CLIMBING FUJI

One of my big goals in for my time in Japan was to climb Mount Fuji. Despite it's huge size, every year thousands of people of all ages climb this sacred mountain. I was determined not to be part of that crowd.

The official climbing season is from the start of July to the end of August. Outside these dates it's considered a little bit dangerous. In Japan, people seem to like to do things in groups, all at the same time, and all in the same place. This is great for the ole camadary and what-not. There more the merrier, right? But for non-conformists like myself, it leads to problems. I really wanted to climb fuji, but I didn't want to do it in a queue. Impatiently swearing under my breath as I climb at a snails pace behind a bunch of old ladies in a tour group, whilst missing the sunrise. I've been in trouble for hitting old ladies before and I promised that Judge I wouldn't do it again, so I just won't put myself in these positions. So my american mate, Mike, and I opted to take the risk and do it a couple of weeks out of season.

Of course, with Japanese as bad as mine, organising anything is a full-on task. But to do it out of season is just stupid. Most Japanese people I asked about it told me either Fuji was closed, or just plain outright told me not to do it becuuse I might die (??). A couple of my level headed friends finally got me some information on a bus that runs to the Fifth Station (departure point) out of season. So there was nothin' to stop us. We had a long weekend at the end of September and took full advantage of it.

We caught the first bullit train down to Tokyo on saturday morning. From there we took a 2 hour bus to Mount Fuji.

Loaded up with warm cloths, whisky, brandy and new (secondhand) hiking boots, we set off for the clouds. At the Fifth Station there were, surprisngly, a lot of people. But it turned out they were mostly just tourists up to see the view from here or buy a souvenir. As soon as we started hiking and cleared the tree line we were pretty much on our own.

Not to sound unromantic, but Fuji is by far the ugliest mountain I have ever been on. With barely any vegation and all kinds of man made walls to prevent landslides (or something like that) during earthquakes, it's not quite picturesque. Perhaps I'm just spoilt from living in the Emerald Isle and having the lovely Mourne Mountains at my doorstep (alright, a taxi ride away). But at times it really felt like we were on some kind of building site. There were even bulldozers as high as they sixth station fixing up the paths. But I guess this is all essential for dealing with the huges masses of people over summer. Just not what I expected.

Approching the seventh station it became a lot more desolate. There were no more dozers, but some huts every hour or two that seemed to be all bouldered up. I don't know whether this is too stop them blowing away over winter, or to keep bums like me out. From here the views were great.

Fujis deep volcanic red colour against a bright blue sky was truly beautiful. We were well and truly above the clouds and by now the air was pretty thin and temperature getting low. Adding another layer and a couple of swigs of the good stuff, there was need for slowing down.

Soon after the seventh it became really tough. My heart was continously pounding and it was impossible to catch my breath. From here on it was continuosly like this. No amount of blood-thinning (via the whisky) made it any easier. I thought I was in good shape prior to this, but the for the next hour and half Fuji gave me a battering. Mike on the other hand was still going strong, so that gave me the motivation to keep going and not curl up in a ball whimpering for Mummy. We'd been really really lucky with the weather. Clear skies and plenty of sunshine, but now the wind was picking up. All our clothes were on and the whisky was finished. So it was time to pick up the pace and start on the brandy. The last stretch to the eigth station was a real struggle. I couldn't breath regularly even when I stopped, my heart was palpitating and Mike kept hiking ahead (with the brandy).

The eighth station was our goal for the evening. There's a hut there that stays out open out of season. We staggered in almost crying with joy, and only to happy to pay the extortiant prices for a night out of the storm. Feeling pretty sick and tired by this time we were soon off to bed after some rice and noodles. Unbeknownst to be, my old friend Acute Bronchitis, had crept on me the week before whilst I was training hard for this climb. I'd put the recent fatique down to over-training, but now, lying down on futon, I knew something was wrong.

After a lot of tossing, turning and kicking the Japanese guy (scarily close) next to me, I finally fell into a nice slumber of cotton candy and puppy dog filled dreams. My alarm went off at 3:00 and up we got. Amazingly I felt great. With a big 'Ohayo' (good morning) to the bottle of brandy, we were on our way. My 'great' feeling lasted about 30 seconds. Dark, cold and windy. We'd missed most of the previous evenings typhoon thanks to our trusty hut, but it still hust being out there. By now, full snowboard gear was on and I didn't even care if people made fun of my hat.

From here it was only another 2 hours to the summit, where we hoped to see sunrise. Now there were a lot of people. Groups of Japanese together with flashing beacons and leader and cans of oxygen. It was like something out of a movie. Most of the time it was a clear run, but on the tricky bits it got congested and took on a slow pace. We said out 'sumimasen's and just overtook everyone. But it hurt. It hurt bad. We managed to scramble to the top in about an hour and a half. We got some good spots on the top of Japan and looked east. Already being in the Far East, I wasn't expecting anything to be there. But there was. Apparently there's a Further East.

Just before the hypothermia had a chance to kick in, a flicker of light came across my eyes. I told Mike to get his headlamp outta my face before I threw him over the side. I was hungover and he was hogging the brandy. Shortly after this the sun came up. Not quite a glowing ball rising out of the sea, but it was really beautiful. Surrounded by a sea of clouds with wisps of land visable here and there.

Out came the Tricolor and I posed for a few photos. The Japanese folks thought this was great and asked to photograph me. Then a couple of foreigners approached asking to borrow my flight. It turns out they were from Dublin, so it just goes to show.

To be honest, despite the thin air, cold and being a bit sick, it felt really really great being up there. Not just a feeling of accomplisment. But it was so beautiful all around us. And you could see for so far. Just a massive view. After some rice balls we took a hike around the top. Fuji is a volcano so the top is a crater. Up there it felt like being on Mars or something with the erie red and sun just coming up. The hike wasn't difficult, but with the air so thin it took a while. Mike had to talk me into it, but I'm glad we did.

Following that we started out descent. This is were the real pain began. Climbing up I hadn't realised my new (secondhand) boots were a half size too small. Climbing down I did notice. For three solid hours my big toe nails were rammed into my foot. I won't complain too much at the risk of sounding un-tough, but let's just say my toenails are still black and oozing stuff.

Catching our bus back to Tokyo we checked in to a Capsule hotel. An hour and halfs sleep and then we hit Shibuya for a bit of night clubbing. All in all a great weekend.

I'm really glad I climbed Fuji san out of season. I'm also really glad I'm finished with it.

There's a Japanese saying that goes: 'Everyone should climb Fuji once. Only a fool would climb it twice.' Here's me "Wha?" :o)