Well, I got within a hundred yards of the top- I could see the torii gate at the rim. Just one minor health issue and we had someone coming down from the top yelling "iyee" (NO) and "GO DOWN". When I told him I was OK and wanted to do the last few yards, he shouted "NO" and started waving his arms. I begged Steve to go to the top (5 minutes away for him) and not miss the opportunity, but he wouldn`t leave me. I just couldn`t be angry at such fierce loyalty. Plus, in the confusion and near darkness, we left a small walking stick we had painstakingly branded for Adam.
I don`t mind failing so much again; I`ve always aimed high in the game of bringing ideas into being. I expect to be slapped in the face by reality now and again. But I HATE failing my sons.
I guess I do know that I would have made the top had I not been stopped from doing so. That`ll have to do, because I don`t want to do it again. And, I`ve seen the entire stretch.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
"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.
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.
We're Fine
Apologies for the delayed post. Climbing Fuji took longer than we'd anticipated, so we didn't get back till after midnight last night, with nowhere to get an internet connection. Those who were worrying can stop now.
So we've got some sunburns, some bumps and scrapes, and serious soreness, but are otherwise fine. I'll write more when we've got more time and my creative brain is working a little better. I'm still a little slow from the savaging my body took yesterday. (Sixteen hours of walking with a heavy pack, anyone?)
So we've got some sunburns, some bumps and scrapes, and serious soreness, but are otherwise fine. I'll write more when we've got more time and my creative brain is working a little better. I'm still a little slow from the savaging my body took yesterday. (Sixteen hours of walking with a heavy pack, anyone?)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Live From Kawaguchiko Station!
So in about 20 minutes we're taking the bus up to Station 5 on Fuji-san, not for the climb but just to try acclimating to the altitude for a couple of hours.
That's been today's theme: preparing for the climb tomorrow. We've visited two shrines and a temple today, and have paid respects to all the kami we can find, including the mountain goddess. (And a bull-god too; they probably don't get enough respect these days, the animal gods.) Also bought new sticks and got them stamped with the special red shrine stamp, so that's cool. We also bought jingly climbing charms, so we're about as in the goddess's good graces as we can get.
That's about all our news, really. Got breakfast at Gasuto (the Japanese Denny's, more-or-less) and lunch at the beloved Kawaguchiko Station. Ah, udon! With horsemeat, no less!
Okay -- haven't got time to think up a lot of humor in this one, clearly, and the timer at the top of the screen telling me how much time I've got at this train station computer is making me nervous. So we'll sign off. For all those worried about us on the mountain tomorrow, we're doing our utmost to prepare as best we can.
Until next time, when we shall type in glory.
That's been today's theme: preparing for the climb tomorrow. We've visited two shrines and a temple today, and have paid respects to all the kami we can find, including the mountain goddess. (And a bull-god too; they probably don't get enough respect these days, the animal gods.) Also bought new sticks and got them stamped with the special red shrine stamp, so that's cool. We also bought jingly climbing charms, so we're about as in the goddess's good graces as we can get.
That's about all our news, really. Got breakfast at Gasuto (the Japanese Denny's, more-or-less) and lunch at the beloved Kawaguchiko Station. Ah, udon! With horsemeat, no less!
Okay -- haven't got time to think up a lot of humor in this one, clearly, and the timer at the top of the screen telling me how much time I've got at this train station computer is making me nervous. So we'll sign off. For all those worried about us on the mountain tomorrow, we're doing our utmost to prepare as best we can.
Until next time, when we shall type in glory.
Riding the Rails of Rigamarole
Kombanwa, everyone. So nice of you to join us once again.
So the train-trip to Kawaguchiko was not as quick nor as simple as we'd anticipated. Had to catch two different trains from Tokyo to Otsuki with a three-hour pause between them in Takao, a city we'd never heard of. Still have no idea where it actually is. And, perhaps in retribution for my petulance in last night's post, we did not get to ride in the train with the cartoony Fujis painted on the side. We did see such a train up close, but it wasn't in service and the train we rode in was much less interesting. All in all, we spent about eight hours in transit, finally arriving at our Kawaguchiko hotel around 5 pm.
But I'm not a bit sorry, and I'll tell you why: Inside JR trains, next to the monitor display showing what your next stop is, you get to see a cycle of silent advertisements. Today's long hours in trains got us very familiar with these ads, and some were classic indeed. I'll recount my two favorites.
Ad #1: You will all be glad to hear that vermiculture is alive and well in Japan. These people have such affection for their worm poop that large amounts of yen are exchanged to feature it in commercials! I don't actually know what the ad was for exactly, but one scene will stick in my mind for some time. Picture, if you will, a cartoon worm with a wide smile and big, almost kittenish eyes. Couldn't be prouder of his profession, this worm. Then he eats some cartoon fruit, a bulge works its way significantly down his body, and what should emerge at the far end? Not just your average waste, but cartoony, Dairy-Queen style mounds with little smiley faces on them. As patriots, we should all be asking ourselves: Why don't American worms poop like that? Do think about it and write your congresspeople with your ideas.
Ad #2: Couldn't tell if this one was a food commercial or a public service message. We got a series of photos of plates of food, and a cartoon...thing was talking in speech bubbles and writhing all over the food. He was an oblong white thing with stringy bits at either end, plus a charming, smiling face. Could have been a bean-sprout, could have been a flagellum-wielding food parasite. But his grinning cartoon face (a face that made him look like he could easily be a sidekick for Hello Kitty) makes me think bean-sprout, as if he was writhing over all the food to suggest, "Look at all these meat dishes I adore! Wouldn't they be improved by me, the tasty bean-sprout? Bring home some sprouts today!" And at the end of the commercial, after he's won you over with his friendly writhing display, he's tossed into a hot frying pan. He spasms in agony and falls still. The end.
See the cultural enrichment you're all missing out on?
Speaking of culture and the enrichment thereof, I got initiated into the Japanese tradition of noodle-slurping today in a little udon shop on the train platform in Takao. Here's how it worked: I put money into a vending machine and selected a kind of udon (went with the plain kind, it being the only one I could both recognize and pronounce). The machine then spat out a ticket, which I brought inside and handed to the udon guys. In about 45 seconds, they handed me my bowl of udon, which I ate standing up at a counter next to other guys eating their udon. And they were all in an enormous hurry, or so it seemed from all the frantic slurping. So, being in Rome (so to speak), I too slurped away and managed to snork down my udon without burning myself and only spattering my shirt a little.
So 'twas, with one shirt clean and one bespattered, we arrived in Kawaguchiko and found our hotel. The innkeeper greeted us by name out front, and told us his name (which you fans of the TV series Heroes or the novel Snow Crash will appreciate): Hiro. He showed us to our room and other accomodations, talked us through the routines and perks of staying here, and has lent me the laptop on which I'm now writing this post. Given this, we might not be able to post daily updates while here. Don't want to trouble him for this laptop every day. But we'll definitely write a post soon after we get off the mountain in a couple of days to tell y'all how it went.
So it's now Wednesday night, and the tentative plan is: Do some walking around tomorrow, making sure to visit at least one shrine to Konohanasakuya, the goddess of Fuji, and pay our respects. Then probably attempt the hike on Friday. If anyone else feels like putting in a good word for us with Konohanasakuya before then, that would not go amiss. Understand that we're not worried. But we could do with better luck than we had last year.
Everyone take care of yourselves, and we'll see you next post.
So the train-trip to Kawaguchiko was not as quick nor as simple as we'd anticipated. Had to catch two different trains from Tokyo to Otsuki with a three-hour pause between them in Takao, a city we'd never heard of. Still have no idea where it actually is. And, perhaps in retribution for my petulance in last night's post, we did not get to ride in the train with the cartoony Fujis painted on the side. We did see such a train up close, but it wasn't in service and the train we rode in was much less interesting. All in all, we spent about eight hours in transit, finally arriving at our Kawaguchiko hotel around 5 pm.
But I'm not a bit sorry, and I'll tell you why: Inside JR trains, next to the monitor display showing what your next stop is, you get to see a cycle of silent advertisements. Today's long hours in trains got us very familiar with these ads, and some were classic indeed. I'll recount my two favorites.
Ad #1: You will all be glad to hear that vermiculture is alive and well in Japan. These people have such affection for their worm poop that large amounts of yen are exchanged to feature it in commercials! I don't actually know what the ad was for exactly, but one scene will stick in my mind for some time. Picture, if you will, a cartoon worm with a wide smile and big, almost kittenish eyes. Couldn't be prouder of his profession, this worm. Then he eats some cartoon fruit, a bulge works its way significantly down his body, and what should emerge at the far end? Not just your average waste, but cartoony, Dairy-Queen style mounds with little smiley faces on them. As patriots, we should all be asking ourselves: Why don't American worms poop like that? Do think about it and write your congresspeople with your ideas.
Ad #2: Couldn't tell if this one was a food commercial or a public service message. We got a series of photos of plates of food, and a cartoon...thing was talking in speech bubbles and writhing all over the food. He was an oblong white thing with stringy bits at either end, plus a charming, smiling face. Could have been a bean-sprout, could have been a flagellum-wielding food parasite. But his grinning cartoon face (a face that made him look like he could easily be a sidekick for Hello Kitty) makes me think bean-sprout, as if he was writhing over all the food to suggest, "Look at all these meat dishes I adore! Wouldn't they be improved by me, the tasty bean-sprout? Bring home some sprouts today!" And at the end of the commercial, after he's won you over with his friendly writhing display, he's tossed into a hot frying pan. He spasms in agony and falls still. The end.
See the cultural enrichment you're all missing out on?
Speaking of culture and the enrichment thereof, I got initiated into the Japanese tradition of noodle-slurping today in a little udon shop on the train platform in Takao. Here's how it worked: I put money into a vending machine and selected a kind of udon (went with the plain kind, it being the only one I could both recognize and pronounce). The machine then spat out a ticket, which I brought inside and handed to the udon guys. In about 45 seconds, they handed me my bowl of udon, which I ate standing up at a counter next to other guys eating their udon. And they were all in an enormous hurry, or so it seemed from all the frantic slurping. So, being in Rome (so to speak), I too slurped away and managed to snork down my udon without burning myself and only spattering my shirt a little.
So 'twas, with one shirt clean and one bespattered, we arrived in Kawaguchiko and found our hotel. The innkeeper greeted us by name out front, and told us his name (which you fans of the TV series Heroes or the novel Snow Crash will appreciate): Hiro. He showed us to our room and other accomodations, talked us through the routines and perks of staying here, and has lent me the laptop on which I'm now writing this post. Given this, we might not be able to post daily updates while here. Don't want to trouble him for this laptop every day. But we'll definitely write a post soon after we get off the mountain in a couple of days to tell y'all how it went.
So it's now Wednesday night, and the tentative plan is: Do some walking around tomorrow, making sure to visit at least one shrine to Konohanasakuya, the goddess of Fuji, and pay our respects. Then probably attempt the hike on Friday. If anyone else feels like putting in a good word for us with Konohanasakuya before then, that would not go amiss. Understand that we're not worried. But we could do with better luck than we had last year.
Everyone take care of yourselves, and we'll see you next post.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Fungus of Immortality and Vigorous Crotch Gestures
Now I should point out that those are two separate phrases. The Fungus of Immortality is the fungus of just immortality. It's not the fungus of immortality and vigorous crotch gestures. Just so we're all clear on that.
So San Francisco's Asian Art Museum has installed a mini-exhibit of Chinese ceramics in the SFO United concourse, which is rather a nice departure from the oft-questionable styles of airport decor. As Bob and I learned while killing time before our flight to Narita, a certain era of Chinese ceramics held the Fungus of Immortality in high regard as an artistic motif. I can only assume its name has lost a bit of mystique along the route of translation into English, but I feel it still retains a certain pizazz. I do hope one day to see the name "Fungus of Immortality" in the lineup at the Kentucky Derby or something. Because, y'know: Awesome.
But yes, we landed safely in Narita, got through customs and reclaimed our baggage without incident, and are safely checked into our hotel. Even got a decent dinner at a ramen place recommended by the girl who brought our bags up to our room. I had ramen, while Bob had yakitori and enough hot sake to make him...exuberant. Though the restaurant had at least one patron more drunk than he.
Which brings me to the second part of this post's title. So this drunken guy -- not creepy or threatening, just drunk -- starts chatting with us a little, using English about as rudimentary as my Japanese. Bob carefully recites a phrase he's been waiting to use ("This is my son"), and this man's response was to strike the pose of a sumo wrestler and then make vigorous, yet somehow stately, gestures toward his own crotch. My best guess is that he was complimenting Bob on his fertility.
But the meaning of the crotch gestures isn't entirely important, is it? The real thing, I feel, is the simple fact that this man had the bravado to make vigorous crotch gestures to people whose language he did not speak, thus having no way to explain himself. I know if I were making vigorous crotch gestures at some tourists from, I dunno, let's say Laos, I would be nervously explaining the whole time, just so they knew I wasn't just some pelvic degenerate, and that I was really making a statement here that was well worth their time and future contemplation. But this man clearly felt secure that his statement stood on its own. To show so much and tell so little takes faith and guts, and I salute you, random drunken Narita ramen-shop guy, for your abundance of both.
But enough of the finer things. Plan for tomorrow: Catch a hotel shuttle to either Shinjuku Station or perhaps Tokyo Station, get a train to Otsuki (I think), and from there we can ride the official Fuji train, which has cartoony Fujis painted on the side. Not that we'll be able to see those painted Fujis from the inside of the train. I bet there's something even cooler on the inside, and I just might not tell you what it is. Because I haven't slept in a long time and I'm feeling tired and petulant.
Therefore, I'm off to bed. Thanks for reading, and to all a good night.
So San Francisco's Asian Art Museum has installed a mini-exhibit of Chinese ceramics in the SFO United concourse, which is rather a nice departure from the oft-questionable styles of airport decor. As Bob and I learned while killing time before our flight to Narita, a certain era of Chinese ceramics held the Fungus of Immortality in high regard as an artistic motif. I can only assume its name has lost a bit of mystique along the route of translation into English, but I feel it still retains a certain pizazz. I do hope one day to see the name "Fungus of Immortality" in the lineup at the Kentucky Derby or something. Because, y'know: Awesome.
But yes, we landed safely in Narita, got through customs and reclaimed our baggage without incident, and are safely checked into our hotel. Even got a decent dinner at a ramen place recommended by the girl who brought our bags up to our room. I had ramen, while Bob had yakitori and enough hot sake to make him...exuberant. Though the restaurant had at least one patron more drunk than he.
Which brings me to the second part of this post's title. So this drunken guy -- not creepy or threatening, just drunk -- starts chatting with us a little, using English about as rudimentary as my Japanese. Bob carefully recites a phrase he's been waiting to use ("This is my son"), and this man's response was to strike the pose of a sumo wrestler and then make vigorous, yet somehow stately, gestures toward his own crotch. My best guess is that he was complimenting Bob on his fertility.
But the meaning of the crotch gestures isn't entirely important, is it? The real thing, I feel, is the simple fact that this man had the bravado to make vigorous crotch gestures to people whose language he did not speak, thus having no way to explain himself. I know if I were making vigorous crotch gestures at some tourists from, I dunno, let's say Laos, I would be nervously explaining the whole time, just so they knew I wasn't just some pelvic degenerate, and that I was really making a statement here that was well worth their time and future contemplation. But this man clearly felt secure that his statement stood on its own. To show so much and tell so little takes faith and guts, and I salute you, random drunken Narita ramen-shop guy, for your abundance of both.
But enough of the finer things. Plan for tomorrow: Catch a hotel shuttle to either Shinjuku Station or perhaps Tokyo Station, get a train to Otsuki (I think), and from there we can ride the official Fuji train, which has cartoony Fujis painted on the side. Not that we'll be able to see those painted Fujis from the inside of the train. I bet there's something even cooler on the inside, and I just might not tell you what it is. Because I haven't slept in a long time and I'm feeling tired and petulant.
Therefore, I'm off to bed. Thanks for reading, and to all a good night.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
FujiQuest II: Preliminary Checks
G'day, all. Steve here, less than two days before we return to Japan to attempt another ascent of Fuji-san. Just doing a test post to make sure I'll be able to post to this thing while in Japan. Adam's given me a quick primer on pressing these here buttons, which makes letters appear on the screen. And assembling said letters into "words" seems to be going well so far. I think I can even invent some new ones: Flathing. Uldamberage. Nurp.
Lookin' good!
Lookin' good!
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