Finding Fuji

If I mention “Mt. Fuji” to someone in Japan, the immediate response is often one of smiles, favorable gasps, and expressions of elation. Indeed, Fuji-san (富士山), as the Japanese affectionately call it, is a true legend.

Mt. Fuji is the subject of many works of art, including the internationally-recognized “Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji” woodblock print series by Katsushika Hokusai. According to a journalist at Modern Tokyo Times, Hokusai-san believed “Fuji was symbolic of eternal life, a goddess having deposited the elixir of life on the peak“; a quote which may inspire you to view the whole collection of prints. And, of course, Fuji-san appears on many souvenirs, dishware, postcards, t-shirts, and even on the package for the special sakura green tea I buy for my family around the holidays.

Actually seeing Mt. Fuji is an entirely different challenge, however. The top quarter is often shrouded in clouds, as the very cold temperatures at the summit mixing with the moisture in the prevailing winds creates a unique weather pattern. Since moving to Japan, I have tried repeatedly to see the symmetrical volcanic rim clearly, often to be disappointed by cloud cover, haze, building obstruction, or some other reason getting in the way. On any given day, hundreds of thousands will try to catch a view of Fuji-san, from as far away as downtown Tokyo to as close as the surrounding Five Lakes region formed from previous volcanic eruptions.

During this past weekend, Kristen and I set out on a journey to finally see “elusive Fuji-san” in all its glory. I’ll admit, it’s not easy to accomplish that task!

Thus begins Operation Finding Fuji:

Upon arriving in the slightly elevated city of Gora (500 meters above sea level) just outside Hakone around noon, the sky started to fill with clouds and the sun virtually disappeared. (This is generally how afternoons around Mt. Fuji end up.) The scenic train and cable car rides through the mountains made the journey well worth the time, and we decided to adjust the itinerary and see if the next morning yielded a better viewing result.

On Sunday, fueled with a belly full of tamagoyaki, shirauo, and tea, we rode a ropeway gondola and ascended to Owakudani (1,044 meters above sea level) while the morning air was still clear and crisp. The air had the distinct smell of sulfur dioxide being released into the air from the surrounding volcanic fumaroles. The conditions were perfect for accomplishing our goal. Upon walking to the crest of “Great Boiling Valley”, we struck gold. Victory!

Presenting the almighty Fuji-san, photographed yesterday: