Our initial destination was a sports camp in Gotemba near Mount Fuji, so contestants could acclimate and train. Seeing as we would be near Mount Fuji, a real honest
japanese grade school morning calisthenics
It took a few days, but we finally got our venture to the sacred mountain organised. Our Sensei arranged for a cab to pick us up and take us to Fuji-san. there were four of us. Me, the wife, and two others. When we got there we arranged for the cab to come back to pick up the main party at about he time they should get back to the end point.
fuji-san as seen from the camp
When we got to a particular junction, I went up and the three of them went across and back down. The wife was very concerned about my heading to the top alone. I am a stubborn person and I was not going to let the off-season nor being on my own for the climb stop me. It was not like I needed special climbing gear to get there. It is basically a groomed trail that was a series of switchbacks to reduce the strain of the slope on ones efforts.
side trail to a spur
My gear for my solo climb? Nike ACG (all conditions gear) light hikers, wool socks, shorts-style swimtrunks over spandex shorts, a t-shirt, fleece top, a ball cap and a Helly-Hansen polyester toque, leather work gloves, and a large daypack filled with snacks and Pocari Sweat.
Off I went alone. Across and up, across and up. I ran in to several parties coming down. I did not see anyone going up though. Not ahead of me, nor behind me. What I have failed to mention up to this point, is our departure time to the mountain. You see, our Sensei is very popular. Everyone wanted to hangout with him, be near him, have his attention. This is very common in the Martial Arts world. Not that I did not enjoy my Sensei's company. I did and do. I also appreciate greatly the attention, teaching, and mentoring he has provided me over the years. Both in Karate and in life. However, I am not an attention seeker. Nor was anyone in our party going to the mountain.
So, getting him to have a few minutes to spare to make the call and relay instructions to the cab driver was not particularly easy. We departed for Mount Fuji at about midday. By the time we got there, most people were coming down and from what I understand, not many people would even attempt to go to the top at this time of year. So, we were behind the eight-ball for time. Where the rest of the party turned to descend was about as high as anyone would go at that time of day.
I ran in to a a father and son coming down near a spur on the slope and they were very surprised to learn that I intended to climb to the crater. They took a picture of me for me, as well as one with their own camera, and I wondered to myself if that would be the last record of me in the manner of Chris McCandless. I have pursued similarly ill prepared, improperly planned, and ambitious activities as he had; not just this one. I was the same age as him in fact. However, I survived my hubris, more than once, where unfortunately he did not.
the sacred mountain casting a shadow
Upwards I continued. I passed through various torii, but this is where it begins to get odd. They appeared very close and I was motoring to them and the closer I thought I was getting, the further away they would become. Until I was practically on top of them. I also found many normal things quite funny. I was chuckling quite a bit. I am not sure when I realised it, but at some point I understood my good humour and the ever shifting torii, had everything to do with the thinner atmosphere I was climbing in.
the final torii, i think
Mount Fuji reaches a height of 3,776 metres. "High Altitude" is 1,500-3,500 metres and "Very High Altitude" is 3,500-5,500 metres. So, I was in a high altitude range entering the bottom end of the very high altitude range. In retrospect, I may have been somewhat unwise to do this climb. In the off-season. Alone. Late in the day. I may have been suffering from "mild" altitude sickness or hypoxia at this point.
what a view!
Nevertheless, I continued to climb. Now that I knew what was happening, everything was under control. Right? There were several tricky torii on my ascent. Then, suddenly, I was at the crater. I celebrated with a Pocari Sweat. I then decided to walk around the crater. As I was approaching the research station during my loop, it seemed to be darker than it should have been. It definitely was not a storm approaching. I checked my watch. I had plenty of time. Wait. what was that little bar icon at the bottom? Oh-oh. I had a dual-time Casio digital watch at the time. Apparently, I had inadvertently switched my watch to Ottawa time. All of Japan is 13 hours ahead of Ottawa. So, looking at the watch quickly, as I had been the whole time up til now, I thought it was an hour earlier than it really was.
the belly of the beast, the view in to the crater
Well, no time to go up to the research station, which from what I understand, would not even have been manned at that time of year anyway. Back to the groomed path and down. I also had to find where my turn off was to get to the track down to where I wanted and needed to come down at to be headed in the right direction for home and hopefully a cab.
the research station, it got dark fast
Ha, ha, ha. By the time I got to the first switch back, it was dark. Luckily, I also packed a headlamp and a flashlight. Across and down, across and down. I kept crossing what appeared to be a wide swath cut out of the slope all the way down to where I needed to get. Not knowing what it actually was or where it actually went I kept to the switchbacks. I later found out that it either had to do with controlling landslides or an attempt to put in cable cars. Not sure, but I would most likely have wiped out taking it at that altitude.
I kept going, following little markers indicating the path I needed. Well, the little markers suddenly vanished. This would have been the altitude that most visitors would not have passed. So, I surmised that people yanked them out of the ground as souvenirs. A little advice. Never, ever, remove trail markers. Unless, of course, they are grossly incorrect and you can confirm it. Otherwise, you may cause people to get lost and possibly injured or even killed. Anyway I ironically, and rudely, thanked those tourists for screwing me, and probably others, over, so they could get their trophies of their visit.
On my way down I saw several military helicopters fly by and mildly wished they saw me and would offer a lift. No dice, of course. On I went, the valiant fool. I reached an altitude where I could clearly see the pavilions and artificial lighting. I also saw the swath reach almost directly there. By this point, the angle of the slope was quite mild. I abandoned the switchbacks and kicked it in to overdrive and went headlong right for civilisation. I am I pretty sure I actually saw some vehicles. Well, by the time I got right down in the pavilion, not one person, car, bus, cab, nothing.
The bathrooms were open. So, I went for a pee. I had not gone since we got in the cab to get there. Not too much came out. I washed up and headed out to the "road". One thing, I was surprised that the bathrooms smelled like your regular, everyday, North American campground bathrooms. Everything in Japan is usually clean, tidy, and looked after.
Out on the road, which was not so much more than a dirt track. Along I went. I knew and remembered which way to go. Was I ever hoping someone would drive by and give me a lift. Not along there. I was not alone though. Plenty of wild dogs running alongside me in the woods and crossing my path in front and in behind. Barking, scuffling amongst themselves. I was seriously concerned. On went the leathers, flashlight in one hand, a hearty stick in the other. They got as close as a couple/few feet. I never saw more than their eyes though. Not sure why they did not try anything or just even come out. Maybe I smelled too differently to them or moved too differently. I do not know.
What I do know? I know I had to hike out down this road somewhere around six to eight kilometres to get to the main road and my only company was a bunch of really freaky dogs that I am sure were trying to determine if I was worth eating or not. Stray, feral dogs are problematic in Asia. I saw this more so in Taiwan than in Japan, but it appears to be pretty universal after a quick search on the interweb. These guys dogged me the whole way I was on foot (pun intended).
Once I was on the main road I figured there would be more traffic and someone would pick me up. If not out of kindness, then out of amusement. How many Japanese people really have the opportunity to pick up a big, white guy in swimtrunks and a toque on the side of a rural highway? I mean, what story it would be.
Out on the "main" road the doggies subsided a bit, but I had to keep looking around. I had to ditch the the headlamp, flashlight, and stick, lest I look like some deranged highwayman. Oh look, someone is approaching. Thumb out, hopeful, happy expression. Bastard! No dice. Somebody else. Same thing. I do not know how many people passed me, but it was not looking good. It was fifteen to twenty kliks to the the sports camp.
I probably covered five k when I realised I was probably going to have to find a safe place for the night away from the dogs. You see, the camp closed its gates at 11:00 pm. I was running out of time fast. I had probably covered another five kilometres before one of the few vehicles to pass me in my direction stopped. I was so, so happy. And relieved. It was a young, friendly woman in a minivan type contraption. I did my best to explain where I was going. It was on this road, I knew that. So, it had to be on her way. There were not many places to turn off between where we were and the camp.
She intimated that her English was very minimal, but was fairly clear that she knew not of what I spoke. Okay, thank you... Crap. On I went. A few more vehicles whipped past me. Then, a few k down the road, it appeared a car that just passed me had stopped. I rounded the bend and ran up with a huge pie-eating grin and was about to say thanks for stopping. Well, it was an illusion. The vehicle braked for the bend, but it was another vehicle that was stopped. In fact, it was that young woman and she was on her phone. Well, I am pretty sure my expression changed to sadness and disappointment. I apologised and kept hoofing down the road, looking for a tree or something to climb for bedtime.
About five-ten minutes later, a van whips up beside me and stops. I look, it is her. I wondered if this was some weird game of chicken or screw around with the big nose, white devil? The window opens, and she says, in perfect, unaccented English: "Get in!"
Maaannn!! I was pretty ecstatic. I run around to the other side and get in. I apologise for my appearance and explain I had just climbed, Mount Fuji and have been walking back since then. She looks at me unimpressed and says: "You stink!" I was a bit surprised. I was wondering if this was a precursor to being kicked out of the vehicle and the bizarre game of chicken were to resume. Nope. She pulled in to the road and gunned it. Some awkward chit-chat. I see the gate to the camp and tell her this is my stop. Really? Yup. You're staying there? Yup. Okay.
She cuts over into the lane to the gate and stops. I get out and I as put my pack on my back and come around to say thanks, she peels out. Wow?! I guess I do stink. I had about five minutes to spare in the end before the gates were to be closed. If not for that ride, I would have had to have holed up somewhere or scaled the gate and risked who knows what kind of comedy of errors.
Anyway, safe and sound. I see two people walking from the gate. Not much to see out here. I then recognise who they are. One is the wife. I hustle over and nonchalantly ask what is going on. The wife is happy and relieved to see me. Apparently, she was starting to think that I either fell in to the crater or wiped out and knocked myself out on the slope. Nope. I do tell her the risk was greater from all the feral dogs on my way back. Mental note, do not tell the wife, even as a joke, that feral dogs were circling you in the middle of nowhere, where help would not be available. Never, ever, do that. Ever. Not even as a joke. Ever!
She tells me that they got back in good time from their excursion, but she has been worried the whole time. Sorry, but you know how stubborn I am. Yup, she does. No one had told Sensei that I had not gotten back yet. So, we head over to one of the cabins. Mine I think and there is Sensei with a bunch of Brazilian karate-ka who have just arrived and are staying with us at the camp until Shotocup. Sensei now learns that I went to the top and just got back. He laughs. He laughs at me a lot actually. I at times have been akin to a court jester to his elevated status. No worries. He tells the Brazilians what I did. They look at me in disbelief. Or maybe it was how I was dressed. Does not matter. They actually think I am shooting wind at them. Nope, I did. You did.? Yup. Here, drink this. What is it? Drink it. Okay.
Holy crap! Was that jet fuel? No; just a little something from home. I find out later it is some high-octane, dubiously legal, alcoholic substance from Brazil. Want another one. Um? Sure, but two sight blurring drinks is my limit. Apparently, three is my limit. I get hustled out of there before my spleen dissolves.
(Before I finish up here, I want to let people know, that I was misinformed and misled by several sources about climbing Mount Fuji before the trip. I learnt after returning to Canada that what I did was on the dangerous side. A Japanese friend informed the wife and I when we told her about our trip to Japan, that many people go missing and get injured on and around Mount Fuji, especially in the off-season. Some even die. Super. Also, those freaky, feral dogs are not to be trifled with. Again, one could get hurt or even killed by them. Double super. There you have it: research, research, research.)
Wash up. Wash up again. Hard sleep and more adventures for the rest of the trip. The big downside. I brought a pair of dress Doc Martens shoes and the Nike ACGs. That was it. For some reason, I brought the wrong Docs. I had this pair before my feet grew a whole size and forgot about that. The ACGs? They were saturated with volcanic dust. Every time I took my shoes off, my socks, and feet, were coated in black volcanic dust. This is Japan. Shoes must be removed most of the time indoors.
mt fuji at night from the camp
I did try to purchase another pair of shoes or boots, but when I did find my size, the price was outlandish. I could not justify paying what was being asked for the footwear. I pretty much had to wear the too small shoes for most rest of the trip so as to not offend anyone with my filthy, volcanic dust covered socks and feet. So much for Fuji-san the holy mountain, no one revered my feet. blbbl
what could very well have been the last image of me taken alive
thankfully not, i have many more foolish things to accomplish yet
No comments:
Post a Comment