The Descent

When I last left you, we had made it to the top of Mt. Fuji, finally. I was severely injured and barely able to walk. Jeff and James were searching for the first aid station.

Okay.

The boys brought our completed hiking sticks back and sat down to share their news. Apparently, there is NO first aid station at the summit. They spoke with the people at the little restaurant and shop area and they explained we had to go back down to the 8th station for first aid.

They swore it wasn't too far.

I gritted my teeth and tried to suck it up. Just a little more until we got to the doctor. Okay, it is what it is. I can't stay on this mountain the rest of my life. I'm sure motivating thoughts like these ran through my head as we packed up our bags and prepared to descend.

As mentioned, the trail up the mountain is separate from the trail back down. We walked oh so slowly over to the descent.

And then it just got bad.

The climb was mostly rocky inclines and dirt paths. The descent was this loose gravel and sandy soil that slipped and slid under our feet. Instead of carefully and slowly stepping down the path, we were sliding all over the path. Every slip of my foot was a shooting pain that radiated up my body. I couldn't catch the hang of walking down this slippery hill, so I slid every third step. It was dusty, from all the loose soil. We came prepared with bandannas for our faces, but my eyes watered until I couldn't see clearly. And then they watered more each time I slipped. I reached that awful point past pain where I believe I was openly sobbing as we walked. It was pretty pathetic. We all knew it was the only way, but god it was awful. And it wasn't just awful for me. Jeff needs to take care, and to watch me in such pain with no way to help or stop what we were doing was such a stress on him as well. It was just awful.

We reached a log on the side of the road. There had been no helpful signs and no clear view of this 8th station. The log looked like an entry to a station of some sort, so I sat down and cried while Jeff raced in to try to find help. He came back saying something along the lines of "this wasn't it, we had to continue down the mountain"

Now I had toughed it out and sucked it up for hours today. I had broken through exhaustion and pain and damn near everything in me to get this far. But I was out. Empty. Completely drained and just hurting. So I said "no". I said I couldn't do it any more and kept sitting on the log. I didn't know how I was going to get off the mountain, but I wasn't walking anymore.

This was the point that Jeff lost it a little. Remember, he's in the terrible position of watching me delirious in pain and being completely unable to help. He decided to get me down the mountain by creating a sled out of one of our backpacks. That amazing man, he was going to find a way. Jeff and James discussed the logistics of this idea and probably more as I sat on the log and cried.

I'm sure we were quite the visual for fellow hikers.

We caught the attention of, of all people, a Canadian hiker. A Canadian hiker, all the way over here in Japan?! He stopped and very nicely asked if something was wrong and if he could help. God bless this stranger, he said he would hike all the way down to the 8th station and relay our situation and come back up to help. He had also just hiked this mountain and was probably just as exhausted as us, but was totally willing to help a stranger in pain. People will amaze you when you least expect it. We convinced him not to do all that.

Our little group caused an even bigger scene as hiker after hiker stopped to ask if we were okay and the Canadian hiker (who spoke better Japanese than us) relayed the situation. It was like an attraction that just grew a bigger audience. I swear at one point 15 people were circled around me speaking in various languages about getting me down the mountain. The Japanese understood I was hurt badly and could not walk. There was one amazing lady absolutely determined to help.

During this chaos, Jeff was frantically trying to get ahold of our insurance company. We needed to notify them before I was admitted into any Japanese hospital and we were under the understanding that the first aid place would admit me right away. He was calling our travel guide to explain the situation, he was calling friends in Misawa to find the insurance number, he was calling like crazy. All through terribly spotty reception, because hello, we're on a mountain.

All the chaos is funny now, but I'm fairly certain none of us smiled during this saga.



Apparently there are bulldozers trucks that travel up and down the mountain to transport workers and do...whatever else they need to do. By some weird coincidence, one happened to be driving down the mountain with a trunk full of workers.

The nice Japanese woman very forcefully asked the driver to stop and spoke to him in Japanese rapidly. We never figured out what she said or asked, but somehow she got him to agree to bring me and one person into the truck to take me down to the 6th station, where he was going. This is against the rules in every form of the word, but she must have been very persuasive.

Because Jeff was still trying to get into touch with everyone and trying to cope with the stress of injured Teri and reception-less mountain, he decided he needed to walk and find his calm while James rode with me. Since James was a little removed from the pain, he kept his cool. So about six Japanese men hoisted me up into the truck and James climbed in after.

Scariest ride of my life!

Pardon the terrible face!

So the inclines on the descent are still pretty steep and this truck was booking it. Apparently they drive forward down one turn all the way to the edge of the road, then reverse down the next turn all the way to the edge of the road and so on. Every time, it felt like we were about to fall off the mountain. We were bouncing around the truck like crazy and it was just the craziest ride. I think James and I just laughed as we rode because it was so ridiculous and so relieving that I was getting down a major chunk of the mountain.

Our tour guide worked some magic while we were descending. Apparently there are horse rides available between the 6th and 5th stations so she worked it out for me to ride one down the rest of the way. I think we paid $50, but I honestly couldn't have cared how much it cost as long as I didn't have to walk.

The lovely bulldozer driver dropped us right in front of an office at the 6th station, and the nice workers helped me into a chair to wait for the next step of the descent. James tried to get in touch with Jeff and figured out that he was making his way down the mountain, just more slowly than us obviously. I waited patiently for the horse. As I sat and calmed down, I realized how incredibly hungry I was after all the climbing.

I've never ridden a horse in my life. James grew up on a ranch. He thought my trepidation about climbing on the very calm horse was hilarious. He walked next to the horse as the tour guide walked him down the path and took pictures of me. I was so nervous! The last leg of the walk is cobbled stones and since it was wet, the horse was slipping as he walked. And he kept huffing when people got close to him so I don't think he enjoyed the crowded path. Still, I was so grateful for the horse and the guide and the help down the last leg of the descent.

We got back to the 5th station and a very nervous tour guide. She was ready to send us to the hospital if needed and a few of our fellow hikers that made it back early were eager to help however they could. I knew that the worst was over now that we were down the mountain though. I didn't need a Japanese hospital, it wasn't broken. I wanted to wait and be seen by the Americans in Misawa once our trip was over, so I assured them no hospital was necessary and James and another hiker helped me over to the restaurant area. We called Jeff again and he was still rapidly climbing down the mountain.

Since we still had plenty of time (the tour didn't leave for hours since we made it down the mountain a little faster with the truck and all), James and I hobbled over to a restaurant to get some food and water. Jeff eventually met up with us and all was well again.

We waited impatiently for the last stragglers to board the bus and head back to the hotel. We all washed the sweat and grime off and fell asleep almost immediately after getting some food.

The next day Jeff and James ventured out into Tokyo to see some sights and stretch their legs. I stayed in bed and iced my foot. I had some of the most glorious naps that day. My foot was still in pain but manageable so we could finally relax and enjoy the last day of vacation.

Once we got back to Misawa, I began the fun process of recovery. I had badly strained the tendon on the bottom of my foot connecting my heel and ball of the foot and recovery was a bitch. It took months but my foot is finally back to the state it was before the trip. I can run again, I can stand all day with minimal pain, and I don't have to worry about turning too quickly and sending it back into shooting pain.

The journey was a once in a lifetime experience. Despite the pain and rather unique events, I'm so glad I did it. It made me appreciate all my body can do. It made me appreciate just how much my husband supports me. It made me truly appreciate health and the ability to do simple things - like walk.

I have bragging rights for the rest of my life that I made it to the top of Mt. Fuji. And I have a truly unique and hilarious story about getting down the mountain. Because now that the memory of the pain has faded, it has to make you laugh. Who rides a bulldozer down Mt. Fuji anyways?

The Climb

*I'm going to try to back track through some of the more eventful moments of the past year or so. I don't want to forget all the fun details!

Despite my failed attempts to "get in shape for Fuji", I went ahead and purchased tickets for a base trip for us last summer. I hoped the purchased tickets would motivate me to really push myself in that last month (it didn't). A friend signed up for the trip too so we were looking forward to a getaway for the three of us.

Jeff has wanted to climb Fuji for years, ever since his first deployment to Japan in 2008. I didn't want to get left out so I included myself, even though we both questioned whether I could do it. I have badly injured feet from years of strenuous Irish dancing and despite my best mediocre efforts to stay in shape I keep sticking with lazy. But I also didn't know what to expect. Everybody said it was hard, but how hard is hard?

(Spoiler alert: Fuji is HARD)

So August came around and we headed to Tokyo. Our trip included bus transportation and a stay at an American hotel. We got down the night before and enjoyed some Hard Rock Cafe at 4pm because our trip began in the middle of the night. I believe we had to get on the bus at 2am. We stopped at a rest stop on the way at maybe 3:30/4:00am. Japanese food for breakfast is not that delicious. We opted for basic beef bowls since the rice would fill us up but it was topped with mayonnaise and just tasted BAD. We choked it down since we knew we needed full stomachs, but it was not a good start. All of us felt off for the first leg of the climb from the mayonnaise/rice combination brewing in our stomachs.

The tour bus drove us up to the 5th station on the mountain, which is where most hikers begin the climb. This station had a large shop with all sorts of food and supplies, along with several small restaurants. It's where we purchased our hiking sticks. The sticks can be branded at each stop along the way and we were looking forward to having them as a souvenir.

At the 5th station with our hiking sticks.

 The hike began with an easy path with almost no incline. We were joking that this hike was going to be a breeze and power walking along.

Jeff & James on the "easy" portion of the climb.

We began the hike at about 6am so the view was gorgeous as we walked. It was still warm so we kept our layers in the backpacks.

Eventually, the incline became more noticeable and the path became more rough and rocky. Here's where my lack of fitness started to show. While Jeff and James were laughing and joking, I was huffing, puffing, and wondering how the hell I was going to get up this mountain. It's been like an hour and I'm ready for it to be over! This was where I started to question the decision to join them on this trip...

I will be forever amazed with the patience of Jeff and James during this climb. They never complained about my slow pace, never rushed me at each rest stop, and never stopped encouraging me to take the next step. I would've quit about a thousand times if I didn't have those two pushing me along.

Each rest stop had a spot to get our hiking sticks branded and a small shop with water, oxygen, and snacks. I usually collapsed on one of the small benches while the boys got the sticks branded. I would sip water in between gasps for breath and they would patiently wait for me to become ready for the next leg of the climb.

It became increasingly difficult, sliding from small inclines and soft soil to rocks and steps climbing up the side of the mountain. This is the part where I slipped into auto pilot. I was so exhausted and out of my element that all I could do was try to make it one more step. The climb zig zagged across the mountain, so Jeff kept encouraging me to make it to the next zag to stop for a breath. This climb was a harder physical challenge than anything I'd done before and I just couldn't focus on much more than trying to make it to the next stop.

 

I wish I could say I struggled through the challenge with grace and determination, but that just isn't me. Around the 7th stop, I whispered that I didn't think I could make it to the top. I was exhausted to the point of tears and didn't know how to find anymore strength in my body. I was so embarrassed because while tired, the two men with me were holding it together and still finding the energy to joke about the little things. They both encouraged me to try for just one more station. We all knew that if I quit, Jeff would quit too.

The trail surprised us with a twist I didn't expect. All along, I had assumed that if it became too difficult for me I could just camp out in a rest stop and wait for them to make their descent down. Problem was - the ascent and descent were two different trails. The only option for me to descend from where I was was to turn around and go down the climbing trail. I wouldn't be able to just wait and meet the men on the way back down. Jeff wouldn't leave me on the trail by myself, which means he wouldn't see the top.

I think this little hiccup was the only thing that got me up and moving. As dissapointed as I would be if I didn't make it to the top, I knew I couldn't live with how disappointed I would be if my failure also kept Jeff from making it to the summit. This has been his dream for years - I couldn't just squash it! So I put on a grim smile and kept moving.

I don't have any pictures of the hard parts of the trail. I could hardly put one foot in front of the other so I wasn't really thinking about snapping pictures to remember. I wish I had - because the rock trails were unforgettable. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't help but feel like a badass climbing rocks as large as me. The challenge of finding secure footholds and avoiding slipping on the rocks kept my exhaustion at bay. It was foggy and misting so the rocks were wet, making the climb even more dangerous for someone as clumsy as me. The image of me falling and cracking my head open flashed through my head probably 50 times a minute, which slowed my climb even more!

Somewhere between the 9th station and the top, I injured my foot. Remember I have horrible feet. The balls of my feet are shot and my feet are so flat. So I knew the pain was going to be rough on this climb. I expected it, packing lots of pain medicine and anticipating a day of rest the next day. But all the wet, slippery rocks and my exhausted climbing became a huge problem. I slipped so many times, each time clenching the balls of my feet to try to grip with my toes and not fall. One of these slips did something to the ball of my right foot. I was now in searing pain, with sharp shooting pains starting in the ball of my foot and radiating outward with each step. I couldn't flex my toes without crying out in pain.

Jeff asked again if I needed to stop, to go back down. But we were this close to the top, too close to just turn around and go home. So I decided to try to ignore the pain and make it to the top of the mountain if it killed me. He laughed and said "That's my girl".

And I swear, that last leg of the climb was the longest time of my life. It took an eternity. Jeff and I were both exhausted and I was whimpering in pain. I had to stop at each corner and gulp down tears, because the combined exhaustion and pain were just too much to handle. I didn't even care that I was blubbering like an idiot because all I wanted to do was get to the top. We were surrounded by equally terrible looking people so it didn't matter. People were gasping oxygen bottles, taking rests on the side of the trail, and struggling at each step just like us. And I have to throw one more compliment to Jeff out there right now - he stayed right by my side the entire climb. Never did he leave me behind, complain about my pace, or make me feel like I was holding him back (even though I was). He just kept encouraging me and trying to make me focus on anything but my foot.

After an eternity of climbing, we finally made it to the top. Again, my capacity for taking pictures was beyond killed, but you entered the summit through a Torii gate. The top had a temple, some restaurants and gift shops, and I don't even know what else because I didn't make it past the steps to the temple. I fell onto the steps in relief and inhaled a piece of bread from the MREs Jeff HAD to bring (we didn't even finish one between the three of us!). The boys limped off to get our sticks branded with the final stamps claiming we made it to the top!

We all limped over to the edge of the little wall to snap some pictures. The mist and fog made it impossible to see where we were, but we made it to the top of that mountain, damn it.

I was still half-crying in pain, so I sat back down on the steps as the boys walked off to find the first aid station.

All of us were thinking the same thing: how the hell was I going to get back down the mountain when I could hardly take two steps?