I went with 2 New Zealand guys, 1 Japanese guy, 1 Japanese girl, and 1 Korean girl. We left Kyoto around 11:30 AM on Saturday, August 31, 2002 and drove for about 5 hours to get to the bottom of Fujisan. We didn’t want to start climbing just yet so we had some time to kill. We decided to prepare ourselves for the climb by challenging our fears of height and our fears of losing the change in our pockets by riding a roller coaster at a nearby theme park called Fuji High Land. Afterwards we fortified our bodies for the strenuous climb ahead with a traditional and nutritious Japanese meal at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I had the spicy chicken combo meal. It is called the “Jinga Sando Seto” in Japanese, but that is not at all relevant to this story.

We drove up to the 5th station and started climbing around 9:30, well after dark. There are ten main stations on the trail going up, but most people start from the 5th station, the highest one you can drive to. At these places you can buy very expensive bottled drinks, buy very expensive food, pay to use very dirty and smelly bathrooms, and freeze your oshiri off while you stand still waiting for the others in your group to catch up. Before we reached any station however, we had to climb a short flight of stairs out of the parking lot. I realized at that time that climbing those stairs was the exact amount of exercise I normally get in a day and I might not be in prime physical shape to climb the tallest mountain in Japan. The reason we started so late in the evening is because we wanted to see the sunrise from on top of Mt. Fuji. It is believed by the Japanese that if you do this, you will have luck. Another foreigner has said on the Internet that "there is an old Japanese saying, 'He who climbs Mount Fuji is a wise man. He who climbs it twice is a fool.' Although I have no doubt about the latter sentence, the validity of the first is definitely questionable." I couldn't agree more and in fact we had a fool among us. One of the New Zealand guys, Harry, had actually done this climb just a few weeks ago. Harry drinks a lot of alcohol, drinks a lot of coffee, and smokes a lot of cigarettes. Cigarettes are called “tabako” in Japanese, but that is not at all relevant to this story.

The fact that Harry knew what this climb was going to be like and decided to do it again boggles the mind. The honest truth is that climbing Fujisan is not fun. The top of Fujisan is a cold, dusty, and windy wasteland. Fuji is actually a dormant volcano consisting of “packed dirt, exposed rock ridges, boulders, gravel of stones and cinders, and sandy volcanic ash”. Sometimes when you are walking it sound like you are walking on broken dishes. Other than the sound, sometimes I thought that it seemed much like what I imagined Mars to be like. That is, except for the thousand other people climbing up in the middle of the night with us, and no, that is not an exaggeration. The narrow trails were packed with people climbing up this pile of ash in the black middle of night, each with a small flashlight strapped to his or her forehead. As I marched in line hour after hour in the dark and cold and wind short of breath and with painful legs among all the other silent souls, I imaged once or twice, that if the sun never came up, and there was no summit to actually reach, that this might be what hell is like. Despite the fanciful imagining of a sleep and oxygen deprived mind, I didn’t loose hope. Yet as we got higher and the air got thinner I really started to wonder if I could actually make it. I was having a harder time catching my breath on occasion and a few times I got a bit dizzy. About the same time I started to notice this, the Japanese guy gave up and he never made it to the top. Guy in Japanese is "otoko", but that is not at all relevant to this story.

I didn't actually see the sunrise from the top, but very close to it. I wasn’t alone. Many people were still climbing, but we still had a great view. If anything could make the trip worthwhile, it was seeing the sunrise above the horizon of the earth from so high above the clouds. As soon as the sun burst open from a warm glow into a bright fire, we finished climbing the short distance left to the top. I didn't have the feeling of exhilaration I always see mountaineers demonstrate on TV. I always knew I was going to make it to the top and it was a little difficult to feel very special about my accomplishment standing up on a mountain with a few hundred other people and a ramen shop, even if the shop was very rustic. Still, if I tell a Japanese person I climbed Fujisan, they will invariable be very impressed. For much of the way up I had only wanted to get to the top so that I could start going back down again and return home. Home in Japanese is "ie", or "uchi", or "otaku", but that is not at all relevant to this story.

The descent was much faster and different that the ascent. There was some variety in the ground going up, even if it was too dark to see it. The descent was a different path however, a long continuous zigzag off loose sandy gravel and gritty volcanic pumice (dust). This was very difficult to go down because it was so loose and people constantly slipped on it, throwing up their arms to rebalance themselves. As each person walked and slipped their way down, they kicked up dust into the wind that all blew straight into my eyes. A different foreigner explains on the Internet that the dust "will likely cover your hot and sweaty body from head to toe by the time you get down to the parking area. Oh, by the way, this wonderful substance will also get into your teeth, ears and scalp, and up your nose!" Nose in Japanese is “hana”, which also means flower, and can be a girl’s name, but that is not at all relevant to this story.

Let me conclude by hoping that I have not turned any of you off the idea climbing Mt. Fuji if you had the chance and the ability. In the end, climbing Fujisan is really is about the challenge. It is not a fun walk in the park. It is amazing to me that I could climb almost a mile vertically, that I could climb for 7 hours, and that I could climb in an atmosphere with 1/3 less oxygen than I am used to. I don't really get a lot of exercise and I am sure that not every single one of the other thousand people who reached the summit that day did either. Thus the challenge was good because it helped show me what a person can do if they just don’t give up. Even though I am a bit sore today, I am already forgetting the difficulty a little bit. Eventually I may forget it entirely, and only remember the accomplishment. Still, however, at this time my official policy on the experience is this: I am glad I can say I climbed Fujisan. I am not sure if I am glad that I actually did it. And that is entirely relevant to this story.

Copyright September 2002