富士山 lies about 100km to the southwest of 東京 (とうきょう - Tokyo), straddling 静岡 (しずおか - Shizuoka) and 山梨 (やまなし - Yamanashi) prefectures. Surrounding it are five lakes said to be connected underground, as well as a natural monument known as Aokigahara, better known as the "haunted forest" or "suicide woods". In ancient times it was infamous for disappearances of loved ones - whether that was because of wild animals, お化け (おばけ - obake - monsters) or just people who didn't want to be found is up for debate. Even today, dozens of people die in the woods every year and most hikers give the forest a wide berth on their travels toward 富士山. The mountain itself is a very squat, symmetrical cone and while it can be seen from the capital on exceptionally clear days, it's hard to come to grips with its true size until you get close enough to see the cloudline. Despite 富士山 being an active volcano, you're much more likely to see snow on its cap than lava - its last eruption was more than 300 years ago. Be that as it may, it's not without its dangers - the higher elevations are consistently 10-15 degrees colder than the ambient temperature which means 冬 (ふゆ - Winter) is more or less a no-go zone for climbers. During 夏 (なつ - Summer) however, it's warm enough even for night climbs - a popular option for people keen enough to ascend through the night and reach the 山頂 (さんちょう - sanchou - summit) in time for sunrise. There are several starting points for the hike, recognisable by their equipment shops and colossal numbers of people in backpacks.
The trail up 富士山 is separated by ten "stations" that stretch from the foot of the mountain to the 山頂. While it's possible to climb all the way from the bottom, this is now the domain of the hardcore hikers and the vast majority of climbers now drive or take a bus to the fifth station. At 2300m, this is the highest starting point accessible by road. In fact, it seems quite high enough for some people - it's a popular stop for school trips and many shorts-and-sandals clad tourists visit just long enough to take some photos and then leap back on the bus. Throughout the 登山 season, tired-sounding announcers remind people not to attempt the climb unless they're properly equipped with hiking boots and dressed for potentially cold and wet weather.
The fifth station resembles a huge carpark with several chalets attached to it and a meeting place for tour groups at the start of the 登山 trail. For the most part it's a final opportunity for people beginning and ending their journey to stock up on supplies, have a hot meal and buy souvenirs. One particularly popular option is a walking stick - a big wooden pole to help with the hike and occasionally adorned with little bells or Japanese flags. The sticks can quite literally be branded at several points along the trail which keeps a permanent record of your progress and feels a bit like getting your passport stamped as you go. The constant message from the tour guides is not to underestimate the mountain; while 富士山 is renowned for being one that almost anyone can climb, the weather is extremely fickle at higher elevations which can make it particularly uncomfortable, taxing and dangerous. It may just not be your lucky day and you can always come back next season if you don't get all the way - it's not going anywhere.
The track from the fifth station starts out very easy, meandering around the edge of the mountain past some impressive landscape that reminds you just how high you are. Gradually, it starts to turn in on itself and begins the long, zigzagging path up towards the next station. Optimistic signs start to point out that you're only five or six kilometres from the peak, which makes you feel like you could be home by dinner time. As the sixth station comes and goes, the trail starts to get rockier, steeper and sandier but it's still easy going at this stage.
Between the sixth and seventh station however, the going starts getting tough. The sandy path turns into a rocky "cliff trail" - a huge uneven natural staircase of stone steps and boulders. The footholds are small and can be slippery in the rain and to make matters worse, during a night climb the sun will be going down at this point. Having a headlamp or torch is almost compulsory if you want to see where your feet are going - as the guide said, it's much cheaper to buy one of those than have to take time off for a broken ankle. 山小屋 (やまごや - yama goya - mountain huts) start appearing at each plateau before long; most of these are little more than diesel generator-powered sheds that open exclusively during 登山 season. They provide shelter for night climbers to rest and prepare for the dash to the 山頂 for sunrise.
Some 山小屋 are slightly fancier but the basic concept is four walls, a roof and somewhere you can throw off your bag and lie down for a while. If you've spent the past few hours in the whipping wind and rain, all of that will sound awfully nice. Tour groups will generally arrive at around 9 o'clock, rest for a few hours and then set off again just after midnight. Food and gear are sold if people find themselves underequipped, but it comes at a premium - at this altitude, even the toilets cost money. There is a reason for this, however - proceeds go towards maintaining the mountain environment, which until recently was a bit of a mess from all the litter-happy tourists. Between the money collection and an active campaign to make sure everyone takes home their rubbish, it's now back to being about as pretty as rocks and dust can get. A lot of 俳句 (はいく - haiku) poets remain unsatisfied; some who have written about 富士山 say that despite its beauty as part of the landscape, up close it falls short of expectations. I'm sure it has a lovely personality and sense of humour though.
Once everyone is accounted for and organised, they are expected to pile into cramped, communal bunk beds (or even find a spot on the floor) and then it's lights out. This is partly to break up what would otherwise be an all-nighter and partly to help people acclimatise to the sudden change in altitude. While 富士山 isn't dangerously high, some people do suffer headaches and nausea in the thinning air and it's not uncommon to see the oxygen canisters emerge for a few quick puffs. As soon as midnight hits, the lights are back on and it's time to get your boots on again. The cliff trails continue to the eighth station, then they level off into tight switchbacks designed to shield unsuspecting climbers from falling rocks. Unfortunately it gets no easier - the weather gets more finicky the higher you go and soaking rain and milky fog can descend within minutes. Provided the visibility is good, the trail of headlamps marching up into the heavens is very pretty, but it can be a depressing reminder of just how much higher you need to go. The rhyme and reason of the stations disappears as well - you need to get past the bonus "old eighth station" and the "8.5th station" before you even see the ninth which is probably the last thing your legs want to hear. Before long, the trail turns rocky and volcanic, then beyond that there's one last torturously long red dust trail to the 山頂. Hopefully you make it in time for the sunrise...
...and you can see it when you get there. Although the 山頂 is above the level of the clouds, if it's too misty you may miss some of the effect. It's still impressive though - watching what was previously pitch blackness turning into the edge of the world is a breathtaking experience and a scary reminder of how far off the ground you are. In any case, making it to the top of 富士山 is definitely an achievement - particularly if the weather turned sour on the way. You've officially conquered the biggest, most temperamental giant Japan has to offer.
As promised the 山頂 is bitterly cold, particularly at dawn. Fortunately there is a small settlement where you can warm your hands and have the most expensive bowl of うどん (udon) imaginable. There is also a 郵便局 (ゆうびんきょく - yuubinkyoku - Post Office) - Japan's highest, obviously - that sells and posts 山頂-themed 葉書 (はがき - hagaki - postcards) during the high season. Despite the rumours, I didn't see any 自動販売機 (じどうはんばいき - jidouhanbaiki - vending machines) though!
Perhaps the most obvious landmark is what's known as the お釜 (おかま - okama - volcanic crater), a word that also means "rice pot", from the similarity in shape. To give you an idea of its size, a hike around the outside takes about 90 minutes; I can't imagine many people would have enough energy left by this point.
富士山 is considered sacred ground in 神道 (しんとう - Shinto), which as an animistic religion considers the mountain a spiritual being. Regarded as a holy peak, women were not allowed to climb it until 1800 which seems unusual given the deity in charge - Konohanasakuyahime (also known as Sengen), the goddess of 富士山 and flower blossoms. A 神社 (じんじゃ - jinja - shrine) sits next to the お釜 in her honour and there are 鳥居 (とりい - torii gates) nearby that mark the 山頂 as hallowed ground. Much like the 桜, Sengen is considered a beautiful symbol of the delicacy and fleeting nature of life, which you will come to fully appreciate on the grueling 3-4 hour 下山 (げざん - gezan - descent). When you finally get to the bottom and start your aching feet along the path back to the fifth station that was very easy the first time, you'll understand the difference a little perspective makes.
富士山 has lots to offer and its importance as a cultural icon should be clear whether you're climbing, painting, photographing or writing about it. Judging by the range of artistic interpretations and unique stories, it seems to affect people in different ways and I would definitely recommend a visit if you have the chance. If you're on the fence about the climb, be aware that there is a Japanese proverb that says "一度も登らぬバカ、二度登るバカ " ("ichido mo noboranu baka, nido noboru baka"), roughly meaning "a fool never even climbs it once, a fool climbs it twice". While I'm sure this is just a bit of historical peer pressure and self-justification from the one-time climbers, I'd definitely recommend having a go. After hobbling home and tending my wounds afterwards though, I'm entertaining no plans for further foolishness!
I'm also told there's a domed observatory on top of the mountain. It had to be flown in by helicopter half-constructed - lugging enough materials to build something like that from scratch at the summit wouldn't be an option. I wonder what kind of view you get from up there?
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