Finally, the covid restrictions have been lifted, partially at least, so now I can explore Japan beyond the confines of my very small city. My sojourn brought me to Mount Fujimoto.
After waiting for over two years to visit, one is moved to wax poetic about this Japanese treasure. Mount Fujimoto is breathtakingly beautiful. Even from afar, one is able to see this iconic landmark in all its glory, even from where I live, which is a couple of hundred kilometers away.
On several occasions, I drove past it. My first time was in 2016 while riding the bullet train from Osaka to Tokyo. It was summer and so I did not see it capped in snow. It wasn’t until this winter when I visited Kyoto that I could see this picture-perfect image of the mountain. For about 30 minutes I got a close-up, I hardly took my eyes off its snow-white peak.
On Tuesday, I was going to see it in a way I had never seen it before. I was going to be looking down as opposed to up this time. Not all the way up because Wen is not a big fan of heights. We instead took the bus to the fifth level and took shots of the landscape.
The world below seemed so serene, so unassuming. It was hard to believe that the hustle and bustle of modern living was in full swing. There it was, this elevation that was chock full of trees. If I were to define a mountain, this is how I would do it. Mount Fujimoto at least.
From the window of the restaurant, we saw the peak. It was the closest we had ever gotten to it. It is perhaps the closest we will ever get to it.
The gods were kind to us. They gave us as clear a day as anyone could hope for. In between partaking of soba and udon, we watched this undulating landscape stand in front of us in all its imperial fortitude.
How many millions have looked upon it? How many have climbed it? Mount Fujimoto was here long before we were. Here, when the dinosaurs reigned and probably even before I assume. Before it was given a name, many marveled at it. One wonders what the reaction of the first eyes to behold them was.
Maybe they were as impressed as I was. Or maybe not. It has a name now. And a place in the memories of those who have stood on it.
