In 1992, teacher had memorable climb up Mount Fuji in Japan [I Know a Story column]

“There is an old Japanese saying that to climb Fuji once is wise, to climb it twice is to proclaim oneself a fool.”

This quote appeared in my Japanese guide book. It continued, “it is possible to climb Fuji-san in July and August only.” It was July 1992, I had been in Japan for three weeks of my yearlong assignment as a Pennsylvania Department of Education assistant English teacher in the city of Omiya.

Monday, July 27, was a vacation day, perfect for a long weekend adventure. A fellow teacher and I went to the Japan Travel Bureau, where we booked trains to Mount Fuji and reserved a pension (bed-and-breakfast) on Lake Kawaguchi. Anticipation was high. Backpacks ready for the weekend, we met in the Omiya Station at 6:30 a.m.

Omiya to Tokyo to Atami to Fujinomiya.

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We boarded the bus and were on our way to Fuji by noon. For the first time since arriving in Japan, we were out of the city. The smell of fresh air and trees filled the bus. At level five, we disembarked and headed to the entrance. After purchasing walking sticks and posing for a picture at the Fuji sign, it was time to begin.

Full of enthusiasm, we enjoyed the jingle of the bells attached to our sticks as we walked along with hundreds of others — the beginning of an adventure, the pursuit of a goal. Hiking to level six was easy enough. Other hikers along the trail were friendly and curious, some even testing their English. But climbing became difficult as the terrain became broken pieces of lava. The afternoon slipped by. The joyful jingle became an annoyance and bells were stuffed into backpacks.

At levels seven and eight, we rested more frequently, but still part of the line winding its way up the trail — an inspiration. The ideal way to climb Fuji, according to the book, is to arrive at the summit for sunrise. This means sleeping on the mountain and getting up in the middle of the night for the final ascent.

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Arriving at level nine, exhausted and hungry, we decided to stop for the day and procured sleeping accommodations. Our sleeping area was no bigger than 5 by 10 feet, with eight futons on the floor. The hut manager pointed to a small pillow to indicate my spot. Next he pointed to my friend’s pillow, then to the man next to her, finally to the last man. We watched in amazement as the manager placed two more women and two more men. Their heads were at the other end and everyone’s legs overlapped, reaching as far as the opposite person’s lower back. Sardines in a can.

The author and a fellow teacher climbed Mount Fuji in 1992.

UNSPLASH

Sleep was impossible as the heat built up, feet pressed into backs, and a bare bulb remained lit. Finally, people began leaving at about 2, so we gathered our things and headed downstairs. This was it! The night sky was the most beautiful I’d ever seen, with a crescent moon and stars so clear it gave me goosebumps. The trail was steep and rocky, the air was getting thinner and we were slowing, but the line of flashlights above and below pushed us on.

A blast of wind greeted us as we summited. The sunrise was stunning and, as the mist lifted, we had our first view of the beauty and serenity of the surrounding mountains — altitude, 12,338 feet. After five hours of sliding down loose lava switchbacks, we boarded the bus to Lake Kawaguchi and our pension. A shower and nap revived us in time for dinner and a real bed.

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All too soon we were back in Omiya, but the memories of Fuji-san have lasted a lifetime.

Would I climb Fuji again, you ask? I have no intentions of proclaiming myself a fool.

The author lives in West Lampeter Township.

If you know an interesting, true story, please write it in 600 words or less and send it to Mary Ellen Wright, LNP editorial department, P.O. Box 1328, Lancaster, PA 17608-1328, or email it to features@lnpnews.com. (No fiction or poetry, please). Please include your phone number and the name of the town you live in.

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