I stepped off the bus with feelings of excitement and a dash of apprehension. Jared and I were frequent hikers and I had even gone backpacking before, but I’d never taken on anything as big as Mount Fuji. I knew most could finish the hike without any major hiccups, but I also knew hiking Fuji wasn’t for the faint of heart. I also knew that occasionally, even the most athletic can’t reach the top due to poor weather or altitude sickness (A sickness caused by high elevation that shows no inclination to affect certain types of people more than others and, although rare, can sometimes cause side effects so severe, people have to descend the mountain before reaching the summit.). 

To reach the trailhead, we walked past charming shops, usually bustling with people, now closed for the night. Our goal was to hike up the volcano through the night and reach the top in time for sunrise. Looking back on it, hiking Japan’s tallest mountain with zero sleep probably isn’t the smartest idea. If you want to see the sunrise, I suggest booking a night in one of the Mount Fuji lodges. 

The beginning of the hike was deceptively flat and easygoing. Within an hour or two, the hike grew progressively steeper and rockier, and I eventually found my breathing deepen and heart rate accelerate. Still, nothing too challenging or tough. If this was Mount Fuji, people were certainly over exaggerating the climb’s difficulty level. We took frequent breaks at the huts’ benches to drink water and eat the high-protein snacks we had brought from home. 

While hiking, I’d look up at the line of lights illuminating the trail and think, “That’s the top. If we just get there, we’ll be at the top.” But what seemed like the finish was only halfway, and eventually, the only thing keeping me going was sheer determination. Simply moving one foot in front of the other was exhausting. The altitude also started to get to me as I breathed deeply yet still felt desperate for oxygen. We’d take just a few steps before I’d have to stop to rest my legs and take a hit from my oxygen can—a routine that felt necessary but had us moving at a snail’s pace. Eventually, a headache slowly ebbed its way through my brain—a common yet minor side effect of altitude sickness. 

Although the sun was still not in sight, the black sky was beginning to turn grey, and I looked back behind me to realize we were walking high above the clouds. I’d seen the tops of clouds while flying on planes, but standing this high while still on Earth’s crust was a feeling like no other. Just before dawn, we were nearly there. I could see the summit with my own two eyes. Finally! We turned around to see the massive, bright orange sun creep up beneath the clouds—an awe-inspiring, once-in-a-lifetime moment I feel honored to have witnessed.

Upon reaching the summit, we received an even more inspiring view of the clouds below us that surrounded the mountain. A wild realization occurred to me: it must be cloudy in the Kanto region today—weather we were too high to experience for ourselves.

During the open season, Mount Fuji’s summit offers plenty to do—send a letter at the summit’s post office, grab a bite to eat at the ramen restaurant or hike a bit farther to explore the volcano’s crater—but Jared and I decided to head down shortly after reaching the top. We had successfully completed our ultimate goal, and we were good with ending our adventure there. 

But before we could officially complete our journey, Jared and I had to hike back down the mountain. Gratefully, as soon as we started the descent, our headaches receded and my lungs filled with gracious amounts of oxygen. Although the descending, zigzagging trail required less energy, it necessitated careful treading and bent knees, as the lava rock that covered the ground rolled beneath our feet. 

At one point during our descent, Jared had the nerve to ask, “What should we do for dinner?” 

I don’t know!” I snapped back. Jared quickly got the hint and didn’t say much the rest of the hike. I wasn’t in the mood for talking, as I really didn’t have the energy to open my mouth much less think about dinner. My physical and mental capacity were spent and solely focused on getting back down the mountain.

Upon reaching level ground, I thought to myself in pure exhalation, “We must be at the finish line!” But no, we still had some ways to go. The ground was once again flat and easygoing with zero lava rock but my body was so tired, I almost didn’t care. The determination I once felt was gone, and now, the only thing keeping me going was the realization that I simply had to. 

And then, Fifth Station was in our sights! I would’ve run if I’d had the energy. Jared and I cheered. We had done it. The shops at Fifth Station were now bustling with people.

“Our bus isn’t here yet. Want to check out the shops?” Jared suggested. I went into one shop with him before deciding to instead fall asleep outside on the cement using my backpack as a pillow. 

I left Mount Fuji with a sore, tired body and memories to last a lifetime. I mean, how many people can say they’ve climbed Japan’s tallest mountain? Climbing Fuji was one of the toughest pursuits I’ve ever done, but it was an experience I wouldn’t trade for the world. It taught me just how capable my body is and that, if I put my mind to it, I really can climb mountains.