The road hums a musical tune as we drive up to Mt. Fuji’s 5th station. It’s a warm July morning and I’m about to conquer Japan’s tallest peak. As a novice hiker, I’m both excited and really nervous. But knowing my friends have climbed Mt. Fuji before gives me the boost of courage I need.
Next week, the country opens its borders to international tourists again – the first time since the COVID-19 pandemic. I figured I’d take the opportunity now, before the trails become jam-packed with tourists.
The 5th station has souvenir shops, food vendors, and is where the trails start. I’m with 9 other American friends and our plan is to take the Yoshida trail, the easiest one.
We will hike until evening and spend the night in a mountain hut near the 9th station. Then we leave at 2:30 am for the final trek to the summit (10th station) to catch the sunrise. Seems easy enough, right?
Starting the Climb
We buy our souvenir walking sticks and pay 1000 yen ($8 USD) to enter. The weather starts off warm with only light rain.
Making it up to the 7th station was a breeze. My friends and I are laughing, taking pictures, and getting our special walking sticks stamped at each station.
There’s many stops along the way with bathrooms (200 yen fee/ $1.50 USD) in wooden huts. They offer water bottles, snacks, souvenirs, and air canisters in case you feel sick from the high altitude.
However, hikers are not allowed to rest inside the huts, unless they’ve reserved an overnight spot.
Joy Turns to Pain
After we pass the 7th station, I’m no longer in a cheerful mood. My back hurts from my heavy bag I packed with extra warm clothing and 2 liters of water.
It’s now pouring rain with a cold breeze. Even in my rain gear, I’m soaked from waist down. My cold socks are the worst and send shivers throughout my body.
It becomes too cold to stop for more stamps, or get my phone out for pictures. Our group of 10 has dispersed based on hiking speed. I’m in the slowest group with two other friends.
We stop to take cover outside one of the huts. The wind is now howling like crazy and slamming against the building’s walls.
It’s impossible to see more than 5 feet in front of me. It feels like standing in a cloud. I can’t see down or up the mountain. It’s just mist, rain and the unrelenting wind.
Fear Creeps In
Most of the group has already made it to our mountain hut, where we have reservations for the night. Although we climbed for hours, I seriously doubted if we’d make it to see the Mt. Fuji sunrise.
I start to question my actions. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken my time and waited on my friends. If I had stuck with the quick group I’d be safely inside by now.
Fear and doubt fills my mind. What if we can’t make it in this wind? Will we have to go back down? What if we’re stranded here outside this hut all night?
I try to remain calm but inside I’m panicking. I ask myself, ‘Why did I even want to do this hike – what was I thinking!?’
Catching My Breath
We hide inside a bathroom for warmth. There’s a sign that says “no resting in the bathroom: 5000 yen fine” but others are in here too, including Japanese hikers.
The wind makes the air feel ten times colder. It’s only 4 pm but the sky is dark and overcast.
I take a deep breath as we decide to continue on our trek. I decide to embrace my fear instead of resisting it.
Now, the paved path is gone and we’re climbing over rocks. I’m afraid of being blown away by the wind. At this altitude the air is thinner and it’s harder to catch my breath.
Newfound Hope
But once we’re further along the trail, suddenly the wind doesn’t seem so bad. With every gust, I grab onto the rocks and stay low.
We finally make it to the 8th station but there’s still an hour or so before we reach our hut – which is right below the 9th station.
The weather is still miserable but the wind is calmer. I realize that where we were standing to rest made the wind seem a lot worse. Standing between the two huts was like being in a wind tunnel.
My hope returned and I knew we’d make it to our hut. We arrive around 6:30 pm, right before nightfall. The staff helps us dry off and remove our baggage. I’m shaking with exhaustion and can hardly move to change into dry clothes.
Final Climb to Mt. Fuji Summit
It’s now 2 am and my friend whispers my name to wake me up. It’s pitch black out and still pouring rain. I’m dreading the hike ahead, but we climbed this far, and the Mt. Fuji summit was only less than 1 kilometer away.
We leave for the summit at 2:30 am, quietly creeping out to not wake the other hikers.
I can only see a few feet in front of me as my headlamp pierces through the rain and fog. I hold onto the rope and keep close behind my friend’s back. “One step at a time” I tell myself as the wind picks up.
This time I stick with the fast group and it only takes a little over an hour to reach the top. Without the sign, I wouldn’t have known we reached the summit. All I can see is the wall of a closed building and some dragon statues.
It’s now 3:45 am but we still have to wait 45 minutes until the sun comes up. We huddle against the building to take cover from the wind. I’m wearing two layers of clothing plus my snowboarding jacket but I’m still freezing. The rest of our group makes it up right before sunrise.
Sunrise from the Top
The sunrise was not the majestic scene I’d been hoping for. I can’t see anything except clouds.
However, I was still ecstatic that I made it – I climbed Mt. Fuji – Japan’s tallest peak! I was in awe standing at 3,776 meters up (12,388 ft) as the sky slowly grew brighter.
The weather finally cleared up as we made our way down the mountain. The descending Yoshida Trail is a different route than coming up and was much easier. We were back at the 5th station in about 3 hours.
Home at Last
Although I was miserable, cold and scared senseless it was still an amazing experience. Connecting with good friends and knowing I had climbed Mt. Fuji made it all worth it in the end.
I learned that perspective is everything. Sometimes, you just need to take a few steps forward, and your whole view changes. The sky clears up and what once looked impossible, no longer seems out of reach.
So whether you’re conquering a mountain or just your comfort zone, remember to keep pressing forward one step at a time – soon you’ll look back and be in awe of how far you’ve come.
