Higher than I

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Nothing makes for a better story than suffering. To describe one’s pain, to make the other feel and to revel in the glory of others’ pity is ecstatic. But joy is a totally different emotion. There is no empathy in it. To juxtapose one’s joy on the other is to rouse feelings on envy, and jealousy is not the perfect reading companion.

My hesitance in writing about the 2nd Mt Fuji climb primarily comes out this dilemma .

The first climb was one breathless grunt, starting in the evening with the cold already setting in, the rain catching up, slowly at first and then working itself into a full storm, then climbing in a daze, not sure where my limit would show up and then finally going though the climb in a trance and reaching the top without realizing it.

Then on the way back losing my way, going on a wrong path, walking for a few additional hours on a steep gravel strewn slope, slipping , falling , cramping and finally deciding not to do the climb in the near future.

But what it got me was a sense of glory, it is glorious to suffer and to overcome the suffering is heroic. But 2 years passed and the warmth of glory had waned, I decided to give it another try.

This time it was a group of 5, 3 men and 2 women. There were 2 of us who were veterans, I having climbed once and the other having climbed twice. The others were first timers, with some outdoors experience between them.

The journey again started at Shinjuku, the bus pick-up area crowded with climbers taking advantage of the Obon holidays. The bus was located in the chaos and the journey started.

This was a package tour, since all the direct buses had been already booked, and the tour company booked the mountain huts, which are generally unavailable during the peak season. The bus driver knowing that the Obon traffic would be heavy on the expressways, took the back-roads and still arrived 2 hours late at the 5th station of Mt Fuji.

For all those who have not bothered to read my earlier blog, the 5th station is where you begin the climb. But the first feeling was that of dread. The 5th station was covered in clouds and the atmosphere looked chilly. The memory of the earlier climb though a storm came to mind and I prepared myself for another battering ride.

It is important to rest at the 5th station. The main reason is as much for the lungs to get used to the thin, oxygen deprived air as it is to stretch legs cramped by a long bus ride. So we sat, unpacked out gear, munched on the energy bars and prepared mentally as well as physically for the climb ahead.

The initial path is flat, with few inclines to stretch the lings. There is still some greenery here, plants growing in the volcanic ash and surviving the harsh winter. It is more of a warm-up, the terrain turning steep gradually ,going slightly out of breath and reaching the station. A small drizzle started and I saw a guided tour group stopping to change into rain gear. Then within a few minutes the rain stopped and then group again stopped to change out of the rain gear.

The climb from the 6th to the 7th stages turns difficult in stages. There are rocky portions which require a steady grip and good balance, otherwise it’s a gravel strewn path turning steeper. And this phase is where the feeling of the climb gets realized.
The path suddenly turning steep to make you lose breath and then tapering out, only to turn steep again. With the breaks becoming more frequent we kept pace with the crowd.

The difference between traveling individually and doing in a group is that a group is self-absorbed. The group looks inward and cares only for itself, there is no room for observation or interaction. When you are alone you observe others, and identify with them to avoid getting lost in the void within, but when in a group you identify with it, changing your behavior , habits, anything just to fit in.

As is best exemplified in sports crowds, individuality is lost and morphed in a group. A docile individual becomes fierce in a violent group, the group feeding off him and him feeding off the group. Both are parasites bleeding each other and molding into homogeneity.

For me there are no memories of interesting people, no overheard conversations, there is absolutely nothing, only a keen awareness of where the other members were, keeping a lookout, observing behaviors , characteristics, slowing down with the slowest and keeping pace with the fastest.

The weather was glorious, not hot enough to make sweat too much and not cold enough for discomfort. The light breeze blew into sweating bodies cooling them down and acting as an accelerant. But my conversation always went back to the earlier trip and most sentences began with “Last time …..” The body was happy but the mind was not. It sought discomfort, unease, anything other than a comfortable climb. The mind sought glory and the body sought comfort.

Reaching the 7th station resting and starting the climb to the 8th was unremarkable. Passing through mountain huts, sitting down and resting on the benches, taking off the back-packs sipping the sports drinks and then starting again.

The tour group had booked our stopover at the deceptively named Fuji San hotel. This mountain hut(or huts) is located at around 3400 metres and comprises of a Japanese style dining rooms along with sleeping bunks built behind it. We arrived at the hut around 19:30 and were greeted by the staff who after confirming that we had a reservation spent the remaining time on hurrying us though the dinner.
The dinner was Hamburger curry rice with 2 sausages thrown in. It was a obviously a ready to eat meal , but after a 6 hour trek , a hot meal serviced in disposable plates looked like luxury.

We understood from our minder that there were 28 people employed in the mountain hut, who work for the 3 months which make up the climbing season. He told us that the toughest part of the job was packing up the place and boarding it up in October when the climbing season ended.

This is to prevent winter climbers from entering the huts, using the facilities without obviously paying any money. He went on to add that climbers had entered the huts on many occasions earlier. Such precautions might seem extreme and even cruel, but what needs to be remembered is that the mountain huts are built and maintained at a great expense.

It is difficult to imagine how all the building material is transported up this height. The descending track on the mountain is also used by mountain tractors to transport supplies to the huts, but getting material and assembling it at this height does require lot of effort and obviously money.

The mountain huts have been run and maintained by families over hundreds of years and for most it is a hereditary profession. I remember reading stories of climbs hundreds of years ago with accounts of stoppage at mountain huts.

But in an age with no mechanized transportation , the logistics of maintaining such huts is mind boggling. What is also amazing is how people used to climb in days of no conveniences. Today the trail to the top is well marked out, roped in for safety . The chances of anybody falling off are very slim and most of the deaths in the climbing season are either due to exposure to the cold or from the rare rocks crashing down the mountain.

But a hundred years ago, only a few hundreds would have attempted with climb not the approximately 300,000 who do it every year now. Erosion is a big worry and mud is bought in from outside and sprinkled on the trails.

We were led to the sleeping places and the first shock was the path leading up to it. No wider than 3 feet with a 10 metre drop on the other side we found the entrance to our sleeping area. But before sleeping the minder ensured that he handed over our breakfast for the next morning.

Then getting to the sleeping area was like crossing an obstacle course, crossing wooden bars and reaching to our beds. The next shock was the sleeping area allocated to each person. There was around 2 feet of space for each, so we slept elbows clashing with each movement and snores breaking out every few seconds. But my friends told me later that I beat everybody hands-down in the snoring contest.

The entrance to the hut containing the sleeping area is an accident waiting to happen. My biggest fear was waking up and walking out bleary eyed and a misstep and a 10 metre drop.

The plan was to sleep from 20:00 to around 01:00 , get up , pack and start the climb around 01:30. So by the time we got up and went out at 01:30 there was a long queue of climbers already on the way.

The weather was still perfect, chilly, but comfortable enough for exercise. However, for the first time we were climbing in the dark and the trail was getting crowded. The main objective behind climbing Mt Fuji at night is to reach the top in time to grab a seating place and watch the sunrise. As the sunrise comes between 04:30-05:00 most people try to reach the peak around 04:00.

So the crowds start building at the 8th station from around 01:00 and from then to the top its like waiting to enter a sports arena. The crowds are tired but the expectation of reaching the peak removes all irritations associated with tiredness.

So we climbed sometimes in a single row and sometimes in two . The slower ones on the left side and the right side for those in a hurry. There was a guided tour with some non-Japanese in the group. The non-Japanese obviously were only English speaking. However when one of them , frustrated at the lack of progress, started climbing outside the marked area. The guide obviously irritated shouted at him in Japanese to get back on the trail, but was obviously not understood.

The last part of the climb involves using both hands to hold onto rocks and either pulling yourself up or maintaining balance. This is the part where shins bang into rocks and hands get gashed holding onto sharp rocks.

Each marker showing the elevation told us how close we were to the peak and the pace became faster with the expectation and finally we reached at a point where the wooden gate marking the entrance to the peak was visible. We waited for a group member to catch up and then entered the gate to reach the mountain top.

The last time when I reached the top and finally realized that it was the peak, the feeling was of elation, it was a sense of having achieved something, but this time , there was no such thing. Probably because , from the moment I set off, there was no doubt that I was getting to the top. The weather , holding me back previously , was encouraging. The cool breeze cooled the sweat and encouraged at every step. The stop at the mountain hut , filled the stomach, relaxed and goaded to go into the final climb.

And this feeling was not limited to myself, the shouts of happiness were missing, there was no sense of achievement.

The top was crowded, this was not a night when anybody would give up the climb. I would guess most who started out would have reached the top. As the crowds built up there was not space to walk. We pushed our way through to find seating space on a rock to catch the sunrise.

In the earlier climb, the last 2 hours were done in a thick fog with a visibility of a few metres and this persisted to the time I reached the top. So at the peak, there was no way to figure out that the mountain top was not limited to that narrow strip.
But this time I realized that the mountain top perimeter was wide and the highest point was visible on the other end. The silhouettes of climbers who had already reached trekked around the perimeter looked unreal, small figures moving far off.

The purpose of the climb was to catch the sunrise, and the crowds started taking their places. There was a cold wind blowing ,bringing out jackets caps. So we huddled , sitting on rocks, trying to get the best views. The best views are before the Sun comes out, the sky getting painted in different hues and the clouds working themselves in crazy patterns.
However the moon was still out, lighting up the weather station at the back. There was a bluish tint and at the back but flaming orange in front. Then the Sun came out and I realized that the best view was over.

I’m not trying to run down the sunrise here, but when the Sun does come out it blanks out everything else. It felt like a fire starting up, beautiful at first, enhancing the shadows, then burning everything around into nothingness.

The Sun came out finally to cries of ‘Banzai’ and then it was over.

Then it was time to take a walk around the peak, circling it , getting to the weather station and coming back to start the descent.


The walk around the perimeter takes around 90 minutes. Most of it is a normal trek, but the climb to the weather station is steep enough to require holding on to the railing. The landscape is moon-line, strewn with rocks and the crater is visible and easily reachable over foot.

But it is an effort and tired legs ensure that any additional effort is avoided, we gave it a miss and circled back to the Sengentaisha Okumiya shrine, the starting point of the peak, the shrine. It was around 07:30 by now and since our bus would be waiting for us at 11:30, it was time to start back.

The way back was the same as earlier, steep, gravel strewn which gave little traction to the shoes. So slipping, sometimes falling but mostly recovering we made our way back. The rest of the trip was uneventful, finally reaching the 5th station bus station, and getting back to Tokyo.

The Obon week traffic had built up and we reached Tokyo around 2 hours late.

There is no dramatic learning, no life changing experience , actually nothing from this trip. Then there was the old saying

‘A wise man climbs Mount Fuji once, a fool twice’

But I did the trip the 2nd time to catch the sunrise and to take more photographs. It was to ensure that the climb remained in the memory clearly as a climb, not like some drunk experience where the only remembrance is a vague effort and the outcome .

The only reason I climb a mountain is because it is higher than me and when I reach that height and look down I am ,even if briefly, higher or taller. But then when I come down and look at it again, it’s still higher than I.

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