The Last Challenge

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What a difference a year makes. Around this time last year, Kathy and Netty invited me to climb the tallest and most venerated mountain in Japan: Fuji-san, as the locals affectionately call it. At the time, I thought Mt. Fuji was too far, the trip there was too expensive, and I could think of at least a million more enjoyable things to do than hiking up a mountain in the pitch of darkness just to watch the sun rise from the summit. Moreover, I couldn’t understand why my friends would want to endure the experience. True, climbing Mt. Fuji is a challenge many people from all corners of the globe undertake, but when much more splendid mountain hikes back in the countries which issued our passports. Why not wait until returning home and then hike all the more picturesque mountains there? I never vocalized these thoughts to my friends, however. And anyway, they were on the verge of leaving Japan and seemed pretty intent that they were going to successfully climb Mt. Fuji before they did so.

A year later and with my own departure from Japan imminent, I began to understand why Kathy, Netty, Brenda, and Mary were so insistent on making the climb; it represents the last great challenge. During my time in Japan, just as my departed friends had done before me, I’d overcome many obstacles, including but not limited to language barriers, cultural differences, various levels of emotional stress, isolated incidents of racial discrimination, and so on and so forth, and I’d gotten past it all. Yet I felt I couldn’t leave without having one final hurrah, one last triumph to cement beyond all doubt the right to proclaim, “I came, I saw, I conquered.” Climbing Mt. Fuji to watch the sun rise in the land whose name means, “Origin of the Sun,” provides such an opportunity. So when Aaron Langstraat, who had been living and teaching in the Tokyo area for the past few months, invited me on a climbing trip he was planning, I didn’t worry about cost or distance this time; I readily accepted the invitation. What follows now is an account of my accent to the literal and symbolic top of Japan.

July 14th 9:30 AM: I board a Shinkansen at Hiroshima Station bound for Shin-Yokohama Station. From there I transfer to another train and after that transfer yet again before arriving at my final destination of Kawaguchiko, a sleepy mountain town at the base of Mt. Fuji.

4:14 PM: I arrive at Kawakuchiko. It will still be another half-hour before the first of my hiking group arrives so I stroll around town, stocking up on some provisions at a local convenience store during my amblings.

4:41 PM: Aaron’s friend Joanne’s friend Kate has arrived on schedule at Kawaguchiko Station, where the two of us agreed to meet.

5:25 PM: After exchanging, “How are ya’s,” and “Pleased to meet ya’s,” Kate and I hop on the last bus of the day for Kawaguchiko 5th Station, the point at which our trek up Mt. Fuji will begin.

6:20 PM: We arrive at the 5th Station. Mt. Fuji looms ominously above. I comment on how it doesn’t look that bad—words I would later regret. It will be 5 and a half hours before Aaron and the rest of our company arrive, so we settle down at one of the picnic tables overlooking the town of Kawaguchiko for a light dinner. The wait begins.

7:30 PM: I fall victim to a greedy opportunist looking to make a buck off gullible climbers. I’m looking for a beer and I ask the guy in the first shop I wander into if he has any. He says yes and leads me in the direction of a vending machine near the back of the store. My jaw practically drops upon seeing the price of beer: 400 yen a pop. Yikes! Japan is expensive but even so, that beer better come in a can of pure gold to justify paying 400 yen. I ask if this is the only place that sells beer and the proprietor says, “Hai, so desu,” which means, “Yes. It’s so.” My mighty thirst wins out and so I reluctantly deposit 400 yen into the machine. Taking my king’s ransom beer I exit and wander across the way to the only other store that’s still open and discover to my dismay that they sell beer for 250 yen! Curses!

8:30 PM: It’s cold, dark, and it’s starting to drizzle. Kate and I take shelter in the store that sold beer for 250 yen. Within the store there’s a small cafeteria with some seating for us to use. I reward the proprietors for their more reasonably priced beer by buying one each for Kate and myself.

9:55 PM: Still waiting inside the shop. We are getting ready to be booted out because the shop closes at 10, but fortune smiles upon us and a bus full of Fuji-climbers rolls up and the hikers immediately clamber into the store. This surge of new customers buys Kate and myself a few more minutes of warmth and shelter. We decide to wait and see just how long it takes until we’re asked to leave.

10:30 PM: Turns out it was half an hour. Back out in the cold, we search for someplace new to camp out. Luckily, the rain stopped and the sky had cleared. For the first time I can remember since coming to Japan, I see stars. I didn’t spend too long star-gazing though, as an over-night store had opened its doors while we were getting kicked out of the other place.

11:30 PM: Kate reads while I try to nap. Once we start climbing it will be a sleepless night so I want to get in as much as I can while I can. Sleep is proving difficult as we are once again outside, having left the store’s warmth to park ourselves on a patch of land adjacent to the roadway so we can see our friends when they arrive shortly.

July 15th, Midnight: Aaron and company should be here any minute now right?

12:05 AM: Right?

12:10 AM: Right?

12:15 AM: Kate and I have retreated to the only open store’s doorway for warmth. As we keep our eyes fixed on the roadway, I start a game of, “For Sure the Next Car,” wherein we use our vast mental powers for metaphysical manipulation to will the next car up and over the hillcrest to be the taxi containing our friends. This game is not going well, however, so Kate starts a new game called, “If They’re Not in the Next 10 Cars, I’m Going to Call Them.”

12:25 AM: Our game ends with Kate placing a phone call. One of their train connections was delayed, so they were running an hour late. The good news is that they had found a taxi driver who agreed to take them up from Kawaguchiko train station to meet us. They will be another half hour. Kate and I receive this news with some anxiety as we know that if we want to make it to the summit for sunrise, we need to leave like now!

12:45 AM: Kate and I are still waiting. Other hikers are still arriving to start the overnight trek but thus far none have been our companions. We’re still huddled by the doorway have been whiling away the time by mocking people who stop to buy a ridiculous official Fuji walking stick. For a cool 1200 yen, you can get a hexagonal, 1 metre (approximately) tall walking stick with either a Japanese or American flag on the end or without. Both styles feature bells (so people know you’re approaching in the dark?). These sticks are an ingenious ploy; as climbers ascend the mountain, they have the opportunity to get their official walking stick stamped at each station from the base to the summit. Although they vary slightly in design, each station’s stamp includes the date as well as the station’s elevation. The goal of course is to have every stamp burned into your official Fuji walking stick and all the bragging rights they entail, especially the coveted summit stamp. However, the stamps are not included in the price of the stick. Rather, each stamp will set you back anywhere from 200-500 yen extra, making a 1200 yen investment significantly pricier. All to have a tacky souvenir that won’t fit in the truck of your car and certainly won’t fit amongst your carry-on luggage either.

1:00 AM: At long last a taxi pulls up but by this point we’ve learnt to hold off on any celebrations until after we get visual confirmation that it’s our friends who are inside. This time though, celebrations are in order. Aaron and the rest of our troupe, Kim, Joanne, and Keiko, spill out of the cab, settle their insanely huge fare, and collect their hiking packs. Now complete, our group exchange brief introductions and greetings then make a quick restroom stop. There is no time to linger around. It is 1,462 metres to the top and only 3 ½ hours until sunrise. But the journey is finally underway.

1:05 AM: 5 minutes in and so far it has been a very pleasant stroll up a gentle slope. Keiko asks if it’s like this all the way to the top. None of us know but I’m certain we all optimistically hope so.

1:10 AM: Oh my god it’s gotten steep now. This climb feels like work. Why did I agree to this?

1:25 AM: Our imminent arrival at the 6th Station is punctuated by an intrusive pre-recorded message in both English and Japanese reminding us to be careful on the mountain, be courteous to others, don’t litter, and be sure to wear proper clothing. Kim, who has been in Japan for a number of years, and I commiserate on how typically Japanese this kind of announcement is; in Japan, it’s not Big Brother who is always omnipresent: it’s Big Mother.

1:30 AM: We arrive at the 6th Station and take a quick breather. During the planning of this hike, we had never taken into account the fact that some people would be more adept at mountain climbing than others. There was an assumption we’d all reach the summit together. It’s what we all wanted I’m certain, and perhaps if we were not under such great time constraints, we would have.

2:00 AM: After one hour of hiking, Joanne, Kim, Kate and I reach the 7th Station. Aaron and Keiko have fallen behind but we’re confident we’ll see them at the summit. The route map suggests that the 7th Station is 1 hour and 45 minutes from the 5th Station; we did it in just under an hour. We were on a torrid pace but it remained to be seen whether or not we could keep it up.

2:30 AM: The terrain has changed significantly after leaving the 7th Station. Where before it had been loosely packed shale, now we were scrambling, often crawling, over large pieces of volcanic rock. The trail is marked by a chain barrier on both the left and right.

2:35 AM: I am actually starting to enjoy this. Unlike the shale, the volcanic rocks are at least stable, making footing much easier. Additionally, I can use the provided chain barriers to pull myself up and over the rocks, thereby reducing the workload on my legs. Who needs one of those tacky walking sticks?

3:00 AM: We arrive at the 8th Station well ahead of the 3 ½ hours the route map allotted to reach this point. Brimming with confidence over how quickly we’re ascending the mountain, we joke about how we feel no pain and have yet to break a sweat even though there is ample evidence to the contrary. We decide we need to do something to make the climb more challenging. Suggestions include blindfolds, going up backwards, getting drunk, and wearing blindfolds while going up backwards drunk. In the end we just stay the course.

3:25 AM: It has become extremely tough going since leaving the 8th Station. The trail is now a series of steep switchbacks. Plus the terrain is back to the loose shale we had to contend with before. Now though, mostly due to exhaustion, I am having even more difficulty getting a firm footing. There are also significantly more hikers, as the increased jingle of bells attests to. At the various stations there are any number of elaborate shelters, and it’s quite common for hikers to start early, hike to one of the shelters near the summit, then sleep for a while before resuming their quest to the top for the sunrise. Now we joined by these rested and eager hikers as they emerged from their accommodations. My salvation amidst the exhaustion and congestion are the high concrete retaining walls built along the trail to minimize rockslides. By leaning against them, I could use these walls to support some of my weight and prevent myself from toppling over from fatigue. And where I could find handholds, I again pulled myself up the path. Perhaps I ought to have rethought my attitude toward those tacky walking sticks.

4:00AM: Kate and I reach the 9th Station. Joanne and Kim had several brief rest-stops ago told us that if we had a chance to make it to the summit for sunrise, we should do so. Like Aaron and Keiko, they’d met us at the top. At this point though, I’m seriously doubting if I’ll make it there. I’m spent. Or so I think. I convince myself otherwise. After all, we are at the last station before the summit with half an hour to go before sunrise. The eastern sky is already starting to lighten and I can now vaguely see the path all the way to the summit. We push on.

4:05 AM: My flashlight has been put away as it is now light enough to see without its aid. Our hike was always a race against time and now more than ever that is obvious. I am nagged by the fear that we won’t reach the summit in time.

4:10 AM: This is it; I can’t go on. I’ve hit the wall figuratively and literally as my pack makes a dull thud against the retaining wall when I stop for a rest. My legs are not unlike Grandma’s tapioca pudding and my heart is pounding as if it were featured in an Edgar Allen Poe poem. The eastern horizon is awash in an orangish-redish hue and I suggest to Kate that we find a place to sit, relax, and watch the sun come up. We won’t make the summit in time anyway I plead. Undaunted, Kate suggests we go just a little further. So we do.

4:20 AM: In my fatigued and sleep-deprived state I’m growing paranoid that I’ll miss the sunrise completely in our effort to reach the summit. I tell Kate I’m stopping to snap some pictures while the opportunity is present. She continues her trek and I’m certain I’ll not see her again. I take my photos and, content that I have that at least, move on. I round one switchback and find to my surprise Kate leaning against a rock doing what I had done only moments ago. Reunited we continue our quest for the top.

4:30 AM: So close. So damn close. I estimate we’re 200-250 metres from our goal: close enough to see clearly the hinomaru—the Japanese flag—flapping in the wind up at the summit. Sunrise will not wait for us however, as its first rays are evident upon the horizon. Like many others who are so agonizingly close to the top, we pull over to the side of the trail to admire the sunrise. Watching the red sun which I’d seen so many times adorning the Japanese flag make its own ascent, I know the effort to get to this point was entirely worth it. It is truly a gorgeous sight.

4:40 AM: Although incredibly awe-inspiring, sunrise was not the only reason for making the trek to the top of Mt. Fuji. I would not be satisfied with making it almost to the top, watching the sun rise, then going back down. No, there was more ground to cover yet. Therefore, after the sun had risen and Kate and I shared some energy-restoring chocolate, we set off again.

4:45 AM: With the pressure to make it to the top before sunrise gone, the last stretch goes much easier. For one, we set a more relaxed pace. Instead of frantically passing other hikers as I had earlier, I’m content just to stay behind Grandpa and Grandma Nakamura and shuffle my way to the top, the chiming of their belled walking sticks my accompaniment on this, the final accent. There is no longer any doubt in my mind that I will make it. And when I get there, I am so looking forward to a nap while we wait for the others.

5:05 AM: Kate and I conquer Mt. Fuji. Moreover, we did so in a very impressive 4 hours. I am soaked with sweat and what with the winds and the temperature, I am quite chilled. So is Kate. We take shelter in a heated rest hut but it is packed with the throngs of others who have also conquered Mt. Fuji. We manage to squeeze onto a bench near the entrance and rest our legs.

5:25 AM: A group of Japanese “Don’t Call Us an Army” Self Defense Force soldiers leave to begin their descent so we quickly occupy some of the space they’ve vacated. As fortune has it, there’s enough room to stretch out so I kick off my shoes and lay down for that highly anticipated nap.

6:30 AM: I wake to find myself alone. Wondering what happened to Kate, I put my shoes on and prepare to search for her but run into Joanne and Kim instead. They have just arrived and are sprawled out on a bench near the exit. Relieved that I’m no longer alone, I chat with them for a few moments then take a walk around the summit to see what it’s like as well as to get photographic proof that I made it to the top. Upon returning to the shelter, I find Kim and Joanne now snoozing. I decide this is a good idea so I once again stretch out for some sleepy time.

7:00 AM: Sleeping.

7:30 AM: Still sleeping.

8:00 AM: Kate wakes me to say that a decision must be made. It’s been three hours since we reached the summit and there has been no sign of Aaron, Keiko, or Aaron and Keiko. Efforts to contact them via cell phone have been unsuccessful. The choice before us is to continue waiting until they show up—and who knows when that may be—or start back down, leaving them behind. The unanimous opinion of my three companions is to start back down. I, however, am still feeling badly about racing ahead and reaching the summit without Aaron and Keiko when I had always envisioned us reaching it together. Racked with guilt, I say I’ll stay and wait, not wanting to abandon them a second time. Kate talked me out of this though by pointing out that staying might jeopardize my return to Hiroshima that afternoon. I really, really didn’t want to leave Aaron and Keiko, but I also really, really had to get back to Hiroshima that day. Thus I made the difficult decision to join the others on their descent. I’m ashamed of myself though. I had broken the mountain-climbing code of leaving no person behind (plus I’d betrayed the teachings of my good friend Cap’n Dan, who has long espoused for my benefit the same virtues).

8:30 - 10:35 AM: The descent was terrible. I mean, it was downhill so there was less huffing and puffing, but the whole way I battled my frequent arch-nemesis on this trip: difficult switchbacks and loose shale. At times it seemed like I was sliding down the mountain rather than hiking. Additionally, shale was getting into my shoes and the dust that was constantly being kicked up by the sheer number of people also on the descending trail was stifling. I envied the wise folks who had the forethought to bring some kind of mask to keep the dust out of their nose and lungs. This possibly was some kind of karmic retribution for leaving Aaron and Keiko.

10:40 AM: I make it back to the 5th Station and wouldn’t you know it, there waiting with Kate who had descended that mountain like a woman possessed with the strength and agility of 1000 mountain goats, is Aaron and Keiko. Seeing them fills me with a mixture of shock and relief. Certainly I’m relieved I hadn’t abandoned them to the mountain after all (so maybe I can still consider myself worthy of being Cap’n Dan’s lieutenant), but I’m also shocked that we managed to meet up like this so easily. I was, after all, under the assumption that the next time I spoke with Aaron it would be to apologize for abandoning him and Keiko. Now there was no need. Aaron explained to me that although he and Keiko didn’t quite make the summit, they made it relatively close and from that vantage, watched the sun rise then decided to head back down afterward. It was a good thing then that I didn’t wait at the top for them; I’d have been waiting for a considerably long time. Perhaps the morale is, “Don’t listen to a guilty conscience.”

11:10 AM: Joanne and Kim emerge from the trail and our entire company is reunited once again. We relocate to the picnic area where Kate and I dined the previous night and lay out a modest conquerors’ feast complete with a celebratory bottle of wine.

12:20 AM: We pack up our picnic and catch the bus back to Kawaguchiko town.

1:15 AM: The bus deposits us at the train station and it is here where we say “thanks for the memories,” “nice knowing you,” and “good luck in the future.” Kate, Joanne, and Kim head back to Tokyo while Aaron, Keiko, and I begin the search for a local onsen to clean our dirty skin and rest our weary bones.

There. That was my Fuji climbing experience. My last challenge in Japan having been successfully completed, I am ready to bid this county which has bewildered, fascinated, frustrated, and inspired me—sometimes all in the same day—sayonara and farewell. With the aches and pains of the climb still very present though, I am reminded of something Kathy told me in an email after she finished her own successful Mt. Fuji trek. Kathy, I want you to know that you’re absolutely right and I agree with you entirely: I’m glad I climbed Mt. Fuji and I can always brag about having done it, but I never, ever want to put myself through that kind of agony again.

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Photos

Japanese Cyrano De Bergerac
As is evidenced by the trains, this statue is at one of the train stations I’d visited during my trip out to Mt. Fuji. A train platform seems like an odd place to put a statue, but then this being Japan there must be a logical explanation for it. In any case, its protruding nose reminded me of Cyrano De Bergerac.

Japanese Cyrano De Bergerac
See? What a honker!

Kawaguchiko 5th Station
From here the climb doesn't look so bad.

Kawaguchiko 5th Station
Taken from the picnic tables overlooking the car park and, if it weren’t so overcast, the town of Kawaguchiko.

Kawaguchiko 5th Station
Mmmmm, picnic time. The cloud formations are the real stars of this photo, though.

Kawaguchiko 5th Station
The sun sets on the night of our climb.

Kawaguchiko 5th Station
Dusk at Kawaguchiko 5th Station. Here you can see some of the shops and accommodations available for climbers. It gets a little more rustic further up, however.

Sunrise
Almost sunrise but still breathtaking.

Sunrise
Sunrise with the sun coming up on the right...

Sunrise
...and on the left for a little variety.

Sunrise
The author and the sunrise.

Sunrise
It took some coaxing but I got Kate to agree to pose for a photo of the two hiking companions.

The Summit
This cheery fellow greets hikers upon their arrival at the summit. He’s saying, “Welcome, and congratulations on a job well done.”

The Summit
The view from the top. Not much different from where we watched the sunrise, wouldn’t you say?

The Crater
Mt. Fuji, for those who don’t know, is a volcano. Its last eruption was in like, 1707, so I felt pretty safe being this close.

The Summit
There are certain things you can count on in life like death, taxes and vending machines absolutely everywhere in Japan—even on top of Mt. Fuji. What I want to know though, is who brought it up here?

The Descent
This is how it looked on the way back down. Notice I'm higher than the cloud? Pretty cool, eh?

Back at the 5th Station
Aaron and the author reunited at Kawaguchiko 5th Station. The beer we’re holding is a special Mt. Fuji beer brewed by Asahi and sold only on Mt. Fuji. It’s the beer that has the 400 yen price tag. I decided I’d splash out for another since I’d just conquered the mountain. And it’s still cheaper than those silly official walking sticks.

Back at the 5th Station
The heroes return triumphant.

Back at the 5th Station
The heroes celebrate their return with some wine poured into empty water bottles because no one thought to bring more appropriate receptacles. Classy!