Climbing Mt. Fuji: A Tale of Misadventure in Three Parts

Part III: Down to Earth

The number 3,776 (meters above sea level- Fuji's summit) will be forever etched in my mind by the mild trauma I endured to get there. In terms of recovery, I am shocked that since I’ve come back I have all the signs of complete mental and physical soundness, even after all of the viciousness that mountain threw at me. I still expect somewhere down the line a condition will develop or a sudden or gradual loss of sanity will occur and I will have this little “adventure” to blame. But for now I seem to be ok. As more time passes, I forget why it was so bad, and even think I would do it again… I should probably take this as a sign that I’m losing it. 

Now where were we?

Maybe this will give you a better idea of how the trail was

...No matter how hard I tried, I could not get warm. The shivering was now constant. Perhaps due to lack of sleep or my preoccupation with my physical condition, I wasn’t really aware of whether I was truly at the top of the mountain or not. And I didn’t care. I also realized that there would be no sunrise! We were essentially inside a storm cloud, with very limited visibility. Again, I was hardly able to be concerned. I saw that people were going inside some kind of building (the same one I had been sitting against possibly?) and I rushed to join them.

Once inside, I was focused on trying to get warm- taking my gloves off, rubbing my hands together, jogging in place. I began to realize that it was actually some kind of shrine- there were several Shinto monks standing behind a counter passing out amulets in return for some coins. My despair grew- how could a sheltered room packed with people generate no heat for my frozen body? (It didn’t occur to me that with my saturated ensemble in the freezing temperatures, I was basically a human icicle!) A stranger handed me something. A small heated pouch of the kind I have usually seen microwaved and used to reduce muscle pain. I thanked the man and he disappeared. I set about using it to try to make my hands warm. If only I had a few hundred of these right now! (My friend later informed me that most people on the mountain were probably carrying them, as was she. Because that’s what you do in cold weather in Japan, didn’t I know that?)

“You look very cold.” My ears perked up at the sound of my own language. Another foreigner dressed in a similar lack of appropriate gear had wandered into the shrine. “There is a restaurant next door where you can get hot soup- maybe that will help.” I followed him out of the shrine back into the wind. Inside the next lodge, a group of his colleagues were waiting for meals. They had apparently come to Japan on business and decided last minute to do a side-trip to Fuji- except they hadn’t packed accordingly. One man from Iceland had been certain that his national origin would be preparation enough- he was wearing a thin wool sweater and had only recently swapped his shorts for pants. The others had little more in the way of winter-ready attire. We all stood there, a collective of fools on display for others’ amusement (I really do hope though that our sorry state was at least good for a laugh for bystanders).

We inquired about the weather conditions; the lodge proprietors explained that it was not advisable to climb down at the moment. But after an hour of standing around in wet clothing, we realized that we needed to try. I couldn’t wait anymore to look for my friends- they had either not made it or had already come and gone, without us ever bumping into each other. I figured it was better to stay with this group. We started our descent.

I couldn’t wear my gloves at all because they were wet and would make my hands even colder. I alternated carrying my stick with one and putting the other in a wet pocket. The walking wasn’t fast enough to generate heat either. There was another line to get down. This got old very quickly, and we decided to pass people- some members were going more slowly though, and since they were friends they kept waiting for each other. But I really could no longer afford to do so. I told them I’d meet them at the 8th station and picked up the pace. Never saw them again either.

Have a rest here- this post is almost as long as the climb down! Haha

The next station contained a large crowd. After waiting a long time just to get through the bottleneck between the building and a fence, I stopped inside and asked how long it would take to get down. When I was told 5 hours, I started to panic a bit. I had already been outside for 12 hours! A friendly English-speaking staff member advised me to just keep moving and not wait for anybody. I also bought another pair of gloves (they were soaked in an hour).

I was now booking it down the mountain. The trail had separated into Up and Down paths and also converted once again into switchbacks. These were steep enough on the ascent- on the way down, they proved even more tricky. Pebbles slid under my feet like marbles on a concrete floor. While others had hiking boots and rock-guards around their ankles and moved almost effortlessly down the mountain, I only had my poor, battle-weary tennis shoes to convey me earthward. I skidded downward, nearing a speed comparable to skiing. Hitting a particularly unstable mound of them meant sliding out of control. There were quite a few times when I couldn’t regain my equilibrium- the result: bouncing down the mountain on my ass. One exceptionally spectacular fall had me trying to catch my balance by throwing my weight to the side… I ended up flailing my arms wildly, doing a 360 degree spin and sailing headfirst down the slope! People came to my aid, only to discover me laughing hysterically. I must have looked like a maniac!

Just a moment later, I discovered my friend waiting alongside the path. It was so relieving to find her- I had been wondering how we would meet up again, what with our phones not working. I had assumed I could get back to the city by myself- but I had mostly been focused on actually making it down the mountain. She told me that she had only made it as far as the 9^th station- by the time she reached it, the weather was so bad that they started sending people back down. (Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have been up there). We started down together, but she was still moving at a snail’s pace (she’d been mobile for two extra hours and started down before me!), so I told her I would move on and meet her at the Fifth station.

It seemed to take ages to reach the Sixth- the Seventh gets the skip on the descent path, not to mention there was a longer distance to walk back this time. But I was finally on the home stretch! And it was finally not freezing. Unfortunately, my knees were not cooperating, as the repeated smashing of my patella into my tibia on the way down had caused quite a lot of pain. I was now having to so a sideways crab-scuttle to continue descending, and I could no longer move quickly. I just wanted it to be over already! I was tempted to use my remaining strength to kick all of the people who were passing me in apparently cheerful moods. At long last I made it though, resisting the urge to lift my arms in the air in a victory gesture as I approached the Fifth. I immediately went to a restroom to attempt to find some dry clothes within my pack- to no avail! I selected the least soaked items, dejectedly put them back on, and went to wait for my friend…

Hateful clouds on the evil mountain

Thankfully, we went to an onsen before heading back to the city- I had to make amends with my body for so egregiously mistreating it. Relaxing in a hot mineral bath was exactly what I needed at the end of this excursion! When we got on the bus to head home, I looked back at the mountain through the window. Clouds were still gathered around it, and I thought of the people who must at that moment be attempting to navigate that mad, swirling snow-globe… I laughed to myself. Good riddance Fuji!!!

Additional updates: I never saw the group that we were meant to meet up with. Apparently they had the same problem my friend did, having to go back down because of the weather. Only 3 out of 11 of them made it to the summit.

The assertion by a colleague, who had previously done the climb, that I would “ruin a pair of sneakers” was absolutely correct. My 10-year old reliable pair of tennis shoes that has traveled all over the world with me sadly didn’t make it. Bless their soles.

My poor shoes! Their soles have separated from their bodies haha, time for a funeral.
...or maybe I can resurrect them by doing some triage with Shoe Glue?

Oh yeah, and the moral of the story: ‘Survival of the fittest’ is clearly just theory.

Wait, I’m not sure that’s the lesson I was supposed to learn…