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Mount Fuji Japan’s loftiest and holiest peak

Mount Fuji of Japan is located on the island of Honshū, is the highest mountain in Japan, standing 3,776.24 m and the second-highest volcano in Asia

   

Nature’s world of wonders | By Ron Fisher

Posted on October 12, 2015
I awoke in darkness, disoriented, to the sound of little bells ringing and with someone tugging on my foot. A voice murmured, “Five minutes till sunrise, sir, and it’s fine.” I remembered where I was: high on the flank of Mount Fuji in japan. I crawled out from under my heavy quilt quilt, found my boots, and went outside into the cold dawn. To the east, thin clouds were turning pink and gold across the horizon. The valley at the foot of Fuji still lay in darkness, but shapes— lakes and hills—were emerging from the heavy blanket of mist.

fuji by madhumitra

I munched on an apple and a piece of cheese and watched as the sun edged above the horizon—a gradual explosion of light that bathed me in a warming glow. The night before, along with several hundred other climbers, I had set out on an ascent of Fuji, one of the most famous and widely recognized mountains in the world. Its symmetrical cone has become, in the minds of many, a perfect emblem of Japan.

A dormant volcano, Mount Fuji looms large not only in the Japanese landscape, but also in the Japanese imagination. For centuries it has been a sacred mountain, the frequent subject of poets and painters. Just below the summit is a Shinto shrine erected nearly 2,000 years ago by the Emperor Suinin in an attempt to placate the mountain, which was erupting at the time. The first recorded eruption of Fuji occurred in A.D. 800, and the most recent, in 1707—a powerful blast that dropped ash and cinders on Tokyo, more than 60 miles away.

fuji by japan tourism guide

Mount Fuji was the first stop on my 5,000-mile swing across Asia, world enough for any wonder seeker to lose himself in. Nature works her wonders on a grand scale here, thrusting up lofty mountains, then whittling away at them. There are mountains born of fire—like Fuji—and others born of the slow collision of the earth’s crustal plates—like the Himalayas. Rivers such as the Yangtze (Chang Jiang) and the Ganges move mountains to create awesome natural spectacles. And on the Japanese island of Kyushu, subterranean volcanism keeps the surface bubbling and steaming.

At 12,388 feet, Fuji is the highest mountain in Japan. Its base is an almost perfect circle 25 miles across. Today a doughnut of development rings the mountain, for Fuji is the centerpiece of a large and popular national park. So popular, in fact, that it is nearly overrun by visitors. Some 400,000 people climb Fuji each year, virtually all of them during the short climbing season in July and August.

mount fuji , japan hillyareas

Many Japanese climb Fuji at night to be at or near the summit for sunrise. So I was right on schedule when a bus from Tokyo let me off at the fifth of ten stages on the flank of the mountain about 10:30 one warm summer night. Lights burned in a couple of souvenir shops and restaurants, and the parking lots were full of Toyotas and Hondas, but most of the climbers had already started up.

A broad graveled path disappeared upward into darkness. I shouldered my little pack, bulging with a jacket, snacks, a canteen of water, and a flashlight, and set out.

In the light of a full moon, trees and boulders cast black shadows, and heavily wooded areas were pitch dark. As I climbed out of the woods, I could see above and below me on the trail the beams from hundreds of flashlights as other climbers gradually made their way up the mountain. Many carried walking sticks with little bells attached. So with lights bobbing and bells tinkling, we moved upward through the night. I remembered an old Japanese haiku: “O snail, climb Mount Fuji. But slowly. Slowly.”

fuji by amnet usa

About two o’clock in the morning, as the trail began switch backing steeply through a landscape of volcanic debris—boulders and rocks and gravel—I came to several small stone huts offering tea and shelter. I stopped in one run by five teenage boys in kimonos and sandals. In the center of the wooden floor an enormous teakettle hung over a fire pit. Along one wall a shelf wide enough to accommodate mattresses held several climbers already asleep. After a cup of green tea and a little rudimentary conversation, I turned in, only to be awakened all too soon by the tug at my foot and the sound of little bells ringing.

fuji by fuji hiroki suzuki

When the mist cleared, I gazed at the unforgettable sweep of green hills and placid lakes in Fuji-Hakone-Izu National Park. After the sun was well up, I turned away reluctantly and started down. Still the trail was thick with people ascending and descending. Back at stage five I encountered a weekend-at-Disneyland atmosphere. Buses were disgorging tourists by the score. Hawkers offered pony rides and hot dogs, and amplified pop music competed with transistor radios.