Most of our climbing was done at night. To say that we "climbed" Mt. Fuji is a bit of a misnomer, since it was technically hiking and not rock-climbing, but the steep graded scrambles that comprise much of volcano's surface require both hands and both feet in order to ascend.
Mt. Fuji has 10 stations from bottom to top. Most of the stations have some amenities ranging from outhouses, to tatami mats to rest on, to incredibly overpriced food and canisters of oxygen. We started at the 5th station, which is where the car road ends, so the last outpost of humanity before your world is nothing but loose gravely dirt and other mars-like rock faces (and the hundreds of other climbers.)
Sometimes it felt like enternities between each station. The endless uphill climb requires you to go slow and take baby steps or your legs will give out. Every so often one of us would yell "kyuukei!" ("break!") and we would stop on the slopes for a few minutes to rest our muscles. That was also when we pulled out our snacks and water. (That was also usually when I felt my sweat grow cold on me, such a gross feeling.) I was drinking constantly to try and lighten my load. Two liters of water weighs a ton.
It's not like I ever seriously wanted to turn back, but there were times when I didn't feel the motivation in my legs to keep going. My friend Michelle said something like "do this hike for someone. Think of someone you love and use that as your motivation to keep going." So, mom, this hike was for you. Because of all you've done for me, you gave me the motivation to keep going.
Despite our labored breathing and the often single-file trail, we were still able to converse. We talked about family, friends, life in Japan. Michelle kept saying positive things, and I was so inspired, I said "I feel like as long as we stay positive, then nothing bad can happen." After a moment Chelsey said, "that's the greatest thing I've ever heard." So that became our motto for the trip.
At one of the 8th stations (oh yeah, that's right, there's not just one of each station, there's like, four or five, those tricky tricksters) we began to see the sunrise on the horizon. At this point we knew we couldn't make it to the summit by sunrise, but it didn't matter.
Watching the sun slowly rise while ascending a mountain brings on a peaceful high that's hard to describe. I guess viewing something so beautiful, which you know was created by nature and not by humans, makes you feel more connected to the universe.
We started where the ground was green.
In what literally looked like the phoenix spreading its wings, somewhere along one of the 8th stations, the sunrise happened.
And then it was light, and we saw that we had been climbing on Mars the whole time.
A series of three torii gates marks the summit of Mt. Fuji. Two hours later, we had passed the second one.
This is the last one. I'm really-really at the top now!
12,000-something feet. (3776 meters.) Highest point in Japan.
The way down was gruesome (read: endless endless switchbacks in foot-deep loose red dusty dirt with dozens of other hikers kicking it up into your face such that you need to wear a mask to avoid getting dusk in your eyes/nose/mouth and to avoid getting sunburned, all while jamming your toes into your shoes with every downhill step) but afterwards, we were overjoyed to drink a cool beverage, take a nap, and relax in a hot spring in the cute town of Fujiyoshida. I'm proud of myself that I did it, and overjoyed that I got to share the experience with other Gunma JETs. Gunma prefecture has one of the most active ALT communities in all of Japan, a fact I'm grateful for every day. If it weren't for them, this trip wouldn't have happened.
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I'm having a great time at work, although I have my daily share of confusing/embarrassing/frustrating moments, as do in all aspects of my life. But that entry will be for another day.
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