Mt. Fuji looks like this most of the year.
(obviously, not a picture we took, just one I found on the web)
But when it looks like this,
(as in, not snowy)...
Everyone decides to hike it. Okay, not everyone. Just a whole bunch of Japanese folks, and a bunch more tourists!
There's a saying in Japan, something like, "You're a fool if you don't climb Fuji-san once, but only a fool would climb it more than once." And that kind of logic was basically why I found myself agreeing to hike the volcano. It's a once in a lifetime thing. Worth doing to say I'd done it. Almost as soon as we knew our trip to Japan would coincide with the few weeks of the year that Mt. Fuji is hike-able, plans were made for us to fit a night hike into our trip. Jonathan and I and the girls, that is, not Eddie nor his grandparents who've been-there-done-that a few times and were more than willing to babysit instead. Since they'd done it before, they suggested we do the traditional nighttime hike to see the sun rise over the Land of the Setting Sun from it's iconic mountain. Sounds good and all. But times have changed a little. Before, one was allowed to drive oneself halfway up to the starting point, so hikers could start their hike anytime they wanted. We discovered that was no longer allowed, and we would have to take a bus to the Station 5 trail head. No problem. The trek up would take about 6-7 hours. We planned to take the last bus and begin our hike around 10 pm.
Did I mention the night that would work for our Fuji adventure was the night that came after our first day in Japan? We figured, we'll be jet-lagged, we'll have no problem hiking all night, it'll feel like day to our bodies!
We left Shioda church where we were staying at 5 pm. FIVE IN THE AFTERNOON! We had about an hour car ride to the bus station where we met our "guides", two other Americans (one who lives in Japan and had hiked Mt. Fuji before, another who was spending the summer there, a first-timer like us). We all hopped on the last bus up to Station 5, which took another hour. We were on the trail at 8 pm, a full two hours ahead of schedule. Calculate about 6-7 hours from 8 pm. This was my fear when agreeing to this adventure: that we'd reach the summit several hours before sunrise, exhausted and sleepy, only to have a long wait ahead of us. None of us had any clue just what miseries the night ahead would hold!
It was dark when we reached Station 5, a tourist trap of buildings with provisions and sounevirs for sale--even use of the bathroom was for sale. We caved and bought 2 hiking sticks knowing that along the way, at each of the stations we could get a stamp burned into our stick to chronicle our hike. Kind of a cool souvenir, and since we're only doing this once, might as well have proof for future generations.
It was a warm, humid evening, typical of Japan in summer, but we each had rain gear and sweatshirts knowing that higher up the weather could be different.
We left Station 5. We took rest breaks here and there, especially as we grew more weary and out-of-breath thanks to the altitude and exertion. The lights of cities and towns spread out below were quite beautiful.
We stopped at stations along the way, resting, eating our PB and J, rice balls, and clif bars, and forking over the yen for our sticks' stamps. Somewhere along the way, it started to rain. It was cold, but we pulled on our rain gear and realized we were somewhat warm while hiking, it was only frigid when we stopped moving.
Station 10 was the summit. Simple math told us we'd reach 4 stations between the trail head and the summit. Nope. Just to mess with our tired legs, heaving lungs, and our wet, cold bodies, there were several extra cabin-like buildings along the way. We left Station 8, for example, plodding along the upward climb, our steps growing shorter, our breaths louder, and just when we were at the point of despair, above us on the trail we'd see the lights of a station which would lighten our step and instill a glimmer of hope as we'd tell ourselves, "Just a little more and we'll be at Station 9, then only 1 more!" Only to push our weary legs up the steep incline and realize it wasn't Station 9, it was "Old Station 8" and then "Station 8.5" followed by "Station 8 Hotel". Somehow we'd have to muster the gumption to press on, holding out hope that Station 9 would eventually appear. Unfortunately, it did. Only it wasn't lit up. It was a ruin. Barely able to block the icy wind, we huddled a bit for a rest, then told ourselves we couldn't stay there. At the top, at Station 10 there would be buildings, warmth, maybe even a place like the hotel we'd passed along the way. At this point, we were willing to pay anything to have a warm place to lie down! The hike between the abandoned Station 9 and the summit was the worst. It was bitterly cold in the exposed wind, even the exertion wasn't enough to keep us warm anymore. We all realized we were sorely under-dressed! We all gasped at the thin air that just wasn't providing us enough oxygen! I know I was thinking, maybe we should've stayed back there at that hotel and finished the hike in the morning just before sunrise. But no! We're so close! We'll get there and then rest!
Oh how wrong I was!
After what seemed like the longest 200 meters of my life, we made it to Station 10 at the top of Mt. Fuji! Hurrah! The trail leveled off. But it was so dark, no lit up, welcoming cabin. We soon realized the Station had closed for the night. It was 1 am. Sunrise was 3 and a half hours away, but there was no where to go! All the hikers who'd made it up the day and evening before were tucked away out of the wind sleeping (or trying to) on futons crammed side by side in the cabin. Doesn't sound ideal, does it. But try being the ones outside exposed to the icy cold wind and increasingly damp fog without a warm coat or mittens or a hat! We were shocked and frustrated! Would they really not let us in? We were poor foolish hikers and downright miserable! We would pay any sum, but there was no one to pay!
Then--no joke, kid you not--we found a little shelter that was still open. A bathroom. Basically a port-a-potty, but made of wood and housing 2 stalls with a little entryway between them. Two hikers had already discovered it and were seated on a small bench inside between the two toilets. We crammed in, standing around inside the door, at least protected from the wind if not the cold. We huddled together inside the stinky bathroom standing, rather than sitting because of the questionable muck coating the floor. When one of our number got sick and ran outside to throw up the hot chocolate she'd gotten from the vending machine, we considered giving up on the sunrise to end our misery and head down the mountain. But by then a thick fog had settled in. It would be dangerous to hike down not knowing the steep trail well. We were stuck.
Soon, a few of us were desperate enough to pull the garbage cans out of the stalls and sit rather precariously on the lids. We tried to doze off, but the cold and the accommodations made that almost impossible. We tried to tell each other we'd laugh about this some day. We told stories and made conversation to pass the time.
Jonathan managed to think of snapping a picture to record the fiasco.
That's our friend Javon in the blue, I'm in the yellow poncho leaning against the door to one of the bathroom stalls, and Hannah is sitting on Rachel's lap.
That's our friend Javon in the blue, I'm in the yellow poncho leaning against the door to one of the bathroom stalls, and Hannah is sitting on Rachel's lap.
Time seemed to pass slower than usual. We held out hope that the Station buildings might open up as it got closer to sunrise. Mercifully, around 3 am the futons were rolled up and the doors opened. We found our way into one of the sleeping cabins which was transformed into a restaurant. The hot ramen soup we ordered was one of the most delicious meals I've ever tasted! The combined relative warmth of the fire-heated cabin, a place to sit comfortably, and the hot broth, worked wonders!
After eating, we wandered outside, braving the wind again to explore the summit in the growing light. It was still shrouded in fog, so we couldn't see the crater of the volcano or the view from the mountaintop. Cold drove us back to the cabin where we found a spot among the growing number of hikers arriving at the summit. On the wooden benches, around a small fire, we pressed in to feel the warmth and wait for sunrise. We were joined by a few Scottish folk, friends on a vacation to Japan, who were absolutely so fun to listen to! Not only their accents, but their great stories of adventuring around Japan together. They were the kind of people you wished would get stuck in a bathroom with you.
The mountaintop was getting increasingly more crowded as people who'd spent the night in lower Station hotels trekked the last bit to the top in time for sunrise. There was literally a mob of people swarming all over the place. The time for sunrise came and went and the fog didn't budge. Nothing to see. What a letdown.
Here's our obligatory group photo overlooking the volcano crater.
Yeah, I didn't see it either, and I was up there for several hours.
Like my fashionable yellow poncho? Hey, at least it trapped some body heat in.
We gave up and headed down, after visiting the restroom. The one we'd huddled in had been locked and another one was open and charging a fee for entry. These toilets didn't even have seats, but were the squatty-potty types. One poor soul, suffering from altitude sickness, was frantically trying to find one available to vomit in but had to resort to puking in the corner since they were all in use. Made me realize things could be worse.
Soon we were sliding down the loose volcanic gravel on the downward hike, making bets about when the fog would clear and we'd be able to see the view. What was it, 25 minutes? and we looked back up to a perfectly clear summit and this spread out beneath us:
It was a pretty spectacular view!
Jonathan bemoaned the fact that we hadn't waited at the top just a little bit longer, but none of us were game for hiking back up.
Pretty amazing how sunrise can lift your spirits!
I look how I felt.
Like I'd rather be in a warm bed fast asleep.
Finally we could see the landscape we'd been hiking through all night.
As we descended, with the sun's rising, we quickly warmed up, and by the time we reached Station 5 and the bus, it was hot! So strange considering how cold we were just a few hours earlier.
We made it back to the church around 10 am and crashed. Unfortunately, while we'd been feeling pretty good just 24 hours previous, like we were adjusting well and getting over jet lag, the night hike had taken it out of us and put us back at square one! Oh well, now we can say we did it. We survived.
And we'd be fools to do it again.
(I won't mention any names, but a few of our group would actually be game for doing it again. I am not one of them.)
Good old Mt. Fuji.
I'll never think of it quite the same again.
