storm, and classes of uniformed Japanese teenagers career down the hill, stopping politely to greet us before setting off again.

Passing late-blooming cherry trees we arrive at Otsumago, where Maruya is one of a cluster of buildings beside a slow-moving river. After a late afternoon in nearby Tsumago, a less twee but no less beautiful town than Magome, we sit down in our minshuku for dinner. The feast begins with fish and ends with bright blue pickled aubergine. There I meet Maruya's other guests: a Japanese foursome who explain they've been here before and will return again. They are weighed down with Louis Vuitton luggage - it clearly isn't the bargain price that brings them back.

The evening ends with a trip to the local onsen, to bathe in the hot volcanic springs beloved by the Japanese. Nerves over naked bathing with strangers melt away within minutes of entering the soothing baths. Then, dressed in our yukata (a light summer kimono provided by each minshuku) we pile back into our minibus like an overgrown school trip, singing karaoke tunes and laughing at our red faces.

The following days pass in a blur of long walks and delicious food. As we go deeper into the Kiso mountain region it becomes normal to spend mornings eating pickles and evenings in a kimono. As for the accommodation, Paul saves the best for last. After the triumph of climbing the steep Torii mountain pass we arrive in Narai, another beautifully preserved Edo town and home to Iseya, Japan's most famous minshuku

Stepping behind its latticed wood façade, I can see why this is. Constructed in 1818, the original building is all polished woods and warm lamplight. In the lobby, figurines of lucky waving cats bring good luck and wagasa (traditional paper umbrellas) hang prettily on the wall. Through a lovely Japanese courtyard garden is the more modern annexe, our tatami bedrooms bright and spotlessly clean.

Over a final feast we sip sake and reflect on our journey. The minshuku I've seen are moving with the times: English is improving and with almost half of all guests now non-Japanese, enthusiasm and a sense of humour can overcome any language barrier. But these inns are also firmly rooted in the past.

At 68, Iseya owner Sakai Yukiyoshi is proud to be keeping the minshuku tradition alive. 'The Nakasendo appears in Japanese novels,' he explains 'and people want to relive in a small way what they read - to stay the way it would have been in the past.' For him minshuku means history continues to come alive, at a price everyone can afford.

Six of the best Japanese minshuku

Miharashi, Nikko
Nikko is home to some of Japan's finest temples and shrines. A 30-minute bus ride away is beautiful Lake Chuzenji, and this minshuku offers rooms that look out over the water and the Kegon Falls.
£35 per person

Kanja, Shirakawa-go
This is one of the thatched-roof 'praying hand' houses famous in this region of Japan. Here guests in the five rooms gather around the traditional Japanese open hearth in the evening, or can take a stroll and enjoy the mountain view.
£45 per person

Korakukan, Jigokudani
This inn is tucked up high in the Nagano mountains. Soak in the outdoor hot spring baths, where, in winter, monkeys come for a dip. For those who'd rather not bathe with furry friends, indoor baths can be reserved.
£51 per person

Tsurunoyu, Nyuto Onsen
This charming wooden inn is set in little-visited northern Japan. All 30 rooms are spacious and the 350-year-old hot springs make it a wonderful retreat from fast-paced city life. Little English is spoken but a warm reception is guaranteed.
£41 per person
· All the minshuku above can be booked through japaneseguesthouses.com

Nitta-sou, Okinawa
Taketomi island in tropical Okinawa is famous for its traditional Ryukyu village and slower pace of life. Charming ox-drawn carts transport people during their trip, and the nine simple rooms at Nitta-sou minshuku are owned by the same company.
£25 per person; ishigaki.com/nitta/index.htm (Japanese only); 00 81 98 085 2201

Fuji-hakone guest house, Hakone
In the onsen hotspot of Hakone, Fuji is an ever-popular choice. It is run by the friendly English-speaking Takahashi family: guests get a small tatami room and access to the hot spring baths. Dinner not available.
£25 per person; 00 81 4 6084 6577; fujihakone.com

Essentials

Walk Japan's 'Nakasendo Way' tour runs in spring and autumn. The 12-night tour costs £1,700, including accommodation, travel during the tour and most meals. For more details see walkjapan.com. Flights to Tokyo with Japan Airlines cost from £583 including taxes (0845 774 7700; uk.jal.com). Kate Graham stayed at the following minshuku: Shinchaya (book through Magome Tourist, 00 81 264 592336) £36pp; Maruya (00 81 264 573117; tsumago-maruya.com) £38 ; Iseya, (00 81 264 343051; oyado-iseya.jp) £40.

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