Mt. Fuji Part Four: What Climbs Up has to Climb Down...Ouch!

“If you never climb Mt. Fuji you are a fool, and if you climb it more than once you are a fool.” Japanese proverb, author unknown

     Having reached the summit, we hiked for about an hour around the circumference of the volcanic crater.  The sky was so bright that my head was beginning to hurt from the glare.  I was squinting hard to see through my thick dark sunglasses.  It was at this point that the reality of our poor planning began to set in.  Having been more or less awake for well over 24 hours, it was now time to climb down the mountain.

      Our guide book estimated the descent to take about 2 hours.  However, we slid through gravel for seven. After about an hour of walking and sliding down the path, I felt like my knees were going to explode out of their sockets.  Covered in sweat and volcanic ash, I was beginning to suffer, my asthma being triggered from the large clouds of dust created by other climbers around us.  The weight of each of my footsteps was accompanied by the pain of a large jarring thud in the back of my head.  I was dehydrated, though I was drinking water every 15 minutes. 

“This is never going to end ever is it!”Rebecca cried with a helpless voice. Then Jairaj suddenly limped heavily onto his left side. 

“AWW…my ankle!” he screamed. 

Bernard and I helped him ease his way down what seemed live a never ending slide of gravel.  He soon as well twisted his right ankle.  Bernard and I grabbed him underneath each armpit and tried to brace his sliding. I then slid and fell on my back, knocking Jairaj over with me.  The lump that had been building in my throat finally released as I began to sob uncontrollably, bursting into wild tears. 

     “This sucks, this sucks….THIS SUCKS!!!” Jairaj yelled out to no one in particular.  Within our small group brewed a collective anger, though there wasn’t anyone or any place for it to be directed towards.

      Eventually all of us did make it back to Niigata Prefecture, but not before several budding friendships were forever severed.  It would be at least two years before anyone would even mention the climbing experience as the words “Mount Fuji” became like an expletive that no one amongst us would utter.  Two years after returning to San Francisco, I received a card from Jairaj in the mail.  The card was blank, but inside was a photograph that to this day hangs on my refrigerator.  The photo is that of a giant red Torii, surrounded by clouds with the sun emerging through its gates.  Hand written in pen on the back: 

 “I think this was worth it…”

Mt. Fuji Part Three: Station Seven, and it’s on Repeat

“If you never climb Mt. Fuji you are a fool, and if you climb it more than once you are a fool.” Japanese proverb, author unknown

      “We’re at Station Seven, so it should only be about 3 more hours,” Jairaj said. 

     “Maybe we should rest here, since we want to get to the top for the sunrise.  Otherwise, we may be waiting a long time in the dark at the summit,” suggested Sarah.  Bernard, who had a small stopwatch in his backpack, set an alarm to wake us all in an hour.  Huddled together on a wooden bench, the 5 of us got an hour’s rest.

     Once awakened by the alarm, we continued our route to Hachigome, or Station 8.  The air became much cooler as we ascended around the winding trail, so I put my fleece jacket on over my sweater.  Thus far, I had used my flashlight to guide my footsteps, but I was beginning to find that it was giving me tunnel vision.  I decided to proceed without it, using the light of the moon and stars instead to guide my path. 



      “There’s Station 8 up ahead,” I said after an hour, spotting what looked like lights.  When we arrived the sign read ‘Nanagome, Station 7’.  “Another Station 7…” I thought, beginning to feel a bit defeated and confused.  We looked at each other, dumbfounded.

     “I know it doesn’t seem real, but I guess there are two Station Sevens?” I shrugged.

Ahhhh....Station 7!!!

     Our path became steeper and rockier.  The air became colder.  The wind became stronger.  Over the course of the next 3 hours, walking up the pathway became more like rock climbing.  We were now ‘hiking’ on all four limbs.  We passed three ‘Station Sevens’. I began to wonder if Rod Sterling was going to appear on the mountain to let us know we had entered the twilight zone of the never ending Station Seven.  “Climb as high and fast as you can and you’ll again be at Station Seven,” I thought.  I noticed that my heart was beating about twice as fast as usual.

     “How much longer do you think we have?” Rebecca asked.  Finally the sign at the next station read ‘Station Eight’.

      As we neared the peak, we passed underneath the first of several Torii, the large red Shinto gates that mark a sacred place.  Across the darkened sky in the far distance I could see rays of lightening.  I was literally clinging to the gravel and shrubbery with one hand and pulling my weight with the other hand using my walking stick. “Dawn is about to break!” I overheard a man next to me say.  I sat down and braced myself, wedging the traction of my boot in to the side of a large boulder, which became somewhat of a shelter against the windy assault.  My eyes were watering from lack of sleep and every time I looked up, the wind would blow, whistling watery tears of sleep deprivation across my cheeks.  Together we all huddled against the cold, 12,990 feet above sea level.  Surrounded by hundreds of climbers from all over Japan and from various corners of the world, we had made it just shy of the summit by the strength of will.

     Suddenly, the sky began to slowly fill with light.  Time seemed frozen as across the sky appeared the tiniest dot of yellow-orange.  The tiny dot tediously extended itself into a single line of gold that spread across the horizon.  Enveloped in silence, the hair on both of my arms stood to attention as from head to toe my skin filled with what felt like faint electrical currents.  The silence broke when everyone around us simultaneously erupted into cheers, clapping ecstatically for the natural phenomenon of the rising sun.  One by one from the golden line, the sun’s rays materialized, stretching themselves through the thin blanket of clouds that hovered over the surrounding peaks.  The entire horizon vibrated with radiant celestial waves as the fiery orb of luminescence gradually emerged, filing the atmosphere with its light.

Mt. Fuji Part Two: And Half the Group will soon Defect….

 

“If you never climb Mt. Fuji you are a fool, and if you climb it more than once you are a fool.” Japanese proverb, author unknown
    
     We headed off on the trail, each with a backpack full of necessary items.  Jairaj and I took the lead, with my flashlight illuminating our path.  The air around us was steeped in excitement and saturated with the light ringing of anti bear bells and the crunching of hard black gravel beneath our shoes.

     “My feet hurt,” Danielle began to complain as she bent over, holding her knees with her doughy hands.  I noticed that she had worn a pair of buckled Mary Jane style shoes. I as well had worn black boots with thick laces and metal loops that were probably fit for walking a runway more so than for climbing.  We were soon passed by children climbing with their parents and elderly men and women with large knap sacks made of cloth on their backs.  Within our immediate path, we encountered three festive young men climbing with large backpacks adorned with Swedish flags and disassembled bicycle parts.  Apparently they were planning to climb up and bicycle down the mountain.  Jairaj, Sarah and I flashed them a ‘thumbs up’ and joined in right behind them, hiking faster and separating a bit from our group. 

     Mount Fuji, so beautiful from afar with it’s majestic peak, often the subject of artists and writers, has provided lifetimes of inspiration.  Up close and personal, the mountain was quite unattractive; a hike on a slightly inclined path of blackened gravel lined by low lying shrubs.

      We passed by the 6th station and didn’t stop to rest until we reached Nanagome, or Station 7. Here the three of us waited for the rest of the group.  At this station were small cabins and vendors selling snacks.  We got our walking sticks branded with ‘Nanagome’ and then posed for quick photographs.  I poured some green tea from my thermos, drank it down and tried to catch my breath.


Taking a rest at Station 7

 “How are you guys feeling?” I asked in a raspy voice once everyone arrived.  Holding her head, Danielle looked exhausted. 

“It might help if you guys slow down,” she said, the corners of her mouth folded tightly upwards.

 “I may need to climb back down’, Tiffany added.  “It says here that the path around the other side leads down,” she said pointing to her guide book.
 
“You can’t be serious….we’ve come this far!” Jairaj exclaimed. 

“You guys want to climb down….now?” I asked, somewhat surprised since we had only been climbing for about two and a half hours. 

“Well, it’s not like we’re climbing together anyway.  You guys are so far ahead most of the time,” Danielle griped. 

“We can all slow down, or those of us climbing faster can wait at each station for the rest of the group,” I pleaded. 

“This is a REAL nice trip you planned Jairaj,” Danielle said rolling her eyes, her words seething with hostility. 

“Well, maybe some people should get a physical done before trying to climb a mountain,” Jairaj said in defense. 

“Well, you know I have asthma,” Danielle replied as she sharply turned around. I sat on the bench, my walking stick resting beside my leg.  I had tightly wrapped the ribbon that attached the bells to my stick around my index and second fingers until they were numb. 

“I’ve had asthma for 21 years and….well I’m going to keep on going,” I said with resolve though in reality I was lightheaded and out of breath.  I turned and walked away with my heart sinking to my stomach as half of our group, including Tiffany, defected to climb back down to the Fifth Station.

Mt. Fuji Part One: It All Started at Gogome or Station Five

“If you never climb Mt. Fuji you are a fool, and if you climb it more than once you are a fool.” Japanese proverb, author unknown

“I’m only going on this trip because you are,” Tiffany said as we rode on the bus from Fujinomiya in the summer evening.  “It’s 8:00pm and we’re setting out to climb a mountain, not just any mountain, but the highest mountain in Japan,” she reminded me, her eyes growing larger.  This, it’s pretty crazy….I mean you realize we’re all crazy, right?  I was talking to my grandmother the other day and she said that black people don’t climb mountains!” 

“Well, I guess black people don’t climb mountains….except for when we do!” I responded with a wink.

We both heartily laughed as she and I represented two of the three African American women on our programme that year living in Niigata prefecture in northern Japan.  With a hint of anxiety, I looked out the window at the night sky and admired the glitter of the twinkling urban lights below as the bus climbed higher and higher into the night.

Mount Fuji is considered a very sacred place and for many it is a pilgrimage to climb the mountain.  It was late summer, one of the last weekends of the climbing season, when 10 of us set out together to make this trek.  We were all participants on the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme and represented a broad spectrum of native English speakers from across the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada and Australia.  My colleague Jairaj had set up this excursion to be a bonding experience, for we had all been in Japan for merely a month.  Having spent my first month ever living alone and in a foreign culture, I was eager to get to know some of the other teachers on the programme.  Our collective goal was to watch the sunrise from the top of the mountain.

            It was 9:00pm when our bus dropped us off at Gogome station, the Fifth Station half way up the mountain.  Several groups of climbers were assembled at this base, as it’s one of the more popular starting points.  There were small shops selling everything from steaming bowls of noodles to walking sticks.  I purchased a walking stick, a traditional souvenir onto which you can get stamps branded on at each station to commemorate your achievement.  The walking stick that I chose had a Japanese and U.S. flag on the top and it was adorned with anti-bear bells, though I had never heard of any bear sightings on the mountain.  I figured that this experience would be a moderate hike to the summit.  After all Jimmy Carter had himself climbed the mountain just two weeks prior to our trip.  Based on our guidebook, we estimated that it would take 6 hours to reach the summit from where we were.

Sooo....Do Friends let Friends Climb Mount Fuji?

“If you never climb Mt. Fuji you are a fool, and if you climb it more than once you are a fool.” Japanese proverb, author unknown

A dear friend of mine from a Japanese class recently told me that she and her father were planning to climb Mount Fuji in the coming summer.  She was completely excited about the pending adventure and I just smiled, not knowing quite how to respond.  My experience climbing the mountain was more than a tad bit traumatic, something that I did many years ago, something I've effectively managed to block out of my memory.  I promised her that I would try to recall the experience and that I would post about it on my blog.  Soon to come will be some recollections of the event and unfortunately, the names will not be changed to protect the innocent.