The Ascent of Fujiyama. 



229 



THE ASCENT OF FUJIYAMA 



By Lena Martha Redington. 



If one is fortunate enough, the first view of Fuji-san, as 

 the mountain is more commonly called by the Japan- 

 ese, is from the ship as one sails into Yokohama Bay. 

 Very early in the morning the deck is crowded with 

 expectant tourists, even before it is quite light. They 

 watch in the direction where they think it should be. 

 They ask information from a Japanese passenger. And 

 there, higher, much higher than they had thought to look, 

 in the pink dawn floats the pale, snowy cone of the great 

 summit. The base is forever hidden from view by fleet- 

 ing blue mists and yellow hazes. 



At Aliyanoshita is to be found the very best hotel in 

 all Japan. There one can sojourn for a week or so, 

 enjoying the pretty walks in every direction. A week on 

 the soft slopes of the surrounding hills puts one in better 

 condition for mountain climbing than the three preceding 

 weeks on the hard, level deck of a large ocean liner. 

 Almost every walk leads to a dainty tea-house, where one 

 rests in the toy landscape garden of fountains, lakes and 

 flowers. Though tea has been served but ten minutes 

 before where one stopped to enjoy the view, it is impos- 

 sible to resist the low bow and the attracting smile as the 

 dainty tray is extended. Every tea-house is so arranged 

 that Fuji-san is sure to be in view if the atmosphere per- 

 mits — the same ghostly, delusive Fuji that one sees on 

 each tray, cup, screen and kakemono of Japanese fabrica- 

 tion. But unfortunately a perfectly cloudless view is not 

 always to be relied upon in mid-summer. It is interest- 

 ing to watch the curtain of clouds rise and fall until an 

 uncontrollable desire to climb that mountain obsesses one. 



The little village of Gotemba is ten miles distant from 

 Miyanoshita. The way leads first along a roaring river, 



