 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|||||
 |
|
||||||
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
||||||
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
Life is quirky. First your goal is the perfect adventure; cheap, exciting, with perfect weather. It should be just hard enough to challenge yourself, yet nothing to cause long-term injuries. Then circumstances change and your only prayer is that you can make it out alive. So, here I sit in a trail hut on the side of Mt. Fuji, right around 11,500 feet with only one goal: to make it off the mountain intact.
I started the day a few bus rides and an express train from the base of Mt Fuji in Japan. I met up with a young man from Grand Rapids, Michigan on the bus, and we decided to make the climb together. Little did I know my new friend was lacking a little in the endurance department. But we both had similar designs to make it to the top.
Dressed far too light for a hike to the highest point in Japan, we set off as the sun began to set. Slowly we worked our way, switchback after switchback, up the mountain. The view looking over the Five Lakes Region was gorgeous; Bonsai-like trees standing four to five feet high and the surrounding lush foliage was richer and greener than the normal American forest. It seemed a hybrid between a North American Pine or Evergreen Forest and a Pacific Island Tropical Jungle.
Every few turns, my hiking partner would stop to rest. I wasn't worried. Sunrise wasn't until after four in the morning, so there was plenty of time. The Japanese think it is good luck to view the sunrise from the top of Mt. Fuji. Who was I to cross their traditions?
After awhile we came upon the first of many huts along the path. These huts were part 7-11, part hostel. They sold rain gear, snickers, and supplemental oxygen as well as having huge bays of sleeping platforms. We socialized on the benches in front with our fellow travelers. We didn't plan to spend fifty dollars to lie down for just a few hours. However, even the best-laid plans are up for changes, and ours was barely even a poorly hatched one.
We proceeded to play slingshot with the other parties, though the further up we went the fewer of them we saw. We were committed to our plan despite the fact that the wind was picking up and visibility was dropping as we essentially hiked into the clouds. Pretty soon we found ourselves hugging the interior side of the trail for fear of stepping over the edge of a pretty significant drop on the other. How significant I don't know, as our headlamps were only able to illuminate about five feet in front of us. I believe the Automated Weather Service at the airport would call it “Blowing Mist and Fog.”
It seemed more groups were choosing the hostels rather than fight a hostile mother nature. The final straw for us came when we found ourselves unable to stand straight up in the wind gusts, but had to lean into the wind or risk being tossed over like a toy soldier. Of course as you lean into the gust, it suddenly stops or switches direction. So after a few times of throwing ourselves at the rocky hillside, we decided it was time to change the plan.
As I crawled underneath an impossibly heavy blanket and put my head down on an unbelievably hard pillow, I was amazingly happy. The last few hours had changed my goals, and being warm, dry, and safe had risen to number one. It was fifty dollars joyfully spent. My lower back relaxed, my legs went limp, and I sank into the sleep that only exhaustion and stress-relief can bring.
It is four hours hence, and here I sit. The tiny coal fire smoldering in a hole in the middle of the floor is mildly warm, and I am munching on a stale granola bar, knowing that nothing stands between me and a wet, cold descent down four thousand feet of treacherous rock. This would have been failure last night, but this morning it feels good. "If we have food and covering, with these we shall be content." 1 Tim 6:8. Ah, so true. This now is a goal worthy of all my efforts.
In this world of excess and affluence, how often do we find ourselves unhappy over very unimportant let downs? My goals were self-imposed, prideful, and I held on to them longer than I probably should have. How the Lord breaks things down to the basics for us sometimes. We must be wary that neither work, nor hobbies, nor personal exploits take on a higher importance than they deserve. When things get disappointing, or the stress of life squeezes down on you, this lessen might bear remembering. Things might seem crazy and out of control, but in the end, very few things are truly important. Sometimes God has to isolate you high on a mountain with complete strangers in the teeth of a mountain storm in order to drive that point home.
| A former Air Force fighter pilot, Matt has lived all over the U.S. In Alaska, he finally found a home where he could pursue his love for family, the outdoors, and flying all in the same place. Now flying for a major airline, Matt spends his off time being out-fished by his wife and trying to reveal to his three kids the wonderment of God through the miracle of His creation. |
Send a letter to the editor, or submit your own story, photos, or poetry for publication in a future issue.
Have something you want our resident wildlife biologist to look into, then drop him a note.
Have questions or comments about the web site, please contact our web master.