One Night on Mt. Fuji

I was walking on Mt. Fuji one day...



Okay, wait a minute. Change that first sentence to "climbing miles of rock, straight up, in the rain, in the freezing cold, in the dark" - and then add that all of this was just to see the sunrise from the summit of Mt. Fuji.

My husband has been planning this trip for months and I was never really fully "on board". Climbing Mt. Fuji, after all, is a tad outside my comfort zone and just doesn't sound like that much fun.

Nevertheless, I went, I climbed, I froze, I endured, and I survived - rather sore and barely able to walk, talk, or think straight for the first couple of days - but I did it. We both did.

So now we look at these pictures and groan together. (It's a strange way to bond, I know.)


Before the ordeal...around 12:30 pm on Monday, August 25, 2008. We went to the Sengen Shrine - the gateway to the mountain itself - to start getting good vibes.





It begins. 5:08 pm, 25 August



Two Hours Later: wet, cold, tired. Taking a brief break at one of the
many mountain huts on Fuji-san. 7:32 pm



How dark was it? This was taken at about 4:24 a.m. Those bright dots are headlamps. That's about all you could see. Earlier, when we were rock climbing, all we could see were the rocks right in front of our faces. The sky was so overcast and wet that no moonlight shone through at all. At around 11 p.m., we found room at one of the huts and slept for about three and a half hours. Just enough to get us to the top in time for sunrise.



The Sun. Almost at the top of Fuji, the sun begins to wake up. 4:43 am



We made it! Just as the sun pops over the horizon, we're standing in front of the final station's Torii gate. 5:21 am



Rainbow at the End. We were so tired and just relieved that it was over. We walked around the compound on top of the mountain in sort of a daze but my husband was lucky enough to get this shot... 5:31 a.m.



That's about it for now. It's three days later and we're still tired, sore, and recovering. Take it from me - it's a hard hike. Seriously.

~ j

Backwards...and in High Heels - The Life of a Military Wife

The military wife exists in a world where she is called a dependent. She is expected to do as her husband is told and to never question, complain, or allow a weary sigh to escape her lips. At the same time, she is also expected to be independent of her husband, not need his companionship or partnership for many days, weeks, months at a time, and be able to efficiently navigate the military bureaucracy's maze of paperwork on her own. All of this without bootcamp or formal training of any kind.

Not everyone can successfully carry the weight inherent with the job of military wife but those who do are impressive to behold.

Today I saw one of these women - a young spouse - pushing a luggage cart into the lobby of the Kanto Lodge. Stacked on the cart were two full-sized suitcases and, perfectly perched atop those, an infant's carseat. On the girl's hip, in the crook of her left arm, was the baby - probably all of six months old.

The young mother's curly blond hair was neatly ponytailed and out of the way. She was dressed comfortably in t-shirt, cargo pants, and sturdy Timberlands. A small backpack hung loosely off one shoulder. She smoothly guided the luggage cart and cargo into the hotel's commons area and stopped.

In an effortless series of moves, her right hand came off the cart, shifted the baby to a more stable position on her hip, reached backward to slide into the last strap of the backpack, and once more took control of the cart. All the while, her eyes never once left the flight schedules displayed on the plasma screen mounted near the front desk. She was taking a trip somewhere, traveling "Space-A", baby on hip, and looking absolutely fearless. There was nothing about her that would indicate she might be "dependent" in any way.

As I admired her calm, it occurred to me that she and her baby were perhaps minutes away from climbing into the jumpseat of a C-17, or a KC-135, flying away from Japan, over the Pacific Ocean, to one of the places listed on that screen - Singapore, Hickam, Travis - yet she was as cool as if she were simply traveling from her living room to her kitchen.

I couldn't help but think of Ginger Rogers, of whom it is said did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards...and in high heels.* And I realized how perfectly that old saying describes the military wife.

I didn't say anything to the girl. I left her to finish planning her trip, vacation, or PCS, by herself. She was "dancing" like a pro and the last thing I wanted to do was break her concentration.

~ jewls


* Quote attributed to Bob Thaves' 1982 "Frank & Ernest" comic strip. Link is here: backwards...and in high heels