This post is not even going to come close to giving you my full adventure of climbing a mountain. To be honest - there's no possible way to re-create that experience and I'm not even going to try. In a sense (and I apologize if I'm getting too deep here) I feel like there is a part of me that will always be on that mountain . . . forever climbing. Okay, let me get to the point.
On Friday, August 13th (yes, Friday the 13th) I climbed Mount Fuji. It was one of the most beautiful, courageous, overly ambitious, awe-inspiring, tragic, breath taking, life changing events that I have ever experienced in my whole entire life.
In hindsight I honestly don't know what it was that made me believe that I could easily just conquer a mountain but I began this epic journey with the same level of arrogance that Captain Smith had before he hit that ice-burg and sunk the Titanic.
It was 12:45 pm. Myself and 5 people started out on what looked like a long, spacious road that gently sloped upward. There were 4 girls and one guy in our little team.
The consensus was that we'd climb to the top of Mt. Fuji and then climb back down. No sleep or rest. Simple as that!
We were a lively group making jokes and singing (mainly "Baby Come Back" by Hall n Oates - a running joke that would be the theme of our whole mountain climbing trip along with . . . "the last one down's a rotten egg!") and taking pictures of the beautiful scenery. The perfectly sunny weather and crowds of people only worked to increase our optimism and enthusiasm. One girl from our group had only brought a quarter of a bottle of water and a bag of trash with her.
In other words . . . we. were. doomed! Either way, the beauty of nature was around us, and boy were we breathing it in.
Our walking sticks jingled with ribbons and little bells that were attached to the tips and at each stopping point, we got them stamped. Now let me backtrack a little and tell you about our walking sticks and the different "stops" on the mountain.
Before setting out on the mountain, I decided to buy what I'd like to refer to as a "Moses Stick." Along with the intended "mountain guru" effect it gave off, this stick was a real life saver when I needed something to grip onto for balance and support.
Also, there were many different cabins. They served as checkpoints where you could get your "Moses Stick" stamped but more importantly, they sold snacks and beverages. Some of them even allowed you to stay overnight and rest up a little before hitting the trail again. (You needed reservations for that luxury, howevver, which sadly we would find out later.)
The beginning of our journey was pretty easy and the vendor huts seemed to be one right after the other. I decided to skip the stick stamping ritual at one point because I remember being annoyed at the obvious nickel and diming that was taking place. (It cost about 2 bucks for each stamp.) At the third checkpoint, however, I regretted this decision and decided that I wanted every last stamp that I could get on this epic journey. (And I'm glad I did.)
The scenery was absolutely beautiful and we watched clouds roll up the mountain like steam from a train.
At times the large crowd of people that we followed behind would stop and start which gave us moments of rest. During that time, we took pictures and enjoyed the view.
The climb became strenuous almost immediately and combined with the heat, we decided to shed the layers that we'd prematurely put on.
These rocks were no joke. Imagine doing about 6 hours on the stair climber machine at the gym.
Maybe around 5pm at yet another checkpoint, our group began to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Japanese passersby laughed and yelled out "Dericious!" Those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were indeed "dericious" and I can't think of another moment during our journey when the morale was higher.
It was also at this moment that I remember the wind picking up. In a futile attempt to beat the darkness, we started out again with the wind pushing against our backs. The clouds began moving at a quicker pace by this time and gradually our group became quieter as we climbed along the path. The only thing you could hear was the wind whistling and the crunching of rocks and gravel.
It was then that my positive opinion about clouds began changing. When it was sunny and warm, I remember looking up the mountain and seeing these large, white fluffy figures and admiring their beauty. "They look like big -insert cute, fluffy, white unassuming object here-. Now that we were actually walking through the "big, beautiful marshmallows/snow clumps/pillows/etc." in the sky, they looked as menacing as the "Stay Puffed Man" on Ghostbusters. They were cold, super-windy and wet. Whenever you saw a cloud approaching (and trust me, they were visible up close) you cringed and took a deep breath to prepare to be roughed up by mother nature. Remember, these are the things that cause airplanes to tremble. I will never EVER look at clouds the same. So we're battling gravity, we're battling rocks, we're battling clouds and this is all before the darkness set in.
At around 7pm, we stopped at a checkpoint and grabbed a cup of coffee. By this time it was really cold and windy. The cost of coffee went up by about 2 bucks. We sat and listened as a friend from another group played his "mountain flute" for the nearby crowd. Everyone clapped and laughed and it was all very funny and surreal. We took a bunch of pictures and I remember getting my "Moses Stick" stamped with the emblem of a mountain. At some point someone mentioned the impending darkness and the next thing I know, we were trudging into an abyss of dimness, being slowly devoured by nightfall.
. . . Part II to come!
hey it's graham. can't wait for part II!
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