NZ Highlights: the Tongariro Alpine Crossing

Hailed as one of the best one-day hikes in the world, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing was at the top of our list for our New Zealand trip. And it certainly did not disappoint! Rugged volcanic terrain, breathtaking views, emerald lakes, a hike that made our feet feel like they were bleeding by the 18th kilometer… all 100% worth it.

Here are our basic logistics: we parked at the Ketetahi parking lot, took a shuttle bus (booked over the phone the day before) to the Mangatepopo starting point, and then proceeded to hike the 19.4 km back to our car.

The 19.4 hike between Mangatepopo and Ketetahi is almost other-worldly. In the first part of the hike, we strolled along a boardwalk rising up from marshland and vibrantly copper-colored streams, with Mt. Doom (in reality, Mt. Ngauruhoe) looming to our right.

After an hour or so, the actual climbing began. We left the boardwalks behind as the path became loose volcanic gravel—or scoria, as we learned it is called—zig-zagging sharply up a cliff. Quite a few times, we joined other hikers to stop, catch our breath, and evaluate our progress (“I’m so out of shape…”). Finally, the trail flattened out to reveal the South Crater before us, Mt. Doom closer than ever.

We crossed the South Crater leisurely before getting to the next challenge: the long, steep climb up to the Red Crater. I was stopping every 5 minutes to take pictures (and catch my breath) because the views were just stunning.

The hike up to the Red Crater took us quite a bit longer than the course pamphlet says it should, although I’m blaming both fitness and photography for that. By the time we actually reached the Red Crater—at 1886 m above sea level—it was well past lunch time. We marveled at the colors (the crater is quite aptly named) then bid goodbye to the once-again-distant Mt. Doom and started our descent down to the most photographed spot on the entire hike: the Emerald Lakes.

I was reaching for my camera every three seconds by this point. Slide down the scoria slope a few feet… pause and snap a photo. Scramble down a little further… oh, it’s a new angle, so let’s take another photo! Then, we had lunch on the banks of the Emerald Lakes. That’s a sentence almost out of a fairytale, and that’s exactly how lunch on the banks of the Emerald Lakes felt, too—a fairytale. Plus, it was magical indeed to finally sit down and rest our weary feet while we ate.

After lunching by those beautiful Emerald Lakes, there was another little climb up to the Blue Lake before beginning the three-and-a-half-hour, 1000m descent back to our car at Ketetahi. The first part of the descent wasn’t so bad—we were winding around Mt. Tongariro’s northern slope, and the views were still stunning. We could even see Lake Taupo far off in the distance. But after passing the Ketetahi mountain hut, with another 2 hours of trekking left to go, our car seemed unreachable, and our feet felt broken.

The end of the hike is a bit of a blur. We finally passed from sun-beaten tussock slopes into the cool forest, marking the last landscape change before the carpark. Every step was painful by this point, and every rumble of the nearby stream fooled us into thinking it was the rumble of a car engine. At long last, however, we really did hear engines, and we walked with renewed energy the final few hundred meters to our rental car. Peeling off muddy boots and sweaty socks, we then drove an hour north to Taupo, where hot showers, greasy food, and soft beds awaited us.

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10 Days in New Zealand: Our North Island NZ Road Trip Itinerary

New Zealand is the PERFECT place for a road trip. As promised, here is our itinerary, finally!

Due to budget and time restrictions, J and I only hit the North Island, but it was enough to sate our thirst for mountains and adventure… at least for a little while! We spent hours researching our trip (we have a 30-page google doc of notes and itineraries to prove it), and due to all of our research, we managed to see everything on our list.

I know I looked at plenty of online itineraries while planning our own, so if you are New Zealand dreaming on a bit of a budget and love mountains and adventure like we do, here is an idea of a successful road trip! Although I’m no expert, I included  few tips for budgeting in NZ at the end.

Day One:  Auckland – Hamilton

The Plan: This was our arrival day. We landed in Auckland at 9:55 AM, and spent a few hours going through immigration / picking up our rental car. By 12:30 PM, we wanted to be on the road, heading to Hamilton. We didn’t plan to do anything else on this day (after 17 hours of flying, we assumed we’d need a break) aside from shower and sleep.

What Happened: Our AirBnB hosts actually invited us to their granddaughter’s birthday party that evening, just hours after meeting them. Our hosts kindly drove us an hour further south to their son’s home, and we spent the evening with their family, enjoying a lamb roast, drinking wine, and playing games with the four grandchildren. It was an unexpectedly lovely first day.

Driving Time: 1 hour and 30 minutes. Accommodation: our Hamilton AirBnB.

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Away on an Adventure: Bound for Middle Earth

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

I’ve loved the Lord of the Rings ever since I was a child. I remember sneaking a very worn copy of the Hobbit into middle school assemblies and re-reading it during the school orchestra concerts. By 8th grade, I had finished the trilogy, and I was caught up in the magic of the movies. Perhaps I will never win an LOTR trivia contest, nor do I speak Elvish, but something about Tolkien’s masterpiece has stayed with me, has grown up with me. And something about Howard Shore’s “Concerning Hobbits” will always bring me home.

So I am absolutely thrilled to announce that I am currently in Narita Airport, headed to Middle Earth (also known as New Zealand) with my fearless fellow adventurer, J.

Yes, yes, I know New Zealand isn’t actually Middle Earth. But a girl can dream.

“Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don’t we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we’re partisans of liberty, then it’s our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

So after two months of intense planning, J and I are going to be spending the next week and a half road-tripping around New Zealand’s North Island. We’ll be hiking, caving, eating, exploring, and of course, visiting the Shire.

This trip is honestly a dream come true for me. It’s a true bucket-list adventure. I haven’t even gone yet, and already I want to go back! But before I can start planning the next adventure, our airplane is calling. And the road is calling~ you know where I’m going with this  😉

“The Road goes ever on and on,                                                                                                                          Down from the door where it began.                                                                                                                    Now far ahead the Road has gone,                                                                                                                      And I must follow, if I can…. ”                                                                                                                                         ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings 

(Wednesday) Photo of the Week: Gunma

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Last September, J and I booked an AirBnB in Gunma Prefecture for the three-day Silver Week holiday. This particular AirBnB was a private room (several rooms, actually) in the house of a chatty elderly couple who lived in the countryside and were honestly amazed that anyone wanted to visit the middle of nowhere, Gunma.

One of the reasons I haven’t written about this trip before is because I couldn’t find the right words, even after weeks of reflection. They still aren’t right, but I’ll do my best. That three-day weekend was so unbelievably peaceful, and it was all due to the fact that, for those days, the couple’s historic home — over 100 years old — became our own as well.

We would wake up, roll out of our futons, and the wife would come in with our breakfasts: hot coffee, homemade bread with Hokkaido butter, and a bowl of fresh fruit; grapes from the local orchards and Japanese pear. We would go out for the day — hiking and onsening and exploring — and we’d come back in the evening, returning to this beautiful old house and our cheerful hosts for cups of hot tea and conversation.

On the last morning, we woke up to rain. We sat in the chairs that looked out beyond the sliding glass-and-paper doors and into the garden. For hours, we read our books and sipped our coffee in absolute companionable silence. It was the most tranquil I’ve ever felt.

I think many people visit Japan looking for exactly this. The smell of fresh tatami; the sliding doors and earthen floors of a traditional house; the simple, delicious homemade food; the warm souls; the mountains and the orchards; the quiet beauty of such a place. Something almost out of a Miyazaki film. There’s a magic there. At least, perhaps I came to Japan looking for this, not knowing if it existed.

And I found it in Gunma.

(Friday) Thoughts from Places: Flashback to a Year in France

Today I was overwhelmed by memories of Strasbourg.

Summer.

Hot sticky sweltering summer nights spent rolling wineglasses on uneven picnic benches under la Guinguette’s magnificent willow tree strung up with fairy lights and dwarfing all the internationalities who sipped wine and chugged beer and discussed French literature and dared each other to dance with the hot stranger over there, all to the strange wails and guitars of live foreign bands, all by the banks of the Loire.

The greying old man with deep laughter wrinkles smiles warmly at you and begins to sing as he whips up your daily crepe, lathering generous spoonfuls of Nutella and sliced banana onto the crisp, lacy crust and handing it to you, hot and fresh and sweet, with a final hum as you slide two new coins across the glass countertop.

In the lofty white stone halls of the castle-school that you liked to pretend was marble, under brassy chandeliers and around the corner from your gold-embossed classroom with creaking wooden floors, you sit playing chess with Bridget, glass pawns fighting and flickering in the sunlight that pours through the French windows with peeling white paint as your classmates on the balcony call out to friends—in English, in French, in Italian—in the courtyard below.

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Traveling in Tohoku Part 3: Kanto Festival, Akita

This is the last of my three-part summer series, which is still more of a photoblog than anything else. For Part III’s mood music, I recommend “Changeling (New Beginnings)” by Zack Hemsey. So without further ado, on to our final destination!

AKITA CITY — AKITA

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There are three extremely famous summer festivals held in the Tohoku Region of Japan every year — collectively known as the Tohoku Sandai Matsuri, they are Akita’s Kanto Festival, Aomori’s Nebuta Festival, and Miyagi’s Sendai Tanabata Festival.

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My family only had time to experience one of these festivals, so I chose the one I was most anxious to see — the Akita Kanto Festival.

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Held in Akita City every year from August 3rd through August 6th, this festival features performers who show off their skills of balancing tall bamboo poles (called kanto) heavy with paper lanterns. These kanto poles can reach up to 12 meters in height and 50 kg (110 pounds) in weight! At night, the paper lanterns are lit by candles, and it’s a wonder that none of them catch fire.

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My parents and I arrived early and grabbed front-row seats on the sidewalk for the festival. For the first few minutes, the performers simply walked around carrying the kanto poles to the beat of the drums, relighting the lanterns whenever a candle would blow out.

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But suddenly, a cry was heard, and all the performers stopped to reorganize. In the darkness, glowing lanterns were hoisted up in every direction — up and down the street, onlookers could see hundreds of lantern-ladden poles rise up into the air. In that moment, on that warm summer night, shivers ran down my spine.

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And the festival had truly begun.

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The performers were absolutely incredible. Men would balance the heavy poles on their palms, on their hips, on their foreheads, or, as the man above is doing, on their shoulders.

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Some of the more practiced performers even showed off their skills by balancing the poles while simultaneously doing a little dance with a handheld fan.

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And even children were encouraged to try their hand! We watched in amusement and subsequent delight as this little boy tried valiantly to balance his “starter kanto pole” while his father looked on. The lanterns on the boy’s kanto pole were not lit, though — and with good reason. Although the father stepped in whenever the pole was teetering, he was not always fast enough. This set of poles crashed to the ground (and onto the audience) more than once!

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In fact, by the third and final round of the festival, even some of the adult performers were losing control over their kanto poles. You could pick these teams out by how many of their lanterns had gone dark, and by how the once-perfect lanterns seemed a little… shredded… by the falls.

There was a particularly… unpracticed… team of performers whose kanto pole went crashing down numerous times. During the second round, they were across the street from us, and we witnessed the falling lanterns with surprised amusement. During the third and final round, however, they were one of the teams performing right in front of us, and it was a little more real.

Of course, there are wires set up above the audience members, so the falling lanterns will be caught by the wires and not do any harm… but I must say that there is something quite exhilarating about watching a 110-pound bamboo pole of candle-lit lanterns falling towards you, and being stopped only seconds before crushing you!

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It was our final night in Tohoku, and I couldn’t have asked for a better ending. Akita’s Kanto Festival exceeded my expectations in every way, and my shoddy pictures don’t do the night justice. Being there was absolutely incredible, and I only I hope to return again someday to experience it all again.

To anyone visiting Japan, especially in the beginning of August, I highly recommend taking a trip up to Tohoku. Tokyo isn’t the only amazing place in Japan! Take the path a little less traveled and see for yourself.

 

Travelling in Tohoku Part 2: Dewa Sanzan, Yamagata

I had an amazing summer holiday with my parents, and although not everything went according to plan, I still have a lot of places to recommend for future explorations!

This three part series will definitely be more of a photoblog than anything else, but I’ll try to add stories or commentary where needed. For Part II’s mood music, I recommend “Walking With Happiness” by The Best Pessimist. So without further ado, on to our second destination:

YAMAGATA — DEWA SANZAN

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For Part II of our Tohoku Adventure, I had planned for us to hike the Three Mountains of Dewa (more commonly known as Dewa Sanzan). In order, they are: Mt. Haguro (the mountain of Birth), Mt. Gassan (the mountain of Death), and Mt. Yudono (the mountain of Rebirth). Haven’t you ever heard of them? Admittedly even my coworkers gave me weird looks when I announced this part of our trip — they all wanted to know how in the world I had learned about Dewa Sanzan at all.

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We took a succession of tiny trains from Ginzan Onsen to Tsuruoka (the closest big town to the Dewa mountains), switching at tiny stations that lacked, to my shock, Suica card machines, and waiting hours for the next train to arrive.  We rumbled past endless green rice paddies and distant mountain silhouettes under bright blue skies. And our foreignness attracted quite a few stares. It was true inaka life in every sense of the word. And it was beautiful.

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After finally dropping off our bags at our hotel, we caught the first bus out of Tsuruoka and on to Mt. Haguro, the first of the three mountains, the mountain of Birth. Mt. Haguro is the lowest (414m) and easiest of the three mountains, and possibly the most famous just because everyone has climbed it.

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This ancient wooden pagoda is the highlight of Mt. Haguro. It was built in 937 without any nails holding it together, and has stood there ever since. It’s actually quite a sight to behold.

Aside from the pagoda, Mt. Haguro is also famous for its 2,446 stone steps that lead up to its summit. We climbed the mountain on a sticky, muggy, sweltering August afternoon, and we all were drenched in sweat by the time we arrived at the summit. Unfortunately, there isn’t much of a view from the top… Mt. Haguro is almost completely forested, although the tall cedars do keep the trail nice and shady while you are hiking!

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Originally, our plan was to spend the whole next day hiking up Mt. Gassan and down Mt. Yudono (the two mountains I was really looking forward to)… but unfortunately, the weather didn’t cooperate. We woke up and it was bucketing rain. We checked the weather and there were thunderstorms predicted to hover over Dewa Sanzan all day. A grim look out our hotel window confirmed that the weather apps had finally gotten it right for a change… dark clouds rolled over the far away mountains.

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So, to my disappointment, our plans changed. No Mt. Gassan or Mt. Yudono for me. Perhaps I wasn’t quite ready for the mountains of Death and Rebirth. Instead, scrambling for a plan, we headed for the slightly less cloudy shoreline, to wander around Atsumi Onsen.

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It wasn’t the active day I had intended it to be, but it was peaceful. We strolled along the Sea of Japan for a little while before walking along the river to the main town. Atsumi Onsen is a strange mixture of run-down and lived-in. It’s a quiet place, snuggled in the mountains, dotted with towering, half-empty ryokan, cheerful ice cream cafes, and small public foot baths.

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We stumbled across some hidden little places during our day in Atsumi Onsen, before heading back for our final night in Tsuruoka (we decided to forgo visiting the self-mummified monks, but they are in the area if you are interested).

All plans hit snags, and the weather was a major one in Part II of our Tohoku Adventure, but hopefully someday in the not-so-distant future, I’ll be back to climb Mt. Gassan and Mt. Yudono.

Traveling in Tohoku Part 1: Ginzan Onsen, Yamagata

I had an amazing summer holiday with my parents, and although not everything went according to plan, I still have a lot of places to recommend for future explorations!

This three part series will definitely be more of a photoblog than anything else, but I’ll try to add stories or commentary where needed. If you need mood music, I recommend “The Name Of Life” (Instrumental) by Joe Hisaishi. So without further ado, on to our first destination:

YAMAGATA — GINZAN ONSEN

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Ginzan Onsen is a small (emphasis on the small) hot spring resort town in Yamagata Prefecture. Despite it’s size, the onsen town is quite famous here in Japan, owing to it being a filming location for the popular 1980s drama Oshin.

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I was hoping to visit in the winter, which is the town’s peak season. (Look up the photos… it’s gorgeous!!) But summer turned out to be a more opportune (and just as lovely) time of year!

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Even in the rain, the town was absolutely stunning. Although Oshin ended years ago, I felt as if we were still on a movie set.

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Sadly, we weren’t able to stay in one of the beautiful old ryokan in the center of town. However, I did manage to book the slightly more modern ryokan that is set on a hill above the town. And our room came with our own private onsen!

One of the highlights of the whole experience for us was the food. Our ryokan stay included breakfasts and dinners, and no guest was left hungry. Crab legs, wagyu beef, sashimi, escargot, fish eggs, fish cooked 100 different ways, three kinds of soups, lotus root salad, sake, plum wine, watermelon, and of course… rice. We were so full by the end of every meal that my parents began refusing the rice — to the horror of the waitstaff!

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Ginzan Onsen itself is really tiny. If you are a normal person, strolling from one end to the other should only take about 15 minutes at a leisurely pace. And that’s being generous. If you’re a speedy walker, it’ll take you 5 minutes.  If you are, however, a photographer (or a wannabe) like me, then it could take over an hour to cover the whole town. The first time we walked the town, my parents actually considered stopping by a cafe for coffee (without me) because I was taking my sweet time snapping away with my camera.

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We could, however, follow the river to the back of the town. Here, we strolled by a beautiful waterfall before willingly entangling ourselves in the maze of hiking trails in the forest beyond.

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Ginzan Onsen originally developed around a silver mine. The mine itself is now defunct, but you can still enter a small part of it and look around. It was a pretty hot day, but the mine (and all the little tunnels that we passed on our hike that led into the mine) were cool — natural air conditioning! This little hike is definitely a perk of coming to Ginzan Onsen during the summer, because in the town’s peak season, all the trails are made impassable due to heavy snowfall.

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Overall, it’s a sleepy little historic town. Visitors take pictures, relax in the onsens, and get stuffed with all the delicious kaiseki (multi-course) meals.

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The rather sleepy town comes alive at night, however. After dining, guests emerge in their respective ryokans’ yukatas for an evening stroll along the river. The ryokan are lit up beautifully, and sometimes the town plays music to set the scene even further.

Imagine walking along this little street and hearing One Summer’s Day — from Miyazaki’s Spirited Away — filling the sweet summer night. Because that’s exactly what happened while I was there. All I can say is, that was perfection. Rumor has it that the ryokan pictured above served as inspiration for the famous bathhouse in the film… however, I’ve also heard that inspiration is shared with at least three other ryokan, one of which is located in Taiwan.

Of course, my parents and I joined in on the after-dinner stroll, decked out in our yukata. My mother and I went one step further, having fun stumbling around in geta — traditional woodblock sandals worn with yukata and kimono — although my dad vetoed the geta, deciding  that his sandals were the safer option.

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We ended up staying at Ginzan Onsen for two nights. It was a perfect amount of time — quiet and relaxing after all the sightseeing and train hopping my parents had done before — although the whole experience could have easily been summed up in one night as well.

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I know I’ll probably never get back to Ginzan Onsen, but I’m immensely glad that I had the opportunity to go even once. It was a little taste of traditional Japan… a little step back in time.

The Three Stages of Climbing Mount Fuji

Thousands of climbers summit Fuji every summer, which has led to numerous accounts of the adventure, both online and in print. While the experience was quite new to me, I’m sure that nothing I write about the climb will be novel.

Hence, I will endeavor to be brief, at least here in summary: the experience of climbing Mount Fuji was absolutely incredible — we were incredibly lucky — I’ll (probably) never do it again.

The Beginning — From the 5th Station to the 8th Station

Alternate Title: “This isn’t so bad!”

To elaborate a little more:

We started our hike decked out in fancy rental equipment, hiking up through intense fog. About halfway to the 7th station, the fog was burned off by the sun, and from that point forwards, we were hiking above the clouds. Our group moved quite slowly up the mountain, sandwiched between guides who mercifully allowed short breaks every half hour or so. S, J, and I used our breaks to breathe deeply, snack on the trail mix we had bought, and shell out a few hundred yen to get our hiking sticks stamped at many of the mountain huts we passed. At our humble pace, it took nearly seven hours to reach our 3,400+ meter 8th-station mountain hut for the night, where we chowed down on hot curry-rice and tea. Honestly, up until darkness fell about an hour before we reached the 8th station, I kept thinking, “This really isn’t so bad!” But by the time we sat down for dinner at our night’s mountain hut, I was suffering a little from altitude sickness alongside my two friends — we all had headaches, a little nausea, and a general feeling of malaise. We unpacked our bottled oxygen, chugged water and Pocari Sweat, and settled down in our sleeping bags for what turned out to be a rather cold, uneasy two hours of sleep.

What I learned from this part of the hike:

  1. “Regular breathing won’t get you to the top of the mountain.” To combat altitude sickness, our guides stressed the importance of breathing deeply every step of the way. I found out that I don’t breathe very deeply to begin with, and I had to remind myself every few minutes to really fill my lungs with oxygen.
  2. Being on Fuji feels like walking on another planet. With the clouds obscuring the Earthlings and their earthly cities below, we were walking on Mars up above. The surface of this Fuji planet was sharp red-brown volcanic rock and shrubbery… the moon seemed closer than ever before… the stars, once night fell, seemed to shout that we were in their universe now… the air thinned until a simple 8th station staircase left you winded and wondering how ill-suited you were for this new, beautiful, dangerous planet.
  3. Altitude sickness sucks. Canned oxygen is absolutely worth it.

Summiting Fuji — From the 8th Station to the Top for Sunrise

Alternate Title: 100% Worth It

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To elaborate a little more:

We woke up a little less miserable and a little more adjusted to the altitude, ready to make it to the top. It was bitterly cold, and I didn’t envy the poor hikers who, without beds booked for the night, had curled up against the howling wind on the wood benches outside the mountain huts — I had seen a few such wretched souls when I woke up around midnight and took a trip to the outside toilet. Our group assembled outside the hut at 2:00 a.m., and I was amazed by the steady stream of dancing headlamps that climbed past us, into the glow of the mountain hut for a few seconds, then disappeared around the corner and back into the darkness. Hundreds of people passed by as we did a headcount — a never-ending line of hikers who materialized and vanished.

The last stretch of our hike (which lasted from 2:00 to 3:45 a.m.) was a blur of darkness, headlamps, and the reminder to keep breathing deeply. Reaching the summit was a bit anti-climatic. Our guide suddenly stopped us and said, “We are at the top!” and all of us looked at him with bleary, confused eyes. We really were at the summit, though, and we hurried to buy hot chocolates and worm our way into a front-row seat for the sunrise. It was a brilliant moment, as the sun rose molten, golden, above the clouds. All assembled were excited and awed, and the summit was at once hushed and boisterous in celebration. Cameras clicked incessantly. S, J, and I had just enough time to satisfy ourselves with photography and add a final two stamps to our hiking sticks before meeting with our group for the descent.

What I learned from this part of the hike:

  1. Not everyone makes it to the top in time. One of my favorite parts of being at the summit was looking down below, minutes before the sunrise, and seeing the glowing stream of thousands of headlamps as late hikers tried to arrive  at the summit for the sunrise. Many did not succeed, but all were above the clouds, and the moment the sun rose, the stream of lights stood still to take in the majesty.
  2. The post office at the summit of Mount Fuji is not close by. But as long as you buy stamps in advance, you can leave your postcards with the people who run the mountain huts, and they’ll mail all your postcards for you.
  3. It’s freaking freezing at the top of Fuji. Bring all the kairo (hand warmers).

The Descent 

Alternate Title:   I’ll Never Climb Fuji Again

To elaborate a little:

Going down Fuji was both beautiful and awful. You are basically zig-zagging down the entire mountain, on a path consisting of loose volcanic gravel-rock. I felt like I was constantly about to fall (many people did wipe out pretty spectacularly) and my body was tense the whole time, which really wore me out. I’ll admit that even in my darkest moment in the mountain hut the night before, queasy with altitude sickness, I had not entirely crossed out the idea of summiting Fuji again at a later date. The descent pretty much killed that idea for me. My friends and I fantasized about a summit-to-5th-station teleportation platform, or — better yet — a giant slide to the bottom of the mountain. When we eventually did make it to the bottom, we rewarded ourselves with ice creams and a trip to an onsen.

What I learned from this part of the hike:

  1. “…even dragons have their endings.” To quote Tolkien a little bit, the bad things will end. I complained viciously (mostly internally, I hope) about the descent because it hurt my feet so badly that I half-expected my toes to be bruised and bleeding when I finally wrenched my hiking boots off (spoiler: they weren’t) but I also was comforted by the knowledge that we would reach the end eventually. And I would make it out alive. Fuji is no dragon.
  2. Walking across Tokyo with a Mt. Fuji hiking stick branded with mountain hut stamps is a very unique experience. People were staring at us apologetically, and I, at least, was so tired that I didn’t even care.
  3. Taking the Tokyo subway with a Mt. Fuji hiking stick is even better. Several people approached us curiously and asked us friendly questions about our hike. Since it’s quite rare for strangers in Japan to strike up conversation, it was a bit of a groundbreaking moment for us — made sweeter by the fact that they used easy Japanese that we could understand and reply to!

So, in the end, was the famed tourist adventure of climbing Fuji worth it? For me, 100% yes. I recommend it without hesitation. That said, would I do it a second time? …Nope. There are many more mountains in the world waiting to be discovered.

Hiking Bukhansan: Golden Week, Abroad

Our day at Bukhansan National Park, just north of Seoul, deserves a post of its own, if only for the pictures.  The main event of the day was climbing Baegundae, the tallest of the park’s peaks at 836 meters. The name of the peak is one of the only concrete scraps of information I can actually give about this hike, though, as I pretty much winged it for much of our journey.

Sometimes, winging it in a foreign country is disastrous, but in this case, I think it turned out pretty okay.

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Because hiking is always on my agenda, I took over all the planning for this particular activity on our Korea itinerary. Because precise planning isn’t my strongest skill, this means that I scoured the internet and wrote down a rough idea of  how to get there. And at a very early hour on Thursday morning, my trusting friends followed me onto the subway (orange line) to Gupabal station, exit 1, then we followed everyone in hiking gear onto a bus (possibly bus #34). We got off at the entrance to the park, exactly where everyone else in brightly colored hiking gear got off.

And our adventure began. Continue reading