Mt Fuji from the bus!
At home in Awa I had been preparing for the climb for a couple of months, occasionally going for a run around my (rather flat) neighbourhood in an attempt to get my fitness levels up. On the day of the climb we prepared ourselves by checking out of the hotel at the latest minute possible, arranging to have our luggage couriered to our Osaka hotel to meet us after the climb, finishing up the last of our Tokyo shopping and settling down in a darkened cinema to get some air-conditioned rest while we watched The Dark Knight.
At 5pm we boarded a bus to take us to the "fifth station" on the Yoshida Trail (considered one of the easiest and most popular hiking trail out of four possible routes). We tried to sleep on the bus but nervous energy was running high (especially after we spotted Fuji in the distance) and Dad had made friends with a British couple called Kieran and Karen who were planning to celebrate their first wedding anniversary atop the mountain in the morning. We arrived at our destination shortly after 7pm and made our way to the bathrooms to change into our mountain-climbing clothes. Spreading our stuff out across a nearby bench, we packed our backpacks full of supplies like spare batteries, headlamps, cameras, sandwiches, instant noodles, chocolate bars, asthma inhalers, panadol, tissues, spare clothes, bottles of water and of course the celebratory hip-flask of whiskey for when we reached the top! At 8pm we enjoyed our final cigarettes, double checked our packs, took some photos and then asked for directions to the trail, which had become rather difficult to find in the darkness. It wasn't very cold at this point and both of us were decked out in simple long-sleeved shirts and pants. We donned our headlamps, Dad started his timer and we set off along the path...
A pre-climb smoke break...
Truthfully at the beginning we were a little worried that we were going in the wrong direction as the path often dipped downhill. We caught up to a pair of hikers up ahead and in broken English/Japanese confirmed that we were in fact on the ascending path rather than, heaven forbid, the descending path! We were on the right trail and soon enough the going started to get a little steeper and rockier no less. Pretty soon we couldn't even manage a conversation with the strain of climbing and settled into a comfortable silence broken only by the sounds of the bells ringing atop our hiking poles.
It took a long time to get to the next station and here we took a long rest, striving to avoid feeling the effects of altitude sickness. We met some cool people at this stop (one of them an Australian guy from Sydney actually) and the banter between us kept our motivation high. After eating a sandwich and downing a bottle of water each we resumed our climb. This next leg was a little tougher on the knees and each time we slowed down a little the wind chill factor seemed to skyrocket. By the next station were we ready to pile on some more layers of clothing and take another snack break, spending another blissful 20 minutes sitting on the benches and catching our breaths. Some hikers had bought small oxygen tanks at the shops along the way and were dosing up on it to prevent altitude sickness. Dad and I opted for a few puffs of the asthma inhaler, which really helped to open up our lungs and allow us to breathe better.
The Seventh Station.
By around midnight we started to feel a little tired, though fortunately neither of us had started feeling ill yet. The stations seemed to be getting fewer and further in between while the number of people on the mountain seemed to be growing exponentially. Soon, even ascending a distance of 400metres was taking us close to an hour - due to the nature of the trail and the crowds all hustling to get to the top before sunrise. The last 200metres was definitely the hardest, with each hiker only able to climb as fast as the person in front allowed. Even in the darkness however, the view at this point was spectacular as the light from the torches and headlamps of each pilgrim shone out to stretch up and down the mountainside in a slowly moving line.
Almost there!
Dad taking a breather.
Finally we reached the top and I think we both uttered a sigh of relief. I know Dad's knee had been giving him a bit of grief and we were pleased to have made it to the top with time to spare before sunrise. Surprisingly I still had phone coverage at the top of Mt Fuji and quickly downloaded a compass app so that we could find east and a perfect viewing spot to see the rising sun. We settled onto a small ledge and put on whatever items of clothing were left in our bags. It was freezing at the top of Fuji - much colder than I had been expecting - and pretty soon we were both shivering to the bone! I had two scarves wrapped around my head, face and ears in an effort to stay warm and Dad draped a small towel over our legs as we sat together huddled in the darkness. Apparently we made it to the top with a little too much time to spare with the stillness of the summit relentlessly making us colder and colder by the minute. We sat together here for close to an hour, keeping one eye on the clock and one on the horizon.
Just before the sunrise...
The sky started to lighten bit by bit and the crowds began to quieten down in anticipation of the sun. Dad and I got out our cameras, trying our best to capture the beauty of the moment. I have since looked at my photos and realised that we came nowhere close - though I can't decide yet whether that is a good or bad thing! It seemed to take forever for the sun to break over the horizon and getting restless, Dad and I relinquished our front row seats and decided to go for a wander to warm up. We walked through the small settlement area on top of Fuji-san, breathing in the atmosphere and watching the faces of the hikers around us. A short while later we stood at the top of a hill and I watched, in tears, as a burning red ball of light broke free of the horizon and shone down upon us. Everyone around us cheered and clapped for the sun with some old guys yelling "banzai" and eliciting a roaring response in reply. Dad and I stood together taking photographs - me trying not to cry - and contemplated the effort that it took to get to the top, the fact that we had finally made it and the realisation that we had done it together. A true father and daughter moment.
Watching the sunrise in the Land of the Rising Sun.
Dad at the top of Mt Fuji.
The crowds photographing the sunrise over Mt Fuji.
A million photographs later and we decided to complete the one-hour circuit of the crater at the top of Fuji. It was still a little hard going, though after the gruelling climb up it didn't really bother each of us too much. We visited the Mt Fuji Post Office where I sent a postcard to Mum and we collected the hiking pole brands that signified reaching the top. I wowed a couple of cafeteria workers with my Japanese when buying us some coffee and we finally had a drink and a cigarette to celebrate our successful journey. A quick stop at the bathrooms later and we were on our way around the rest of the way, where Dad saw snow for the first time (remnants leftover inside the crater from last winter).
Dad smiling at the fact that we finally made it!
Standing atop Fuji together.
Once we'd finished our lap around the crater it was time for our descent. And even though all we wanted to do at that point was get chopper-lifted off the mountain and taken home to bed, we began the hard three-hour slog to get back down to the fifth station. The way down was arguably harder than the trek up - the deep, slippery gravel switchbacks taking its toll on our toes, ankles, knees and nostrils! Furthermore, the lack of toilet blocks on the way down had me hurrying to make it as far as possible in the shortest imaginable amount of time! Reaching the only station on the way down was bliss and we took the time to have a short rest despite the heat creeping up quickly. The final leg down the mountain was easy in comparison and we watched as several others opted to descend on rather expensive horseback rides instead of walking. Dad offered to pay for me to descend by horse too - if only so he could snap a photo and label me a princess - but after everything that had come before, I couldn't bring myself not to walk down the remaining few kilometres to the end. About 45 minutes before the fifth station we were approached by a very outgoing Japanese young man (called Yasushi) and his friend (who remained nameless) who asked Dad if he was Japanese. A conversation was struck up in which Dad's hairstyle and facial features were compared to that of a Japanese samurai and soon we became Fuji-friends. Yasushi was very funny and spoke English very well in a highly amusing way. It was great to get our minds off the distance left and at the end we posed for photographs with them in front of the Yoshida Trail sign. Later, Yasushi also helped us to purchase bus tickets so that we could get to Osaka - regretfully we didn't exchange contact details.
The price list for horseback riding.
Our funny Fuji-friend Yasushi (left).
The buses and trains from the Fifth Station to Gotemba to Mishima to Osaka were long and horrible. Dad and I had been awake for roughly 36 hours by this point. To say we were tired was an understatement, but the delirious energy between us made for some hilarious conversations. I felt so sorry for anyone that had the misfortune of sitting near to us on our way to the hotel - particularly our fellow passengers on the bullet train (or shinkansen) who had paid a lot of money for a seat! We both looked awful and smelled even worse, but kindly we were afforded a certain level of respect by everyone who spotted our hiking poles and realised we had just climbed Mt Fuji. Arriving at the hotel and climbing into the shower was a beautiful moment, and feeling refreshed Dad and I ventured out into Dotonbori for our last night of dinner and drinks together in Japan.
I will never forget this part of our trip and though it was hard, I believe the memories we made are truly once in a lifetime!
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