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It is difficult to put into words what it felt to be there, but more importantly, what each step I had to take to get there represented for me. This has mostly to do with the fact that August 1st will mark my 365th day in Japan; thus, bringing an entire cycle into completion and marking the beginning of a new one. Indeed, it is hard to comprehend how much has happened over the past year. It seems like it was just yesterday when I was attending the Tokyo and Fukui orientations... and yet tomorrow I'll be standing on the opposite side of these orientations meeting and lending a hand to all the new JET's who've just arrived.
In this sense, I very much feel that reaching the summits of Japan's 1st, 3rd and 5th highest mountains represents the culmination of everything I have learned both throughout this year and prior to my arrival to Japan. Climbing mountains... what a great metaphor for life's journey.
I'm not going to lie, there were definitely highs and lows on this expedition... but that's precisely what made it memorable. Imagine... the months of training in preparation prior to getting there; the ecstatic feeling of finally being there; the excitement of putting your backpack on and starting the long 5 hour trek to the foot of the mountains; the beauty of the scenery that surrounds you; the beginning of soreness in your shoulders and back; the sweat dripping down your face; the first encounter with snow followed by putting your crampers on; the unpredictability of the weather; the joyful feeling of reaching the first hut and base camp at an elevation of 2000+ meters; the satisfaction of cooking and enjoying your first meal of the day in such a magnificent setting; witnessing the sound and power of a small avalanche just a few hundred meters from where you are climbing through the snow; the sudden and brusque change of sun into rain; the cold and smooth sensation in your hands felt by touching the wet stones that have been there longer than human history itself; the fear of heights that starts to formulate in the back of your mind; the constant reminder that a careless mistake could translate into death... but which is suddenly cancelled out when you take a peak down and realize that there's a glorious rainbow right beneath you and reminds you that the road is well lit before you; the restlessness you experience on your first night due to the snoring of other climbers beside you and the anticipation for your alarm to go off so you can reach the summit just in time for sunrise at 4 in the morning; turning your headlamp on and starting to climb up despite the darkness and coldness that surrounds you; the indescribable feeling that you feel within you when you see the sun begin to rise from beneath the clouds and the smiles that you see from all those who are lucky enough to be beside you 3000+ meters of altitude; the immediate connection that you feel with all other climbers there... when you learn that someone up there is celebrating his birthday and you join in song and celebration in spite of language and nationality barriers; a glimpse of Fuji-san at the distance and the peak of Yaris... your goal for the day standing seductively kilometers away; the feeling of knowing you could spend the whole day, week, month, and year just standing right there trying to take in the magnificence of all that's bellow you despite the fact that you can only be there for no more than a moment; the overwhelming sense of gratitude that you feel for being one of the few who's ever stand there; the careful descent down the ridge only to have to climb back to a similar altitude again and again and again and a few more times for the next 12 hours; the exhaustion you begin to experience from your internal heat and the atmospheric temperature; the sensation of thirst you begin to experience when your 2 liter water reserve runs out and you have no choice but to continue on; the gratitude of finally getting a hold of a few sips of water that gently go down your throat and extinguish your thirst; the witnessing of how clouds begin to cover the breathtaking panorama and eventually come to touch your bare skin; the seeing and disappearing of the peak you are trying to reach; the burning pain in your feet from the blisters which have begun to form; the small window of empty space in the clouds that allows you to not only reach the peak but photograph as far as your eyes can see; the slow and painful descent down kilometers of snow; the sudden slips and falls; the questioning of your decision to keep going to the next hut due t0 the rapid decrease in sunlight; the annoyance of mosquitos which begin to follow you down the trail and from which there is no escape or solution other than to keep going; the feeling of relief that you feel when you finally spot the hut and final place of rest from the longest, most dangerous and exhausting climbing day of your life; the refreshing cracking and sharing of beers with your climbing partner and newly made friend; the laughing and sharing of stories while cooking and sharing a meal; the enjoyment of laying down on a tatami while the sound of rain gets your mind to rest while letting you fall into the deepest sleep you've experienced for as far as you can remember; the sounds of your alarm going off once again before sunrise; the last and final 5 hour stretch to reach the beginning and close off a chapter you know you'll remember for the rest of your life.
In short, that's what it was like... only to be followed by a much deserved visit to a famous onsen in Kamikochi and (what should have been) a 5 hour drive back to Tsuruga... but turned into a much longer one due to an unexpected blessing in disguise. Suffice to say that thanks to a careless detour, I was able to drive down Hokuriku Expressway for the first time since taking that 8-hour bus-ride from Tokyo to Fukui last August. Little did I know at the time that 353 days later I would be driving the same road in my very own car, wiser, stronger... and yet humbled and more open minded than I could have ever imagined.
I end this post with a short video which I feel captures the essence of this experience from the peak of Mt. Hodaka, Japan's 3th highest mountain, at sunrise.
The birds have vanished into the sky,
and now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
- Li Po
