In July I met Alex out in Japan, to coincide with the end of one of his business trips. I had insisted on having an epic quality to the trip, and that was to be climbing Mt. Fuji. I have done it before, and remembered it as being one of the most memorable things I did in Japan. I think that was because I had climbed overnight, together with droves of people of all ages following the same upward path. This time it was more difficult, and we did it in the day, so I was able to see just how desolate a mountain Fuji really is. I won’t be doing it again.
Mt. Fuji is the tallest mountain in Japan, but stands at a relatively modest 3776.24 m. Surprisingly, we were both hit with the symptoms of altitude sickess quite early on, and these would, naturally, get progressively worse as we climbed. Nausea, shortness of breath, a pounding sensation in the head, the need to stop regularly and often to rest. Regardless, we made it to the peak in 4.5 hours, when we had been told to expect the ascent to take more than seven.
As we neared the peak the weather worsened: it began to rain, the temperature dropped, and visibility deteriorated. By the time we were on top the mountain was covered in cloud, and we couldn’t see a damn thing. On reflection, this was the best we could have hoped for. For one thing, Fuji is desolate, and best seen from a distance. Secondly, the inhospitable conditions added to the sense of something epic having been done. And we couldn’t see all the other people around us who had just done something equally as epic.
The decision was made to make straight for the airport hotel on the final day and go out to the local town of Narita for the last night. Astonishing call, as it turned out, as there was some kind of Gion festival, to which it seemed the entire community came out. The atmosphere was great. Unfortunately, I only had a camera that I’m not particularly comfortable with, and I ran out of film within the first ten minutes. There are the best of what I got on the night:
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