I'm at work on my last day. I fly out at 3pm on Thursday and arrive at 9am on Thursday. Isn't it fun how that works out? I'll be moving in all day getting my stuff from storage and unpacking. Give me a call if you're on campus, I dunno how busy I'll be but you never know.
I'm really going to miss Japan. Though it's been almost 5 months, when I was hanging out with my co-workers after work and with some of the college students I've gotten to know pretty well, I was kinda sad that I may not see them again.
Things I'll miss about Japan:
-Sushi and chopsticks
-Riding the trains
-Being able to do whatever I want outside of work
-The bright lights of the city at night, Las Vegas-esuque but somehow different
-Toilets with a seat warmer/butt spray (don't knock it till you try it!)
-Staying out all night at clubs since there are no trains
-Being able to watch anime on TV like Naruto without waiting for subtitles
-Pretending my life is a Japanese Drama
-Nomihodi (all you can drink bars)
Things I won't miss
-Not being able to read the menus
-Getting on a train going the opposite direction
-Living by myself
-Japanese keyboards
-Fruit that costs an arm and a leg
-"Low-fat" milk
-The absence of ethnic diversity
I'm sure over the next few weeks I'll think of more stuff as I go through a stage of Japanese withdrawl. So when I keep talking about Japan in future posts, bear with me, please. It's been a heck of a ride, and I definitely am coming back. Let me know if you want to go with me ;).
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Erin's Birthday Weekend
Here's another picture based post from this past weekend. It was Erin's 21st birthday on Saturday, so I hung out with her, Ji, Sandy, Pablo, Martin, Nate and Dimitris for most of the weekend.
Yes. Asian food.
Friday in Yokohama, having a few drinks.
No, Sandy isn't drinking green milk tea, either.
Pablo, Erin and I.
Pabs is all smiles here.
On Saturday, the guys got Erin some birthday flowers.
We went to this ToyotaLand place that had some model cars, a mini kart track, and some driving simulators. Overall it was a really cool place for being completely free.
Ji, Sandy, Martin and Nate playing in the kids learning zone.
Martin setting a high score in the driving game.
Erin setting the pace.
Ji's burning some rubber, clearly.
Nate had some engine trouble.
Sandy shows off her wide experience at driving alone.
"It's working! It's working!" or should I say "Yipee!"
Next we headed to this beach.
Who's shadow is who's?
The 3 girls with an equally beautiful background.
Martin and I on the sand.
This is one of my favorite shots.
The five of us at dinner.
For the second weekend in a row, I had to stay out all night clubbing. What a shame. At least it's helping me adjust back to California Time.
At Club Vanilla in Roppongi.
Dimitris and I. That place was soo packed, it was like a furnace inside - as you can see.
See the rest of the weekend pictures here!
Another crazy weekend to remember in Japan. I only have one more left. Back to Stanford on Sept. 1. Let me know if you'll be on campus then, though RA training is gonna be crazy!
On a unrelated note, I recently cut my hair. I've been getting random e-mails and IMs from people commenting on my hair, and while I enjoyed it, I figured I could do something else.. fun with it. Pictures forthcoming of course. Patience.
Yes. Asian food.
Friday in Yokohama, having a few drinks.
No, Sandy isn't drinking green milk tea, either.
Pablo, Erin and I.
Pabs is all smiles here.
On Saturday, the guys got Erin some birthday flowers.
We went to this ToyotaLand place that had some model cars, a mini kart track, and some driving simulators. Overall it was a really cool place for being completely free.
Ji, Sandy, Martin and Nate playing in the kids learning zone.
Martin setting a high score in the driving game.
Erin setting the pace.
Ji's burning some rubber, clearly.
Nate had some engine trouble.
Sandy shows off her wide experience at driving alone.
"It's working! It's working!" or should I say "Yipee!"
Next we headed to this beach.
Who's shadow is who's?
The 3 girls with an equally beautiful background.
Martin and I on the sand.
This is one of my favorite shots.
The five of us at dinner.
For the second weekend in a row, I had to stay out all night clubbing. What a shame. At least it's helping me adjust back to California Time.
At Club Vanilla in Roppongi.
Dimitris and I. That place was soo packed, it was like a furnace inside - as you can see.
See the rest of the weekend pictures here!
Another crazy weekend to remember in Japan. I only have one more left. Back to Stanford on Sept. 1. Let me know if you'll be on campus then, though RA training is gonna be crazy!
On a unrelated note, I recently cut my hair. I've been getting random e-mails and IMs from people commenting on my hair, and while I enjoyed it, I figured I could do something else.. fun with it. Pictures forthcoming of course. Patience.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
DisneySea Weekend
So I had a three-day weekend last weekend and took full advantage of it. I went clubbing with Adam, Nathan, and his friend Dan on Friday night. Then after sleeping most of Saturday, met up with Dimitris, Gabi, and Eli in Shibuya. On Sunday after church, we met a group of friends to explore Tokyo Dome City, the theme park right by my house. I finally rode the gigantic rolletcoaster. Was pretty scary, but still lots of fun. Then we saw the Hanshin Tigers vs. Tokyo Giants baseball game, and the Tigers won. On Monday I went to Tokyo DisneySea with Adam, Sandy, Ji and Nathan, which was a blast. It's kind of like Disneyland, but with a little more adult-oriented rides, but not by much. Adam said he liked it better than California Adventure Park. Since last week I wrote way too much, I'll make the rest of this a picture oriented update.
By the way, for those who are subscribed to the e-mail list, sorry about the test e-mail I sent out earlier, I didn't mean to post that to the list. Now onto the pictures:
The four of us about to enter the club. This is Tokyo, so when you go out, you gotta look as ridiculous as possible.
This was the craziest outfit I could come up with, with my limited wardrobe. Note that this is the same soccer jersey I wore on Mount Fuji. (Yes, I washed it)
The "after" shot. Can you tell?
A trendy little sushi/sake bar to chill at with Eli, Gabi and Dimitris.
The 6 of us brave enough to ride the rollercoaster.
Nathan's co-worker is nicknamed "Doraemon", so I had to take the shot of the two Doraemons and Nathan. Note the little girl inside of Doraemon's mouth.
The whole group at the baseball game!
This Hanshin Tigers fan had more than the Eye of the Tiger.
Moving on to the next day...
At the entrance to DisneySea.
The Arabian Skyline in the background.
Ji and Sandy riding the Flying Flounder ride.
Ice Cream was soo good on such a hot day.
I was pretty soaked after this water ride.
The shot of us riding the Indiana Jones ride. Yeah pictures of pictures are never great, but hey, it was free.
Outside the fiery temple of the new "Raging Spirits" Ride.
Waiting for the 3-D Aladdin show to start.
Chillin' after the awesome fireworks show.
Bye Mickey, see you next time!
That was just a sample of the pictures, check out the whole set here!
By the way, for those who are subscribed to the e-mail list, sorry about the test e-mail I sent out earlier, I didn't mean to post that to the list. Now onto the pictures:
The four of us about to enter the club. This is Tokyo, so when you go out, you gotta look as ridiculous as possible.
This was the craziest outfit I could come up with, with my limited wardrobe. Note that this is the same soccer jersey I wore on Mount Fuji. (Yes, I washed it)
The "after" shot. Can you tell?
A trendy little sushi/sake bar to chill at with Eli, Gabi and Dimitris.
The 6 of us brave enough to ride the rollercoaster.
Nathan's co-worker is nicknamed "Doraemon", so I had to take the shot of the two Doraemons and Nathan. Note the little girl inside of Doraemon's mouth.
The whole group at the baseball game!
This Hanshin Tigers fan had more than the Eye of the Tiger.
Moving on to the next day...
At the entrance to DisneySea.
The Arabian Skyline in the background.
Ji and Sandy riding the Flying Flounder ride.
Ice Cream was soo good on such a hot day.
I was pretty soaked after this water ride.
The shot of us riding the Indiana Jones ride. Yeah pictures of pictures are never great, but hey, it was free.
Outside the fiery temple of the new "Raging Spirits" Ride.
Waiting for the 3-D Aladdin show to start.
Chillin' after the awesome fireworks show.
Bye Mickey, see you next time!
That was just a sample of the pictures, check out the whole set here!
Friday, August 12, 2005
Climbing Mount Fuji Part 3
Here's probably the last story installment of my journey climbing Mt. Fuji. If you haven't read parts one and two yet, I'd reccommend reading those first. Enjoy!
The sound of collective oohs and aahs along with the occasional "Sugoi!" (Wow!) fill my ears as I slowly regain consciousness. It takes me a minute to register exactly where I am. Japan. Mt. Fuji. Ah yes. I attempt to roll on to my side and am greeted by a sharp spike of pain in my left ribs as there is a decidedly malicious and jagged rock puncturing my side. Now roused and fully awake, I sit up straight and look to the left.
My jaw drops.
Eyes wide, I witness perhaps one of the most breathtaking scenes in my entire life. These pictures are certainly beautiful, but they can only capture a tiny portion of the majestic display of daylight breaking - the source of all life coming into view. At first the sky starts a muted orange, but gradually grows brighter transforming into a pinkish hue. After much anticipation, the sun finally peeks out over the horizon, though initially obscured by the clouds. The blazing orange fireball ignites the rest of the sky, treating us to a brilliant light show entrancing us for the next half hour. The subtle color changes are beyond me to be able to describe adequately, but the clouds change from blackened silhouettes to ephemeral feathers glowing with rosy outlines. As the transition from night to day proceeds, the sky above becomes such a brilliant and pure blue that I just want to scoop some of it out of the air, bottle it up, and save it for a future canvas within my imagination. Rising higher in the air, the sun's intensity increases and I am eventually forced to shield my eyes. At the same time, I can feel the atmosphere around me growing warmer and warmer. I simply want to bask in the sun forever, atop a rock, like an iguana, drinking in the solar rays for survival.
Here it comes.
Absolutely breathtaking.
Love the clouds.
Scanning the area around me, I can see my friends are having similar thoughts, and some of them already putting these desires into action. I decide that it wouldn't hurt to wait for it to warm up a little more. So I lie back once again on the treacherous bed of rocks. They are no less painful than before, but with the sun warming my skin and still high off of nature's display of pure grandeur, I am asleep in no time - afforded perhaps the most restful thirty-minute nap of my life.
A bit reluctantly, we all realized that no matter how magnificent the sunrise might have been, we still have not yet made it to the top. Fairly exhausted, and already satisfied with having watched a gorgeous sunrise, I hear a voice whispering into my left ear, "You made it all the way up here already, you're basically at the top. No need to keep going, just stay here and sleep some more, yessss sleep, precious sleep. You won't even be able to make it down if you don't rest anymore."
Then in rebuttal, my right ear hears, "C'mon, you made it this far; you can already see the top. I know you didn't climb all the way up here just to stop short of the goal. Sleep is for the weak; don't you remember all those all-nighters you had to pull for CS 140? This is nothing compared to that!"
I had decided. My philosophy is that if you're gonna do anything seriously, you have to do it all the way. No half-hearted attempts allowed. If you're not gonna go full throttle, balls to the wall, pull out all the stops, then it's not worth doing in the first place. I live a passionate life, and whether it comes to love, sports, or even (certain) classes, I give it my all, and I don't look back. Life is too short for regrets like that to haunt me. I've heard it said that, "It's easier to forgive yourself for the things that you've done, rather than forgive yourself for the things you failed to do." I was gonna make it up this mountain. Period.
Once everyone, even Brian, was awake, we gathered our belongings and once again began our journey anew. There was still a pretty constant stream of people trekking up the mountain, but we could still squeeze in. You could probably fit 2-3 people side by side on most of the trail, so we were able to pass the slower people, and faster people were able to pass us. Still, the path was fairly steep, but it didn't seem too much further to the top. We had been climbing like this all night, so it really wasn't that bad. Honestly, it should have been pretty easy. Here's the rub: we were approaching 12,000 feet and each time we took a breath, we only got maybe 80% of the oxygen that we were used to getting. So the trouble is that even at a moderate pace, we were continuously running out of breath. So we'd climb for maybe 5 minutes, and then briefly stop to catch our breath. The saving grace was that you could recover fairly quickly. A few stationary breaths while waiting for everyone to catch up was usually enough to re-energize us.
Follow the path to the top.
Many of us had entered Zombie Mode already, and were just mechanically trudging forward, mindlessly moving our feet, oblivious to our surroundings. It was more difficult than ever to talk, and we could little afford to expend our precious oxygen for such minor comforts like conversation. Subsequently, we marched up the rest of the way in relative silence, chatting a bit at each stop, but then pressing forward. Along the way, you could see people stopped on the side of the trail. I swear for every 10 feet or so I walked, I saw someone asleep on the rocks. Old men and women would be seated on a rock, wheezing, and sucking oxygen from the spray-paint like canisters they sold for around $10. We passed mothers and fathers holding the hands of their children who looked no older than 8 years old, and they had made it this far. One of the primary motivating factors along the whole trip, besides your friends with you, is just the sheer number of other people climbing alongside you. You feel like you're part of a greater whole, one of the few (less than 1% of Japanese people) who have climbed Mt. Fuji, part of a legacy. You tell yourself that if these people ranging from 8 years old to 80, can make it up, surely I can as well.
We get so close that we can see the torii gate that marks the entrance to the 10th station, the peak of Mt. Fuji. But I shift my focus down a bit and see yet another impenetrable wall of people ahead of me. At least it's daytime and we can see, so it shouldn't be as dangerous as last time. Or so I thought. You see, scattered all over the mountain are ominous signs that read, "Danger: Falling Rocks" which I had noticed, but never really paid much attention to. Until now. Without warning, I hear gasps from the people in front of me along with the foreboding sound of gravel falling. Looking up, I see a rock the size of a cantaloupe tumbling down the slope, straight at me and Sandy. The crowd parts instantaneously and the rock slips through them. Straight into Sandy. It glances off her ankle and ricochets behind her, right where I'm standing! To me, the scene unfolded in slow-motion, I clearly saw the rock coming down the slope, through the people, off Sandy, and right at me. And yet I couldn't get my body to move out of the way fast enough. It collides with the instep of my right ankle and I fall forwards, attempting to absorb some of the shock that way. Since it was coming straight at me, I receive the brunt of its momentum, whatever was left after hitting Sandy. Sprawled out on the ground, I watch the rock slowly roll away from me, and totter on the edge of the trail, overlooking yet another slope with more unsuspecting victims below. With both hands, I reach out to grab the rock and stabilize in front of me, refusing to let it endanger more people.
I'm not trying to be mean when I say this, but Japanese people aren't quite as friendly in public to strangers in need. I've witnessed this in the streets of Kyoto, and seen people neglected in the Tokyo train stations as well. In America, most people would immediately ask you if you're alright, perhaps even help you up. In Japan, you receive nothing but cold, if concerned, stares. Once again, I'm not bitter, I'm just stating my observations. It's just a distinct culture difference I thought I'd mention. Anyway, I was lucky enough to not need any help. I gingerly get up and tentatively apply some weight on my right foot. Jolts of pain shoot through my foot and up my leg, but they gradually lessen with each step, much to my relief. Sandy and I soon stop to examine our injuries, and luckily it seems that we've suffered nothing more than minor bruises. I was lucky to be wearing high top hiking boots, as the rock hit me pretty high on the ankle but in spot still protected by my boots. If I had been wearing lesser footwear, I fear the damage would have been much more severe. So we walk, er rather limp, it off. No pain, no gain. And honestly I've played through much, much worse pain in soccer games before, and I'm lucky (I think) that my ankles have been through so much abuse in the past, that this was fairly minor.
With no further incidents, we reach the top of the stairway and congregate at the entrance. It still hasn't quite hit us yet, I don't think. I take a look at Brian with his eyes glazed over, and he's staring into space, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. We take a few ceremonious pictures, and parade into the 10th station. The top of Mount Fuji. We had made it. It hits us then. Many of us overemotional from a night of no sleep, and after enduring such hardships as the frigid weather, rocky terrain, and unending hiking, we proclaim, "We did it, we actually did it." I look over at Adam and see tears in his eyes. "I really didn't think we were gonna make it at some points, but we did, and we're here." is what he roughly said. The eight of us mostly just met in April and have since gotten to know each other pretty well. But with everything that happened on the mountain up until then, I think we had become closer in those 12 hours than we had in the previous 4 months. Embracing in a group hug, we congratulate each other on the accomplishment, and console each other for all the pain that it took to get here. I'm pretty sure Adam wasn't the only one crying. I step back and survey the surroundings. We were on top of the highest mountain in Japan. The view was amazing. I look back at my friends who surround me. And I realize that therein lays the true value of my journey.
At the top of the stairs (And a random dude on the right). Also notice "zombie" Brian.
The famous sign marking the peak of Mt. Fuji.
It wasn't about the sheer number of feet in the air that we had climbed, nor the number of miles on foot that I had traveled. Even successfully navigating our way through the crowds and up the steep slopes seemed insignificant. The dull aches in my head and feet were irrelevant. We jokingly called ourselves a Fellowship as we began the journey, mocking JRR Tolkien's band of heroes. And while I admit that the fictional Fellowship accomplished much more awe-inspiring feats, I believe our Fellowship was greater. It was real. Looking at the weary faces of each of my comrades, one at a time, I could feel the tangible bonds linking us together. The same bonds that were formed over the last twelve hours. Simple things. Sharing water with Adam. Eating Wei's trail mix. Making fun of Jerry for wearing shorts for over half the trip. Watching Priscilla doze off at every station. Brian punching Jerry in the back (refer to pictures). Threatened by an avalanche with Sandy. Taking pictures with/of/for Evelyn at practically every stop. Small bits of personal conversation that leak out as you trudge along the mountain trail. All these things put together define my experience much more than any simple trail I climbed.
The view from above the clouds.
I've learned that you can do the most amazing things in the world, but if you are alone, they become meaningless. Or you can do the most mundane activities, with people you like, and life becomes exciting. Only rarely do I get to accomplish great things with people who I love. And those experiences are the ones I treasure the most.
I rejoin the group, we form a circle, much like a football huddle. Embracing each other momentarily, the emotional bonds briefly become physical. And I feel something wet on my cheek. Quickly wiping my face, I take a deep breath and inhale all the oxygen I can. It still doesn't feel like quite enough. But surrounded by friends like these, I don’t really need much else.
We did it guys!
Alright, I know that's not the real end of the story, but as far as "story mode" goes, I think I'll mostly quit here. There were a few more incidents on the way down, but I guess you'll have to wait for those. I can wrap things up next time and offer some final reflections and thoughts though. I'd love to hear what you thought of the whole story though, so leave me a comment!
Once again, picture links here and here. I'll have new pics courtesy of Evelyn up soon, too.
The sound of collective oohs and aahs along with the occasional "Sugoi!" (Wow!) fill my ears as I slowly regain consciousness. It takes me a minute to register exactly where I am. Japan. Mt. Fuji. Ah yes. I attempt to roll on to my side and am greeted by a sharp spike of pain in my left ribs as there is a decidedly malicious and jagged rock puncturing my side. Now roused and fully awake, I sit up straight and look to the left.
My jaw drops.
Eyes wide, I witness perhaps one of the most breathtaking scenes in my entire life. These pictures are certainly beautiful, but they can only capture a tiny portion of the majestic display of daylight breaking - the source of all life coming into view. At first the sky starts a muted orange, but gradually grows brighter transforming into a pinkish hue. After much anticipation, the sun finally peeks out over the horizon, though initially obscured by the clouds. The blazing orange fireball ignites the rest of the sky, treating us to a brilliant light show entrancing us for the next half hour. The subtle color changes are beyond me to be able to describe adequately, but the clouds change from blackened silhouettes to ephemeral feathers glowing with rosy outlines. As the transition from night to day proceeds, the sky above becomes such a brilliant and pure blue that I just want to scoop some of it out of the air, bottle it up, and save it for a future canvas within my imagination. Rising higher in the air, the sun's intensity increases and I am eventually forced to shield my eyes. At the same time, I can feel the atmosphere around me growing warmer and warmer. I simply want to bask in the sun forever, atop a rock, like an iguana, drinking in the solar rays for survival.
Here it comes.
Absolutely breathtaking.
Love the clouds.
Scanning the area around me, I can see my friends are having similar thoughts, and some of them already putting these desires into action. I decide that it wouldn't hurt to wait for it to warm up a little more. So I lie back once again on the treacherous bed of rocks. They are no less painful than before, but with the sun warming my skin and still high off of nature's display of pure grandeur, I am asleep in no time - afforded perhaps the most restful thirty-minute nap of my life.
A bit reluctantly, we all realized that no matter how magnificent the sunrise might have been, we still have not yet made it to the top. Fairly exhausted, and already satisfied with having watched a gorgeous sunrise, I hear a voice whispering into my left ear, "You made it all the way up here already, you're basically at the top. No need to keep going, just stay here and sleep some more, yessss sleep, precious sleep. You won't even be able to make it down if you don't rest anymore."
Then in rebuttal, my right ear hears, "C'mon, you made it this far; you can already see the top. I know you didn't climb all the way up here just to stop short of the goal. Sleep is for the weak; don't you remember all those all-nighters you had to pull for CS 140? This is nothing compared to that!"
I had decided. My philosophy is that if you're gonna do anything seriously, you have to do it all the way. No half-hearted attempts allowed. If you're not gonna go full throttle, balls to the wall, pull out all the stops, then it's not worth doing in the first place. I live a passionate life, and whether it comes to love, sports, or even (certain) classes, I give it my all, and I don't look back. Life is too short for regrets like that to haunt me. I've heard it said that, "It's easier to forgive yourself for the things that you've done, rather than forgive yourself for the things you failed to do." I was gonna make it up this mountain. Period.
Once everyone, even Brian, was awake, we gathered our belongings and once again began our journey anew. There was still a pretty constant stream of people trekking up the mountain, but we could still squeeze in. You could probably fit 2-3 people side by side on most of the trail, so we were able to pass the slower people, and faster people were able to pass us. Still, the path was fairly steep, but it didn't seem too much further to the top. We had been climbing like this all night, so it really wasn't that bad. Honestly, it should have been pretty easy. Here's the rub: we were approaching 12,000 feet and each time we took a breath, we only got maybe 80% of the oxygen that we were used to getting. So the trouble is that even at a moderate pace, we were continuously running out of breath. So we'd climb for maybe 5 minutes, and then briefly stop to catch our breath. The saving grace was that you could recover fairly quickly. A few stationary breaths while waiting for everyone to catch up was usually enough to re-energize us.
Follow the path to the top.
Many of us had entered Zombie Mode already, and were just mechanically trudging forward, mindlessly moving our feet, oblivious to our surroundings. It was more difficult than ever to talk, and we could little afford to expend our precious oxygen for such minor comforts like conversation. Subsequently, we marched up the rest of the way in relative silence, chatting a bit at each stop, but then pressing forward. Along the way, you could see people stopped on the side of the trail. I swear for every 10 feet or so I walked, I saw someone asleep on the rocks. Old men and women would be seated on a rock, wheezing, and sucking oxygen from the spray-paint like canisters they sold for around $10. We passed mothers and fathers holding the hands of their children who looked no older than 8 years old, and they had made it this far. One of the primary motivating factors along the whole trip, besides your friends with you, is just the sheer number of other people climbing alongside you. You feel like you're part of a greater whole, one of the few (less than 1% of Japanese people) who have climbed Mt. Fuji, part of a legacy. You tell yourself that if these people ranging from 8 years old to 80, can make it up, surely I can as well.
We get so close that we can see the torii gate that marks the entrance to the 10th station, the peak of Mt. Fuji. But I shift my focus down a bit and see yet another impenetrable wall of people ahead of me. At least it's daytime and we can see, so it shouldn't be as dangerous as last time. Or so I thought. You see, scattered all over the mountain are ominous signs that read, "Danger: Falling Rocks" which I had noticed, but never really paid much attention to. Until now. Without warning, I hear gasps from the people in front of me along with the foreboding sound of gravel falling. Looking up, I see a rock the size of a cantaloupe tumbling down the slope, straight at me and Sandy. The crowd parts instantaneously and the rock slips through them. Straight into Sandy. It glances off her ankle and ricochets behind her, right where I'm standing! To me, the scene unfolded in slow-motion, I clearly saw the rock coming down the slope, through the people, off Sandy, and right at me. And yet I couldn't get my body to move out of the way fast enough. It collides with the instep of my right ankle and I fall forwards, attempting to absorb some of the shock that way. Since it was coming straight at me, I receive the brunt of its momentum, whatever was left after hitting Sandy. Sprawled out on the ground, I watch the rock slowly roll away from me, and totter on the edge of the trail, overlooking yet another slope with more unsuspecting victims below. With both hands, I reach out to grab the rock and stabilize in front of me, refusing to let it endanger more people.
I'm not trying to be mean when I say this, but Japanese people aren't quite as friendly in public to strangers in need. I've witnessed this in the streets of Kyoto, and seen people neglected in the Tokyo train stations as well. In America, most people would immediately ask you if you're alright, perhaps even help you up. In Japan, you receive nothing but cold, if concerned, stares. Once again, I'm not bitter, I'm just stating my observations. It's just a distinct culture difference I thought I'd mention. Anyway, I was lucky enough to not need any help. I gingerly get up and tentatively apply some weight on my right foot. Jolts of pain shoot through my foot and up my leg, but they gradually lessen with each step, much to my relief. Sandy and I soon stop to examine our injuries, and luckily it seems that we've suffered nothing more than minor bruises. I was lucky to be wearing high top hiking boots, as the rock hit me pretty high on the ankle but in spot still protected by my boots. If I had been wearing lesser footwear, I fear the damage would have been much more severe. So we walk, er rather limp, it off. No pain, no gain. And honestly I've played through much, much worse pain in soccer games before, and I'm lucky (I think) that my ankles have been through so much abuse in the past, that this was fairly minor.
With no further incidents, we reach the top of the stairway and congregate at the entrance. It still hasn't quite hit us yet, I don't think. I take a look at Brian with his eyes glazed over, and he's staring into space, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. We take a few ceremonious pictures, and parade into the 10th station. The top of Mount Fuji. We had made it. It hits us then. Many of us overemotional from a night of no sleep, and after enduring such hardships as the frigid weather, rocky terrain, and unending hiking, we proclaim, "We did it, we actually did it." I look over at Adam and see tears in his eyes. "I really didn't think we were gonna make it at some points, but we did, and we're here." is what he roughly said. The eight of us mostly just met in April and have since gotten to know each other pretty well. But with everything that happened on the mountain up until then, I think we had become closer in those 12 hours than we had in the previous 4 months. Embracing in a group hug, we congratulate each other on the accomplishment, and console each other for all the pain that it took to get here. I'm pretty sure Adam wasn't the only one crying. I step back and survey the surroundings. We were on top of the highest mountain in Japan. The view was amazing. I look back at my friends who surround me. And I realize that therein lays the true value of my journey.
At the top of the stairs (And a random dude on the right). Also notice "zombie" Brian.
The famous sign marking the peak of Mt. Fuji.
It wasn't about the sheer number of feet in the air that we had climbed, nor the number of miles on foot that I had traveled. Even successfully navigating our way through the crowds and up the steep slopes seemed insignificant. The dull aches in my head and feet were irrelevant. We jokingly called ourselves a Fellowship as we began the journey, mocking JRR Tolkien's band of heroes. And while I admit that the fictional Fellowship accomplished much more awe-inspiring feats, I believe our Fellowship was greater. It was real. Looking at the weary faces of each of my comrades, one at a time, I could feel the tangible bonds linking us together. The same bonds that were formed over the last twelve hours. Simple things. Sharing water with Adam. Eating Wei's trail mix. Making fun of Jerry for wearing shorts for over half the trip. Watching Priscilla doze off at every station. Brian punching Jerry in the back (refer to pictures). Threatened by an avalanche with Sandy. Taking pictures with/of/for Evelyn at practically every stop. Small bits of personal conversation that leak out as you trudge along the mountain trail. All these things put together define my experience much more than any simple trail I climbed.
The view from above the clouds.
I've learned that you can do the most amazing things in the world, but if you are alone, they become meaningless. Or you can do the most mundane activities, with people you like, and life becomes exciting. Only rarely do I get to accomplish great things with people who I love. And those experiences are the ones I treasure the most.
I rejoin the group, we form a circle, much like a football huddle. Embracing each other momentarily, the emotional bonds briefly become physical. And I feel something wet on my cheek. Quickly wiping my face, I take a deep breath and inhale all the oxygen I can. It still doesn't feel like quite enough. But surrounded by friends like these, I don’t really need much else.
We did it guys!
Alright, I know that's not the real end of the story, but as far as "story mode" goes, I think I'll mostly quit here. There were a few more incidents on the way down, but I guess you'll have to wait for those. I can wrap things up next time and offer some final reflections and thoughts though. I'd love to hear what you thought of the whole story though, so leave me a comment!
Once again, picture links here and here. I'll have new pics courtesy of Evelyn up soon, too.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Climbing Mount Fuji Part 2
If you haven't yet read the first part of the Fuji story, I encourage you to scroll down or click here.
From where I left off, I'd say we're only about 2-3 hours into our group trek which started from the 5th station. But Priscilla and I have been going since morning, and have hiked up 2/3rds the mountain for about 6 hours before meeting the rest of the group. Everyone's spirits are still high; I've kept us at a relatively slow pace. Many times, I have to rebuke Wei or Brian from going too fast and possibly leaving me behind. Wei always has so much energy. In the train stations, he's always bounding ahead of everyone sprinting up the stairs. I think he just likes running. Anyway, around 10pm or so, we reach the 7th station. Beforehand, we agreed we'd take an extended break here since after this station is where people are most likely to suffer from altitude sickness. Though my headache was still bothering me, I was really hoping it was just dehydration and not altitude sickness. I went ahead and bought more water, while prices were relatively cheap, at 300 yen a bottle. We find a few empty seats on a bench and the rest of us stand or sit on the ground.
The group at the 7th station!
Wei, Adam and Sandy were still pretty happy at this point.
Looks like I wasn't the only one napping.
I'll take this chance to discuss the bathrooms that you find on Mt. Fuji. You see, hundreds of thousands of people climb Mt. Fuji each year, so it really just wouldn't do to have people piss off the side of the mountain. Besides, what are the girls gonna do? So at each station, they have running water and real toilets. On a mountain. Of course, just to get the water up there, not even considering construction costs, is a huge ordeal since you can only take it up on foot, or on horseback. So, they charge for the bathrooms. Well, they don't exactly enforce it, but they have boxes outside the bathrooms that as for a 100 yen donation. That's right, a dollar just to use the bathroom. Sounds rather outrageous, doesn't it? But honestly, once I walked inside the bathroom, I understood why. In Japan in general, their bathrooms are immaculate by American standards. And even on Mt. Fuji, the cleanliness easily surpasses the average American public toilet. So, yeah, the bathrooms were expensive. But I don't even want to think about what kind of state they would be in if they didn't have donations, and I gladly drop my hyaku en coin in the slot. I'm paying so much money to buy their water, and I'm paying to get rid of it too. Great business model.
I'll get my mouth out of the potty now. At the 7th station, I take a seat on the ground, keep chugging the H20, and attempt to take a little nap. I'm less than successful though, and soon enough I figure it's time to go again. We set off for the 8th station, and we realize that the crowds have at least doubled. We're stuck behind this 50 person tour group, with the guide blocking the exit to the station, only letting his tour members through. It was a bit irksome to say the least, and from this point on, it was relatively slow-going. The main reason for the holdup was that the terrain had suddenly changed. Well it was still lots of grey volcanic ash and rocks, but it had gotten much steeper. Instead of being able to simply walk on a slightly inclined gravel path, we were forced to climb over huge rocks and makeshift steps. In order to make it up, you had to keep low, and many times get down on all fours to make sure you didn't slip. Gloves were so clutch at this point, as was a headlamp so I could use both hands. At the sections where the trail narrowed, the going got pretty slow while waiting for people ahead of you. In a group of 8, in the dark, it was a non-trivial task to stay together. Luckily, our group members were conscious enough to make regular roll calls to ensure no one fell off the mountain or anything. A few minutes into climbing again, I found myself rather enjoying the treacherous paths, seeing them as challenges, trying to scale the tougher paths on the sides, all the while keeping an eye on my fellow group members. I think the rest I took at the 7th station along with all the water I drank (I counted, and it took me almost 2 minutes to empty all that water in the bathroom in each of the last 2 stations, btw, I'm sure you're glad I shared that) had finally paid off, my headache was minimal, and I felt like I had a second wind.
Getting down on all fours was necessary to avoid falling off the mountain.
Looking up towards the top, the zigzag parade of lights representing our fellow pilgrims seemed to stretch on forever. Looking back down the mountain provided a hazy view of faint city lights. At one point we even saw some fireworks going off in the distance. They seemed so tiny, instead of filling the entire sky above you, each explosion was like a tiny spark in the background that bloomed into miniscule fire-flowers of red, blue, and green in the distance. Above in the sky, a kaleidoscope of stars had erupted into intricate patterns of light that were unfamiliar to me, as I had never seen the stars from this hemisphere before. I suddenly felt that, in comparison, our grand adventure to climb the gigantic Mt. Fuji, suddenly didn't seem as grand as before. Suddenly, a loud scraping sound fills my ears, and I realize my foot slipped on one of the rocks that wasn't quite as steady as it seemed. Feeling my momentum carrying me backwards, I lash out a gloved hand to regain my balance and prevent me from crashing into Sandy who was climbing behind me. Note to self: Only admire the scenery when you're stationary.
As midnight approaches, we've climbed for nearly 2 hours with only short breaks to regroup, and I realize that it's been over 12 hours since I began my journey with Priscilla from the bottom of the mountain. At this point, I remember Will (the guy we met at the bottom who had climbed Fuji once before) telling me that from the 8th station up it took him 4 hours, and he was going at a pretty good pace. Originally, our goal was to make it to the top by sunrise. We had about 4.5 hours. It was gonna be tough, but I still thought we could make it. We take another break here, not as long as the last one though. It's tough to find places to stand/sit so we can get out of people's way - that's how crowded it's getting. We peer inside the huts at the station where they sell food. You can also go inside to stay warm, but you have to buy a bowl of their cup ramen which cost something like 600 yen or so. Some people even pay to sleep in the huts. Ha, sleep? Who needs it?
Brian leads the way to the 8th station, and pauses below the torii.
All of us at the torii by the 8th station.
Jerry is having some back problems, and requests someone to punch him in the back. Brian happily obliges him.
Again slowed by the continuous stream of people, we finally see an opening in the line and all dash to insert ourselves in it. Grabbing on to each others backpacks, we ensure no one is going to split us up - at least not at first. The terrain is similar to that of before, a mixture of rocks to clamber over and steep paths of gravel that you might slip on. I generally gravitate towards the side of the trail where the side of the mountain forms a little wall that helps me keep my balance, though often the slowest people stayed on that side, and it was getting more difficult for our group to stay together. When the trail shrank so thin that people in front of me stopped moving, I felt like I was stuck in rush hour traffic. I contemplated "changing lanes," but realized up ahead that the other lanes came to a standstill as well. It was around 1:30am at this point, and we still hadn't made it to the 9th station yet. It was reminiscent of my overcrowded high school's hallways, where you had a solid wall of people in front of you, and it was impossible to get through. Or a line for a ride at Disneyland: it was literally that slow. You would see people take maybe one or two steps at a time and then stop for a whole minute or more before you could take another tiny step. I was pretty frustrated, I knew we could get up sooner, but due to the crowd, it was impossible to get past them without crossing the safety boundaries and going around. And with the level of oxygen decreasing my ability to think with each step, I decided against that. Looking ahead, I also saw that Sandy and I had lost the rest of the group. And it was impossible to find them until we got to the next station since they couldn't really hold up traffic any more just to wait for us, and we couldn't penetrate the mass of people in order to find them, either. So, step by step, we made the laboriously slow trek towards the 9th station.
But this was no time to let my guard down. Without warning, I heard a loud rumble of rocks falling and looking ahead of me, I see a cascade of people fall to the ground like dominoes as the rocks they're standing on slide from beneath their feet. They collapse only to knock down the person behind them, and the chain of falling people was rapidly approaching. Instinctively I grab the rock wall I was next to, and grab Sandy as well, since she couldn't reach the wall. Luckily, the mini rock slide seemed to stop a few feet in front of us. People gradually get up and start moving again - even slower this time, if that's even possible. Fortunately, it seemed no one was seriously hurt, but, that wouldn't be the last time we're endangered by falling rocks. We finally join the others at the station 8c with no further ordeals. I think that was the station at least, they had numerous stations labelled 8 and 9 (I think). At this point, I can feel the wind whipping through my hair, penetrating the makeshift beanie on my head constructed by a towel - as per the local Japanese trend. From all the sources I heard from about Mt. Fuji, they all warned to carry lots of warm clothes. Now, with the time approaching 3am, and us being about 10,600 feet above sea level, I truly understood. We took shelter near the bathrooms and emptied our backpacks of all the layers of clothing we brought. I removed my outer jacket and the wind hit me like a wall of ice. I hurriedly added the other 2 layers, an extra sweater and fleece, and ended up with 5 layers total. I put my hood on and tied it tight, limiting my peripheral vision, but keeping my precious ears warm and not allowing any more heat to escape from my head. Many of us were trying to combat the cold by moving around, I did a few jumping jacks - anything to generate more heat. Filling up on food and water again, we were anxious to get moving and hopefully warm our bodies up more.
At this point, my memory gets a little fuzzy. My second wind had died down to less than a gentle breeze. We saw a sign that said we were only 500 meters from the top. We tried to pump each other up, get ready for the last leg of the journey. Unfortunately, Adam, among others, kept lamenting the fact that Mt. Fuji was "owning" us, as evidenced by the extreme cold, and the paths only got steeper as we got closer to the top. I tried to focus on the task at hand, just put one foot in front of the other. Repeat. So simple, but I was losing it. The lack of sleep had finally caught up to me. It was a constant struggle just to stay awake as I lagged behind the rest of the group. I was frustrated once again. My body actually felt fine still. My legs could go on for hours. But my mind was failing me, in no short part to the fact that the oxygen levels were only about 80%-90% of what they are at sea level. I was glad I wasn't climbing alone. At this point, I was considering giving up, at least temporarily, and just collapsing along the side of the path, as we saw many people already stopping for rest. Yet, with encouragement from the rest of the team, in the form of their gradually disappearing backpacks ahead of me, I redoubled my efforts and trudged forward.
Almost there. We look so happy at this point, but I'm not sure why.
At long last, I know at some point we reached the 9th station, well the final 9th station before the top. The peak was soon approaching; at least we wanted to think that. I don't think I was the only one in the group who was having a tough time at this point. In fact, it seemed everyone was already rather exhausted. Around 4am, we could see the sky begin to brighten slightly. The sun was due to rise in about 30 minutes. We walked maybe 10 minutes past the 9th station when we paused and looked around us. Many people had stopped climbing and had found "comfortable" spots alongside the trail to rest and watch the sunrise from. I don't know who asked, but someone suggested just stopping here for now so we can watch the sunrise. I didn't respond verbally as others simply plopped down their backpacks and took a seat. I followed suit, and took it a step further. I attempted to transform my backpack into a makeshift pillow and laid down among rocks that were on average the size of a baseball or grapefruit, but not nearly as smooth. Adjusting myself to get as comfortable as possible, I tried to pluck the stabbing rocks out from behind my back, but no matter how many I removed there was always a new sharp edge waiting to dig into my skin. Defeated, I gave up and crossed my arms across my chest, futilely trying to stay warm. I should have been disappointed; we missed our goal of making it to the top by just a few hundred meters. But I wasn't. My mind was too concentrated on the piercing cold and daggers in my back. I knew if I wanted any hope to make it to the top, I'd have to try and get some rest. As I closed my eyes, I felt alone atop this wretched mountain and since my mind could do nothing else, I quietly slipped into darkness.
Will we make it to the top? Tune in tomorrow to your regularly scheduled broadcast, and find out! No fair cheating and looking at the pictures either!
Update: I've now posted the Final Part of the story!
From where I left off, I'd say we're only about 2-3 hours into our group trek which started from the 5th station. But Priscilla and I have been going since morning, and have hiked up 2/3rds the mountain for about 6 hours before meeting the rest of the group. Everyone's spirits are still high; I've kept us at a relatively slow pace. Many times, I have to rebuke Wei or Brian from going too fast and possibly leaving me behind. Wei always has so much energy. In the train stations, he's always bounding ahead of everyone sprinting up the stairs. I think he just likes running. Anyway, around 10pm or so, we reach the 7th station. Beforehand, we agreed we'd take an extended break here since after this station is where people are most likely to suffer from altitude sickness. Though my headache was still bothering me, I was really hoping it was just dehydration and not altitude sickness. I went ahead and bought more water, while prices were relatively cheap, at 300 yen a bottle. We find a few empty seats on a bench and the rest of us stand or sit on the ground.
The group at the 7th station!
Wei, Adam and Sandy were still pretty happy at this point.
Looks like I wasn't the only one napping.
I'll take this chance to discuss the bathrooms that you find on Mt. Fuji. You see, hundreds of thousands of people climb Mt. Fuji each year, so it really just wouldn't do to have people piss off the side of the mountain. Besides, what are the girls gonna do? So at each station, they have running water and real toilets. On a mountain. Of course, just to get the water up there, not even considering construction costs, is a huge ordeal since you can only take it up on foot, or on horseback. So, they charge for the bathrooms. Well, they don't exactly enforce it, but they have boxes outside the bathrooms that as for a 100 yen donation. That's right, a dollar just to use the bathroom. Sounds rather outrageous, doesn't it? But honestly, once I walked inside the bathroom, I understood why. In Japan in general, their bathrooms are immaculate by American standards. And even on Mt. Fuji, the cleanliness easily surpasses the average American public toilet. So, yeah, the bathrooms were expensive. But I don't even want to think about what kind of state they would be in if they didn't have donations, and I gladly drop my hyaku en coin in the slot. I'm paying so much money to buy their water, and I'm paying to get rid of it too. Great business model.
I'll get my mouth out of the potty now. At the 7th station, I take a seat on the ground, keep chugging the H20, and attempt to take a little nap. I'm less than successful though, and soon enough I figure it's time to go again. We set off for the 8th station, and we realize that the crowds have at least doubled. We're stuck behind this 50 person tour group, with the guide blocking the exit to the station, only letting his tour members through. It was a bit irksome to say the least, and from this point on, it was relatively slow-going. The main reason for the holdup was that the terrain had suddenly changed. Well it was still lots of grey volcanic ash and rocks, but it had gotten much steeper. Instead of being able to simply walk on a slightly inclined gravel path, we were forced to climb over huge rocks and makeshift steps. In order to make it up, you had to keep low, and many times get down on all fours to make sure you didn't slip. Gloves were so clutch at this point, as was a headlamp so I could use both hands. At the sections where the trail narrowed, the going got pretty slow while waiting for people ahead of you. In a group of 8, in the dark, it was a non-trivial task to stay together. Luckily, our group members were conscious enough to make regular roll calls to ensure no one fell off the mountain or anything. A few minutes into climbing again, I found myself rather enjoying the treacherous paths, seeing them as challenges, trying to scale the tougher paths on the sides, all the while keeping an eye on my fellow group members. I think the rest I took at the 7th station along with all the water I drank (I counted, and it took me almost 2 minutes to empty all that water in the bathroom in each of the last 2 stations, btw, I'm sure you're glad I shared that) had finally paid off, my headache was minimal, and I felt like I had a second wind.
Getting down on all fours was necessary to avoid falling off the mountain.
Looking up towards the top, the zigzag parade of lights representing our fellow pilgrims seemed to stretch on forever. Looking back down the mountain provided a hazy view of faint city lights. At one point we even saw some fireworks going off in the distance. They seemed so tiny, instead of filling the entire sky above you, each explosion was like a tiny spark in the background that bloomed into miniscule fire-flowers of red, blue, and green in the distance. Above in the sky, a kaleidoscope of stars had erupted into intricate patterns of light that were unfamiliar to me, as I had never seen the stars from this hemisphere before. I suddenly felt that, in comparison, our grand adventure to climb the gigantic Mt. Fuji, suddenly didn't seem as grand as before. Suddenly, a loud scraping sound fills my ears, and I realize my foot slipped on one of the rocks that wasn't quite as steady as it seemed. Feeling my momentum carrying me backwards, I lash out a gloved hand to regain my balance and prevent me from crashing into Sandy who was climbing behind me. Note to self: Only admire the scenery when you're stationary.
As midnight approaches, we've climbed for nearly 2 hours with only short breaks to regroup, and I realize that it's been over 12 hours since I began my journey with Priscilla from the bottom of the mountain. At this point, I remember Will (the guy we met at the bottom who had climbed Fuji once before) telling me that from the 8th station up it took him 4 hours, and he was going at a pretty good pace. Originally, our goal was to make it to the top by sunrise. We had about 4.5 hours. It was gonna be tough, but I still thought we could make it. We take another break here, not as long as the last one though. It's tough to find places to stand/sit so we can get out of people's way - that's how crowded it's getting. We peer inside the huts at the station where they sell food. You can also go inside to stay warm, but you have to buy a bowl of their cup ramen which cost something like 600 yen or so. Some people even pay to sleep in the huts. Ha, sleep? Who needs it?
Brian leads the way to the 8th station, and pauses below the torii.
All of us at the torii by the 8th station.
Jerry is having some back problems, and requests someone to punch him in the back. Brian happily obliges him.
Again slowed by the continuous stream of people, we finally see an opening in the line and all dash to insert ourselves in it. Grabbing on to each others backpacks, we ensure no one is going to split us up - at least not at first. The terrain is similar to that of before, a mixture of rocks to clamber over and steep paths of gravel that you might slip on. I generally gravitate towards the side of the trail where the side of the mountain forms a little wall that helps me keep my balance, though often the slowest people stayed on that side, and it was getting more difficult for our group to stay together. When the trail shrank so thin that people in front of me stopped moving, I felt like I was stuck in rush hour traffic. I contemplated "changing lanes," but realized up ahead that the other lanes came to a standstill as well. It was around 1:30am at this point, and we still hadn't made it to the 9th station yet. It was reminiscent of my overcrowded high school's hallways, where you had a solid wall of people in front of you, and it was impossible to get through. Or a line for a ride at Disneyland: it was literally that slow. You would see people take maybe one or two steps at a time and then stop for a whole minute or more before you could take another tiny step. I was pretty frustrated, I knew we could get up sooner, but due to the crowd, it was impossible to get past them without crossing the safety boundaries and going around. And with the level of oxygen decreasing my ability to think with each step, I decided against that. Looking ahead, I also saw that Sandy and I had lost the rest of the group. And it was impossible to find them until we got to the next station since they couldn't really hold up traffic any more just to wait for us, and we couldn't penetrate the mass of people in order to find them, either. So, step by step, we made the laboriously slow trek towards the 9th station.
But this was no time to let my guard down. Without warning, I heard a loud rumble of rocks falling and looking ahead of me, I see a cascade of people fall to the ground like dominoes as the rocks they're standing on slide from beneath their feet. They collapse only to knock down the person behind them, and the chain of falling people was rapidly approaching. Instinctively I grab the rock wall I was next to, and grab Sandy as well, since she couldn't reach the wall. Luckily, the mini rock slide seemed to stop a few feet in front of us. People gradually get up and start moving again - even slower this time, if that's even possible. Fortunately, it seemed no one was seriously hurt, but, that wouldn't be the last time we're endangered by falling rocks. We finally join the others at the station 8c with no further ordeals. I think that was the station at least, they had numerous stations labelled 8 and 9 (I think). At this point, I can feel the wind whipping through my hair, penetrating the makeshift beanie on my head constructed by a towel - as per the local Japanese trend. From all the sources I heard from about Mt. Fuji, they all warned to carry lots of warm clothes. Now, with the time approaching 3am, and us being about 10,600 feet above sea level, I truly understood. We took shelter near the bathrooms and emptied our backpacks of all the layers of clothing we brought. I removed my outer jacket and the wind hit me like a wall of ice. I hurriedly added the other 2 layers, an extra sweater and fleece, and ended up with 5 layers total. I put my hood on and tied it tight, limiting my peripheral vision, but keeping my precious ears warm and not allowing any more heat to escape from my head. Many of us were trying to combat the cold by moving around, I did a few jumping jacks - anything to generate more heat. Filling up on food and water again, we were anxious to get moving and hopefully warm our bodies up more.
At this point, my memory gets a little fuzzy. My second wind had died down to less than a gentle breeze. We saw a sign that said we were only 500 meters from the top. We tried to pump each other up, get ready for the last leg of the journey. Unfortunately, Adam, among others, kept lamenting the fact that Mt. Fuji was "owning" us, as evidenced by the extreme cold, and the paths only got steeper as we got closer to the top. I tried to focus on the task at hand, just put one foot in front of the other. Repeat. So simple, but I was losing it. The lack of sleep had finally caught up to me. It was a constant struggle just to stay awake as I lagged behind the rest of the group. I was frustrated once again. My body actually felt fine still. My legs could go on for hours. But my mind was failing me, in no short part to the fact that the oxygen levels were only about 80%-90% of what they are at sea level. I was glad I wasn't climbing alone. At this point, I was considering giving up, at least temporarily, and just collapsing along the side of the path, as we saw many people already stopping for rest. Yet, with encouragement from the rest of the team, in the form of their gradually disappearing backpacks ahead of me, I redoubled my efforts and trudged forward.
Almost there. We look so happy at this point, but I'm not sure why.
At long last, I know at some point we reached the 9th station, well the final 9th station before the top. The peak was soon approaching; at least we wanted to think that. I don't think I was the only one in the group who was having a tough time at this point. In fact, it seemed everyone was already rather exhausted. Around 4am, we could see the sky begin to brighten slightly. The sun was due to rise in about 30 minutes. We walked maybe 10 minutes past the 9th station when we paused and looked around us. Many people had stopped climbing and had found "comfortable" spots alongside the trail to rest and watch the sunrise from. I don't know who asked, but someone suggested just stopping here for now so we can watch the sunrise. I didn't respond verbally as others simply plopped down their backpacks and took a seat. I followed suit, and took it a step further. I attempted to transform my backpack into a makeshift pillow and laid down among rocks that were on average the size of a baseball or grapefruit, but not nearly as smooth. Adjusting myself to get as comfortable as possible, I tried to pluck the stabbing rocks out from behind my back, but no matter how many I removed there was always a new sharp edge waiting to dig into my skin. Defeated, I gave up and crossed my arms across my chest, futilely trying to stay warm. I should have been disappointed; we missed our goal of making it to the top by just a few hundred meters. But I wasn't. My mind was too concentrated on the piercing cold and daggers in my back. I knew if I wanted any hope to make it to the top, I'd have to try and get some rest. As I closed my eyes, I felt alone atop this wretched mountain and since my mind could do nothing else, I quietly slipped into darkness.
Will we make it to the top? Tune in tomorrow to your regularly scheduled broadcast, and find out! No fair cheating and looking at the pictures either!
Update: I've now posted the Final Part of the story!
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