November 18, 2007

Mt Fuji (JAPAN)

Climbing Mt Fuji (well, part of it)

We were all up early this morning - 6am early - and by 7am we had finished a full breakfast, several pots of coffee, and were climbing into an SUV for the ride to Mt Fuji. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I had to double check why such an early start was necessary. As was explained to me, by 10am the clouds move in on the mountain leaving zero visibility above 1500m.

We drove up the side of the mountain toward the level 5 parking area (level 10 is the summit of the mountain), and en route we passed a toned down ski area with vacationers taking off down the man-made slopes. Further on was a winding rode that slowly snaked its way up the mountain - back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

When we passed level 3 (roughly 1200m) we had to slow down even further because the roads were all iced and the SUV started sliding ever so slightly on the slick pavement. Finally, we reach the small parking lot from where we could begin our climb (guided by Nagawa san.) Since the SUV was heavily heated I wasn't at all prepared for the wind or cold that slammed me as I stepped out of the car. Quite literally, I was nearly blown off my feet as I struggled to reach a small building where I could use a toilet and find some momentary shelter from the elements.

The temperature was -15C (nearly 0 degrees Fahrenheit), and although I had no way to gauge the actual speed of the wind gusts, they were reminiscent of the tropical storms that used to strike Florida during hurricane season. The ferocity of the wind is something that cannot be appreciated until people try to climb the mountain for themselves. In fact, the primary cause for death on Mt Fuji is from being blown straight off the mountain when one of the gusts unexpectedly hits. The winds come straight off the Pacific ocean to the east, and after having traveled thousands of miles unhindered by land or impedance they strike the face of Fuji and are thrust upward at an even greater velocity.

The official climbing season is from July 1st - August 27th, and outside this small window all facilities are closed. With 120 million people living in Japan, I imagine the mountain can become quite crowded "in season". Unfortunately, without proper equipment, it is impossible (even suicidal) to make a full summit attempt in the dead of winter. I put aside my natural inclination to prove that it can be done and instead forged my way up the main trail until I reached Level 7. I then broke off on another path heading for a smaller peak that looks like an unseemly lump on the side of Mt Fuji. This mini-peak was created during Mt Fuji's last explosion in 1707 (ending in 1708), and it was the closest I could come to "conquering" a part of Fuji - at least until winter passes.

Shown below are a few photos taken near the top of my climb, but again the pictures don't do justice to the bone-chilling cold or the tremendous winds. Quite literally, I was forced onto my hands and knees because I couldn't stand upright without being bowled over.

At around 10:30am the clouds moved in and I struggled to see anything more than 3 feet in front of me. Fortunately, Nagawa san had warned me of this and I was able to eventually find my way back to the main trail. I reached the parking lot where the SUV was parked by 11:30am, and while waiting for the car to heat up I bought a few canned coffees from the vending machine near the bathrooms. I stuffed the cans inside my clothes as I struggled to warm up, but I didn't feel truly normal until I showered back at the house.

I caught a bus back to Tokyo late in the afternoon, and Kumagai san and I finally arrived home at 7pm. It was a full weekend of activity, but nothing that an hour at the public hot baths (and a lie-in the following morning) couldn't cure.