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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