Here, Catherine Danley, a first-year Assistant Language Teacher in Takaoka, recounts her love-hate affair with Mt. Fuji.

One of the only clear views we had that night.

I set out to climb Japan’s iconic and largest mountain on the evening of August 20th as part of AJET’s annual Mt. Fuji trip. At first everything was fun – everyone was looking forward to the hike and getting to the top of the mountain for the beautiful sunrise. Many of us even purchased the famous “Fuji sticks” – wooden walking sticks that are branded at each station as you progress up the mountain. But once we started our climb, everything that could go wrong, did.

A lot of you are probably at least a little familiar with Mt. Fuji. Many consider the climb simply a long, cold, steep hike up a volcano. However, our group learned some additional factors about Japan’s beloved mountain. We got rain – a lot of it. Between the mist, rain and darkness, we were all basically blind for portions of the hike. Within half an hour, I was completely soaked, and needless to say, we were all drenched by the time we got off the mountain the next morning. I learned the hard way that a soaked down coat and cotton shirts underneath will not keep you warm at all against freezing cold Fuji winds. It was 8 degrees Celsius at the eighth station, but with wind chill and wet clothes it felt much, much colder than that.

In fact it was so cold, I couldn’t stop shaking. I was making trips into the heated bathrooms to stay warm, despite the disgusting smell (FYI: Fuji bathrooms do not have plumbing…). Most of us were dealing with altitude changes and the cold, which meant we were all shaking and sucking down oxygen from our cans. As we kept going, my objective changed from making it to the top of Fuji, to getting warm and dry so I could get off the mountain in decent health. While everyone else went ahead, I managed to get into a restaurant hut (thanks to my group members who spoke Japanese) and ordered some hot water and miso soup to try and warm up. Even that barely helped. All of my clothing was just too wet and cold to warm up in time.

Getting my stick "branded" at one of the stations.

The moment I finished drinking my hot water, I was asked to leave because there was a line of people trying to get in. The mountain was very crowded and there were loads of people standing against the buildings trying to stay warm and waiting to get inside. You had to fight for a spot to stay warm. I left the restaurant even though I was still cold. Back in the rain, all I could think was, “I have to get off this mountain. I have to get warm.” So I started my descent, hoping I would run into the rest of the group later on. I went down a few stations and at each one the huts were completely full. Owners were waiting at the doorways and would cross the arms into an “x” as hikers approached, or they would just yell “No room!” through the fogged glass of a window.

I knew I needed to get warm, and I knew I needed more time so that I could descend the mountain in daylight. So I did the only thing I could – I hiked back up the mountain. I know, I’m insane. But hiking up helped keep me warm, and it bought me the time I needed. Although, I have to admit that pride played a huge role in this too. Part of me was also thinking, “I came all this way – I am not going home until I see the top of Fuji!” However, even though I turned around, determined to get to the top, my mentality the whole way up was, “keep going to get off this mountain, keep going to get off this mountain…” And with every step up the mountain, the weather just got worse. I thought the steady rain had been bad, but when I reached the ninth station I got caught in a downpour. Rain just beat down on everyone, and the wind was so strong I thought Japanese hikers were going to be picked up by their ponchos and dropped off in China. So the second I got to the summit, I turned right around and hiked down the mountain. The weather was the worst at the top, with rain storms clouding any possible views of a sunrise. There was no point sticking around.

The whole way down I couldn’t help but think about Calvin and Hobbes. It was a comic I had grown up with and just loved. Whenever Calvin complained about work or their rainy camping trip, Calvin’s dad had the same simple reply: “But you’re building character.” I thought about that a lot on the way down. At times, I was really bitter about it: “building character – yeah right!” But as I thought about it, I realized that hiking Fuji is a lot like life in general. There are miserable moments when you feel like you’re about to be blown off course, and there are times when you can’t help but laugh because you’re with friends. Like those Fuji walking sticks, our experiences, good and bad, are branded into us as we progress through life. The question is, what will you take from each experience? Fuji is an experience I really don’t ever want to relive, but I don’t regret going up that mountain.

Fuji fought each of us every step of the way, but I think I can speak for everyone when I proudly say, we made it.