Japan or Bust

Our flight departs tomorrow at 12:30 from Seattle, arriving in Tokyo on the afternoon of the 21st. Our goal is to spend the 22nd preparing and then on the 23rd head to the mountain.

Judging from today's weather forecast, it looks like we will be getting some good weather- but still super cold. The winds are expected to die down, but when that happens the high pressure system that brings that clear weather isn't strong enough to hold in place.. so the clouds come rolling in sooner than expected. According to the below chart, that will be the case soon after we are looking to leave the mountain:

Dates: Weather-wise, 23-24 Feb are target dates.

23 Feb Conditions (summit): 60mph winds, temp: 7, wind chill: -33
24 Feb Conditions (summit): 20mph winds, temp: 0, wind chill: -24

Sunset: 06:22
Sunrise: 17:32

Day 1- Depart Yoshigaduchi Trail 1st Station, move up to 8th Station for overnight at/about 10,000'. Anticipate snowshoes from 5th to 7th Station, although the past week of sun and winds have likely minimized softer snow and may provide us with hard pack leading all the way up to 8th Station. From 7th Station on, crampons/ice axe are likely needed. Team will be roped from 5th Station onward if conditions seem hazardous.

Day 2- Kick off the climb after sunrise at 06:30. Move to summit over the next ~2 hours, descend back to bivouac site, pack up and return to Yoshigaduchi Trailhead. Return back to Tokyo in the afternoon.

Mt Fuji Yoshigaduchi Trail is composed of ten "stations"- essentially climbing stops that during the regular season are a cluster of rest houses, stores for food, and a place to get a staff branded.. a complete tourist trap sort of thing. Unsurprisingly, Fuji is no different from other parts of the world in the concept of the higher you go, the more expensive things get. For example- the climbing brand for your walking stick is about 5 times more expensive at the 9th Station as it is at the 2nd.

Our plan is to start the climb at 1st Station. While not really the normal way of climbing, it's all we really can do this time of year. After November, the road leading up to 5th Station is closed. So, off from 1st Station we head. The climbing trail map identifying the Yoshigaduchi Trail route is attached below.

T Minus 3 Days- Fuji

Looks like the beginning of our Mt Fuji weather window is starting to reveal itself. Showing clear, cold and windy weather.

What to expect at the summit:

22 Feb: 9 temp, -22 wind chill, 40mph winds, some clouds. Freezing level 5086

23 Feb: 0 temp, -36 wind chill, 70mph winds, clear. Freezing level 2133

24 Feb: 0 temp, -31 wind chill, 30mph winds, clear. Freezing level 1805

25 Feb: TBD

*what this means*

- The team will definitely have goggles or something to protect our eyes from high winds (WileyXs for example) and something to protect our face.

- To the gear list, adding mitts or heavier duty gloves for the top.

- We won't hit significant winds until 8th Station or higher from what I read.

On the chart, the worst wind is on the 23rd with winds picking up the evening of the 22nd, dying down on the evening of the 23rd. As this high pressure system moves through, we should have a nice calm window on the back end of the pressure system movement for a day or two to sneak up top before the clouds move back in. We'll keep anticipating this window and look at the weather closely. If this system that's in place right now holds, the sun will do a good job in packing down the snow lower on the mountain for us (good thing). It will also keep us from making the summit on the 23rd, should we go that route. If we leave on the 23rd, we'll head up to 8th Station, bivvy for the night and then head up next morning. 8th Station to the summit is estimated on Summitpost.org as ~160 minutes.

Our flight arrives from Seattle-> Tokyo on the 21st and we fly back to Seattle on the 26th. So on Tuesday we'll make another target departure date based on what the weather forecast is as to when we leave- 22nd, 23rd, or 24th.

Best case, the high pressure system moves through a day early, the winds die down to 20mph and we keep on track. The below link is to a live webcam of the mountain. Check out how clear it is today..... http://live-fuji.jp/fuji/livee.htm

Keep your fingers crossed that the weather holds and winds ease off a little.

Second Beach

Earlier this week, Rick, Jason and I made a quick trip to the Olympics for an overnight/ snowshoe trip from Hurricane Ridge to Mt Angeles- more or less a 3 mile course from trailhead to Class 3 summit scramble. It took forever to get out of town thanks to side events including a quick call to the cops on crackheads near the building, Rick taking a grumper and failing to convince woah-easy-does-it ferry toll collectors that you really should get on the ferry that's leaving in 2 minutes. But then we were on the peninsula, working our way across the Hood Canal Bridge to Port Angeles.

Arriving at close to 21:30, we inched up to the Ranger toll station and were immediately confronted with a giant "ROAD CLOSED" sign. 100 feet past the station was a well constructed barricade that we would never be able to get around. This winter has been one giant snowstorm after another out in the Pacific Northwest, including several days of back-to-back accumulation- frequently a foot or more of fresh powder. Fantastic for snowboarding, not so fantastic for trying to drive up to Hurricane Ridge.

After spending about 5 minutes bitching and complaining, we made a group decision to head to the coast. Why not? We were almost there ("almost" on the Olympic Coast being a relative term.. sort of like when we are in DC we are almost near New York since they are both on the east coast) and had a car loaded to the gills with camping gear.

So off we went. I think we finally hit La Push at close to 11:15, and made it down on to the beach at 11:45 with our gear. Using Night Vision Goggles to search out the high ground for a bivouac site, we scared up a tiny spit of sand that seemed like it might work when high tide hit around 3:30 (it didn't).

Jason kicked off a fire with duraflame logs and wood that had been saturated by rain since October while Rick and I set up the tent, moved the tent to higher ground when sneaker waves came in, moved it back, and then moved it again. All the while, we cooked hobo meals (a combination of meat, potatoes, onions and other miscellaneous veggies wrapped in aluminum foil and which you essentially throw in the fire to cook). While pitch black out, the crash of waves and lapping of water just feet from the tent made for an amazing setting. Peering out at the sea stacks through NVGs gave the setting an almost ghostly feel as we realized that we were the only people for miles.

For the next four hours we joked around, drank scotch, fought to keep the fire going and ate dinner. After we were confident that we had safely passed through high tide on our little spit of sand, we let the fire go out and hopped into the tent. Our final site was a small and safe area pitched in between massive driftwood logs that litter the beach. If any wave came in at that point it would have to be significantly larger than these goliaths that acted as a wave break and allowed us to sleep comfortably. We slept away the rest of the night, waking to the gentle sound of waves crashing and rain pelting the side of the tent. In the morning, I unzipped the fly and took a look. Pretty cool view from the front door, no?

We were drenched in rain, but spent an hour exploring the coast of Second Beach at low tide, in some cases walking several hundred yards out to one of the monsterous sea stacks and checking out tide pools that are created in rocky areas where the unbridled force of the Pacific Ocean meets land. In these little pools exist creatures that take a brief rest from the turbulence and persistent crashing of waves that nail the area twice a day at high tide.











Finally, it was time to depart. We packed up our site, hiked out through the pelting rain while scrambling over giant logs and then through the forest. Two hours later we were in Port Angeles and then two hours after that we were back in Seattle. It's always amazing to me that this sort of environment is so close, yet so rarely visited. Truly unique.

Teeth

In many respects, there are plenty of little "gotcha" things that can reach up and scuttle this trip well before I even lay eyes on the Hillary Step. One of those items is simple enough- teeth. Get a cavity in Base Camp, and I'm not going any higher. In the Marines, a mandatory stop before you can deploy is a swing through dental to make sure that the chance of a tooth emergency is minimized. Last place you want to be with the need for root canal is some remote corner of the world with medieval tools jammed in your mouth while the rounds are flying.

Same goes for climbing. I watched one episode on TV where a climber was sitting at about 22,000' when a crown popped right out of his mouth. The pressure and temperature extremes made an exposed nerve go bananas, he immediately flipped out, and his climbing partners basically had to then deal with a crumpled mess in the snow. The team lead tried emergency tooth surgery with some sort of cotton jammed into the hole and rudimentary epoxy solution to try and re-attach the tooth. It didn't hold for more than an hour, which of course immediately led me to wonder what this world is coming to when you now can't find reputable epoxy in any quantity at 22,000 feet in the Himalayas. Anyway, to make a short story incredibly long the climber had to go down- climb over for him.

So who knows. Cavities happen and maybe one too many cups of yak butter tea will do in a molar mid-April. But having them checked out now seemed like a good idea and an effective way to minimize via preventive maintenance.

Now I can eat all the Sour Patch Kids I want with no worries, right? ;)

Why I Climb

The days have been ticking by, the hours and hours in the gym becoming almost routine. 30 minutes of bike here, 30 minutes of treadmill there. It almost became mundane until yesterday when I looked at a calendar and was shocked into the realization that I have about 5 weeks until I'm flying east. Five weeks! Yee cats. That gave me a new sense of urgency and immediately went back to the gym.

Interestingly enough, (and maybe the reason I took a look at the calendar) yesterday my good friend Pam Vitaz asked me a simple question: "why do you climb, Doug?" How many climbers have been asked that question? More importantly, how many have had a reasonable answer? Countless explorers and adventurers over the centuries have been compelled to leave the warm bounds of hearth and home to head afield. Why? It's truly one of those questions that elicit deep thought in some, casual brush-off in others.

Some examples to The Question:
George Mallory- "Because it is there."
Sir Edmund Hillary- "Nobody climbs mountains for scientific reasons. Science is used to raise money for the expeditions, but you really climb for the hell of it."
John Muir- "Doubly happy, however, is the man to whom lofty mountain tops are within reach."

My favorite quote- which is more a Golden Rule of climbing.. and until recently I credited to a guy I climbed McKinley with is now one that I know actually came from Ed Viesturs.. "It's a round trip. Getting to the summit is optional, getting down is mandatory."

Spiritually, it makes me feel closer than ever to my Grandparents, Sampson and God. Hokey, I know. But when you are in an environment where something as simple as a sunrise can make you stop for no reason other than to revel in the majesty of the moment, it is profound. Looking out from thousands of feet above the sleepy day-to-day of cities, highways, town, and the welcoming warmth of our planet.. how can you not believe that there is a God? Honestly, it's just plain that simple.

To me, climbing is more a passion than a challenge. Simply put, I love it. Just you and the mountain, challenging your skills in a place where you have to rely wholely on yourself and in many cases on your teammates. It forms a bond among members rarely seen outside of this environment. It makes you push yourself in ways you didn't know you were capable of being pushed. You invest more than just time and money- you invest your dedication and spirit in an endeavour not guaranteed. I have always -firmly- believed that the mountain isn't going anywhere, and if conditions aren't right? Turn around. I have done it time and time again, to climb another day, and this mountain will be no different in that respect. But even though being smart about it means you turn around, it doesn't necessarily mean that you feel good about not making the top. Sometimes you feel sad, sometimes you feel frustrated. But every time- every last time- that I have turned around, I have still felt a sense of reward about being able to make it under my own power and via my own skills to a place where few have tread.