"Mountaineering possibly not for us," Oregon tourists muse

So! Here's how Fuji went.

Started at Station 5 about halfway up the mountain, as is the most common way to do this. (After doing the insane hike just from Station 5, I realize that doing the hike from the base of Fuji, as we had thought about doing last year, would be sheer lunacy.) We had our spiffy new kongo-zue (hiking sticks) from one of the mountain goddess's shrines, complete with omamori (charms for climbing safety). And so it began pleasantly enough. The first leg of the hike is mostly wooded. Lots of...trees that I don't know the names of. Definitely trees, though. They had leaves and everything.

Then around Station 6 -- which is really just a small shelter next to some port-o-johns -- the trees thin out into scattered scrub. After Station 6 comes an endless series of switchbacks leading to Station 7.

Now, I admit up front that I'm viewing this with a foreigner's ignorance, but here's my first beef with Fuji. No, actually my first beef with Mount Fuji is that the damn thing is uphill, which is really tiring. So I suppose my second beef is this: The numbered stations are not single structures, or even complexes. For example, you reach Station 7 and get your hiking stick branded (hurrah!) and then you keep hiking and after awhile, you see another structure coming up above, and you think, "Oh! That must be Station 8. What fine progress I'm making!" That's what you think, Mr. or Ms. Ingorant Foreign Person. Turns out the next structure is still Station 7, just a different hut of Station 7 where you can get another brand (hurrah?). And then you hike more interminable switchbacks, and there's yet another hut of Station 7 (another brand, whee; these brands all cost money, of course). And after about twelve Station 7 buildings and roughly nine hundred switchbacks, you finally reach Station 8. Which does the same thing. And when you're frantically peering ahead for Station 9, desperate for the mountain to give you some indication that you're making progress, you get a lovely prank straight out of Harry Potter: Station 8.5. That's hilarious, you impish trail-builders you!

Thankfully, Station 9 -- when you finally get there on your disintegrating feet -- takes the opposite approach. Instead of an endless series of huts, Station 9 is a single shack, looking fairly disused. Probably where they keep their tax forms or something.

And so it was that we were past Station 9, within sight of the orange torii gate of Station 10 -- the summit at last! -- when Bob was struck with altitude sickness. I ran ahead and got help, and though Bob started feeling better enough to continue, the summit guys I'd alerted were adamant that we head back down the mountain. Just a few hundred feet from the summit, and we had to turn back.

Now here's the fun bit: The sun had set by now, so we were now hiking down the mountain in the dark. Hadn't expected to use those flashlights, but thank God we brought them! The way down offered horrible footing and was utter hell on my knees, but to be fair, it was quiet and pretty, complete with far-away flashes of lightning that lit up the clouds. Never heard any thunder from them, so the storms must have been very far away. Perhaps we wouldn't have seen them at all, had we not been up above the clouds.

Though speaking of clouds, that might be the visual that really sticks with me from this trip. During the ascent, when it was still daylight, Bob pointed out a massive cloud formation behind us. It was one of those giant puffy clouds that it's easy to find shapes in, and we were neither below it nor above it. Being at eye-level with something that vast is...difficult to describe. Humbling, I suppose, especially when one's brain picks out the shape of an enormous Asian dragon's head looking at you, and this head is too big to fit into a camera frame. Had to split it into two frames, which I'm sure will utterly fail to capture the frightening majesty of the image.

So that, in a nutshell, is our courageous story. I'll close with a kindly word of advice to anyone walking at night with a headlamp: Please for God's sake don't turn your whole head towards someone walking towards you, 'cause it shoots your light straight into that person's eyes and that's really annoying.

Wisdom for the ages, I think. I hope to see it on a coin one day.

So now we've got three days to kill in Kawaguchiko. I'll let you know how that goes. Our very best to everyone, and we'll see you next post.