Climbing Mt. Fuji

O snail,

Climb Mt. Fuji,

But slowly, slowly!

Kobayashi Issa

Yesterday my husband, Kris, and I climbed Mt. Fuji. Since we have around 1 year left in Japan, this is the last climbing season we’d be able to climb her. We haven’t done much hiking in Japan other than hiking Mt. Takao, but we knew we had to climb Mt. Fuji. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was the craziest experience and now that we’re back down the mountain and safe and sound at home, it seems like a dream from another world.

I’ve always felt a magnetic pull to be near Fuji-san and we’ve spent many days and nights at various places around the base of Fuji. This sacred mountain has pulled me to her more than once, and I’ve always felt a sense of peace and contentment when spending time in her presence. Fuji is considered one of the earth’s 7 main chakras because of the higher frequency of energy here. My unshakeable connection with Mt. Fuji has only intensified since making the climb, and I felt the need to immortalize this experience in words.

We left our cozy apartment at 2 am to catch the bus, and I told Kris, “Well, this is literally what a crazy person does–they leave their safe warm bed at 2 am to go climb an active volcano.” I had only slept a couple hours the night before as the anticipation was building, and couldn’t sleep on the 2 hour bus ride either. At 5 am, we started our ascent up the mountain. We bought hiking sticks so that we could get stamps burned on at each station.

We spent a total of 12 hours to climb Mt. Fuji–a little over 7 hours to ascend, 30 minutes at the summit, and a little less than 4 hours to come back down.

There are four trail choices to the top and we chose the easiest, the Yoshida trail. There are 10 “stations” to the summit and each trail begins at the 5th station. At each station there’s a hut, but there are also additional huts between those stations when the climbing gets harder. Some of the stations also have a small hotel (basically several bunk beds in a mountain hut) which you can reserve overnight, eat a hot meal and hike the next day.

At these huts is where you can stop at for food, drinks, a bathroom break and to get a stamp burned into your hiking stick. We carried the majority of our food and water with us from the bottom because food and water gets increasingly more expensive as you climb.

We had prepared for rainy weather since the weather on Fuji is incredibly prone to change–someone who hiked it last weekend had told me it was rainy, sleeting, and even lightning when they got close to the summit. But when we started our ascent, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and we could see the mountains below us covered with a soft blanket of pillowy clouds.

We bought hiking sticks to get stamps burned into at each station. We thought we’d get maybe ten stamps, but ended up getting around 20–some stations had two stamps. This actually ended up being a very expensive souvenir, we spent around ¥4800 (around $40 USD) per stick on stamps alone. I really loved taking my hiking stick home with me though, I feel like the deep and ancient power of Mt. Fuji has been infused into my magical wooden staff that is now hanging on my wall.

The terrain changed several times. When we first started out, it was mainly just a gravel (except small volcanic rocks, not actual gravel) road that zigzagged upwards at a relatively mild gradient. Then it switched to climbing up rocks, which was one of my favorite parts of the climb.

I loved seeing the grand downwards slope of the mountain, both of the red dirt spilling downwards, and the green slope further down where the trees grew at an angle to accommodate the steep slope. We were incredibly lucky to have such clear weather and good views starting out, where we could see tiny blue mountains, lakes, and farmland spilling out beneath us. It truly felt like we were in a different land, no longer part of the mortal world.

This is where we first started noticing the air thinning out, and we were glad to have brought a couple of cans of oxygen. When changing altitudes quickly, you can get altitude sickness–which can come in the form of being nauseous, dizzy, or having a headache. I definitely had a headache coming on and felt like I couldn’t take deep breaths. The oxygen can helped a lot!

At one of the lower stations while we were getting stamps burned into our sticks, a group of Japanese hikers who spoke English asked to see the stamps and started explaining the meaning behind many of them to us, which was really cool! The stamp that we had just received was a god who has big earlobes, which they explained in Japan signifies you’ll have big money–so this god would bring us great wealth. Only time will tell! “See you at the top!” they said to us, and onwards and upwards they went. We did, in fact, see them at the summit.

As we climbed up, what had been hot and humid weather at the beginning of the trail changed to cool and breezy weather. We hiked up, up, up, until we were surrounded by clouds. The clouds swirled around us and moved quickly by us. It’s easy to see how fast the weather can change on the top of the mountain when you see the clouds move through so quickly.

The age range of the hikers both shocked and inspired me. We passed a generational trio of hikers–a 5 year old, his mom, and his grandma. “Ganbatte!” I told him as we walked by (Japanese for “do your best!” Ariana will be 5 next year and I can’t imagine being able her to convince her to go on an intensive hike like this. We also were hiking at a similar pace to another family–the parents and two boys, probably aged 7 and 9. We saw one of them crying at a mountain hut, at another point one taking a Youtube break, and we also saw one leaning against his dads shoulder, nodding off–but nevertheless they kept going. The determination of this family pulled through and they reached the summit a few minutes after we did.

Lastly, we saw a group of elderly people making their way up the mountain. The oldest man was in front, shuffling along slowly, with three other elderly people behind him, I assume to catch him if he took a misstep. The oldest man was over 80, I’m sure. I couldn’t believe I was seeing these elders climbing up these rocks. One foot in front of the other, they too would climb Mt. Fuji and reach the summit of Fuji-San.

I felt like we were participating in an ancient, sacred pilgrimage up this majestic and intimidating mountain. It was a powerful reminder in my own mortality, in my own insignificance, of just how small and tiny we really are as humans. Every step seemed meditative, and I often reminded myself to only look at where each foot needed to go and not look upwards at how far there was left to go.

The closer we got to the top, the more crowded the trail was. We were plodding along a steep rocky path, through misty clouds, with volcanic rocks jutting out every step of the way. It got to the point where nobody really passed any other hikers any more. Everybody was collectively so tired and exhausted. When one hiker would stop to catch their breath for a moment, the line of hikers would all stop and take a breather. The feeling of being part of this group of pilgrims who were all, also, struggling their way to the summit was such a feeling of belonging and camaraderie.

The summit was visible now, but we couldn’t move our feet any faster than a snails pace. We learned to stop sitting down because it took too much energy to stand back up.

Instead, we took standing breaks, leaning on our trusty hiking sticks for support. We stopped to catch our breath–literally gasping for air– and one hiker (in noticeably better shape and struggling significantly less for breath) said to us “Keep going! You’re almost there!” At his urging, on we climbed.

Looking up towards the peak, the clouds whipped over the top of it at incredible speeds. I’ve never seen clouds move that quickly before.

Pushing the limits of our determination and willpower, we reached the summit.

We were above the clouds, layers of puffy marshmallow clouds billowing out beneath us. We were (again!) incredibly lucky to get this view because in less than 5 minutes after we reached the summit, clouds were swirling around us and we could no longer see the lower clouds and blue sky beneath the peak. There were vendors, stamps to have burned into our stick, and a shrine at the top. This sacred land is called Okumiya and includes all land above the 8th station of Fuji. It has been worshipped as the sacred place where gods rest since ancient times.

We walked over to look at the crater of this grand and intimidating volcano before taking a break to refill our Camelbak and strap on our gaiters for the hike back down.

I felt giddy and all my emotions were heightened from completing the climb to the top. “I would hike it again in a heartbeat,” I tell Kris. “That’s it, I’m one and done.” He replied.

The hike down was brutal. We zigzagged down the slopes, slipping and sliding on gravel, volcanic rock, and loose dirt. We slipped several times, taking a break only to take ibuprofen and for me to put on a knee brace.

Now that we’re back, this pilgrimage seems completely surreal. It felt like the most holy of journeys for me. It was both primal and deeply spiritual for me. I feel stunned, awed and humbled by the magnitude of this experience. Thank you for everything, great Fuji-san.

The high peak of Fuji:

I gaze on it, yet am never sated by the sight.

Takahashi no Mushimaro