But never fear! For I have a story to tell. A tale of adventure. A tale of epic proportions. But also a tale of suffering and tragedy. A tale I regret being one of the central characters of.
Hiding behind that smile is regret.
The tale of my adventure climbing Mt. Fucking Fuji.
Mt. Fuji is the most famous mountain in Japan, being the tallest, capable of being seen from Tokyo if the skies are clear and one looks hard enough. It stands at about 3,776 meters or 12,389 feet. This makes it a challenging climb, but one of the few one can do without any formal training, as once you go up another 300 meters it becomes too dangerous for an unprepared climber. The Mt. Fuji hike is a life changing experience but also a very arduous one which would explain why so few Japanese people actually commit to making the climb. It said that the Japanese only make the climb once in their lives, if they even bother at all.
I was not the first of my fellow TUJ (Temple University Japan Campus) students to actually climb the mountain. Last Saturday another TUJ student (at least I believe it was) organized a large group stretching across several dormitories to climb Mt. Fuji to see the sunrise atop the summit. This meant leaving midday Saturday and coming back Sunday afternoon. I couldn't go because of a scheduled field trip for one of my classes (which will be covered in later blog) and at the time my excitement was...meager at best. However, after hearing about their exciting adventures and discovering that a few of my dorm mates were going to go the following weekend and follow the same game plan, I decided to tag along.
"It is a once in a lifetime experience," I was told.
Oh naive I was. Running on literally five and half hours because I decided to spend a bit too much time in Shibuya the night before, I ran out the door at noon this past Saturday with several layers of clothing, plenty of water and rations in my messenger bag and high hopes that climbing Mt. Fuji would be challenging but not physically impossible for someone like me. My party of adventurers was comprised of people from my dorm. I was lead by Hailey, who went out of her way to organize the "commute" to Fuji-san, and joined by her roommate Jenn, a man by name TJ, his roommate Brendan (not my classmate Brendan, but another Brendan) and a now excellent friend Kevin. With last minute preparations done on the way to the train station, we boarded a train to Shibuya and made our way to Shinjuku, home of the largest train station in the world and one of Tokyo's largest business districts. From there, we slowly made our way to the countryside of Japan.
The countryside is a lot quieter.
The rural parts of Japan are a lot different than Tokyo is. More houses, less traffic, smaller train stations, and generally nicer people were just a few of the things I saw from my not so comfortable seat on the train. It was refreshing to say the least, as honestly I needed to get out of the busy Tokyo area and get some fresh air in my lungs. This eye opening experience reminded me of a small tidbit a professor said that Japan does a complete 180 if you leave Tokyo. It almost resembles a developing country and hearkens back to the days of old. Okay, maybe I am getting a little dramatic there.
Fuji-san? Is that you?
Three train rides later, we were only a short bus ride away from Mt. Fuji. We wasted some time in the small little town that formed around the base of Fuji until we caught the last bus that brought us the "Fifth Station Bus Stop" that was the popular gathering point for aspiring climbers. The bus ride added another 30 minutes to an already long journey there. Since the bus was around 5 pm, we arrived at Mt. Fuji around 5:30. Since we were told the climb would take anywhere from 6 to 8 hours, we had plenty of time to kill as Hailey told us the sunrise was not until 5:30 am. We figured we didn't have to start climbing till maybe 10 or 11. Plenty of time to get some food, take a nap and get ready for the climb right?
Where did the mountain go?
Some view of the way down, eh?
Pretty temple~!
In the vicinity was a classic Shinto style Temple. Sadly, if you can tell...it suddenly began to rain on us while we waited, making the sky pitch black dampening our experience a fair a bit. Catch the lame pun? I hope you did. The fact of the matter was: it rained on us pretty badly and we were forced to almost literally huddled under an observation deck until our hopes would make the rain go away.
About 2 hours later, we decided to give up on the whole "waiting" plan and begin to scale Mt. Fuji. We were cold, bored and impatient. At the time climbing seemed to be the best waste of time we could think of and worst case scenario, we could take our time climbing Mt. Fuji instead of rushing at one point and getting hurt. We packed our bags and tried to make sure everything that could get damaged was safe and that we were mentally and physically prepared. We officially started our climb at 7:30 pm, walking through a nearly pitch black dirt path towards the primary mountain path. This wasn't too bad, as despite the darkness and the occasional rain drops, we were able to joke around and enjoy a nice easy walk.
After a little less than 30 minutes of leisurely walking, we reached the main path and my first hiking experience began. Now for those who never hiked up a mountain before allow me to give a basic crash course on how this works, at least from my own experience. You do not walk straight up mountain, since it is almost physically impossible. You walk up "switchbacks" which are basically paths that go up a mountain diagonally at various degrees. Some are gentle, others are not. It is generally random, though the trend is that they get steeper as you get higher. At the base, the switchbacks we first encounter were not too bad, though they were a bit harder than I anticipated. TJ slipped up early as we got lost in the darkness, struggling to find the beginning path. His leg got pretty slashed up because of ash and rocks, but Hailey was prepared with some band aids, so we administered very basic first aid and pressed on.
A few signs later, we were able to plan out what would be our ideal route. There were to be two routes up Mt. Fuji. A shorter but more difficult route and a longer but easier one. With all the time we had, the easy route seemed to be the more viable option. After all, why exert ourselves? Well, the spirits of Mt. Fuji had different plans for us. It was to be that we were to climb the harder route. Oh well, that wasn't going to be a big deal. Our group was athletic. We would press on, but pace ourselves to make sure we would make it to the top.
We scaled several switchbacks, occasionally taking breaks to catch our breath, drink some water, have a snack or adjust our layers after a certain number of switchbacks or at checkpoints that are spread out along the trail. While fatigue did not settle in till later, the switching of layers was certainly annoying. Beginning my climb with a heavy coat and sweatshirt on, it didn't take long for me to revert to a simple t-shirt at one point because I was getting too hot. My better judgement (along with some colder air) settled in soon enough and I found myself bundling up in several layers. I get sick way too easily so I came to terms with being uncomfortably hot part of the way, knowing I would be uncomfortably cold soon enough.
The lack of dinner and nourishment was slowly catching up with us and we wanted to stop to rest up for the next leg of the adventure. However, with no where to hide from the elements, eating some of our rations outdoors was not a desirable option. A few climbers that were scaling down told us we had a while to go before reaching the sixth or seventh station (they were not clearly numbered mind you since the Japanese do not believe in sign maintenance) which did nothing but batter our declining morale. Disheartened, our group did not lost all faith and continued on, hoping that the station was closer than our antagonists made it out to be. Soon enough, we did arrive at a station after climbing several more switchbacks and overcoming some rocky segments that were not easy to climb.
The station was a fairly small house with large sitting room and a few back rooms hidden from immediate view. It was warm and a pleasure to sit as our bodies slowly defrosted. Our grimaces of pain were replaced with serene smiles as we filled our bellies with food and water. Most of us were careful with our rations knowing we had a tall order of climbing before us. But lingering in the shadows was a bearer of grim tidings. Buried beneath layers of quilted blankets was an elderly man attempting to sleep. We clearly disturbed him as he lied in a sake induced stupor, yelling an incoherent mix of Japanese and English. We ignored him for the most part, making bold assumptions of his vain attempts to communicate with us. Eventually, his message was clear. The station...was closed. And we had to leave. The warmth was nothing more than a tease. A taste of something we would not experience for some time. You see, in our infinite wisdom, we decided to climb Mt. Fuji during the offseason as the climbing season officially ends sometime in August. So in the offseason a minimal number of stations are left open until it is deemed that Mt. Fuji is too dangerous to climb.
Kicked out into the elements again, we had muster courage and strength that becoming even harder to tap in our weakened states. Finishing up our preparations to complete the next leg of journey had to be quick since the frigid air coupled with even the slightest gust made it hard to think. But then we thought it couldn't get any harder...Mt. Fuji found a way.
Rocks. Lots of rocks.
Now, normally I wouldn't complain climbing rocks. It's hard, sure, and I am not particularly good at it but at least these were big rocks on a relatively gentle slope. That makes it somewhat easier. Until you remember a tiny detail.
What a beautiful view of nothing!
It was pitch black. The picture above should give you a good idea of dark it really was. Mind you that was taken at around 7:30 with flash from my camera. It was around 9:30 or so when we got to the real rock climbing part. Now imagine trying to climb big, sharp, dangerous rocks on an incline in this darkness with your crappy flashlights provide meager amounts of light that can barely illuminate your house in the daytime. These rocks were not easy to climb at all, with the darkness only adding to the problem. The air was gradually getting thinner and it only took a matter of time before I was suffering from altitude sickness. The fact I was stupid enough to bring a messenger bag (instead of a real backpack) was weighing own on my shoulder, slowly making my back hurt. Add that to every set of rocks we climbed, the cold heart of Mt. Fuji made the air all the more merciless and the wind even stronger. Breaks became more frequent and hearts were filled with doubt. Every rest stop was met with glee as we attempted to find hope in these dark times.
It was not until 2 hours later that we caught our second wind. A brief phone call with Danny, another one of our dorm-mates, and a conversation with a pair of climbers hailing from New Hampshire and Greece distracted us from the pain the mountain inflicted upon us. We realized we were closer to the top than we realized and that we could actually do it. Coupled with our discovery of cuddle puddles that really did warm us (meaning we found a viable weapon against the cold) and the novelty of snow on this accursed mountain (who doesn't love snow?) and suddenly Mt. Fuji didn't seem that bad.
Why three hours you ask? Well, the answer would be quite clear if you were there. One reason was that we were a bit ahead of schedule. It was about one in the morning we had arrived and sunrise was not for another four and a half hours. Roughly speaking, we had about another 2 hours of slow climbing ahead of us. Waiting at the top would of been colder and potentially worse in terms of the conditions we faced. However, the more persuasive of the arguments was with the cold rain that coated our bodies with an icy sting that forced to huddle under an awning. Realizing the majority of clothing was far from water resistant, we counted our blessings hoping the rain would at least weaken before we pushed on.
It was this point we had realized how ill prepared we were and how much we truly underestimated Mt. Fuji. But we had a rallying call: We wanted to get the top. And that was our goal. A crowning achievement of our lives was to be reached. We couldn't back down.
Okay, so we weren't that romantic in thought. It was practicality that truly governed us. Going down in pitch blacknesses would be ill-advised and potentially life threatening. Going up had the prospect of going down a significantly easier path, even if the conditions continued to be daunting. We had to get to the top to go back down. Difficult? Yes, but it had to be done.
Brendan made a shocking discovery that filled our hearts with hope, allowing us to catch a third wind, if you will allow us a term: raincoats. The eighth station sold raincoats! Huzzah! For an affordable 1,500 yen (about 20 dollars), we were able to buy a set of rain clothes including a coat, pants, and a hood. With an layer to add to our growing collections, our party of hopeful adventurers were saved. We got warmer and stayed dry...well as dry as we could considering the monsoon we were trekking through.
Joining up with the others that called the eighth station their home, we set forth on the last leg of the quest, with the summit nearly in sight. But Mt. Fuji had other plans. Nefarious plans. It didn't want us to make it the to the top clearly. Those kids from last week must of put him in a bad mood as the rain turned to sleet/hail and lastly into snow as we journeyed forth. The thin air made it hard to breathe and everyone was feeling the effects. I could only move in brief bursts, like a sprinter. Jenn was feeling nauseous, while Hailey was shivering constantly not adjusting to the cold. Brandon had a terrible headache. Kevin and TJ were just miserable, trying to keep everyone's spirits up to no avail. Luckily, it was nothing but switchbacks at this point, but they were steep and not easy to climb when you were already cold and exhausted.
While the others we left with just forced themselves up to the summit like Olympic athletes, we were left behind with a few stranglers. A young man from Denmark joined us, though he made the strange decision to climb in a business suit, along with an underdressed woman from France who dealt with the cold about as well as anyone else. United with them, we tried our best to deal with everything, working together, feeding off the energy of others. We were so close, yet so far. But hope was there, despite as hard it was to come by.
The top was still hiding behind the thick clouds of snow, making every time I looked up all the more dismal. Snow continued to pelt me in the face and my legs screamed in agony with every step. But nothing was as damaging as the brief conversation we had with a single man who was making his way down.
"The easy path is closed," he says to us.
With that, our mouths dropped. Our eyes stared blankly into space. Our hearts sunk. Our hopes and dreams were crushed into dust. I looked at the others with us to see nothing but disbelief in the eyes of my friends. The French girl with us fell to her knees and cried in disbelief. Not 30 minutes away from the top and our willpower was literally sapped from us. Our main reason...no, the only reason to climb the mountain was gone.
With a sigh of disappointment, we turned back after only a brief debate. The clouds make the sunrise impossible to see regardless. And we saw everything we wanted to see anyway. At least I did. We weighed our options as well, with many of us sharing the united the idea that it was not worth it. Climbing the mountain any further was too dangerous and too exhausting. If anything bad did occur, there was no guarantee that anyone could help anyone in their current conditions.
The way down was not easy, but we scaled down with a renewed sense of purpose. Everyone told themselves, "I just want to get off this damn mountain." The increasing amount of sunlight made it easier to see and kept us warm, but the rain continued all the way down nullifying the gentle rays that peered through the clouds. Switchbacks made our legs sing in pain and the rock paths forced us to become master gymnasts as they tested our agility. The rain became heavier with every step and all of us were soaked from head to toe. My shoes, now waterlogged, were salivating with every step. Every moment was uncomfortable was we retraced our steps. We minimized our rests to as few as possible, anger replacing our anxiety. A few breaks were pleasant and distracted me from the pain of the journey. I even got to take a photo of a hopeful group of adventurers. Despite the rude welcome from the workers at the stations, the Japanese couples that climbed up the mountain were far more inviting greeting us with smiles and "good mornings."
With fatigue weighing down our sense of judgement, we depended on a guidance on a stranger we met near the top of Mt. Fuji. Lead down the path, it seemed for a time that we were going the right way. Until we went through a forest. Wait, a forest? That wasn't familiar. Okay, moving on. Wait, the forest is getting thicker. This doesn't look good. Am I climbing down the whole mountain? I better not be!
Basically our "guide" was leading us down to the wrong fifth station after we mentioned we wanted to go there. At least this is what we first thought until Brendan proposed the genius theory that our guide just wanted to show off his Japanese girlfriend to us. So while, we were so out of the way at the very least she escorted us back to the station we wanted to go to in the first place.
But this added ANOTHER 30 MINUTES of walking. This was the last thing I wanted. My rage broke at this point and I cursed with every step. I was an inch away from tossing innocent bystanders over a cliff, before offering myself to Mt. Fuji. Kevin lost his mind around this time as well, simply laughing at our collective miseries. We reached the bus after hours of agony, removing the soaked layers of clothing as we made our way home. Many of us lost valuables due to water damage, including cell phones and cameras. Luckily the karma gained by suffering resulted in nothing but express trains on our home.
Hey! Look! My camera works!
As a team, we arrived home safe and sound, most of us fell asleep almost immediately. Reflecting on our journey, many of us share mixed feelings of accomplishment and regret. Personally, I am satisfied with myself and proud to say that I made it inches away from the summit. I do regret nearly wasting two days on this journey and all the pain I am feeling now as far my muscles are concerned, but I did do something that few people do.
Fun casualties of the adventure:
-> Kevin's camera
-> Roughly estimating...3 phones
-> Brendan's wallet
-> TJ's leg
-> My patience
-> Hours of sleep
-> Copious amounts of yen
-> Anyone's love for rain, snow and wind
-> Anyone's love for rocks, mountains and hiking
-> Many hopes and dreams
No comments:
Post a Comment