THE recent earthquake near Mount Fuji in Japan led to speculation about whether this could be a precursor to an eruption of the great volcano, which has been dormant since 1707. The incident brought back memories of my ascent of Mount Fuji in 2004. It’s the highest peak in Japan, a little under 4,000 metres in altitude. Conical in shape and snow-clad for half the year, it offers a beautiful view even from Tokyo, about 130 km away. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, inspiring trekkers and pilgrims during the climbing season in July-August.
Serving as a military diplomat at the Indian Embassy in Tokyo, I decided to trek up this venerated mountain of solidified volcanic ash. In the Shinto religion, it is considered a powerful Kami (sacred force of nature), and this further motivated me in the spirit of the growing India-Japan friendship.
My fellow travellers in this adventure were my 14-year-old daughter and a few Indian friends pursuing varied professions in Tokyo. On August 15, after the flag-hoisting in the embassy compound on our Independence Day, we set off in a van for our starting point on the Yoshida route.
Our climb commenced late at night amid high enthusiasm. However, this soon waned as the trek became steeper. Unfortunately for us, a huge cyclone had built up in the Pacific, off the eastern coast of Japan, and its effects were soon apparent inland. The temperature dropped as we climbed and a drizzle began. Akin to the final journey of the Pandavas in the Himalayas, members of our group started dropping out as we reached different staging points, finding solace in the huts located there, where one could stop and rest.
By the time we reached the Ninth Station, only two of us, my daughter and I, remained on this arduous and increasingly steep trek through the black stratum, which had once streamed down the slopes of this volcano. The rain was now coming down with ferocious intensity, drenching our clothes, and the chill was numbing our hands. Growing more exhausted with each step, I decided to turn back and put off my date with Fuji-san to another day.
I told my daughter and had half turned to start the return journey when I felt her cold hand gripping my forearm. In a clear, soft voice, she said, “No, papa. We are very close to the top now and cannot turn back.” I felt embarrassed at my lack of resolve. We resumed the ascent, and at daybreak were at the summit. The rain had stopped and the rising sun was partially visible through the parting clouds. With a feeling of exhilaration, we went around the rim of the crater before commencing our descent, picking up our companions en route.
Back in Tokyo, I proudly recounted my ascent of Mount Fuji, but I knew in my heart that it was the firm resolve of a girl which made me accomplish it.
The author served as Defence Attache in Japan
