Mount Fuji

Even before I stepped onto the trail, I thought I couldn't do it. Let's just put it that way.

But here we were, Michelle and I, driving towards the oft-imagined icon of Japan.

Unfortunately, there were clouds that covered the top little bit of Fuji; this would remain the case while we hiked it. It took a while, actually, for us to find where the trail started. A colleague had given us some directions, and while we arrived at the foot of Fuji at around 7:15am, we spent the next half an hour trying to find the head of the trail. We finally gave up the given directions and decided that we "just get to Fuji!" So here we were (to the right) wandering in the greens. And we even had a treat - two deer were walking on the road up to 5th station (and I didn't grab my camera fast enough).

From 5th station we hiked up to 6th, and this was where our 'real' trek began. With all this snow, we should've known what would be waiting for us 4.5... rather, 5.5 hours later.. At this point Michelle (and I) were both grinning at the great weather and the outdoors! We were unawares as to what we had actually gotten ourselves into! Yes, we underestimated Fuji-san.








> View from 7th.
Well, the hike from 6th to 7th (and not to mention the hike down) was something to remember. The path was packed with small pieces of lava rock. This meant you had to dig into the ground with your feet so you could get enough grip to push yourself up. This went on for about 1.5 hours, until we finally reached the 7th station, and subsequently explained my sore thighs.

The clouds around us were moving so quickly. It would be sunny one moment and dark and grey the next. These, we realized, were the clouds that we saw from the car, covering the tip of Fuji. So peaceful it looked from afar! Gushes of wind would threaten to blow us off the trail, and then in the next instant would be a great, enduring silence. No other tourist, mountain/nature lover, or women, for that matter, was on trail with us.

> Station 8.

What we started to realize - but not yet to its full extent - was that each 'station' spanned across 50m in altitude. A lot of switchbacks and a fair amount of disappointment took place after one station, and until we would arrive at the next. When we reached the 'real' Station 8, Michelle checked her watch and oh my! It was already half past noon. The last two hours spent between Station 7 and 8 had literally flown by. We also saw how high we actually were - we were above most of the clouds! I popped a dosage of Advil at this point, just to make sure I wouldn't start dying of altitude sickness:

> View from one of the Station 8's.

> The gusty wind and clouds blowing upwards, downwards, to our right.

The hike between 7 and 8 was probably the worst and the most demoralizing. The temperature began to drop, we started to feel the effects of altitude on our breathing patterns, and the cherry-on-top was the huge amount of snow that had not melted, leaving a good 3ft of icy, season-old snow for us to trample through. Needless to say, our socks were getting a little damp by this point, and the most agonizing part of it all was that some parts of the trail we couldn't even locate! As far as we knew, we were the only ones on this volcano at the time, and we didn't want to be stupid by risking our lives climbing it under poor conditions. But, we trudged on.

>Somewhere between Station 8 and 9.

I eventually lost count of how many pseudo-Station 9's (actually different sections of Station 8) we had come across. The climb was getting steep, and that the snow had eased a bit was our only savior. The occasional glimpse of where exactly we stood on the mountain gave us a mental umph to keep going. Again, the clouds whipped pass us, teasing us with the sun and the bright blue sky they would reveal in snapshots. In any case, Michelle and I definitely looked at each other in exhaustion when we saw that the final set of mountain cabins were labeled "Station 8.5."

Despite all this, the view was great when we could see it! We were all smiles again when our bodies had finished acclimatizing, and we started to feel a lot better. However, we bumped into an old man - we guesstimated his age to be between 70 and 80! - who was obviously decked out and prepared for the climb, and had hiked Fuji several times before. We asked him if he reached the summit, and he replied, "No, I came down after reaching Station 9 - there's way too much snow to get up to the summit right now. Maybe the snow will melt in a few weeks." After having left Station 8.5 (which was not followed by a Station 8.6, but rather, 9) and considering that we had hiked for 4.5 hours, and reconsidering the near-80 year-old man's advice, we decided to stop at Station 9 and start our descent. We took a last look at the summit, which you can see below, just past the torii gate:

It may look like the summit is only another 15 min away in this picture, but it is deceiving. That last little hike from Station 9 to the summit, apparently, would have taken another 1.5 hours... which we're really glad we didn't do.

Our descent, by the way, was a whole 'nother story! I truly realized how much we had climbed - a total of about 1400m in altitude - when we started descending, and descending, and descending... and the trail wouldn't hit Station 6. It took us 4.5 hours up, and a good 2 hours to come back down. Of course, as all hikes often are, the descent was far worse than the climb. I was, despite my initial concerns, quite well and un-fatigued by the end of the climb, but was definitely ready to go home (and was getting slightly cranky) by the end of the hike down.

A Japanese lady of whom we estimated to be 60+ years-old passed us on our way down, complimenting us for how far up we had gone. When we reached Station 6, she was sitting there, taking a rest.. but not just a regular rest: a cigarette rest. Then, her husband came to pick her up in their car. 3 American boys that passed us on our way up - and had made it to the summit, drenched and near-frozen - passed us on our way down, and asked, "Oh, you guys are still making it back down?" Michelle and I just looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Then there was the Belgian man, who we later found out had biked all the way up to Station 5, hiked all the way up to Station 9 and down, and biked home, back down from Station 5. There are some crazy people out there! But all in all, it was a fantabulous experience, totally fun to do, although I don't reckon I would do it again! Off to bed I go!!