There is a proverb in Japanese that roughly translated goes
something like: “You are wise to climb Mt. Fuji once and a fool to climb it
twice”…….. I wonder what that makes me?
The traditional way to climb Mt. Fuji is to arrive at the mountain
in the evening and climb overnight so that you arrive at the summit in time to
observe the sun rise over Tokyo. My plan was to arrive in Tokyo Tuesday, bus to
the mountain and reach the summit Wednesday night, climb down and bus back to
Tokyo Thursday, use Friday to recover and Saturday morning fly to Beijing. They were predicting a typhoon to hit Japan
on Friday, so I thought that would be enough time to get up and down the
mountain before the storm made landfall. There are 4 different trails up the
mountain so I decided to take the bus from Tokyo which takes you directly to
the Mt. Fuji Kawaguchiko 5th station; which is the easiest way to
get there, and climb the Yoshida route. Stations are way points along the trails
with “huts” where you can buy food, water, oxygen tanks (if you need one why
are you climbing), have your walking stick stamped (wood burned) and sleep (many
people will climb almost to the top, get a few hours sleep, and then finish the
climb in time for sunrise). Stations are
number from 1-10, 1 being on the bottom and 10 being the upper most, so when
you start your climb at a 5th station, you’re already a good way up
the mountain, but the numbering system is not that straight forward as there
can be more than one station for any given number, for example there are at
least 10 7th stations on the path I climbed.
Mt Fuji rises to over 3700 meters and the Kawaguchiko 5th
station stands at ~2200 meters. They say during the peak season (July-August)
there are thousands of people climbing the mountain, so even though I was
travelling alone, I was confident I would meet someone to climb with along the
way. It was August 31, but the official climbing season had closed on August 22
this year. You can still ascend the mountain, I don’t know if they ever stop
you from climbing, but the huts start shutting their doors and the weather gets
progressively worse as the year goes on. Having read about climbing Mt. Fuji, I
brought my large backpack and felt I came prepared with all the essential items
needed to conquer the summit; food, water, raingear, warm clothes, and a
headlamp, as well as a few other non-essential but useful items. When you start
your climb it will be warm as you work up a sweat hiking the lower level, but
as you go up in altitude it would get progressively colder until you reach the
summit where it could be freezing and most likely there would be snow; and
there is always the potential for rain. There were only about a dozen people or
so on the bus and I noted many of them were not carrying much at all, small
backpacks, no raingear and one couple was only in shorts, tee shirts, and
carrying a tiny camelback looking more like they were spending the day at the
beach than climbing a mountain; maybe I had over packed. When we left Tokyo it
was very hot, humid and sunny, but as we approached Mt. Fuji about two hours
drive away, it started to rain; and it would continue to rain virtually
non-stop until we returned to Tokyo the following afternoon. Since I didn’t know
exactly what the procedure was for climbing Mt. Fuji, when we got off the bus
at the 5th station I quickly followed everyone into the only shop that
was open to get out of the rain and get my bearings. The shop was a combination
bus stop, souvenir shop, restaurant (although it had already closed) and kind
of base camp; with toilets, lockers and a small open space to prepare for the
climb. As everyone started changing their clothes and gearing up for the climb,
the tentative, polite small talk of strangers thrown into the same, shared unfamiliar
situation started; “Hi”, “What’s your name?”, “Where are you from?”,”Why are
you climbing?”, “Are we insane?” ; the jury is still out on that last question.
As we slowly got to know one another better, a small troop started to form. Our
unit consisted of Carey from Japan, who spoke perfect English; his three
Japanese friends, 2 gals and a guy; Jeanette, a lone traveler from Boston; Sean
and Blaine, a young couple from Arizona; and me. This was the makeup of the
group at the start of the climb, but it would change several times before the
night was over.
Carey was the proverbial fool i.e. he had climbed the mountain
twice before. Since the rest of us folk were Mt. Fuji virgins, who spoke
virtually no Japanese, we smartly gravitated towards his expertise and made
Carey our unofficial leader which he graciously accepted. Everyone in our group
came fully prepared to climb except for Jeanette who did not anticipate rain
and therefore brought no rain gear, but the store sold everything the forgetful
or unprepared climber would need. Sean and Blaine had come straight from the
airport with all of their luggage. They had booked a “nearby” hotel and thought
they would have time to check in before the climb but were surprised when they
found out the hotel wasn’t that close and it would have cost them $130 taxi
fare one way, so they had no choice but to leave their belongings at the bus
stop. Wanting a memorable memento to mark the occasion, and having read a
review about its’ value, I purchased a wooden walking stick and planned to have
it stamped along the way. The article was absolutely correct, it was very
useful in maintaining your balance on the uneven footing, easing your steps on
the way down and giving you something to lean on when stopping to rest; I
highly recommend one if you climb. Finally at 9:30pm, with everyone dressed and
full of enthusiasm and confidence, we turned on our headlamps and stepped out
of the shop into the darkness and the pouring rain. Once you left the glow of
the bus stop windows there were no lights on trail until you reached the next
station and you could only see as far as the reach of your headlamp. I think
this was a good thing for if I was able to see the difficult terrain and the
height of the mountain I may have quit right then and there. On the first part
of the trail, the path is good with a relatively gentle slope upwards. Even
though it was raining and the walk wasn’t that strenuous, after 30 minutes you
were already sweating. From here on the exact timeline of events was lost in an
arduous, wearying, sleep deprived climb.
At some point before reaching the next station, one of
Carey’s friends had a problem with her boot and he told the rest of us to go on
and they would meet up with us later further up the mountain; that would be the
last we would see of Carey and his friends until the next morning. Once on the
path you can’t get lost since there is only one way… up; there are other people
climbing the trail to follow, although they were few and far between, not the hundreds
I had expected; and there are signs, in Japanese, indicating your position and pointing
to the top, so the rest of us continued on. While you can’t get lost, you still
can walk off the edge of the path, so in many places there are light reflectors
to keep you on the straight and narrow. At some point the path became “stairs”
and then the stairs turned into uneven volcanic rock; there would be variations
on this theme all along the way. We reached the next station and stopped for a
short breather and to see if Carey would catch up. After a reasonable wait time
Sean and Blaine had had enough rest and headed on; that would be the last time
we would see them on the mountain, and a short time later Jeanette and I
started up. Jeanette would be the only member of the original group who climbed
with me the entire time. As we stopped to take short breather at another
station, a fellow named Mike from, Portland Oregon, asked to join the two of
us. He had been watching groups go by and said he chose us because we spoke
English and looked like we would make it to the top. Since comaraderie is part
of the Mt. Fuji climbing experience we welcomed his addition and the 3 of us
would remain together until we were back in Tokyo. On we climbed.
After a while
Mike needed to use the toilet bad, however when we reached the next station the
facilities were closed. On we climbed as Mike’s need grew greater with each
step, however at the next station, the facilities were also closed. On we
climbed as Mike’s need grew desperate; thankfully at the next station the facilities
were open much to his relief. You could tell Mike was one of those people who
had not prepared for the climb because he was wearing one of those bus stop
bought, clear, see-through raincoats, made with plastic about as thick as a dry
cleaning bag, and it had burst Hulk-like as he had stretched it over the small
backpack purchased just that morning for the climb and he had also purchased
the matching rain pants. The climb was a spur of the moment thing for him. Since
I had brought tape with me (I told you I came prepared), we took the
opportunity to go into the toilet facility to tape his coat and get out of the
rain for a few minutes. It’s not as bad as it sounds, there is a central hall
with several stalls on either side, it didn’t smell too bad, and best of all it
was out of the relentless rain. As we were taping Mike up, another intrepid
trekker entered and believe it or not, asked to join our party. Unfortunately I
don’t think we ever got his name since the three of us always referred to him
as the French guy. Why…. because he was French of course, and he became quite a
character in our adventure. Talk about unprepared, the French guy was only
wearing regular pants, a sweater, normal shoes and was carrying a small
handheld flashlight. He had no backpack, raingear, food, water, nothing else.
We tried to tell him that he was unprepared for the top but he was persistent,
so he became a new member of our team. Out of the toilet and into the rain we
began climbing again. Climbing was difficult. Even if we didn’t have the
continual downpour it would still be tough but the rain made the rocks slippery
with the rivulets of water coursing down, visibility was poor, and the muscles
were starting to feel the strain. My legs were achy, my hips were feeling the
weight of the backpack and my breathing was increasing, but if we continued our
slow steady pace I had no doubt we would reach the top. As we climbed higher it
started to get a little colder, the rain was intermixed with sleet and the wind
began to pick up, so at the next station I donned a fleece. We tried to
convince the French guy to stay at the hut for the night, but he said he wanted
to test himself and see how far he could go. He was still convinced he could
reach the top. I give him credit because he made it farther than I ever would
have dressed the way he was, so on and up we went. At the next station, growing evermore weary,
we tried again to convince him to stay. He still said no, but at least this
time he asked the cost, 5000 yen (~$65); he only had 4000, so on and up in the
rain we climbed. The French guy was always bringing up the rear slowing our
pace, which was a actually fine with me because Jeanette and Mike were half my
age, if that, and would have had us moving much faster, maybe too fast for me;
when his flashlight went dead. So now we
were using our lights to light our path and to try and light his path as well,
which is difficult when you’re climbing single file. We got to the next station and again tried to
convince him to stay. He checked on the price here, still 5000, so I gave him
the 1000 yen he needed, I didn’t want to see him die on the mountain, at least
not with our group. He still wanted to continue, this guy had more guts than
brains, so on and up in the rain we went. Jeanette was leading us, followed by
me, with Mike nursing the French guy in the rear. Before we got to the next
station, Mike caught up with us. We asked where was the French guy? Mike said
they were climbing along and when he turned around to find the French guy
standing still, holding on to rock, looking like he was frozen solid. Mike was then
able to convince him to go back to the last hut and stay there until
morning. I was thinking that might be a
good idea for all of us, but on and up in the rain we climbed.
The rain kept
falling fast and furious, the wind was blowing, and I think we passed two more
stations, the details are a little sketchy, but I do know this, when we walked
past the next station and turned the corner to continue our climb, the wind was
howling like a lone wolf on a full moon and blowing the sleet sideways. We
decided to take refuge for a moment in the toilet facilities to assess our
situation and plan our next move. It was now 1:30 am. We had been climbing for
4 hours and from our starting point at Kawaguchiko 5th station they
say the climb to the summit should take 5-7 hours. Obviously with the rain
slowing our pace we knew it would trend towards the upper end of the range, but
we had no idea exactly where we were on the mountain. Being able to read
Japanese would certainly have been useful; wish I had continued taking my
classes. We were tired and a little sore, at least I was. We were wet from rain
on the outside and sweat from the inside, but not really cold; and we knew that
the toughest part was yet to come because the trail gets steeper the closer you
get to the top, becoming almost vertical and the weather would only get worse.
As we were contemplating our options to continue up, head back down, or stay in
one of the huts, a Japanese fellow, who looked like he worked in the hut at
this station, entered to use the facilities for something other than our town
hall debate. As he was leaving we stopped to ask him where we were. His English
was not very good, but through hand gestures, pointing and lots of one word
sentences we found out that we were at the last 7th station on our
way to the eight. He also determined for us that based on the speed we had
climbed this far, it would be another 4-5 hours to reach the top, but it was
the next thing he said that clearly convinced us our journey to the top was over.
He said it was too dangerous to climb and the guy looked dead serious. We
verified it with him a couple times, asking it in several ways but each time
the answer was….. too dangerous. He wasn’t going to stop us if we wanted to go
on and in our minds we knew he was right, but in our hearts it was difficult to
accept. We had worked so hard to get this far. Okay, so now what? We knew the
goal of reaching the top of Mt. Fuji had ended, but should we climb down now or
stay in the hut? We decided to at least go down 1 or 2 more stations figuring
that everyone would stop climbing up, stay overnight in the huts and come down
in the morning clogging the trail, so at least we would be ahead of the crowd,
therefore we started climbing down in the rain. Climbing down was harder on the
lava rock portions and you really had to watch your footing to avoid falling;
this is where the walking stick came in handy. As we were climbing down we met
Sean and Blaine coming up the trail. I thought they had been well ahead of us
on the trail and have no idea when or where we had passed them. Being young and
foolish, they listened to our story of the dangerous conditions that lay ahead,
but still fool heartedly went forward thinking that they would accomplish what
we could not. We wished them Good Luck! and went our separate ways knowing that
it would only be a matter of time before they learned the error of their ways. We
met many more people coming up the path as we climbed and those we spoke to,
like Sean and Blaine, continued up despite our warnings.
We climbed down a few stations, took a
breather and reassessed our situation again. None of us was sleepy, we would
only be in the hut for a few hours, and the cost was relatively expensive for
what you got; a small space on a hard mat, packed like sardines, next to a
bunch of wet sweaty hikers. The only advantage as we saw it was you were warm
and out of the rain. We decide that we would continue down to the bus stop,
change out of our clothes and use the money we would have spent on the hut to
buy us some sake to keep us warm. That was a much better plan, or so we thought
at the time. The more we climb down the more tired my legs became, but at
3:30am, after 6 hours of climbing in the pouring rain, we finally arrived at
the bus stop ………………..to find it CLOSED!
There are other shops and restaurants at the Kawaguchiko 5th
station, but nothing was open and the way they designed the buildings there was
really no shelter from the elements. As we looked around to find other hikers
who most surely must have come down off the mountain before us, we spied some
movement, at a lower level, by a building near the parking lot. That must be a
restaurant, shop, or room where wet hikers can find a warm cozy spot to rest their
weary bones. Our hearts sank when it turned out to be a drafty, semi-clean hall
next to smelly, unsanitary, public bathrooms. Several hikers were there trying
to dry out their clothes, stay warm and get some sleep. Some folks had even taken
of their shoes and boots and were standing barefoot or with their feet wrapped
in plastic bags because that was warmer than their waterlogged footwear. The
same question was asked of us as everyone who strolled into our makeshift camp
that night, “Did you make it to the top? Dejectedly we said “no” and tried to find a
clean, dry space to squat. I was lucky, or smart, because I had a full set of
dry clothes in my backpack including long underwear and a goose down jacket,
but if I was so smart, why did I just spend 6 hours, in the dark, during a
typhoon, a typhoon that would later claim at least 80 lives, attempting to
climb Mt Fuji. I changed my clothes and loaned Mike an extra long sleeve shirt
(Mike I would like my shirt back!), a hat and gave him the fleece I was
wearing; the sleeve cuffs were a little wet, but it was much warmer than what
he had on. I had an extra pair of socks and although my feet were wet, there
weren’t really cold so I loaned them to Jeanette who needed them more; told you
I came prepared. We settled in with the rest of the refugees swapping stories
and small talk, while killing time and trying desperately to stay warm until
the bus stop opened at 6:30am; our bus wouldn’t arrive until 1:00pm. While we
were climbing it was fine, but once you stopped moving the wet, cold, chill to
the bone set in. The bathrooms were large, warmer and could have easily held us
all, but the unpleasant smell and unhygienic conditions kept everyone from
using it as anything but a toilet. While we waited in our exhausted,
hypothermic, stupor, more hikers joined our encampment including Sean and Blaine.
They had made it only slightly farther than we did, never reaching the 8th
station (they should have listened to us) and were really bummed because all
their clothes were safely locked up in the bus stop. Another couple settled in
and opened one of those silver space blankets which was a great idea. It packs
very small, is extremely light weight and was big enough to cover 3 people; with
a couple of those and my tape and we could have built ourselves a tent. I will
definitely be adding that to my supply list. Sadly no one in the camp had made
it to the top.
Finally around 6:30 the bus stop opened and you never saw
people move so fast to be inside, dry, and warm. Some folks bought socks and
shirts, but the most popular item came from the vending machines (the
restaurant would not open until 9:00am)…. hot drinks. The vending machines sell
cans of hot tea and coffee and people in the group bought them rapaciously,
actually empting two of the vending machines much to the chagrin of the climbers
who would arrive later, then lovingly cradled the warm metal containers in
their hands before savoring the now tepid liquid; I think the heat was more
valuable than the contents. As we waited, the other shops and restaurants at
the station started to open, busloads of tourists began to arrive and more
intrepid trekkers came down from the mountain. We saw Carey and his friends,
but they had only made it to one of the 7th stations before calling
it quits, but we saw no sign of the French guy. Around 10:30, Mike Jeanette and
I decided it was time to have a hot meal and get ourselves that bottle of sake
we agreed to so many hours ago. We crossed the street to pick up our sake in
one of the gift shops and check out all the available restaurants. With sake in
hand, we found a quiet, roomy, uncrowded restaurant with a table overlooking
the bustling 5th station center. We placed our order, cracked open
the bottle and toasted our incredible journey. Jeanette showed off her the dry
shirt she had packed which ironically had printed on it “No such thing as a
rainy day”. We finished the first bottle of sake rather quickly and still had
plenty of food and time left, so we decided to have another bottle. Lunch was now
gone and so was the second bottle of sake, but we still had time left before
our bus would arrive, so we bought a third bottle of sake, which of course we
also finished. Mike had been our sake buyer and when he went back for the third
bottle he reminded the seller of the first two purchases and negotiated a
discount, so it really was a good thing we had three J Feeling full and fortified
we headed back across the street to catch our bus. As we waited the final
minutes, who should walk through the shop door…..the French guy! He had safely
made it off the mountain. The bus ride back to Tokyo was uneventful and of
course it was hot, humid and sunny when we arrived. I was supposed to meet Mike
and Jeanette later that evening, but when I got to the hotel, I fell asleep and
slept way past our scheduled meeting time (Sorry guys)
I tried to climb Mt. Fuji and never reached the summit, but
I am confident that I had the strength, stamina and determination to make it to
the top had the weather not intervened; heck, I never even saw the top of the
mountain since it was shrouded in clouds the entire time. And I would like to try and climb Mt. Fuji again;
anyone want to join me? So am I wise or
does that make me a fool? You be the judge.
Sayonara,
Norb-Posted by Emelia
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