Hiking to the sun on Mount Fuji

On August 10-11, 2015, I climbed Mount Fuji on Japan’s first annual Mountain Day holiday. My article about this sunrise hike has just been published in the summer 2019 issue of Appalachia, with an excerpt here, along with more many more photos.

cover of Appalachia magazine

I was thrilled to get my summer/fall issue in the mail with my Mount Fuji piece.

Outside, the wind shrieked, as if a massive gale had taken hold of the mountain. Inside the hut, the sounds of other hikers waking up – soft voices, the rustle of sleeping bags, the ripping of Velcro – rose around me in the darkness. On the sleeping platform, zipped into my bag and nestled in between my 15-year-old daughter Jen and a petite Japanese woman, I tried to rest a bit longer in my 16 inches of space.  

The hutmaster had suggested rising at one a.m., but I thought we needed more rest, so I planned on a 2:30 a.m. wake-up.  But now I couldn’t sleep.  Although I didn’t want to wake Jen just yet, I squeezed out of my bag to get up for the bathroom.

I stepped into my hut slippers and outside into a thick mist and a dense crowd of humanity shuffling past the hut. Where had all these people come from? The wind had died down to a quiet whistle. Except for the crunch-crunch of boot-clad footsteps, the hikers moved quietly.

Looking up above the hut, I could see a line of white lights zig-zagging up the switchbacks of Mount Fuji’s cone.  The line was continuous and unbroken, as if someone had strung a length of holiday lights up and across the dark mountain. The lights bobbed and shifted as invisible hikers climbed up the trail.

For several minutes, I waited to use the all-gender bathroom, where men urinated in the urinals while women, eyes averted, waited to use the stalls.  In one stall, a hiker was vomiting, probably from the onset of altitude sickness.

After returning to our sleeping nest, I tried to rest, but soon realized that our host was right. With so many people crowding the trail, we had to start hiking if we wanted to reach the Mount Fuji summit in time for the sunrise. I woke up Jen. After dressing in the dark, we went downstairs to drink coffee and hot chocolate and eat a foil-packaged breakfast of rice and sardines. Not very appetizing, especially on a few hours rest, but we needed nourishment to power us up the mountain.

When we set out at 2:30 a.m., the air was still damp with mist, but the winds had dissipated. We stepped into the line of hikers with our small flashlights, although we didn’t need them because so many others had lights, creating a constant wave of low-level illumination. We began to hike with small steps, in sync with the others, a slow shuffle forward, the way the crowd moves as it exits Fenway Park after a ballgame.

The Big Dipper hung above us in the clear black sky. The temperature, by our New England standards, was mild, about 40 degrees F, perfect for hiking.  Most hikers were clad in heavy coats, head-to-toe wind gear, hats and gloves, but we were comfortable in our long pants, a couple of light layers, and windbreakers, and we warmed up as we moved along.

Hikers get organized at the “Fifth Station,” where most begin the hike to Fuji’s summit.

We didn’t have to hike very far to the summit, just two kilometers, but the going was slow, partly due to the throngs of people on the trail and partly to the altitude — especially the rapid change from the day before, from Tokyo’s sea level to the 11,000 feet at the hut. I didn’t mind the slow shuffle, because the pace matched my fatigue. In the darkness, no one spoke. The only sound was the crunch-crunch of boots on volcanic scree.  Moving with the crowd, I began to feel like we were part of something bigger than a hike.

When I planned this sunrise hike to Mount Fuji, I knew it would not be a wilderness experience. I knew that we would encounter many people and numerous food stalls on the trail, and that I would have to bring a hefty collection of 100 yen coins to use the bathroom (200 yen for each stop). But I accepted these conditions without complaining, because resenting the crowds could ruin the experience of climbing Mount Fuji.

What I didn’t know was that climbing a mountain with hordes of people offers its own rewards…..

Large groups of hikers set out to hike Mount Fuji on summer afternoons, leaving from the “5th Station” — about halfway up the mountain — and spending a few hours overnight in a mountain hut in order to reach the summit in time for sunrise.

A festive atmosphere prevails in the first kilometer of then hike. I have no idea what these figures represent — possibly Fuji bears? — but I’m guessing they are urging hikers to be safe.

Hiking uphill on Fuji’s slopes.

A bottleneck of people slows down hikers near Mount Fuji’s summit.

Waiting for the sunrise….

hiking downhill Mount Fuji

After the sunrise, we sloshed downhill through heaps of volcanic scree that filled our shoes.

At the end of our hike, covered with a thin film of volcanic dust, I fell asleep next to the parking lot for a few minutes before reviving enough to pay a short visit to the Komitake Shrine. Then we boarded the bus for the nearby resort town of Fujiyoshida,and dreamed of the soft beds awaiting us at our hotel.

To read more about my hike on Mount Fuji:

Subscribe to Appalachia, America’s longest-running journal of mountaineering and conserving, or order the summer issue at the Appalachia website

For more on Japan, see my post, “Travels in Japan: French fries, pancakes, and pickled plums.” I got really busy with work the fall after my trip to Japan, and didn’t finish all my posts, but I hope to publish more about my Japan travels in the coming months. I was anxious about visiting Japan because it seemed like traveling there would be difficult, but it was so easy and I loved it!

 

Travels in Japan: French fries, pancakes, and pickled plums

The summer flew by, with hikes, kayaks, and swims, plus a long-anticipated trip to Japan. For the first part of the trip, we travelled with a small group of teenagers as part of an exchange program our town has with a school district in Aomori Prefecture. Later, my son and I travelled about on our own. Here’s a start to a series of posts on that trip, this one focused on some of the contradictions and quirks of modern Japan.

In Oirase, Japan, I visited a class at a community center where women gathered each week to learn or polish their skills in wearing a kimono, once everyday wear but now mostly reserved for weddings and other big events. Except in Kyoto, where we saw many young women and men and women out strolling in kimonos or summer yukatas.

In Oirase, Japan, I visited a class at a community center where women gathered each week to learn or polish their skills in wearing a kimono, once everyday wear but now mostly reserved for weddings and other big events. Except in Kyoto, where we saw many young women and men and women out strolling in kimonos or summer yukatas.

Our visit began with breakfast at the Mercure Hotel in Narita, home to Tokyo’s airport. For the teenagers: pancakes with maple syrup and a heap of french fries, topped off by pain au chocolate, buttery croissants, or cereal, and fresh fruit or salty pickled plums. Those who wanted to mix in more traditional could select grilled fish, miso soup, tofu, noodles, cabbage slaw, and more pickles.  Eggs for everyone, along with cafe-quality coffee produced by a single-serve machine that brewed coffee, latte, and cappuccino with a press of the button and no throwaway plastic cups. Why don’t we have these at home?

At the hotel, hallway vending machines were stocked with beer along with cold green tea, sodas, and water. Over time, we learned that the bottle with the green Japanese maple leaf, not the bottle with the rain drops, contains water rather than some sugary flavored version of water. On the street, sidewalk vending machines didn’t offer the beer, except in Kyoto, where I spied one in the Gion area.

Japan is really hot and humid in the summer, but nobody drinks water, or at least not the way Americans do. Temperatures were 95 or higher almost every day of 17-day visit. We never left our lodging without full water bottles and were constantly refilling at vending machines. But crowds of Japanese tourists seemed immune to the heat, at least when it comes to drinking water. We soon took up the Japanese habit of wearing towels around our necks to absorb sweat.

In Japan, shinkansen — the bullet train — whisk passengers hundreds of miles in a couple of hours, but  I needed to go to the Japan Rail office in person to make train reservations and collect my paper tickets. A dot-matrix printer buzzed with the transaction. We were traveling with Japan Rail passes used only by foreign tourists; passengers paying an ordinary fare can buy their tickets online. Even so, I had to wait in line quite a while as many Japanese passengers managed their reservations and purchases in person.

In Oirase, at this traditional inn, or "ryokan", you can still dial for a taxi.

In Oirase, at this traditional inn, or “ryokan”, you can still dial for a taxi.

Japan is high-tech but in many ways remains an analog society. Old-fashioned cash is king, and the vast majority of businesses and tourist attractions only accept cash.  Banks offer rows of ATM kiosks for people to do all their banking electronically, but it’s hard to find a bank staffed with people, so if you have lots of dollars to exchange for yen, as I did, it’s difficult to do so in a bank (to get the best exchange rate).

Vending machines stock many brands of iced coffee (and sometimes hot coffee) for about $1.20 a can, but in a café, a teacup-sized coffee runs about 500 yen, or $5.  Refills are not free and I soon realized that I did not want to spend $10 on coffee a couple of times a day. Unless coffee was included as part of a meal, I enjoyed my coffee canned. Prices are strangely high for some items, like $5 apples, but you can get a delicious filling bowl of ramen for the same price.

At our AirBnB in Tokyo, we recharged in an air-conditioned studio apartment, but began to swelter as soon as we stepped into the hall, because such public spaces are often AC-free. We were glad that our host provided a pocket wi-fi device to keep us connected as we travelled around the city because public wi-fi is not common in Tokyo. However, on the upper reaches of Mount Fuji, wi-fi ruled, maybe because people love selfies and posting them from the mountain.

Travellers can drop their luggage off at a Seven-11 and ship it almost anywhere in the country for next day arrival for about $30. But if you arrive at your hotel before check-in, don’t count on getting into your room, no matter how empty the places seems. Hotel staff will gladly store your luggage, but rules are rules in Japan  — 4 p.m. means 4 p.m.

In Kyoto, we stayed at the Shunkoin Temple guesthouse, which was located in the xxx temple complex, a vast walled working religious community with many private and public temples. Here, cars park in front of our temple, although by evening, all cars were out of site and we could walk these narrow "roadways" and enjoy the site of the mainXXX temple lit up with hundreds of paper lanterns.

In Kyoto, we stayed at the Shunkoin Temple guesthouse, which was located in the Myoshinji temple complex, a working religious community with many private and public temples, some dating to the 14th century. Here, cars park in front of the Shunkoin gate, although by evening, the cars were gone, and we could walk these narrow “roadways” and enjoy strolling around Myoshinji temple lit up with hundreds of paper lanterns.

In the older sections of cities, sleek cafés with their $5 coffees sit cheek-by-jowl next to restaurants where a chain-smoking owner grills yakitori chicken on a single burner portable gas stove, as future chicken meals peck around in the back courtyard.

In Kyoto, a picture in the window of American-style pancakes drew us into the Frog Cafe, owned by an elderly woman with a vast collection of frog and other knick-knacks. She explained, in Japanese, that we should only order one set of the pancakes. A bit puzzled, we complied, and a few minutes later she set down a plate of pancakes topped with a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream. That definitely enough dessert at breakfast, although we did order some toast after our ice cream. Of course we couldn't leave without a present for "the boy."

In Kyoto, a picture in the window of American-style pancakes drew us into the Frog Cafe, owned by an elderly woman with a vast collection of frog and other knick-knacks. She explained, in Japanese, that we should only order one set of the pancakes. A bit puzzled, we complied, and a few minutes later she set down a plate of pancakes topped with a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream. That definitely was enough dessert at breakfast, although we did order some toast after our ice cream. But we couldn’t leave without a present for “the boy.”

Ice cream and pastry shops are favorite afternoon hangouts, but nobody in Japan is overweight. Also, it is easy to eat well without cooking. You can get a fabulous take-out meal at the local supermarket, and a pretty good one at a 7-11 or Lawson convenience store. French-style bakeries with Japanese twists, like edamame baked into pastry twists, are the best.

Public trash cans are few and far between, but litter is non-existent. You never have to hunt for a public restroom — they are everywhere and always clean, which we definitely appreciated as we drank our gallons of water.

Before traveling to Japan, I had some trepidation about visiting a country where the signs would be incomprehensible to me, and few people speak fluent English.

Although it’s true that your average person doesn’t speak much English, in Japan, I learned, it’s never hard to understand something, or to be understood.

Information at train stations, for example, is always posted in both Japanese kanji and English, and recorded English messages on trains provide clear direction on the various stops and connections.

But most of all, Japanese people want to visitors to enjoy their country and most will do whatever they can to point you in the right direction.

Tokyo will host the summer Olympics in 2020. Tempting, very tempting.  Must remember to bring my neck towel.