A slightly planned, slightly impromptu bikepacking trip to Mount Fuji

Little preparation was done for this trip, besides searching a few Youtube videos, downloading a route, and purchasing some biking items at the local Montbell store the night before…

In a way, maybe that was what we wanted… A slightly planned, slightly impromptu cycling trip.

The look of someone who had no idea what was to transpire in the next 13 hours and 15 minutes.

Despite the lack of preparation, we were brimming with innocuous smiles and an air of quiet confidence — well, at least, that was what the mood was like at the start of it all — before a saddle had been sat, or a pedal had been pushed.

Just as we were about to leave our starting point at the cycling rental store, I looked at my friend and myself for final checks. This brother was wearing a pair of CR7 football boots to cycle a 100k route with 1,800m elevation. I remember thinking: “Yep, this is going to be a long day.” Oh wait… who am I to laugh at him? I don’t even have my contacts on.

To cut a long story short of the next 12 hours or so, to describe it as concisely as possible, without missing any important details or dwelling on the pedantic:

The first 40k was a smooth ride, bar a few mechanical hitches, that took 3 hours out of Tokyo city to the Tokyo outskirts. By then, it was 2:30pm.

After a much-needed refuel at the local sushi shop, the team was encouraged to continue, though the bum started to say otherwise.

As we headed towards the last 60k, there were uphill inclines that seemingly went on for ages.

Tokyo 2020... yep, we're screwed... I think.

Not long after, we saw a large display that read “DOSHI ROAD — TOKYO 2020” with a cycling illustration.

First thought — well, sh*t.

Second thought— more things started to clock:

1) Actual, fit, world-class Olympians cycled here, meanwhile the two of us… I mean, I’ve cycled some hills back home, but nowhere close to this magnitude, and the only “intense-cycling” I’ve had abroad was attempting to cycle around Singapore with a shared bike, which I failed to complete, while my friend literally only cycles around his Tokyo neighbourhood.

2) It’s almost 4:00pm… I’m not sure if we will make it to the Mount Fuji base camping site by 6:00pm, which was what we told the camp owners (Spoiler alert: we were nowhere near the site at 6:00pm)… Let’s aim for 8:00pm instead (Spoiler alert: we were 30k away at 8:00pm).

3) The whole route has an elevation summation of 1,800m. We’ve only climbed like 500m, so we’ve still got over 2x the climb of what we’ve done so far.

Man, the last 50k or so just became a blur to me. The deeper we went up the mountains and the later it got by the minute, the more isolated we were (as if we weren’t already isolated!) and the chillier the surroundings got. Except the odd couple of cars and motorbikes every 10–20 minutes, there was no one but the two of us.

The most soul-wrenching moment was when I was cycling alone in the dark, across this bridge, in the open mountainous area with nothing but nature that extended to distances beyond imagination. The only sounds being frogs, the water down the bank, and the wheels of my bike scraping through the empty road; the only lights being the moon and the bike’s front and rear lights.

I felt my soul had left my body, and I felt like the most insignificant speck of particle in this universe. I couldn’t be scared, not because I wasn’t scared, but because I couldn’t feel anything anymore. I was stuck to the task of just pedalling. That was the only thing in my head.

Wait no, actually. That was not the only thing in my head. While I was crossing that bridge, I started questioning my decision to suggest this trip, as well as all my life choices up until that very point.

Those were the thoughts in my head. Although that was not what my demeanor and pep talk indicated. I kept telling my friend, “We’ll get there, man. We got this.” I wasn’t sure if I really believed my own words, though that’s what some article I read ages ago told me to do in times of adversity: stick with positive affirmations. If it works with the military, it’ll probably work for us too. I don’t know if it actually made a difference, but I did know I was losing an ounce of energy every time I opened my mouth.

At 8:30pm with 25k left to go, the probability of making it to the camp site at Lake Yamanaka was hanging by a thread.

The last 25k was all uphill and pitch-black. We were oblivious as to what was around each emerging corner. The only thing we knew or felt was that each curve was getting steeper, longer and darker. We were playing a first-person thriller in real life.

It was the longest 3 hours of my life, made worse by the GPS, which teased me every time I looked at it to show that we barely covered any ground.

To this day, I am still not quite sure how we got through this hell of a trek.

But, in an unworldly, inexplicable way that cannot be fathomed… somehow, just somehow — at 12:00am, with the last remaining iota of fuel in our tank — we reached the highest elevation point, and began descending towards Lake Yamanaka.

That was not the end of it, though.

In the descend, there were warning signs of deers. I sh*t you not — my friend was an inch away from hitting a deer, who decided to run right in front of him across the road when we had our lights on. Or, was the deer an inch away from hitting him? I’ll never know and I’ll never have to know, thankfully.

We were running at an overdrive’s overdrive, but somehow, with a concoction of determination, numbness, accountability, luck, a few breaks here and there, not-wanting-to-camp-in-the-cold-at-top-of-the-mountains, sheer willpower, fear, food, and adrenaline, we made it to the camp site at 12:15am on the dot, 13 hours and 15 minutes after we left the starting point in Akihabara in central Tokyo.

Setting up the tent at the camp site.

On paper, this wasn’t the most insurmountable challenge a cyclist had ever undertaken (and this is not me trying to downplay it). I’ve watched videos of people cycling across America, across Europe, across Asia, and even from China to the UK with nothing but a bike, bivvy, phone and drone. Heck, I’ve even watched videos of a guy unicycling around the world in 1,200 days because why not, right?

But in the grand scheme of things, given the context — we had never cycled at this intensity and level, were far from peak fitness, and were carrying heavy bags — made it an elated achievement for us.

Physically, we reached Lake Yamanaka in Mount Fuji.

Psychologically, we reached what I’d describe as a cyclist’s high.

Metaphorically, we reached what is described in the Dunning-Kruger Effect as the top of “Mount Stupid” (Though as events later transpired, the peak of stupidity might have, in fact, been reached the day after that. But that would have to be a story for another day).

So, all in all.

Would I ever cycle this route again? Absolutely not.

Would I ever do a trip like this again? Yes, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves too much. We technically didn’t complete this round trip from Tokyo to Mount Fuji. Let’s keep it easier next time — let’s just cycle from Tokyo to London ;)

Mount Fuji in all its glory. Picture captured by my friend.

Felt good to be back in civilisation, somewhat!

Lunch ride... a slight understatement.

Cover Photo by Dana Andreea Gheorghe on Unsplash