How To Climb a Mountain in Six Easy Steps

This post is dedicated to EC, to whom I promised to tell this story.  Hike Fuji!

Step 1: Skip the Planning

The beauty of Fuji

It's one of the curious dichotomies of life that often, the harder you hold onto something, the more likely it will slip your grasp.  Hearts have been broken by this age-old rule.  Fortunes squandered.  Kingdoms lost.  Sometimes, you need to let go.  Sometimes, you need to say "to Hell with planning" and just let things happen.

Our story today comes courtesy of yesterday.  Or yesteryear, rather.  August in the late 90's tucked somewhere between the trial of O.J. Simpson and the Monica Lewinsky scandal.  I was visiting my college friend John who was stationed at the U.S. Naval Base at Yokosuka, south of Tokyo.  After an interesting visit of Tokyo involving coffin hotels and irritating Yakuza at the onsen, we planned to climb Mt. Fuji on my last weekend before going home.

The attentive reader will have already figured out that these, the best laid plans of rice-eating men, were bound to go awry.  My friend John's ship was called away on some emergency action.  I don't recall the exact reason but it being the late 90's, some North Korean crisis is as good a guess as any.  Regardless, we cancelled our overnight plans to climb Fuji but decided to visit the Fuji Lakes region on Saturday anyway.

Step 2: Beat the Heat

And so we found ourselves in the Fuji Lakes region, visiting all manner of interesting places.  We boated on the lake, we spelunked down caves, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.  But we were all the time in the shadow of Fuji, constantly reminding me of my failed plans.  Unfortunately, we were only in the figurative shadow of Fuji.  The real shadow would have been preferable, as Japan in August is a miserably hot place, even in the shade.

Maybe it was the heat delirium affecting me, but as the day wore on I couldn't shake the feeling of frustration that I had come all this way - to the very foothills of Fuji - only to turn around and go home empty-handed.  I think heat delirium must have a smell to it and that I must have reeked of it, because it was as though John already knew what I was going to say when I told him I wasn't getting on the bus back to Tokyo.  That I was going to climb Mt. Fuji that night on my own.

Step 3: Raid the Climbing Gear Bargain Bins

Once I had made the decision to climb Fuji, the actual matter of preparations was a little more complicated.  It being my second-to-last day in Japan, I had intentionally used up almost all my yen.  All I had was about $20 in yen and the clothes on my back (consisting of very non mountaineering-like shorts and a t-shirt).  For that minor fortune, I was able to buy a commemorative walking stick, a flashlight and a see-thru rain poncho.

The little old grandma I bought the flashlight from couldn't speak a word of English but she thought I was Japanese or at least Japanese-American and took a liking to me, making me a free lanyard out of wire to hang the flashlight around my neck.  The rain poncho wasn't because I thought it would rain, but because it was the only thing I could afford which would offer me any protection at all from the elements.  And so I set off, looking for all the world like someone pulling a practical joke - climbing Mt. Fuji in shorts and t-shirt, with a flashlight and a see-thru rain poncho which didn't even cover my legs.

Step 4: Beat the Cold

While Japan during the day in August was a blistering oven, Mt. Fuji at night was a cold and lonely place.  By nightfall, the midway point of the mountain was probably 20°C and at its coldest, it would probably dip to 5°C.  Among the thousands of pilgrims climbing Fuji, the majority were wearing ski jackets.  Some with gloves, beanies, goggles and even canisters of oxygen.

My only protection against the wind & cold was to walk fast and keep up my body temperature.  So I outpaced all the other climbers, parading myself in front of ever newer audiences who had not yet had the pleasure to laugh at my silly spectacle.  The only sight more ridiculous than me climbing in the cold with shorts and t-shirt, was me huddling behind the occasional rock to rest and shelter from the biting wind.  The endless left-right-left-right monotony of climbing Fuji was broken only by the occasional "climbing station".

The path on Mt. Fuji is manned with 10 "climbing stations".  Each one will mark your commemorative walking stick with a numbered stamp showing your progress up the mountain and - in true Japanese tradition - sells a selection of souvenirs, food, snacks and beverages.  For the average Fuji climber, these stations were an oasis of rest and replenishment.  For me, they were pure torture.  Food that I couldn't afford.  Hot drinks that would never warm me.  The sight and smell of climbers eating a bowl of udon was almost too much to bear.  I boiled over with bitterness & envy.  Finally, I broke down at one station and begged the clerk to have just a bit of hot water.  Well, the one advantage of looking absolutely pitiful is that people are likely to... pity you.  He gave me a tall cup of hot tea for free and sent me on my way.

Sipping slowly at the-most-delicious-cup-of-tea-ever, I was somehow able to climb that mountain.  I was somehow able to drag myself seven hours through that blustery cold, ever forward into the endless darkness in front of me.  Then suddenly, without the slightest bit of fanfare, the endless darkness wasn't so endless or dark anymore.  A crown of sunlight in the distant horizon announced the imminent arrival of the sun, and with it I could just make out... the summit!

It was a true miracle.  I had made it to within a hundred meters of the summit just as the sun was rising.  With a dash and a bound, I propelled my weary legs to the summit barely in time for sunrise.  I spent the next ten minutes furiously taking dozens of photos of that sunrise.  I've since lost those photos but it doesn't really matter because I'll never forget that sight.  The puffy white clouds far below, the lake even farther below.  The beauty of Japan spreading as far as the eye can see.

Step 5: Beat the Clock

The summit of Fuji

Tick tock.  I would've taken a moment to shed a tear for the beauty of that amazing vista, but I suddenly realized I didn't have a moment to spare.  It was about 5:30am on Sunday and I was scheduled to fly home at 1pm.  The bus ride back to Tokyo would be about 2:30 hours and I hadn't even packed yet, having originally planned to be back in Tokyo Saturday night.

Tick tock.  As hordes of tired climbers piled into the various restaurants at the top of Fuji, resting their tired legs and warming themselves with a bowl of hot udon for breakfast, I was bounding down the mountain (literally, running & jumping) in a race against time.  The climb up was about 7 hours but I managed to make it down in about 2 hours, miraculously not slipping and breaking my neck on the treacherous and loose volcanic rock.

Tick tock.  I made it to the bus station wheezing and out of breath, only to realize that none of the bus schedules or informational signs were in English and that none of the ticket vendors could speak English either.  After a nerve-wracking search for someone who could help me find the bus to Tokyo, I was finally on my way.

Tick tock.  Tokyo, with about T-minus two hours left until my flight.  Me, racing back to my friend's city apartment to pack up my things.  The metro station, the last barrier to my escape.  The frustration was unbearable as I couldn't figure out which train to take to the airport.

Tick tock.  T-minus 1:15.  In an absolute panic, I accosted the nearest woman and begged her to help me find the right train to the airport.  Once again I was saved by my pitiful visage and she actually stopped what she was doing to walk me around the station and figure out where to go.  And then... disaster.

Tick tock.  T-minus 1 hour.  Tears welled from my eyes as I realized that I had... no money left for the train.  To this day I'll never forget the kindness of that woman as she went to the ticket machine and bought me a ticket for the train, beseeching me to hurry and catch my flight.

Tick.  I found a measure of peace on that last train, but only because I came to grips with what I had subconsciously known for a while - that I would not make my flight.

Tock.

Step 6: Bask in the Glory

I made it to the airport with just under 30 minutes to go until my flight was scheduled to depart.   Resigned to my fate, I didn't even bother to rush through the line.  As expected, they wouldn't let me check in to my flight.

But just as I was staring blankly into the endless darkness in front of me, suddenly the endless darkness wasn't so endless or dark anymore.

"Excuse me, Mr. Injen (because Japanese people are incapable of pronouncing my last name even remotely correctly), I try to book you on next fright.  We have fright in one hour but we are very solly, we have no seat available in your fare crass."

Doom.  The darkness crept back ever so slightly.

"Please accept our aporogies... we are onry able to book you on First Crass seat."

First.  Class.  Seat.  Upgrade.  Sometimes, you need to say "to Hell with planning" and just let things happen.

Appendix

The following content is taken directly from the Japan Guide website (http://www.japan-guide.com/e/e6901.html) and gives information on proper clothing and how to deal with altitude sickness on Mt. Fuji:

In order to enjoy a safe hike to the summit of Mount Fuji, it is crucial to bring the proper equipment. Some of the most important things to bring are listed below:

• Proper Shoes
  The rocky, steep terrain in some sections and the potential of sudden, strong wind gusts are reasons to bring proper hiking shoes which protect your ankles.
• Proper Clothes
  Bring proper protection against low temperatures and strong winds. It can be below zero at the summit, and strong winds often make it even colder. Bring rain gear, as weather conditions can change very quickly on the mountain. Gloves are recommended both against the coldness and for hiking the steep, rocky passages.
• Flashlight
  If you hike at night, a flash light is highly recommended in any season and essential outside of the peak season, when the trail is not illuminated by other hikers. Most people choose head lamps, as they leave both of your hands free.
• Food
  Particularly on the trails where there are few mountain huts, it is important to bring enough water and food. Mountain huts offer various meals and drinks. Note, however, that prices increase with the altitude. Also, be prepared to carry home all your garbage as there are no garbage bins on Mount Fuji.

Altitude Sickness

The human body requires some time to adjust to a sudden increase of altitude, otherwise there is a risk of headache, dizziness and nausea. Quite a few people, who climb Mount Fuji, suffer from altitude sickness.
To avoid altitude sickness, you are advised to tackle the mountain at a slow pace and make frequent breaks. An overnight stay at a hut around the 7th or 8th station is recommended as opposed to a straight climb to the top. Small bottles of oxygen, available at the 5th stations and mountain huts, can be an effective tool in preventing and fighting altitude sickness, however, the only reliable treatment of the sickness is to descend the mountain.