Climbing Mt. Fuji, Part 1 - The Ascent

This weekend I undertook what was, for me, the most physically demanding activity ever: I climbed Mt. Fuji, the tallest mountain in Japan. I should begin by stating that this is not a hard mountain to climb by mountaineering standards. There is no technical aspect involved: no wall-climbing or use of ropes. It's not really all that steep. It's not even really all that high (12,388 ft) - there are plenty of peaks in North America that are way taller. However, by slightly-overweight-guy-who-works-a-desk-job standards, this was tough.

Climbing Mt. Fuji is said to be a traditional pilgrimage in Japan, although I've found surprisingly few Japanese who've actually done it. Most of them kind of shrug their shoulders and just admit that it's something they've never done. I'm starting to wonder if maybe it's just a joke they play on foreigners: "Oh, yeah! Fuji! That's TOTALLY a Japanese tradition, Fat American! You should climb it, just like we do! And here, you should eat this raw fish, just like we do! And use these little sticks to pick it up, just like we do!" Then they all go into the back room and have a good laugh at our expense.

We left our hotel at 9:30 am on Saturday morning. Somehow we decided it would be a good idea to go tour around Tokyo for a few hours before starting the Fuji hike. We stayed in town for lunch, and then got on a bus at 4:00 to take us to the mountain. We gathered at the Fifth Station, the highest point the buses will take you to, and started the climb at 8:15 pm. We'd all bought walking sticks - the idea is that you stop along the way and get your stick branded to prove you've made the climb. In this picture, you can see my stick before I got it stamped.

Our goal was to hit the summit in about seven hours and watch the sun rise at 4:38. That's another part of the little joke: "Oh, yeah, and you have to climb it at night, just like we do!"

The Fifth Station is already quite high at 7500 feet, so the thin air began to show its effects quickly. Twelve of us started the hike and we managed to stay together for the first hour or so. We made good time at first - the paths were pretty clear, and there weren't too many people. We were optimistic about our chances of making it for the sunrise and were planning to stop to sleep for an hour or so along the way. We had plenty of water and food to share, and there were rest stops along the way that sold snacks (who knew you could come this far and still buy a Snickers bar?). As we climbed higher, the paths got more uneven, the air got thinner, and the temperature continued to drop. The paths narrowed, the pace slowed, and the crowds got thicker. At about 1:30 am, after a rest stop to have some warm soup, we began our final push to the top. It soon became clear that, if we wanted to make it by sunrise, we would no longer be able to stop along the way. At about 2:30 am, we effectively hit a wall of people - the line was moving at only a few feet per minute. In a way, this was a blessing. With the thinning air, it was becoming difficult to keep a decent pace. At best, I'd climb for a couple of minutes, then have to stop and catch my breath.

I should explain that the view at this point was amazing. There was a cloud cover, but it was several thousand feet below us, so as the Moon rose it reflected off the clouds around the base of the mountain. Above us was a fantastic view of the Milky Way. And while the mountain itself was effectively invisible in the darkness, you could see a steady line of flashlights winding literally thousands of feet up, reaching all the way to the summit. It was by far one of the most exotic sights I've ever seen.

At about 3:30, several hundred feet from the summit, the line came to an almost dead stop. Every couple of minutes it would move a few feet. Finally, at 4:00, the five of us who were together stepped off the path and relaxed while we waited for the sun to rise. Eventually, everyone did the same, until the side of the mountain was covered with thousands of people facing east, waiting for the sun to peek above the clouds.

I'm so glad we chose to climb at night. While getting to the top of the mountain was cool, seeing the sun rise is what made the whole thing worth it. The sky had been brightening for several hours already, and I thought I knew exactly where the sun would come up. Then I saw one of the most amazing optical illusions ever. Instead of rising at the horizon, from behind the clouds, the sun actually rose from inside the clouds. I still have no idea what made it look this way, but it actually looked like the sun was coming up from out of the clouds, in between us and the horizon. You can see what I'm talking about in this picture.

The pictures don't even come close to capturing what the sun looked like. The color was, as lame as it sounds, neon pink. Set against the blue-grey of the clouds and the orange of the sky, it was absolutely stunning.

Once the sun had risen, we started our climb to the summit. Even though we were only a few hundred feet down, the crowds were so thick that it took another hour and a half to reach the top. It was quite an experience to come over the edge and finally see the top of Mt. Fuji.

Next: At the summit.