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…”