Meet an inspiring participant who joined the Under 30 Campaign in 2025, a special initiative by JIN offering exclusive discounts to encourage young adventurers to experience the unforgettable journey of climbing Mt. Fuji.

Hannah Cox

Hiking Mount Fuji with Kenji and Ryoma was truly an incredible and unforgettable experience, and one I would love to enjoy again. 

I’ve already recommended it to friends who are curious about climbing, and I’d recommend it to anyone. Kenji and Ryoma’s warmth and humour made the experience even more special. Their care and attentiveness—whether helping with my gaiters to stop the little stones from coming into my shoes or checking in when my knee started to feel a little strained on the way down—made all the difference.

An ocean of brightly coloured bags and ponchos.

An ocean of clouds.

An ocean of thoughts.

An ocean of lights—like schools of fish scattered across the towns below Tokyo.

A mountain.

The synchronicities and dichotomies of life.

Thoughts so expansive, they stretched as wide as the ocean.

I contemplate everything that has brought me here.

0m above sea level // 18 generations and 500 years of History 

I first met the team, along with Kenji and Ryoma, at Oshi Kikuya, a historic pilgrims’ house. The house is rich with awe-inspiring history and kindness from the family who have cared for it for centuries. They told us that at times, over 100 pilgrims would sleep here in one night. Seeing the henro robes and the prints of past pilgrim groups reestablished the sacredness of the journey I was about to take.

0m above sea level // 1000-yen bill 

On the morning of our climb, I walked to a nearby 7/11 for some last-minute snacks. The clouds had cleared, and for the first time in days, Fuji-san stood before me—crisp and majestic. It felt like a playful invitation.

It was the first time I had seen Mount Fuji in this way— as clear as it is in photographs, postcards and on the 1000-yen bill. I’d be hiking on a piece of art. 

We make our way to Kitaguchi Hongu Fuji Sengen Shrine  – a majestic shrine with towering thousand-year-old trees, a beautiful torii gate that they rebuild and make larger every 60 years, and the quaint Mitarai River where pilgrims would purify themselves before making the ascent. Pilgrims would start their route from here prior to tour buses and taxis to the 5th station. I think about every single person that has ever passed through here, and how life has changed. A hike throughout the history of time. It is time to make our way up. 

2305m above sea level // dozens of tour buses 

We arrive at the 5th station, ears popping along the way as though we’re on a flight to some destination I haven’t researched well enough and have no idea what to expect. We acclimatise at the station for a while, eating a bowl of the Mt Fuji special Udon Noodles or Eruption Curry (the latter had a very satisfying egg balanced on top of a mountain shape of rice). Iconic. I wasn’t convinced about ordering a curry with the word ‘eruption’ in its title … it didn’t sound like the smartest move prior to ascending over 1000 metres. I guess Kenji-san and Ryoma-san were braver as this was their choice of cuisine. 

A truly profound experience was the private blessing we had by the Shinto priest at Komitake Shrine. The blessing was to keep us safe on our journey. A small sip of sake. The blessing and sake calmed the nerves. I couldn’t quite comprehend that I hadn’t even started the hike yet, yet the past 20 hours had been so profound without even starting the journey I had set out for. 

We passed through the gates of the Yoshida Trail. The climb officially began.

2790m above sea level // 5 chai lattes onegaishimasu 

We have seen a variety of people and appear to have passed the tourists that enter the trail just for a day trip. Feeling good and with no signs of altitude sickness (and thankfully I didn’t get any at all), Ryoma and Kenji were brilliant at ensuring that we were taking breaks every 20 to 30 minutes to ensure that altitude sickness or tiredness didn’t get the better of us. These breaks were warmly welcomed and I appreciated the reminder to have a snack (albeit perhaps I never need a reminder to have a sweet treat!) and breathe deeply – a reminder that the oxygen in the air was decreasing and we must try a little harder and intentionally to obtain it. 

We discussed what lessons we have learnt from Fuji-san, and we spoke about how we must take rests, even when we sometimes don’t feel like we need to – but we must preemptively take these breaks to avoid burning out. They say Fuji-san changes you, and it appears the group were becoming philosophers or self-help gurus already, only 3 hours in. 

This was such a prominent part of the journey, perhaps the most really since I had no idea what to expect. My nerves had eased. 

It was amazing to see the change in climate and scenery in this sector of the hike. You went from walking through forests, surrounded by thick areas of trees either side of you, to seeing a few shrubs around, to sort of rubbly rocks that would make it fairly difficult to walk, and then this striking rock that you can so clearly make out was lava from all of those centuries ago. This amazing rock that you can see had slithered its way below started to prove increasingly hard to climb, sometimes at perhaps a 60 degree angle. You’d have to be methodical as to where to place your feet as though climbing Fuji-san had become some peculiar game of Tetris. Interchangeable skills!

We reach a 7th station hut and each have a well deserved cup of chai latte (some having seconds!). The warmth of the chai through the thin paper cup was unforgettably appreciated. Best cup of chai I’ve ever had. 

3020m above sea level // Four types of weather and no prefecture 

The weather started to change and show us its capabilities. They say the weather can be unpredictable and ever-changing on Fuji-san. We went from having a sweet warm sun positively guiding us up as though it was happy we were getting incrementally closer to it, to this sudden thick set of smoky-type cloud. The contrast from being able to see Fujiyoshida town and Yamanakako below to not being able to see what was there 10 metres ago was spectacular. Then the rain came. It was like sports day at school but instead of running a race it was who could get their waterproof overalls on the quickest. The years of getting ready in a rush 10 minutes before I was meant to get the school bus came in handy. You could hear thunder rumbling and see a few flashes of lightning in the distance almost like someone was taking a photograph of all of us fools hiking. You could hear other tour guides’ voices speaking through Kenji-san and Ryoma-san’s radios – is it safe to continue climbing? What is the direction of the wind and will the storm blow this way? There were no shelters nearby. Kenji and Ryoma were calm and collected, a wisdom they’d gained having hiked Fuji-san over 350 times between them – there are no other people I’d trust more to guide me through this. 

Thankfully, the storm passed us. A beautiful sight to see was the trees below and the city again, the storm and clouds moving over like a pantomime curtain at the start of a new scene. Like the changing of the seasons in front of my very eyes. 

After just under 5 hours, we reach the eighth station, our accommodation for the night. I found it very humorous to see a sign here saying ‘5am check out’. I thought ‘damn, I’m never going to complain about an ‘early 10am’ checkout ever again’. The mountain accommodation was so welcoming, celebrating our arrival and saying a warm ‘otsukaresama desu’, the staff members patting the rain from our coats and carrying our bags to our bunk beds. The best hotel I’ve ever stayed in by far. We were told to settle in and that they’d call us when dinner was ready. It felt like a home away from home. I would love to experience mountain life here again.

On the hike, it was so interesting to learn more about the history of Fuji-san and how from the 8th station onwards, Mount Fuji is not a part of any of the Japanese prefectures. It was ruled to be the property of Fujisan Hongu Sengen Taisha Shrine. I found this beautiful. I was no longer within a prefecture of Japan, whilst simultaneously being on its highest peak. 

We set off at 2:15am the following morning, and continued our ascent. Leaving the cabin surrounded by the light snores of other hikers, and then into the utter silence of the sleeping mountain.

3250m above sea level // Countless stars 

I was starting to contemplate that this day I would reach the summit of Fuji-san and then have to return to life at sea level. After leaving the accommodation around 30 minutes prior, we took a rest, as we gratefully did – a rest that I took to contemplate our hard work – that was so gratefully rewarded by beautiful views. We were sat on the side of Fuji-san, the bright lights of Tokyo in the far distance glimmering. What a different experience the tourists in Tokyo were currently experiencing in comparison to mine. It was the night of the full moon, and whilst we didn’t see it, the vast perfect shadow of Fuji-san created by the light of the full moon was looming over the town below. This was probably the most profound moment of my life. The stars were shining down on us, as though they were asking us to come even closer to them. Mercury was brighter than I’d ever seen it before. I was thinking about my life in this moment, whilst simultaneously wishing that I’d downloaded a stargazing app on my phone. I shed a few tears in this moment, in utter awe of what I was being presented and feeling so incredibly grateful that I had been brought here, and brought here safely and confidently by Kenji and Ryoma. I could have stayed here for hours admiring the view, but also knew that we had longer to go, and that of course, the view would inevitably change as it was becoming the start of a new day. After drying my eyes to continue the journey and then standing up, having not a clue what was to come and what was waiting for me, I looked up at the side of the mountain that we’d be ascending and my eyes gazed even further above to look at the sky. In this moment I saw a shooting star. I shared this with the group, all telling me to make a wish. I truly felt like I was living it.

3400m above sea level // One spectacular sunrise 

The new day was starting to show us that it was here. Coral, amber and red colours sprouting from the horizon next to a gradient of a light blue into a deep blue into the blackness of the night sky sprinkled with stars. We arrive at the original 8th station after hiking for an hour and a half. The plan was to rest and watch the sunrise from here. Whilst writing this I am struggling to put this experience into words – in order to capture its beauty but also to sound different to all other posts describing a sunrise. No two sunrises are the same, however. We all watched, star struck, for around an hour. Happily sitting in the mild cold with an original 8th station AnPan. It was a surreal and deeply moving experience. Kind of like the first day of the rest of my life really. The contrast of the bright new day next to the striking volcanic red of the mountain. Had I ended up hiking to Mars?  

It was so interesting to me that Kenji and Ryoma were as intrigued and delighted for this beautiful view as I was. Even though they had seen the wonderful start to a new day from this incredible location on hundreds of occasions, they said that it is always like seeing it for the first time. Watching the world and a new day unfold. 

3600m above sea level // The single torii gate 

The 9th station comes around, fully into the day now. Surrounded by the blue sky and wispy clouds. Seeing the Torii gate in the distance symbolising that we’ve reached the summit. An expected 40 minutes more. The goal is in sight. 

3776m above sea level // One mountain 

Walking through the Torii gate at the height of the summit was surreal. Torii gates signify the boundary between the human world and the spiritual world and the shrine grounds. 

We make our way to see the great crater, walking through the airy clouds, feeling like an astronaut landing on a planet for the first time. The crater is approximately 780 meters in diameter and 237 metres deep. Knowing that I was just metres away from the producer of explosive eruptions back to 200BC was extraordinary. 

All of this before 8am. Maybe I am a morning person after all. 

We rest and have a very well deserved curry udon, better than any meal I have had in Japan in my last 4 months here. Surrounded by laughter and other tired hikers, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. 

The journey back to sea level // One Fuji-san melon pan 

Inevitably, the time came to make our descent back to humanity. 

The hiking poles most certainly came in useful at this stage, sliding down the mountain on unsecured small rocks beneath your feet. Whilst bittersweet to be descending, it was so beautiful to again see Fuji-san from another angle, as well as seeing the ascending hikers on the path we had just taken. I was so excited for them.

On the descent I saw a pilgrim, travellers from far and wide, and even a butterfly that had been blown up here by the wind. All of us currently on the same journey, yet had travelled on so many different personal journeys to get here. The strength and multitudes of Mother Nature was as clear as day. We started to see shrubs and greenery again, as well as the nearby town that Oshi Kikuya was in, where the journey began. Eventually, we were back in Yamanashi Prefecture and then on the path we had walked on our way up. Less than 24 hours had passed, but now I was a slightly different person. 

We walked back through the gates to the Yoshida trail, the other way now, and we all cheer and hug. What a wonderful thing to experience with others. Back with the tour buses of people visiting the 5th station. A delightful Fuji-san shaped melon pan was awaiting us, thankfully to a slightly smaller scale! 

I feel like Fuji-san was a microcosm of life itself. The beautiful kind community you find, the people that help you along the way, and the discomfort that shapes you. You can always be rewarded by the view on the rests you take along the way, the accomplishment (even small wins) – and of course, curry udon!

The scholarship program that brought me here is something I’ll always be grateful for. Kenji and Ryoma weren’t just guides—they were leaders, friends, comedians, and teachers on a journey I’ll never forget. I genuinely could not recommend an experience as highly as I could recommend this one. Thank you so much to my wonderful group, and of course, immensely to Kenji and Ryoma. I wouldn’t have wanted to do it with anyone else. 

Fuji-san will always be more than a mountain to me— now a reminder of patience, kindness, resilience and quiet strength. Until next time.