How Not to Climb Mt. Fuji

I caught my second flight to Tokyo this month last Thursday with Roy from Izena. I left Ogimi early Thursday morning with one goal: to be at the top of Mt. Fuji for sunrise the next day. I had done little preparation, but I wasn't worried. I had read that on average, about 3,000 people climb to the top of Fuji daily and the fact that everybody and their grandma can make it to the top told me there would be no difficulty. Plus, Roy and I are both in good shape, so we figured we could do it in 3-4 hours.

For clothing gear, I brought my running shoes, gloves, a warm hat, jeans, and a winter jacket.

For other gear, I had a traveler's backpack that held water, a flash light, my camera, and onigiri.

The iternery was to leave Ogimi in the morning, catch a flight to Tokyo, then leave on a bus from Shinjuku Station to Mt. Fuji. There are many stations on Fuji, with most travelers taking a bus to the 5th station, which is about half way up the mountain. From here, you are still greeted with a spectacular view, but to go higher you have to hike. We got to the 5th station around 8:30 at night, and I might as well have just been in any forested area in the world. The bus drive did not provide a view of the mountain as we approached, so I just had to take everyone's word for it that I was on Fuji.

There was one shop open at that time, and we used the bathrooms to change into our climbing gear and put stuff we didn't need into lockers. The toilets on Fuji are famous for asking people to deposit 100 yen ($1) to use the bathroom. The fee goes to help pay for the transportation of water from a lake at the base of the mountain, as there is no natural running water on the mountain. I do not think they are trying to rip people off, because for the amount of dirty, sweaty people that walk into these bathrooms everyday, they were well kept and clean.

Around 9:30, we were changed and ready to start our hike. We estimated that we would get to the top around 1ish, then we would look for some ground to sprawl out on and sleep until sunrise. When I told my students a month ago or so that I would be going to the top of Fuji, they asked me if I would be buying oxygen. The week before my clim, a rock got loose and rolled down the mountain, crushing and killing someone sitting in their car. So when that happened, the questions from my students and teachers changed from 'be careful breathing' to 'don't die'.

So up the mountain we went. It was dark and cloudy and all we could see was what was in our immediate surroundings. Itt felt like hiking any normal trail and was pleasant...until the rain started. It was a very light sprinkle, and my logic said that as we climbed higher, we would get 'above' the rain cloud. This would get us out of future rain and still give us a great view at the top for sunrise. The light sprinkle then turned into a real sprinkle. It wasn't a hard rain, but my hair was starting to get wet and I would have to wipe water from my face every now and then, which was turning a nice walk into a slight annoyance.

The first big stop area is the 7th station, and this where the climb turned serious. Up to the 7th station, the path is just a wide trail that snakes it's way up the mountain. From the 7th station, it becomes part trail, part rock climbing. It wasn't Tom-Cruise-Mission-Impossible-2-rock climbing, but as I was carrying my flash light and the rocks were wet, I had to be careful, as the path was quite steep. After a bit of 'rock climbing', there would be a hotel/hut/rest area. Some of the hotels were charging 1000 yen ($10) an hour to sit in, or around 6000 yen ($60) for a night's rest. If you didn't want to pay to sit inside, there were benches outside for people to sit on. These would have been nice if the rain hadn't started to pick up and the benches weren't wet, which made resting outside not fun at all. It was around this time that something began to start happening to my clothes...they began to absorb water. When we would stop to 'rest', I would be aware of my jeans and jacket getting heavier, and when the wind would blow, I would get cold. Luckily, I had a hat and gloves (which would later get soaked), but it did provide me some shelter from the wind. Roy, on the other hand, was in jeans, a fleece, and a baseball hat. He had to be the more miserable of us, but there was never one word of complaint out of him.

So our 'rests' were not much rests at all. We would have a quick water break, and then when standing around too long reminded us how much the weather was starting to suck, we went on.

After the 7th station, climbing turned into a silent affair. The rain was staying constant, and we both had to focus on our footing in the dark. I assume Roy and I were still making good time, because we were passing everybody who had left with us on the bus. I had read on the internet about how crowded Fuji is, but there were very few people that night (foreshadowing). Eventually, we reached a decent sized hotel with a lot of climbers hanging around the lobby. We immediately rushed in, as it was the first building do offer some sort of coverage from the weather. We learned we were at the half way point from the 5th station to the summit. We had made it in 1.5 hours, so it would be another 1.5 to the top. I think it was about 10:30 or so, and we had a serious debate about forking up the money to crash, let the weather clear up, and leave around 3 am to finish the climb. We decide on trying to get closer to the top, and if we need to, we could find another hotel.

At that time, we were wet, but we had a lot of energy, and the weather was 'tolerable'. If I had been in waterproof gear with waterproof shoes, the climbing would have been easy. It's amazing how much a little rain can make you miserable if you aren't prepared. When my students had asked me about oxygen, I couldn't help thinking, 'What do you take me for, weak?' I think I viewed being over prepared as a kind of weakness, not to mention a nuisance if you are carrying a lot of gear. I think all the Japanese people that were climbing that night were raised as boy scouts...and all shopped at the same mountain climbing gear store. Everyone was decked out in every kind of hiking accessory you can imagine on someone. They had the same hat, jacket, pants, boots, backpack, and walking sticks. At first I thought it was a little silly, but then when I would be standing at a 'rest' area in wet clothes and had to watch a group of people in their 60's would walk by in all their gear laughing and telling stories, I couldn't help feeling like the stupid one.

We continued our pattern of path, rock, rest and at some point while climbing rocks, we saw a large rock that had a small opening under it. Roy and I head towards it and literally got on our stomaches to crawl under this rock to get some protection from the rain and rest. I tried to sleep for a little bit (and hope the rock didn't roll onto me), but then a group of young people walked by screaming and shouting and removed any wariness from my body. Later when climbing down the mountain, I realized just how pathetic our situation was becoming that we had to crawl under a rock to rest. At the time, it was a perfect idea, though.

We decided to stop at the next hotel we found. The place we found was 5300 yen ($53) for a night. It was about 11:00 and we guessed we had another hour to the summit. The hotel was one long bunk bed that extended the length of two rooms with sleeping bags spread out for people to sleep next to each other. I've never seen anything like it, but it was ingenious. The place was quiet and dry, and after stripping down to my underwear and wrapping myself up in two sleeping bags, I crashed.

My alarm went off at 2:30 am. This was one of the most miserable points of the trip, because I could feel that it was colder and I knew I had to put on my wet clothes again. Doing that sucked as much as I imagined they would, because not only were the clothes still wet, but they were a little stiffer and colder. However, the hotel guy had rain gear for sale, so for 1500 yen ($15), I got these sweet rain pants and a jacket. They were a slick shiny blue/silver, and when I put them over my winter jacket and jeans, they became very tight. I felt like I was in some 1960's sci-fi movie.

Off we went, and a little after 3:30, we reached a sign that said that we had one more kilometer to the top. There was a little hut/hotel where a few people were gathered inside. We had two options: climb to the top and hope to find a rest area there or rest now, and continue the climb around 4:30. We decided we didn't want to take the chance of finding a rest place filled with people, so we went inside, and paid the 1000 yen ($10) to sit for an hour. At that point, I would have paid $50-$100 to rest inside and get warm. I also paid $6 for a cup of udon. The same thing will run you 50 cents at the super market.

As time passed, we slowly began to realize that if we even made it to the top, we would not be able to see a thing. It was extremely cloudy and we knew the sun was beginning to rise because the clouds were beginning to turn a dark blue. After our hour was up, we got up and went outside to finish our climb...only to find that the weather had gotten even worse. It was colder, the wind was blowing harder and the rain was stronger. We started the climb, and immediately retreated back to the shelter of the hut. At this point, we had a quick meeting that was, psychologically, the hardest part of the climb: deciding whether to go all the way to the top. Sitting in a nice air-conditioned room in Okinawa, it is easy to say, 'of course! it would be a waste to turn away with only 1 km to go!'. But being up there on the mountain, it was a very serious discussion...and we decided to turn away.

We retreated about 100 yards before Roy shouted, 'No! We have to do it!' So we turned back towards the summit and began climbing up the mountain again...before the wind and rain turned us around.

That was our last 'gung ho!' moment. We turned our backs to the top one last time and proceeded to 'run' down the mountain. This was actually quite fun because as we descended, it became lighter outside, the weather got a little warmer, and the rain began to let up. On the way down, we met some people who had climbed Mt. Fuji numerous times, and they said there were many instances where they, too, had turned away. It was a bit disheartening, but we knew we had made the right decision. Another highlight of the decent was meeting some guy climbing down backwards with a mushroom costume-thing on his head. More power to you, buddy.

We returned to the 5th station at around 6 am, meaning we had 'ran' down in an hour and a half. The store that had our change of clothes had not opened yet, so we stood around for an hour, still in our wet, cold clothes. When the store opened, I felt all prepared, until I realized I didn't have a change of shoes. So I spent 800 yen ($8) on 28 cm sandals (I wear 32).

Later that day, we learned that two men died that night after trying to climb down from the summit. Learning this removed any feelings of regret for not reaching the top.

http://travel.latimes.com/daily-deal-blog/index.php/two-climbers-die-on--4981/

Next year, I will definitely try again. However, I will plan to be in Tokyo for awhile, so that I can choose the day once I am there to climb Fuji. If you schedule the climbing date ahead of time, you are leaving weather to chance.

I will also be sure to bring a poncho.

This picture was taking the next morning at the 5th station. Notice the lack of view.