This is long, a story of sorts. Possibly an epic as far as
travel blog entries go. It has pictures, but mostly story. It’s important to
the plot of this story that when I told my dad I was going to climb Fuji, he
laughed and asked me what mountains I’ve been climbing before (none). He then
told me to make sure I turned around before I got too tired to come back down,
and basically said there was no way I’d summit because Fuji is a beast and I am
but a tiny girl.
On the bus there, I met Dan. Dan is a funny Australian
traveler who is in Japan by himself. Over the weekend in his hostel, he’d met a
buddy who convinced him to come climb Fuji for the day. The bus was to arrive
at Station 5 (the base) at 10 am and their return bus left at 5 pm. They were
also on separate buses because, even though our bus was half empty, the website
they had booked through had shown that both buses were full.
It quickly became apparent to me that Dan and his friend
were greatly underestimating Fuji. Firstly, it’s not likely that you can summit
Fuji and get back down in 7 hours (not to mention we ate when we got there, so
more like 6.5 hours). Furthermore, Dan had worn pants and a T-shirt and brought
nothing else. His friend had worn shorts and a T-shirt with nothing else. Dan
had never heard of altitude sickness and didn’t even know it might be a factor
in their climb.
The mountain huts on Fuji also only accept cash, no credit
cards. And every bathroom charges you 200 yen (about $2) to use every time. So
you have to bring plenty of money with you, or carry your own water and food
for the climb and hope you never have to pee. I don’t know for sure, but I
suspect they did not have a lot of cash on them. We had lunch, I put everything
I didn’t need for Fuji in a coin locker at the base, and we set off on the
trail together. However they quickly pulled ahead because of the time issue. I
wished them good luck.
The first part of the trail was easy and pleasant. I saw old
couples strolling along and families with kids slowly meandering down the
path. I thought to myself: Easy peasy. If kids and old people can do
it, I can do it.
I hit a fork and asked the attendant which way to the
summit, and he pointed to the right, smiled, and waved. The incline started to
get a little steeper after the fork, so the cool air felt great when it blew
across my arms and face. I passed an older gentlemen with his wife and we made
eye contact. “Ganbatte!” He said. Roughly translated, this means “Work hard!” or
“Do your best!” I smiled. “Hai!” Little did I know this brief interaction set
the entire tone for my climb.
I hit Station 6 a little out of breath, but by no means
tired. They gave me a map in English of the Stations and Mountain Huts along
the trail, along with distances and time estimates to each. I thanked them and
headed up the trail. Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I hit
switchbacks. Steep and gravelly switchbacks that forced me to stop and catch my
breath every few rotations. There were no more kids or old people, just
resolute-looking Japanese youths and eager young foreigners trying to power
their way up as fast as possible. I took the slow and steady approach, but I
still had to take a lot of breaks on the way up.
When I hit Station 7, I was winded, sweaty, exhausted, and
starting to get cold. At the top of the stairs stood Dan. “This is as far as I
got, unfortunately.” He said. Sure enough, altitude sickness. He said that he
had tried to climb the rocks beyond Station 7 and started feeling like he was
going to throw up or pass out. The buddy had gone on ahead, but I never did
find out if he made it or not. I bundled up, wished Dan luck, and continued on.
After Station 7 I wished for the switchbacks. It was all
rock climbing. Not the kind you need equipment for, but definitely the kind where
more often than not you have three and four points of contact and you are
hauling yourself and your backpack up a steep slope of loose rock. You are
doing this for hours at a time.
At every Mountain Hut I stopped to rebalance and get acclimated, but that can only do so much. I was starting to cough and wheeze and produce way too much mucus. I had to stop all the time (although, so did everyone else it seemed). I was pouring sweat, but it was getting very cold and I didn’t dare take off a layer. I was wearing boots, thick socks, long underwear, long pants, a shirt, jacket, and hat.
At every Mountain Hut I stopped to rebalance and get acclimated, but that can only do so much. I was starting to cough and wheeze and produce way too much mucus. I had to stop all the time (although, so did everyone else it seemed). I was pouring sweat, but it was getting very cold and I didn’t dare take off a layer. I was wearing boots, thick socks, long underwear, long pants, a shirt, jacket, and hat.
By the time I hit Station 8, I was basically in survival
mode. My brain had shut down and my body was on autopilot, just moving upward,
upward, upward. All along the route people
said hello, good afternoon, do your best! It was really nice that we all seemed
to belong to this community all trying to accomplish the same goal for
ourselves and encourage others.
I could have stayed at any of the Mountain Huts past 8 for
the sunrise summit, but I wanted to get as close as possible so my being in the
dark time would be limited. After 4 solid hours of hardcore climbing, I ended
up at the second to last hut to the top, which was about an hour and half to
the summit. My legs were killing me, and I couldn’t stop coughing. I paid $87
dollars US for a room, dinner, and breakfast. They also said they’d wake me at
2:30 am to begin the climb to the top.
At this point I’m feeling pretty exhausted, but pretty good
about myself. Here I was, an hour and half to the summit my dad told me I’d
never make, sleeping and eating and still alive. Yeah, I feel like crap and I’m kind of
wondering why I wanted to do this, but whatever. Here I am and I’m obviously going
to make it. Hard part is over!
We had curry rice for dinner and they gave us a bento box
for breakfast to take up with us. The rooms were not rooms at all, but giant
sleeping halls where mats were set on top of wooden slats, one right after the
other, with blankets and a pillow.
I don’t know if it’s Japanese people, or people at a high altitude, or both, but the snoring was insane. One guy actually sounded like he was choking to death, I don’t know how he didn’t wake himself up.
I don’t know if it’s Japanese people, or people at a high altitude, or both, but the snoring was insane. One guy actually sounded like he was choking to death, I don’t know how he didn’t wake himself up.
Regardless, I was so exhausted I actually managed to get a
few hours of sleep in spite of the free concert. I had set my alarm for 2:00
because I wanted to get up and out a little earlier than everyone else so I
wasn’t fighting the crowds. But someone or something woke me around 1:00. I
shifted in my inadequate blankets and oh, holy fuck. My legs hurt like I have
never felt before. Every time I moved them, it was like a bone deep swelling of
pain, almost akin to flu aches but about a 1,000 times worse. And it wasn’t
just one muscle group; it was every leg muscle I had. I wondered if I’d even be
able to finish and, if not, how would I get back down? My arms were killing me
too. Hell, even my stomach muscles were all pulled from coughing so hard.
I gingerly crawled out of bed, every movement bringing a new
wave of agony. But the more I moved, the slightly better it seemed to get. I
grabbed my bag and took it to the coin-operated bathroom where I dressed in two
shirts, two coats, two pairs of thick socks, and my long underwear and pants.
When I came out of the stall, the mountain hut boss guy was standing there.
“Climb?” He said, and pointed upward. I nodded and he shook his head. “Danger.”
He said, and made a cross sign with his arms.
In broken English and with my limited understanding of
Japanese, he told me there was a big storm and high winds, and they were
stopping all the climbers until morning. It was true that the wind had been
howling all night, shaking the panes of glass in the windows and swirling
around a thick fog. But I had just assumed that was Fuji. I looked down the
mountain and, sure enough, there were people dressed in yellow vests with
orange wand lights stopping people. I asked him when I’d be able to leave, and
he said to watch the sunrise at the hotel and then summit.
I went back to my room and sat on the floor to do the math.
My bus in the morning was leaving Station 5 at 10:00 am. Sunrise wasn’t until
5:30. If it took me an hour and a half to summit and the three and a half hours
they said it would take to get back down, then I would miss my bus. I could not
miss my bus, because my flight was leaving Narita at 6 that night and I needed
the time to get to the airport. I wasn’t going to summit.
All that hard work for
nothing, I thought to myself. I heard dad’s voice in my head telling me I
wouldn’t make it. I rubbed my unbelievably sore legs and started to cry. Then
just as quickly, I got pissed. I’m the only one who decides what I can and
can’t do. If I didn’t make the top, I knew was going to regret it for the rest
of my life. I would always look back on Fuji as a failure after getting so
close.
I watched out the window for a while and most the climbers
were stopping, but some were continuing on. Which meant that the people in the
yellow vests couldn’t physically stop you, they could only advise you not to
go. I opened the door to a white couple as they passed. “Are you guys going up
anyway?”
The girl nodded. “They said not to, but…” She shrugged. They
kept walking.
All I needed to hear. If
I’m going to die on Fuji by being a stubborn asshole then that’s what’s going
to happen and everyone else is going to have to deal with it, I thought as
I pulled my boots on. But just then mountain hut boss man walked by and looked
through the window to see me getting ready. He opened the door and stood over me.
“No climb!” He whisper yelled at me.
“Uh, no. Not climbing.” I grabbed my bento breakfast box and
gestured up toward the dining hut. “I was just going to eat this upstairs.”
He seemed to calm down a little and nodded, but he still
shone his flashlight down as he stood over me. “Take off shoes.”
I unlaced my boots and put on the slippers they provide for
us, and then he walked behind me all the way to the dining hut. He gestured
down at the group of climbers they had stopped. “Many people stop.” He said to
me. He held the door open for me, then stood in the corner and watched me eat.
When I was done I went back down to the sleeping hut and
tried to figure out an escape. Boss guy was standing between me and the rest of
the mountain, watching people as they defied his orders and continued on. I
finally just came to the conclusion that I paid for this room and this guy was
not my jail keeper. He wasn’t going to ruin my one opportunity to summit. I put
my boots back on and hauled my bag over my shoulder just as he and another guy
came into the hut to wake everyone and tell them what was going on. He argued
with me for a while, but as soon as someone else distracted his attention I
slipped out the door and into the night.
The wind was pretty damn wild. Because of the mist, every
surface was wet, including anything you had exposed after a few minutes. I
avoided any drop offs because I knew the wind could probably blow me right over
one if I wasn’t paying attention. At the next (and last) hut they stopped us,
telling us that the summit was an hour away and there was a very bad storm and
we should wait. I slipped by as he was talking to two other girls and carried
on.
It’s not like I was the only one. Lots of people were
stopping and waiting but many were also going on like me. Looking up, you could
see the occasional headlamp and looking below you could see them ascending in
lines. Many of the people were climbing in groups, with the random couple here
and there. I was the only one I saw climbing by myself.
It was freezing, and we were climbing into the crazy wind.
People were resting every few feet and every once in a while a huge gust of
wind swept through and everyone stopped what they were doing to hug the nearest
surface and keep from getting blown over. The moments when I was too far from
anyone to see anything outside of my headlamp were the scariest. The landscape
on the top of Fuji is like being on the moon. It’s barren, covered in loose
volcanic rock, and black or red in color. Just you, your small circle of light
the only thing you can see, and white mist covering black rock while a violent
wind beats you in the direction of a steep drop into nothing is pretty damn
scary.
The last 45 minutes or so, it was sheer stubbornness pushing
me on. The storm was bad enough that I knew any pictures would be worthless; I
just wanted to know I’d done it. I couldn’t not do it. After what felt like an
eternity of blowing my nose and coughing, the final torii came into sight. I
summited Fuji at 3:30 am on August 26th, 2014, and I’m not going to
lie to you… it felt good. I felt proud of myself.
It was cold and wet, and I took shelter in the Mountain Hut
at the top. I spent my last Japanese yen on a hot tea, which I knew was a bit
risky as I still had to get back down and to the airport, but I felt like I’d
earned it.
When I was done I ventured back out with the intention of circling the crater, but nature put an end to that quick when I realized the wind on the crater was going to pick me right up and toss me off the mountain a lot faster than I was looking to get down.
Celebratory summiting tea
When I was done I ventured back out with the intention of circling the crater, but nature put an end to that quick when I realized the wind on the crater was going to pick me right up and toss me off the mountain a lot faster than I was looking to get down.
Some people decided the summit was a good place for a quick nap
I went back into the hut, but they tend to frown on you
being there if you’re not going to buy anything and my tea was void since I
left and came back. A British gentleman noticed my distressing lack of hot
beverage.
“Tea or coffee?” He asked me.
“Oh, no thank you. I spent the last of my money.”
“If we can’t help our fellow man…” He said, and pulled out
400 yen. I got a coffee and we talked for a while. Jeff was from the UK and his
favorite trip had been America, weirdly. He’d bought a clear plastic suit at
the base in case it rained, and when he put it on he looked like something out
of Planet 9 From Outer Space. He insisted I take a picture of him. He was also
the only other person I saw crazy enough to summit alone that day.
When the sun rose we went outside, but the mist just made it
white instead of black. There was still nothing to see.
I lost track of Jeff and decided to head back down. When I hit Station 9, suddenly everything cleared. I didn’t even notice until the group in front of me all suddenly went, “Ahh! Ohh!” I looked up to see the entire world stretched out at my feet. It was so beautiful. I looked back up to see that the summit was still covered in clouds, so we were the only ones getting this view.
The last torii from above in the mist
I lost track of Jeff and decided to head back down. When I hit Station 9, suddenly everything cleared. I didn’t even notice until the group in front of me all suddenly went, “Ahh! Ohh!” I looked up to see the entire world stretched out at my feet. It was so beautiful. I looked back up to see that the summit was still covered in clouds, so we were the only ones getting this view.
Descending Fuji
The way back down was all switchbacks, a few degrees too
steep to walk down. You either tiptoe, run, or do this sort of ungraceful slide
on top of the loose gravel and hope you don’t fall. The later was my preferred
method, while most seemed to choose tiptoeing. I’m sure I pissed people off as
I slid past them in a barely controlled surfing style. It wasn’t that I was fit
or energetic or excited, I was in a race to see if I could get off the mountain
before my legs gave out completely, which they threatened to do with every
shaky step.
I didn’t stop once on the way down and when I hit where the
horses were at the bottom I knew I’d be okay. I figured I could go where horses
could go. I found the 5th Station and had a few hours to wait, so I
walked into a shop to buy water and some food. I was starving. But apparently
they only take cash at Station 5 too, and with no ATM on the mountain I was
shit out o’ luck. I mostly just relished in the act of sitting and tried to
stretch my legs as best I could. I found a 2x2 patch of WiFi strong enough to
call my dad for 2 minutes and let him know I made it down alive. I sat at the
restaurant and didn’t order anything (cash only), just people watched.
About an hour before the bus was to leave I figured I’d better
get my stuff out of the coin locker and maybe change. I stuck my hand in the
side pocket where I had stuffed the key, but… no key. I stuffed my hand in the
other outside pocket. No key. I panickedly stuck my hand in every other pocket
in my bag. No key. By this time I was freaking out, turning every coat pocket
inside out, pulling everything out of my backpack, cursing in English to
myself. There was a Japanese couple in the locker room watching me spaz out,
and the guy cautiously approached me. “Lost key?” He asked in pretty good
English. “I must have left it on the mountain somewhere!” I practically yelled
at him. He picked up my coat to help me look through the pockets, but found
nothing.
“One moment.” He said, and returned with a staff member who’s
English was also pretty good. I explained the situation to him, and he asked me
to look again. I explained I had pulled everything apart looking for it. “There
is a fee of 2,100 yen for lost key.” He told me. “Yes, okay.” I said, and
showed him my bus ticket. “I’ll pay whatever, but I only have a credit card and
my bus leaves at 10.”
“Ah, credit card.” He put his finger up. “One moment.” He
came back a few minutes later. “No credit card, so we ask that you maybe borrow
from a friend.”
At this point I was on the verge of tears. “I’m here by
myself. I climbed the mountain by myself.” I told him. No longer proud, I just
felt like an idiot.
In the end they gave me a bank account and an address, all
in Japanese, and told me to get the money to them when I could. But that if it
was too hard, not to worry about it. I couldn’t believe how nice they were
about the whole thing. They even had to take the lock off the locker to get
into it and get my stuff. I thanked them profusely, red with shame. Grabbing
all my stuff, I shoved it in my bag haphazardly and left as quickly as I could.
The bus stop was right outside, so I just collapsed on the ground in front of
it.
My stomach growled and reminded me that I did just make my
body do a lot of work with very little reward. The only food I had was half a
chocolate bar in the top compartment of my bag left over from Station 8. It
didn’t seem very appetizing, but it was better than nothing. I dug it out and
munched on it pathetically. I had nothing much to do but people watch, but
pretty quickly I noticed a guy and a girl making direct eye contact and coming
straight at me. I looked away, but the guy stopped right in front of me and
knelt down to eye level.
“Everything okay?”
“What? Yes.” I said. I was confused.
He smiled at me and shoved a huge, hot bao into my hands.
Bao is a soft steamed bread bun filled with meat, usually beef. They are one of
my favorite kinds of Asian food. “For you.”
I couldn’t tell if this guy thought I was homeless or what.
I had luggage and nice clothes on... “Oh, no! Thank you, but…”
He just shook his head and smiled. “For you.” He said again,
then stood back up and walked away with (I assume) his girlfriend. That was
when I realized it was the guy from the locker room who had helped me look for
my key before finding an employee for me to talk to. I was in such a panic I
had barely even looked at him.
By the time I figured this out, he was half way across the
courtyard and practically out of sight. I immediately burst into tears. I just sat there crying on the ground while I ate the bao and everyone stared at me, but I didn’t care.
It was such a touching gesture, and it was my very last impression of Japan. I vowed to do something as nice for someone else someday.
And that is the end of this tale. I’m in Toronto now and
head back home in the morning. From sharks to communists to owls to Fuji, I’ve
had a hell of a time and I hope you guys enjoyed reading about it. Here’s
looking forward to the next one!