DO IT FOR HER
I do it for the little girl I used to be, who didn’t think she could ever do anything near as epic as climb a mountain.
This thought echoed in my mind as I stood on the slopes of Mt. Fuji, staring out over the vast, endless sea of clouds.
The summit picture captures my beaming smile, but no picture can convey the surge of emotions I felt in that moment. It was more than happiness. It was pride, resilience, and fulfilment all bundled together. I felt like I had blossomed into a stronger athlete, and this climb was the proof.
The journey began when my partner and I, along with two friends, planned a trip to Japan. I had always dreamed of climbing Mt. Fuji, but when I realized the climbing season ended in early September, I managed to convince my partner and friends to push our plans up a month to make it happen. On the second-to-last day of the season, I found myself preparing for a climb that would stay with me forever.
The first day on the trail was soaked—literally.
As we trekked toward the hut where we’d spend the night, rain pelted down, making me incredibly thankful for my rain jacket. The terrain was unlike anything I’d ever seen. The red rocks, cliffs, and endless scree gave Fuji a Martian landscape vibe, while the lush forest at its base felt like an entirely different world. And then, there was the “village” atmosphere of the mountain itself—stations scattered along the route, each offering hot drinks, udon, and even beer. It was surreal. This wasn’t just a mountain climb; it was a cultural adventure with each step.
The next morning, the summit beckoned.
Climbing toward the top of Mt. Fuji felt like a dream. Every step took me closer to the sky, and as the air thinned, so did my anxiety. There was nothing but the pure drive to reach the summit and the support of others around me, silently sharing the same goal.
When I finally stood at the peak, looking down at the clouds, everything clicked. It wasn’t just about reaching the top—it was about every moment of preparation, every doubt overcome, and every step taken along the way. I had done this not only for myself but for the little girl who once believed such feats were impossible.
Afterwards, we immersed ourselves in the culture of Japan.
My boyfriend and I indulged in everything from ramen that could fill a house to tiny bars in Shinjuku, where we sampled snake whiskey. The trip felt like a perfect balance—an epic climb followed by cultural exploration. It wasn’t just a climbing trip—it was a full immersion into a world I had long wanted to experience.
But it wasn’t all easygoing.
The biggest challenge came from a different kind of loneliness. Unlike my previous climbs, where friends or fellow hikers shared the experience, this time I didn’t know anyone in my climbing group. The solitude of being surrounded by strangers was unsettling, but it gave me space to focus on the “why” that brought me here.
I wasn’t the only one battling the mountain that day. I’ll never forget the woman I met who was clearly unprepared for the challenge. She had turned back early, overwhelmed by the steep ascent, and I thought her climb was over.
But then, to my surprise, later that evening, she appeared at the hut we were staying at—exhausted but determined to keep going. She had turned back earlier but gathered her strength and came back to finish the climb. Her perseverance amazed me. I walked over to her bunk that night and told her something I’ve often told myself: “The mark of a great mountaineer is that you are able to suffer well. And you, my dear, suffer well.” She had fought her fear and doubt, and though she struggled, she kept going. That grit stuck with me. In many ways, I think we helped each other that night, even if our paths only crossed for a short time.
Mt. Fuji taught me that I’m stronger than I realize.
More than that, it reminded me that sometimes, the greatest victories aren’t just the ones at the summit but the quiet ones—helping someone else push through their fears or simply showing up for the climb in the first place.
And in the end, that’s what keeps me coming back to the mountains. Every climb is an adventure, and each one adds another layer to my story.
Now, as I look ahead to my next adventure, I feel even more confident in my ability to overcome obstacles, help others, and continue pushing toward the impossible.
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