Monday, December 24, 2012

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.

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