Up Close and Personal with Fuji-san

July 8, 2006, did not start out like any normal Saturday. My alarm woke me up, as scheduled, at 12:00AM (that's not a typo) and the first logical thought to enter my sleepy mind was, "what on Earth am I doing waking up at midnight for this?".

You see, I signed up several weeks ago to attempt the Navy MWR sponsored Mt. Fuji One-day Hike. For me, that meant reporting to the Outdoor Recreation Center on base at 01:45AM to catch a bus due west towards Japan's tallest mountain... err... volcano. The official climbing season at Mt. Fuji is limited to July and August, mostly due to the unpredictable weather that lurks around the mountain throughout the rest of the year. I've heard that August is the busiest month for climbers, so I opted to climb as early as possible to avoid getting caught up in large crowds.

The MWR Bus left Yokosuka around 02:00AM and made it to the 5th Station along the trail at about 05:00AM. I should note that Mt. Fuji is divided into 10 stations, which are basically landmarks letting you know your general location along the path up and down the mountain. Although the stations aren't actually evenly spaced, it's fair to say that the 5th Station is about halfway up Fuji-san. The elevation at the 5th Station trailhead is about 7500 feet, or a little under a mile and a half above sea level.

I started hiking around 05:15AM, after choosing a trusty hiking stick, changing into some sweatpants, and lathering on a thick dosage of sunscreen. The hiking stick was included in the price of the tour and makes a nice souvenir, especially since there are huts along the hiking trail where you can stop and have a unique stamp burned onto the stick (like a cattle brand) for a mere 200 yen. Sure, 200 yen doesn't sound like a lot of money, but I ended up stopping at between 15 - 20 of these stamp vendors, so it really added up by the time I was done.

The temperature at the 5th Station was no more than 50 degrees Fahrenheit and I had been told that it would be in the 30's (again in Fahrenheit) at the summit. In the early morning, it seemed that I lucked out. The weather was terrific. The sky above was sunny, the clouds below (yes, below) were scattered. I could see for miles around and had a terrific view of the other mountain peaks around Fuji-san that rose up through the clouds. Also, I had a nice view of one of the five lakes that surround the northern side of Mt. Fuji.

From the 5th Station to around the 7th Station, the trail was a fairly modest to moderate slope, surrounded by trees, shrubs, and grass... greenery of various types. Between the 7th and 8th Stations, all signs of plant life slowly wilted away and was replaced by red to black dirt and lava rocks on a more severe slope. The view wasn't all bad, though, because there were enough huts along the trail to keep the hike interesting. After passing the 8th Station, the huts disappeared and I honestly felt like I had landed on the moon - except I didn't have the advantage of a low-gravity environment to keep me from feeling weighted down. The pace was slow, because oxygen levels were at 60% of sea level conditions and I had to stop frequently enough to catch my breath. People were getting noticibly weary - including me - to the extent where we would sometimes sit down or even lie down to rest for a few minutes before heading on.

While I was resting for a moment somewhere between the 8th and 9th stations, I noticed a group of five Japanese people who were trying to take a group picture. I asked, in Japenglish (that's a few Japanese words in an otherwise English sentence), if they wanted me to take their picture. One of them replied in Enganese (yup, you guessed it: mostly Japanese with a few English words) that they would appreciate it. Then they asked me if I liked something suppai, which was a new word to me in Japanese. Through hand gestures and a little mixed languages, finally I learned that "suppai" means "sour" and that they were offering me some type of sour/vinegared/pickled treat. I can't tell you what it was, but it was derived from some type of dried plant, possibly a seed. It was round, about two centimeters in diameter, and dark blue to black in color. I put it in my mouth and immediately tasted how sour it was, but it was good. I asked if I was supposed to bite it and was told, "yes, bite it". So I did, and it was about as hard as a jawbreaker candy. After a few seconds of trying, I finally cracked into it, at about the same time that one of the other people in the group said, "gomen nasai (I'm sorry), do not bite, but suck and then spit out." Too late... once I had bitten in, it got really sour and bitter. But I kept a straight face long enough to thank them, then gave them a couple American treats that I was carrying, and then I moved along. As soon as I was out of visible range, I tossed the sour treat aside and drank enough water to dilute the taste. Anyway, it was a funny moment on an otherwise rough walk to the top.

The final stretch of trail leading to the summit ended with a torii gate guarded by two minicing statue creatures. I stopped there long enough to ask a passerby to take a picture of me, then I hobbled the final few paces up to the peak of Fuji-san. I reached the top at about 11:45AM, so my total hiking time to the top was roughly 6.5 hours. Not to shabby considering the number of stops I took to rest, eat, hydrate, and collect stamps for the hiking stick.

My first stop at the peak was a shrine, where I stopped to collect another stamp - and converted to Shinto just long enough to pray for some much needed oxygen and rest. Afterwards, I walked over to an adjacent building to collect the gaijin stamp, which got its name because it displayed (in English) "Top of Mt. Fuji - 12,395 feet". Yes, I had just climbed to 12,395 feet, which is about 2.3 miles above sea level.

From there, I had just enough energy to climb a slight incline to a really old and weather-beaten torii gate that overlooked the crater created by Fuji-san's most recent eruption, which was in 1707. The crater was rather large and deep, but I could see pretty much all around it and noticed that a rather large layer of snow remained unmelted throughout the bowl-shaped crater. Although it was really cold at the peak, I figured that the temps were still above freezing, but there must have been enough shade in the crater throughout the day to keep the sun from melting it.

After snapping a few pictures of the summit, I headed back towards the buildings along the peak to grab some lunch. Believe it or not, there's actually a Ramen shop atop Fuji-san, so I stopped there for some miso ramen. On any given day, I would think twice about paying 800 yen for the most generic bowl of ramen I've ever seen. But on Saturday, July 8, 2006, sitting on the wind-torn peak of Mt. Fuji while watching dark clouds move rapidly in overhead, that bowl of ramen was the best meal I've eaten in years.

I consider myself very lucky. I was able to climb to the peak, shoot all the pictures I wanted, and eat lunch all before the clouds caught up to me and encompassed the entire mountain. But as soon as those clouds set in, it got much more windy and much colder. I decided not to stick around because visibility was decreasing exponentially by the minute. Also, I could feel every muscle in my legs and feet starting to tighten up; and wanted to minimize cramping during my trek along the descending trail. So around 1:00PM, I started down the descending trail.

I decided to pack up my camera along the down-trail, mostly because I could barely see more than 10-15 feet in front of me once the clouds set in. Also, I started down by digging my heels in at each step, which helped me slide a good half-step ahead each time I took a step. I made really good time on the way down, stopped twice to chug some water, and once for a restroom break at the only restroom on the decending trail (which ran basically 100 yards or so away and parallel from the ascending trail). I was basically hiking with blinders on, because I was sore enough not to care what was going on around me and was only focused on making it down the mountain alive.

Shortly after passing the 6th Station, I ran into a couple of Americans who were heading up. They noticed my hiking stick and stopped to ask me about the stamps, the hike up, etc. I told them how long it took for me to head up and some of the stories that happened along the way. They asked how long it took me to get down to that point and I told them that I left at 1:00PM, but that I didn't currently know what time it was (my pocket watch was stuffed into my backpack). One of the men looked at his watch and said that it was 2:40PM - so I had made it down rather quickly, since I had been told it could take around 3 hours to get down. I actually made it back to the bus about 10 minutes later. There, I cracked open some baby wipes, cleaned myself off, and changed into some clean clothes and sandals.

By 4:30PM, pretty much everyone had returned to the bus. By pretty much everyone, I mean everyone except a certain 14-year old boy, who decided to separate from his dad and a few friends and hike the trail by himself for some reason. Anyway, we waited at the bus for this kid, who even an hour later didn't show up. One of our MWR tour guides even started back up the mountain to look for him. Eventually, around 6:00PM, the kid walked through the parking lot and onto the bus, as if nothing had happened. His dad gave him the look of death, then took him off the bus to release some demons on the kid. Not sure what was said, but I'm glad that they walked far enough away from the bus so that I didn't have to witness the scolding of a lifetime. In the meantime, the tour guides at the bus got in touch with the one tour guide who had started up the mountain to let him know that everyone was accounted for and that he could head back down again... that poor guide must have been tired.

Anyway, we finally got on the road around dark-thirty, made one pit stop along the way, and made it back to Yokosuka a little after 9:00PM. From there I drove home, jumped into a nice warm ofuro (Japanese bathtub), then went to bed around 11:00PM. I had been awake for 23 straight hours!!!

All in all, I had a great time despite waking up sore on Sunday morning. I would definitely do the hike again, but if I never get the opportunity I won't be disappointed. Fuji-san is worthy of respect, but her beauty is much better appreciated at a distance, as opposed to up close and personal.

Check out the Gallery (dated 07/09/2006) to view the rest of the pictures.