Mount Fuji: The Mountain You Might Not See
We visited Mount Fuji from Motosu-ko (Lake Motosu). The lake is one of the popular windsurfing spots in Japan, so this was a treat for my teenage son.
We stayed at Kouan Hostel right next to the lake, which had a very retro Shōwa vibe to it. It brought back memories of school camps for me.
But, Mount Fuji.
What are the chances of actually seeing this volcano in summer?
Not as good as you might think.
Summer is one of the more difficult times to see Fuji clearly. As the day gets warmer, clouds can form around the mountain and completely hide it. You can be right there for several days and barely see the mountain at all — as if it never existed.
And Fuji is not exactly a small mountain.
Day one: Is that Fuji?
We arrived in the early evening and, luckily, caught a glimpse of Mount Fuji floating in the distance, partly covered by clouds.
If you didn't know it was there, you probably would have missed it.
Of course, we spent the whole evening taking selfies.
Day two: Almost
The next morning, I was prepared to go for a walk at sunrise, but it was too cloudy.
At 5:30 am, you could see the top of Fuji sticking out above a wall of clouds.
Half an hour later, the clouds had lowered a little, and more of the mountain was visible. But it was still very pale and faint against the sky.
I thought: well, at least we saw it.
But then came day three.
Day three: Fuji!
At 4 am, the sky was completely clear, and Mount Fuji was as clear as it could possibly be.
I woke up my daughter, who luckily understood the importance of this extremely early wake-up call, and together we climbed for about half an hour up the nearby hill to get the infamous shot of Mount Fuji — the one pictured on the old ¥1,000 banknote.
We didn't get the perfect reflection in the lake because there was too much wind, but honestly, I didn't care.
We sat up there for a while, basking in its glory, watching the sun rise and the sky slowly change colour.
Luckily, I had thought to bring breakfast.
Why is Fuji so special?
There is something magical about this mountain.
And there is clearly something about it that attracts Japanese people too.
My family always sends pictures of Mount Fuji when they see it.
If a pilot spots Fuji from the cockpit, I've heard of them announcing it to the whole plane so passengers can have a look. And if you are flying above the clouds and suddenly Fuji appears, I can imagine why.
The view from the Shinkansen is also unforgettable. Most of the time, you'll know when Fuji appears because there is suddenly a small commotion in the carriage: people taking pictures, pointing out the window and exclaiming.
Of course, there are also the commuters who are so used to it that they simply keep sleeping.
And then there are the people who climb it.
Mount Fuji remains a hugely popular climb, despite the crowds. There is even an old Japanese saying:
登らぬ馬鹿、二度登る馬鹿
Roughly: “A fool who never climbs Fuji, a fool who climbs it twice.”
The idea is that climbing Fuji once in your lifetime is something you should do, but doing it twice would be foolish.
Of course, Mount Fuji is also a real mountain, and a demanding one. People do underestimate the conditions, and there are accidents and deaths on the mountain. So the romantic idea of a “once in a lifetime” climb should not make us forget the very real power of nature.
A mountain, a volcano, a symbol
This summer, I found myself thinking a lot about why Mount Fuji has such a strong presence in Japanese culture.
Maybe it is because it stands alone, with its almost perfect shape.
Maybe it is because it is a volcano — and not an extinct one. Mount Fuji is an active volcano, although it has not erupted since 1707.
Maybe it is because people have been looking at it, climbing it and worshipping it for centuries.
Mount Fuji has been a sacred mountain and a place of pilgrimage for a very long time. It has also inspired artists and poets for centuries. Its distinctive shape became especially famous through ukiyo-e prints, including Hokusai's Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji. UNESCO describes Fuji as both a sacred place and a source of artistic inspiration.
And of course, today it is everywhere: paintings, photographs, souvenirs, sweets, snacks, packaging...
Mount Fuji has somehow become both a real mountain and an image of Japan.
But perhaps that is also why seeing the actual mountain can feel so special.
You can see pictures of Fuji everywhere. You can buy Fuji-shaped sweets and souvenirs. You can even see it on a banknote.
The mountain meditation is one of my favourite mindfulness practices. And sitting there that morning, looking at Mount Fuji in the changing light, I suddenly thought:
this will be the image I use for my mountain meditations.
And just like that, I had my own mountain.