Who knew Fuji-san was Greek?

hubris (hyōō'brĭs) -noun
Overbearing pride or presumption; arrogance

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story...

I know I haven't posted in a little while, but this should more than make up for it. This post looks to be big. Huge. Of epic proportions, even. So pack a lunch and pull up a chair; this could take a while.

Right. So, one of the things that I absolutely had to do while I was in Japan was to climb Mt. Fuji. Granted, I'm not much of a mountain-climber -- most of my mountaineering experience involves driving around Colorado -- but something about Fuji-san called to me. Maybe it was the symbolism. Maybe it was the symmetry. Maybe it was the cool walking stick that I heard you could buy at the bottom and then have branded with station stamps on the way up. Whatever the reason, I had to do it. After all, thousands and thousands of people climb Mt. Fuji every year -- as I told my friend K-san, how hard could it be? So after much poring over travel books and looking at websites and fretting over dates and figuring out who wanted to come, I finally made the trip to the hallowed heights of Fuji on Monday. And realized that hubris is alive and well and living in Japan...

Things started out well (don't they always?) -- I met K-san in Toyohashi at 11:00, and we were at Shin-Fuji station by 2:30. There, we met two more friends, J and S, who were also making the trip with us, and we all took the bus to the Fujinomiya trail 5th station, arriving there at 4:30.

At this point, it's necessary to give a little background info about how people usually climb Mt. Fuji. First of all, there are four main trails up the mountain: the Kawaguchiko-Yoshida (most popular and closest to the Tokyo area), the Gotemba (longest distance from the 5th station to the summit), the Subashiri (most...similar sounding to...Subaru?), and the Fujinomiya (closest to Aichi prefecture and closest 5th station to the top (and, unbeknownst to me at the time, the steepest trail up the mountain **foreshadowing**)). Also, most climbers start at the 5th stations of all of the trails; I don't know why exactly -- maybe stations 1 through 4 really suck. In any event, most people start climbing in the evening from the 5th station, stop somewhere around the 8th station to rest for a bit, and then start climbing again around 2:00 a.m. to reach the summit in time for the sunrise at around 4:30. Then they climb back down the mountain and usually make it home in time for lunch.

This sounded like a good plan to us. So we situated our packs and ourselves and started up the slope at about 5:00. As we passed the station shop, I saw they had those much-coveted walking sticks for sale, but at 1000¥ each, it was more than I wanted to spend (I was trying to save money for my trip to Osaka this weekend). So, I continued on, stickless. Due to my energy and excitement, I was making pretty good time...for the first 50 meters or so. After that, my lungs seemed to operate in the same manner they usually do, but to no apparent effect; I had to keep stopping every five minutes just to catch my breath. By the time we reached the 6th station, I was already lagging behind, and so K-san was kind enough to buy me a walking stick there. After resting for a couple minutes, we set off again.

The weather started to get really weird the further we went up. It had been overcast when we started that day, but we seemed to break through some of the cloud cover as we ascended. After that, though, we could see tendrils of mist racing up the mountain, and once they reached us, the rain wasn't far behind. Luckily, I had brought a rain suit with me, but I only had time and energy enough to put on the jacket (over my backpack). This turned out to be a good thing, since my backpack was not exactly waterproof. In exchange, though, my shorts and shoes (Converse all-stars, baby!) got soaked. So by the time we reached the 7th station, I was squelching and practically panting at every step. But at least by then the rain had stopped. At that point, K-san volunteered to carry my pack (along with his own), so that I might have a better chance of not dying before we reached the top. And it did help a lot, but I still wasn't able to go all that much faster, and I felt like a total ass for making him carry twice the weight.

It was almost 8:00 and completely dark (except for the occasional flashes of lightning >.>;) by the time we reached station 7.5, and once there, we had to decide whether or not we would be staying the night at that station's "mountain hut." The name describes what it is pretty accurately; climbers can stop there to take a break (potty, photo, or otherwise), buy exorbitantly priced supplies, or, as in our case, find a place to sleep for the night. For the low, low price of only 5000¥. Each. >.< When I started this little sojourn, I had figured we would likely hike through the night and stop somewhere along the trail to rest. However, I hadn't planned on overnight rain. So, we shelled out the cash and crashed for the night...

And thus ends Day 1 of the "Super-Awesome Scale Mt. Fuji Adventure." Stay tuned for the stunning conclusion, when the Sungod blots out the day of their return. Believe it!

And because you've been such good sports, some photos:


The view from the 6th station.


Aaand from the 7th.