Mt Fuji

Last weekend I climbed Mt.Fuji.

How banal does that sound written like that? I feel like it should be shouted from the rooftops - "LAST WEEKEND I CLIMBED MT FUJI!" 

I realise now that I never accorded Mt. Fuji with the respect it deserves. Seen from afar it looks like a pretty mountain, simple in its symmetry, easily seen from the shink ride to Tokyo, perhaps due to its fame, I found it slightly over-rated. Climbing Mt. Fuji was high up on my to-do list before coming to Japan though, seeing the sunrise on the summit was something I wrote about in my diary pre-Japan, it was something I had to do. *mental note: must post to-do list for reference* I always knew I was going to do it but I never really thought about the logistics of the climb.

So that was my state of mind, catching the 6.30AM train on Saturday with Fiona after staying at her place the night before. It took about 5 hours to get there by local train and bus. We got there at noon and proceeded our climb without too much thought. Saturday was a perfect day, we were absolutely blessed with one of those rare clear days where we could see right to the bottom. Apparently these perfect days happen about twice a year (on our way down on Sunday everything was obscured by low hanging clouds and fog, at times I could barely see 10m ahead). Ascending on the Yamanashi trail (5th station), I kept looking back in awe at the view below me. I could see the lakes, the tiny sprawling city spread before me, in the distance there were other mountain ranges blurred into each other. It was breathtaking. I looked to the top and thought to myself, that doesn't look too far....

The high altitude was a struggle for me from the very beginning though. Carrying a backpack containing a tent, sleeping bag, food and water didn't help. We had carelessly disregarded the warnings on websites and at the entrance that read, 'No Camping'. The rough plan was, we would pitch our tents before dark away from prying eyes, sleep for about 5 hours and begin climbing again at midnight in order to make it to the summit. In theory, this was what happened. In practice...well try pitching a tent on spiky lava rocks (Mt. Fuji is after all, a dormant volcano), at an incline, while (what felt like) gale-force winds were blowing at an altitude of approximately 3000m. It didn't help that this was the first time I had ever pitched a tent in my life and guess where I left the instructions on how to pitch my new tent? Yep on my coffee table at home. Somehow...the tent was pitched after about 45 mins (during which some Japanese tourists on the trail decided to take some happy snaps of our struggle, so much for getting away from prying eyes). At about 7pm and Fiona and I settled into our respective tents for a much needed rest after our 6 hour climb. Umm...yeah, easier said than done. Everytime I moved, the rocks felt like they were stabbing me, I was sleeping on an incline and was only held back from rolling down by one of the rocks I used to anchor down my tent. The wind was blowing so hard I had visions of being lifted off the mountain and blown off the cliff. So that's why warnings abound about not camping on Mt.Fuji...lol

After hardly any sleep, we decided to get packing at about 11.30pm and resume our climb to the summit. Luckily we decided to peg our backpacks somewhere and do the climb without the added weight, you have no idea how many times I said a prayer of thanks that the backpack was not on my back! It was hard enough climbing in freezing temperatures, in the dark, with only a torchlight as a guide. The higher we ascended, the more affected I was by the altitude. It felt like we needed to rest after every 10 steps, the climb was very slow going. More than once we thought we would not make it before sunrise.

The final hurdle was having to crawl on my hands and knees over some huge rocks to get to the summit. The sky was lightening, I was considering quitting due to sheer exhaustion, lack of oxygen and I thought, I was never going to make it, all I could see before me were rocks and more rocks. BUT just as I was rounding a corner, this guy overtakes me, literally running up the rocks! As he passed, he patted me on the back, told me I was nearly there and to keep going. I muttered a, "yeah right" and some other not-very-nice thoughts about how fit some ppl were, when I suddenly realised that as I was distracted by my thoughts...I had reached the summit!

We were there 15mins before the sun rose, sitting in freezing temperatures and high winds which wasn't all that pleasant after working up a sweat, all the while in awe and puzzlement over how far we came and that we had actually made it to the SUMMIT! The sunrise was beautiful and was over all too soon, the low temperatures sent us clamouring back down the mountain. The descent was just as difficult as the ascent, especially with a backpack that felt like would topple me at any moment. Didn't help that the rocks and dirt kept shifting beneath me. It was a hard slog down, all up on Sunday we had scrambled around on Mt.Fuji for almost 10hours straight, including times when we had lost our trail and had to trudge on even further. In sheer exhaustion we collapsed at the first restaurant we saw and ate the first hot meal we had for the last 2 days.

Thinking back on it now, the climb was ultimately worth it. We were truly blessed with such perfect weather on the climb up on the first day. The sunrise was absolutely beautiful. Despite the hellish experience I described here, I am so glad I did it - BUT as they say (and I rather badly paraphrase) -　you should climb Mt.Fuji once, but you would be a fool to climb Mt.Fuji twice.