Goraiko! Of course, in Japan, where rocks and trees can be sacred, the sunrise on divine Mount Fuji must also have a name of its own. It is also heavenly beautiful to see the first light of the dawning day at an altitude of 3776 meters. And it’s freezing cold – with temperatures hovering around freezing and gale force winds, while Tokyo is in the sweltering 30s. The ascent from one of the mountain huts starts at around two in the morning. The hikers crawl out of dormitory beds, as they are known from the Alps, and are strengthened with rather non-Alpine specialties: green tea, rice and fried fish, which they enjoyed the night before sitting heeled on a rice mat.
The last 600 meters to the summit are a meditative lesson in humility: you progress at a snail’s pace over volcanic debris. Between 4000 and 5000 people want to go up at the same time. It is only possible to climb Mount Fuji in July and August, when young, old and very old are literally lining up on the narrow climbs. This year, after the end of the corona restrictions, the rush will be particularly large. But the final sprint is always the same: stewards with hard hats and high-visibility vests direct the masses in the darkness with glow sticks. The slow ones should go to the left and let the faster ones pass. After two hours, two stone lions and a Shinto gate finally appear: a symbol of the spiritual transition to the summit region of Mount Fuji. The second thing that catches the eye is a row of lighted vending machines. Then the sun comes.