Mountains, Lakes, and Bullets

It was a long trek to Hakone and Mt. Fuji on Saturday - but after being on my feet about 16 hrs the previous day, I was ready for a more restful tour. Mt. Fuji is considered by the Japanese people to be a sacred mountain. It is Japan’s tallest – and is a dormant volcano that is constantly monitored by scientists for seismic activity. It’s summer, so most of the snow that comes to mind when you think of Mt. Fuji is melted by now… and we were there for a very very cloudy day. Our motorcoach snaked up the side of the 12,000+ foot tall mountain to “Station 5” – halfway up the mountain and the last point accessible by motor vehicle. Station 5 itself was interesting – our tour bus disembarked passengers into what was clearly a tourist trap of souvenir shops and ice cream stands… but the independent streak in me surfaced when I noticed “other” busses letting out more people on the other side of the station. I had to find out what the difference was – and it was clear immediately: these were the serious visitors – those here to climb to the top! Beards and hiking sticks were standard. The shops on the other side of the station carried protein packs and bear repellent. What a beautiful separation of church and state… my group of softies with our postcards and shot glasses vs the hard core folks who wanted to get down to the business of climbing that mountain.

From Station 5 it’s about a twelve-hour climb to the top. Most start out mid-day, climb to Station 8 to rest (about 8 hrs in), then start back out at midnight. The goal is to reach the top before sunrise – where those successful at scaling the mountain greet the new morning with cries of “BONZAI !”

I’m not scaling anything. Give me my postcards and shot glasses, let the clouds clear for at least a couple of decent shots, and I’m back in my comfy-shmumfy motorcoach seat awaiting our next stop.

Our next stop was a cruise along Lake Ashi in Hakone (pronounced ha-coney). Hakone is a resort area famous for its healing hot springs. According to our tour guide, most people in Tokyo try to take holiday in Hakone at least once a year. After a cruise across the lake, we traveled via the Hakone Tazon Cable Car to a perch 600ft above the lake to view the valley below which was a crater developed during various volcanic blasts millenniums before.

Since Fuji was so clouded, our last activity of the day turned out to be my very favorite thing of today’s tour: Shinkansen - the Bullet Train from Odawasa into Tokyo. These trains have been around a few years now – topping speeds of 200 kilometers per hour across the countryside. Standing on the station platform watching them pass through our station was like being a kid on the back of a four-wheeler for the first time. They whistled through – silent on the rails. Our tour guide knew how to interpret the light signals and would queue us up for snaps when one was coming through – then we’d all rush together to compare the pictures we were able to capture.

Riding the train was very impressive. Like all other forms of mass transit I’ve taken in Tokyo this weekend, it was immaculately clean and looked almost new. The acceleration and deceleration processes were unbelievably smooth. I didn’t know what to expect – and was anticipating the effect of throttling up on a plane that presses you to the back of your seat as the plane leaves the ground. Not so with the bullet train – very very smooth. I’m a fan. Even better – it took us the better part of three hours to reach Hakone by bus – and only 46 minutes to get back into the middle of the city (even with two stops in between).

I had mentioned earlier how I’m not a fan of group tours. I missed out on the insights of a private guide (like Rina, from my visit to Beijing) and her take on the city and “living” in that world. But what I gained was individual little “families” on each of my tours. Travelers come in mixed varieties, of course, but those like-minded (I should say ‘open-minded’) of us find each other and share stories and experiences so that by the end of the day – like I mentioned earlier – we’re sharing our snaps and being all giddy together about a 100mph train blowing by in front of us.

I wound up “adopting” a lady from Milburn (that’s Austalian-speak for “Melbourne”, for those of you like me who didn’t register it). Didn’t want to – she was eager for conversation, and I’m not a talker. I’m on a mission after all – I hadn’t found Godzilla yet and she’d be in my way. She stayed at my hotel and was in the lobby both mornings waiting for the tour shuttle to arrive. Over the course of a couple of days, the proud 72 year old widow with a limp grew on all of us. We found ourselves all taking the lift rather than the stairs, and holding the door until she could get there. When we finished the bullet train ride, the group all parted ways amidst hugs and swapped business cards. She and I headed off in the same direction for our hotel. I had wanted to stay at that train station and explore a few streets, do some last-minute shopping, and grab an interesting dinner. But I was worried about Beatrice and decided to make my way back to the hotel with her so that she’d get there safely. We wound up having a lovely dinner of fried noodles and steamed dumplings and met the nicest man – a pilot – who helped us translate the dinner menu. If she hadn’t been there, I might have ordered the frog – but decided to pass. Anyway – the story is, she’s widowed, she’s 72, and she had a leg amputated as a small child to combat a rare cancer that she found out as an adult was a false diagnosis. She never gave up, worked her way through the steel business, and is in Tokyo on a four-day stopover from Australia on her way to tour North America. She’ll land in San Francisco, visit Los Angeles and then drive to Las Vegas… from there she’ll fly to New York and then drive over into Canada where she’ll visit her sisters before flying home to Melbourne.

There was Vandana in Bangalore who made such a success of herself despite tragic circumstances in losing her husband when she and her children were very young. And now there’s Beatrice – 72, on a prosthesis, and keeping up with every single one of us on the tour. I have nothing to complain about. That reminder alone was worth the trip.

Travel gives you opportunities – that’s why I love it so. My “family network” at home of family, friends, and close work friends would be all that I’d ever need. But getting out – alone – puts you in contact with the stories of others that you’d never be in a position to interact with. And along the way, you pick up some inspiration to keep moving, to give it just one better try, and to find ways to be the strong role model those people have been without even realizing it.