cover photo of Mt Fuji by Daniel Hehn
There is a saying in Japan – “You are wise to climb Fuji once and a fool to climb it twice.” (or some variation)
So that’s what we did, just another two of the 200,000+ climbers each year and part of the 30% foreigners. Yep, we climbed all the way to the rocky top of this 12,390 feet volcano.
Mount Fuji is the symbol of Japan, both a cultural and spiritual symbol. This famous lone peak is the subject of poetry and art through the ages, never mind all the postcards. The image of a snow-capped Fuji is a familiar one. And it’s the “mecca” of pilgrimages.
For us, it was a uniquely Japanese experience, even if the majority of the Japanese haven’t actually made the climb.
Off to the Starting Point
Early Monday morning we headed for the Shinjuku bus station for our 2 1/2 hour trip to gogome (5th station) on the Kawaguchiko trail. The traditional way, the way of the pilgrims, is to climb from the base. For us, the plan was to take it easy, avoid altitude sickness, get to our hut the Fujisan Hotel at the 8th station before dark for a meal and a nap, before reaching the top for the sunrise. We bypassed the tradition of purification and prayers before the climb.
At gogome, we bought a walking stick (to get the souvenir insignia burnt into it at the stations), used the loo, took some pictures, and off we went. We were expecting a slow steady climb but were immediately faced with some steep stretches. Luckily it was overcast and relatively cool. Ours was a leisure pace and we rested often on the mist-filled trail, drinking copious amounts of water to keep hydrated. With horrid images and actual experiences of hole-in-the-ground toilets, I even braved the bathroom at one point. I was very much relieved (pun intended) to be inside a cedar-filled cabin and an ultra clean bathroom. The last bathroom before the 8th (last) station.
The Climb up Mt Fuji
The climb was a solo one, single file, alone with our own thoughts. I just kept looking where I was stepping, especially on the more vertical passes. That walking stick and the chain link handrails really helped.
Sometimes I forgot we were actually on the side of a volcano. There was very little to look at, except stubborn tuffs of tiny plants and flowers here and there. Otherwise it was red rock all around.
It was pretty amazing when we climbed out of the cloud bank.
Meanwhile we were passing people sucking on their oxygen cans. Altitude sickness affects people differently and being fit or young isn’t a guarantee against it. I’ve heard it described as kryptonite to Superman – life draining. And I remember my mom’s stories of her trip to Tibet, where she spent most of the time lying down, feeling terrible and this is a Migraine Warrior, no stranger to debilitating conditions. So to be honest, I was a little worried, what with my motion-sickness issues, but I was spared and we reached the 8th station as the sun was setting. And my tummy grumbling in protest.
The Rest before the Last Push
For ¥5,400 we got to sleep in a bunk, a communal bed essentially. Being at the end of the official climbing season, it was not so crowded that night. I wouldn’t have cared anyway as I was looking forward to sleep. And we were generously given three spaces – I wondered if it’s because my husband is a gaijin. Turned out my 6’2″ husband didn’t need that much space….
For me, the hardest part was the final climb. Getting up at 2am wasn’t really the problem; I had slept for nearly six hours. It was the cold and the trail was crowded and narrow. We stood waiting for much of the time. I’m sure this last part was also not my husband’s favourite either. Unbeknownst to me, he had a fever. I had gone straight to bed after the tremendously delicious dinner but his fever worsened, despite some tablets from the Japanese host. He did manage to break it at some point, but didn’t sleep a wink. He had also broken the cap off his tooth on a near-frozen power bar earlier that day. Being the trooper he is, he let me sleep through his ordeal. After all, I was the (physical) weak link: I only carried a little camera pouch and he carried all our gear (water, snacks, flashlights, and a multitude of layers).
The Final Climb
As we made our early morning climb in the dark, we joined the masses of people who choose to hike up in one go, timing it to meet the sunrise.
On the crowded trail, we stopped often. I would look down the mountain and what a sight. It was beautiful. Snakes of light from the climbers’ flashlights lit up the mountain side, and reminded us we were all together. Even if we were each lost in our own sleepy thoughts. We were united in our goals of climbing Mt Fuji and seeing the sun rise in this Land of the Rising Sun.
And it was all worth it – the climb and the freezing cold. The miso ramen at the summit definitely made the wait more durable. Nothing tasted more delicious! Well, maybe the third bowl did.
While I visited the temple for a prayer and bought our protective charms or omamori, my husband scouted for the best seat in the house and kept guard.
The Sunrise
The sunrise was simply breathtaking. It really was beautiful. The sun bathed the skies with a golden hue, mingling with a darkness that turned from deep black to sea blue. We had an unobstructed view of heaven and earth . All the rummaging and chatting had dissolved into silence as everyone stood at the edge of this most sacred mountain, beheld in the palm of God. Awashed in the beauty and reverence of the moment. Then daylight broke through and it was time to move on, even if somewhat reluctantly. Life is a cycle and we cycle with it.
If the climb up was steep, so was the climb down, even if the path did wind down more gently. But it was hell. The loose dirt path zig zagged the whole way and people were literally slipping all over. I went down all the way, with crushed toes. Then there were those who just ran down the hill, screaming and not braking. Another way, apparently, is to ride down on mountain bikes. This, we did not see and can’t even fathom the climb up with the bikes.
By the time we arrived at gogome again, we were sunburned. Our legs felt like jelly, like we had walked for days. We were exhausted, partially from all the angst of officially climbing our first mountain. But we were happy. Happy we officially climbed our first mountain together. Happy to have witnessed such a beautiful sunrise, and that the day was still young and full of promise.
But I think once is, after all, enough.
We climbed Mt Fuji near the end of the climbing season in 2006. It was our first trip together to Japan and we took the Shinkansen from Tokyo to Hiroshima, staying in Kyoto, Hiroshima, and that mystical island of Miyajima. We stayed at ryokans, communed with deer, buzzed with the craziness of Shibuya & Harajuku, hung out voyeuristically with Cosplay boys and girls….so many stories….and of course, the famous sights.
