Riding Mt Fuji
Fuji-san lies 100 kilometres South-West of Tokyo and at 3,776m is Japan's number one peak. It is also, according to unverifiable sources, the most photographed view in the world. Considering that on a clear day it is visible from Tokyo and even further afield this is not so implausible. Despite this popularity the official climbing season is July and August and few people I knew had climbed it outside these months.
Nevertheless, by virtue of it being such an imposing symbol it had been a long-time goal to climb up in winter and snowboard down. Before this season I wouldn't have considered such a plan but after a few backcountry experiences this year, Fuji-san seemed the logical place for my season's finale.
Fuji doesn't receive anywhere near as much snow as it's lower counterparts in Niigata, Nagano and further North. The surrounding resorts tend to rely on artificial snow but the altitude of Fuji means that from October onwards the peak remains snow-capped through until early June. The main snow falls occur in February and March. According to all that I had read (or moreover tried to read then had read to me, as everything I found was only in Japanese) and heard before my trip, the main Fuji "backcountry" season was from late April to mid-June. I expected plenty of snow left for early May and thus chose the Fujinomiya approach from the South side. (Although 2001 had been a great winter for snow elsewhere in Japan, those who I met that had climbed the mountain before expressed surprise at the lack of snow for the period).
(The Gotemba (East side) and Yoshida (North-East side) are also viable winter approaches and may keep their snow cover longer. The hike up from the Gotemba fifth station requires an additional 1000m of ascent; so unless you have the time it's Fujinomiya or Yoshida. A nice option would be to have the possibility to chose your route down after you get to the top. This would require a good knowledge of the mountain, as it would be easy to lose your way when the clouds roll in, and two vehicles or a non-climbing driver. You cannot rely on buses, nor the numerous mountain huts, which only operate in the summer months.)
I tentatively set May 13th as the day for my first attempt and spent the whole week checking the weather forecasts. From the limited literature I'd found on the climb it seemed that wind and ice could be force me to turn back but I wanted to give it a try anyway. When it came to Saturday I spent the early afternoon listening to some mellow Big Star whilst reading up a little on snow climbing techniques (thanks Joe) and adjusting the crampons that I'd borrowed to fit my boots. (I honestly didn't expect to be able to climb to the top, so the nearer the moment became the greater my sense of excitement grew).
I'd never thought that I'd end up doing this on my own but the weather - clear from Thursday, with highs forecast for Sunday, and no real change expected until Tuesday - and the chance of borrowing a car, made this an opportunity not to be missed. Usual riding buddies; Steve (work/Thai food techno fest) and Paul (FA Cup final) couldn't make it, so I was about to try and climb Japan's highest peak alone.
I left Omiya at 17.30 on Saturday with the car loaded with everything that I could possibly need. It took nearly five hours to get to the 2300m high New Fifth Station car-park at the start of my chosen Fujinomiya Hiking Route. Leaving the motorway at Gotemba, the signs said that the Toll Road up to the Fujinomiya Route was closed 17.00-08.00 but after all the time and preparation I wasn't ready to give up. Luckily the barriers didn't block the whole road and I didn't see the sign detailing a $1,000 fine. I drove up the winding road in the pitch black - Fuji's conical peak a dark silhouette against the starry sky, and the occasional bright eyes of wild deer reflecting by the roadside.
Up at the Fujinomiya Route car-park (500 spaces - no doubt overflowing in summer) I stopped near the only other vehicle around and was relieved to see some skis lying below it. I was starting to think that my expedition might be a success after all, although for the first couple of hours in my sleeping bag (definitely necessary as temperatures dropped to around freezing) I was still waiting for a knock on the window and someone to tell me that I shouldn't be there.
Nevertheless I managed 5 hours of sleep before my alarm woke me at 04.00. It was still dark outside so I had some green tea and bread and put on my extra layers ready to for the climb. Two cars drove up the road past where I was parked so when I was almost ready to go I decided to drive up round the final bend to the top level of the car-park.
It was a further relief when I saw about 15 other cars already there - some with tents by their sides - and perhaps 30 others getting ready. There wasn't much snow visible, even as it got lighter, but about half of the other climbers had skis (with one or two boarders around) and all had ice picks. The thought of leaving my board was a brief one; but I'd come so far already that in-spite of the little snow visible and the sign forbidding skiing and snowboarding I was determined to ride Mt Fuji even if the patch of snow was only the size of a futsal court.
I left the car-park at 05.00 just after a group of 10 or so middle-aged hikers kitted-out in winter climbing gear. There was a single skier just in front of them so I didn't feel out of place with my board.
Just round the bend above the car-park was a large long gully filled with snow. Looking up to the peak where the dome of the weather station reflected the as yet invisible sun the chances of getting to ride all the way down were increasing by the minute. The skier strapped into his crampons on the snow and began to hike directly up the slope. I passed the hikers around the sixth station and made my way carefully up another snow-field as far as the seventh station before I decided to try my crampons. The snow was hard and crisp but was far from being sheet-ice as I'd feared. The decision to bring the two extendable ski poles instead of the heavier ice-axe proved best. (Those not skiing or riding down may prefer to carry an axe as that seemed to be of greater use for a speedy descent).
There were a couple of tents pitched at the seventh-station, which turned out to belong to a guide led university group visible further up.
Wearing crampons for the first time was not as awkward as I'd expected. It was much easier to gain a footing on the slope and I too set out straight up the snow-field. Most of those behind me also 'cramponned' up at or before the seventh although another lone skier that I met hiked up as far as the eighth on the lava. (From the eighth on, crampons were almost a necessity - I didn't see anyone else without them get to the top and although the snow was becoming softer it would have been very tough to dig in every step without them).
At the eighth I got chatting with the lone-skier and also with the University group from Saitama. It turned out that the skier, Taro from the huge REI outdoor store in Machida, knew the guides, from FOS (Free Our Souls - I think), led by the hardy by name and nature (T-shirt and short shorts) 'Smash'. I got chatting with Taro as we hiked up at a similar pace. It turned out that he was into footy and planning on playing a game that evening and that he'd previously been a member of the 'Snow Dolphins' (some kind of extreme ski team).
Up until the eighth-station the weather was better than could be expected and all that I met commented so. Even at the top it can't have been less than zero and the lack of wind meant that it actually felt warmer than when I'd climbed the peak before in summer. We managed to stay above the clouds all the way up although they began to roll slowly up the South-West slopes from 09.00 onwards.
After 5 hours of hiking, I eventually made the summit rim by 10.00. I took a few snaps and removed my pack and collapsed onto the snow covered ground to eat the sandwiches I'd made. Those climbing in summer may rely on shops at the huts all the way up and even a telephone and temporary post office on top, but there was nothing open in May.
I left my pack with boots and board at the shrine at the top of the Fujinomiya route and made the short climb up to the weather station at the highest point on the rim. There were a few day old tracks down from the weather station and even into the crater, but I decided to leave my board and save that experience for the next time. Chatting with one of the permanent weather station staff, I was told that the (230m vert) hike out of the crater was about 50 minutes. Kenji Uchida of the meteorological service, explained that although he was into snowboarding his job wouldn't let him bring his board up the mountain for the 15 day stints that he and a group of 4 spent living and experimenting at the top. He also recounted how his head had felt "funny" (due to lack of oxygen) for the first few days, and how his friend had made it around the rim in 15 minutes (something that looked impossible).
Back at the shrine at the top of the Fujinomiya route Taro-san was still chatting with his many aquaintances. There must have been about 30 people summiting of which Taro knew half. We decided to ride back down into the clouds together and set off at about 12.40. This seemed an ideal time as the snow was now much softer than in the early morning. Taro and I managed to ride down from the top only unstrapping twice for small traverses across the lava rock to parallel snow fields.
We even met more of Taro's friends, a group of 3 also from REI, on the way down and rode back to the now busy car-park together. It had been an unforgettable 9 hours since I set off (5 up, 1.5 down).
Many thanks to Yumi Kishi for the loan of her car, to Nakada-san at Diners Club for lending me his winter climbing gear, and to Hideki-san on top of the mountain for the green tea which I needed after I'd finished all the water I'd carried up. The trip wouldn't have been a success without you.
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