Making the itinerary for my sister’s trip was particularly hard, not because we had so much to fit in while they were here, but because some of the things on the “must-see” list were beyond my control. For example, even though the sakura blooms every year, they only stay perfect for a couple of days due to the nature of the season as well as the wind or rain which has become more common over the last few years (see my previous blog post if haven’t done so already and you want to know more about that). Also, Fuji is one of these “can’t be helped” factors. Of course, she is always in the same position, watching over us, but if a day is too hot, the view is usually hazy, if it’s too cold, more clouds usually form, and even on days that look beautiful, because Fuji is a large mountain, it’s not uncommon for clouds to form anyway, right by the summit (which of course, is what people want to see the most). On top of that, tourists who can only see Fuji once in their lifetime, want to see the snow-topped icon and, this creates like a “Goldilocks” effect. In the winter, she’s white all over, so that’s too much snow, in the summer, the snow is gone, so there’s only this tiny window of opportunity of “yes, Fuji look’s just-right”. Looking at the probabilities of:
- The day being not too hot or cold
- The sky being clear of clouds and haze
- Fuji being in her “just right” snow phase
It is literally impossible to plan a day weeks or months in advance for this rare sight. So, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention this to my sister when she mentioned her and Michael’s big “must-see” was Fuji-san. I knew, if we were going to see her in this rare, perfect state that they’d want, I certainly could not set a date in stone. It would be, (like the sakura was,) a case of planning in windows of opportunity and, if the timing and weather allows it, dropping everything and going, and if the stars do not align for that experience, having other things ready and planned instead. I dotted four windows of opportunity for Fuji throughout the itinerary, and prepared Ellen and Michael for disappointment. I knew the odds. Sammy and I spend so much time in and around Fuji, especially in Kamakura where our dear friends live, and we’ve never seen a completely clear day. Sammy didn’t even get the day off work because we knew the odds were stacked against us. It’s not that I wasn’t hopeful, but I’d just rather us expect the worse and be super thrilled if things worked out, rather than having people upset if the likely disappointment happens.
During my sister’s trip, the day before the first “maybe Fuji” window in my itinerary, I checked the weather. It looked like it could be incredible: twenty two degrees, sunshine all day, 0% chance of rain every hour. No mention of even a little cloud. I ran to Ellen,
“This is it! You have to go to Fuji tomorrow! While we’re in Shinjuku today, we have to book your limited express tickets. I can do it for you guys —no problem— but you have to take this opportunity because it’s looking like it could be one of a lifetime! You will not get a better looking forecast than this.”
They both look excited, but not as much as I thought they would be. We had spent two full days by each other’s sides, as they were staying with us in our apartment, and I thought the idea of this one day for them to go off and have some time just the two of them, with this unlikely good weather forecast, would have made them over the moon. Michael actually looked borderline scared. Something was wrong, but I had no idea what.
“You think we can catch the train, just the two of us?”
“Yeah, of course! I’ll of course arrange the tickets, as that can be a faff, but other than that-”
“Well… we wondered… if you wouldn’t mind… Tokyo has been great, but the trains are packed and it’s kind of confusing and… do you have any plans tomorrow? We know you’re off and you were going to spend the day by yourself, we don’t want to intrude on that but… we really don’t think… if we covered the costs, could you perhaps, take us to Fuji?”
I was a little scared, knowing that the itinerary didn’t have much time for us to be apart, and we hadn’t spent longer than even a couple of days together in like fourteen years. I’m autistic at the end of the day, and I know I can seem like a lot. I don’t pick up when people need things and don’t say them, and I’m very direct and clear —borderline blunt at times, I’d say— and most people have a better time with me if we take space frequently, so I don’t become too much, and so that they don’t become too much either. I carefully explained this to Ellen and Michael. They still agreed that they wanted me to come to Fuji. In fact, if I didn’t go, they probably would give it a miss the next day as they only landed two days previous and they were not in the place to navigate the trains alone just yet. I thought about it again; re-looked at the forecast. Tomorrow looked like it could be one in a million. The risk of me becoming annoying or burnt out because we’d had too much time together did not out-weigh that of if they missed this chance. I reiterated the probability again of all the stars aligning: the snow-top, the weather, the clouds (although it’s not like I had to explain the ins and outs of clouds to Michael, the pilot). I had them think about if things didn’t work out, how much they would have paid for the three of us to go and possibly not get the sight they were after. They understood. They were sure.
“Okay then,” I said as we stepped on the train to Shinjuku, “let’s go and get our tickets!”
The man at the ticket office was efficient, I could give him that. He spoke so fast it was like he was trying to beat some sort of world record. I tried not to panic, mainly because what he was telling us was that the limited express tickets to Kawaguchiko for the next day were sold out. Ellen and Michael could see I was worried, but had no idea what was happening. I quickly told them there were no tickets, but got back to discussing a solution with the man. Ellen and Michael were stunned; I imagine they were just sad that they thought they couldn’t go, but I knew we’d find a solution. This ticket guy was the train expert, and I’m an avid train fan myself. We would find a way. And we did. The man behind the counter showed me the availability and we managed to book the limited express tickets up until the half-way point. We then worked out the local trains and times to get us to Kawaguchiko. It worked, and it only had us arriving around 20 minutes after my original plan. The only problem was that the trains would be busy, the chances of getting a seat would therefore be low, and we’d have to stand for around an hour instead of having the nice, guaranteed, front-facing limited express seats. It was our only chance, so we took it… and wow am I glad we did!
If you have not realised from the pictures already, all our prayers were answered and we were blessed with not only a moment or hour of clear skies when we headed to Kawaguchiko, but an ENTIRE DAY! Fuji-san was beautiful as always and I felt this huge relief as the tension in my shoulders released. The two unpredictable parts of our trip had worked out in the first few days. (The first part of that you can find in my previous blog, using the arrow below, if you have not done so already.) If we didn’t get to see more cherry blossom and another view of Fuji, my sister and brother-in-law could still go home happy. Of course, I was upset that Sammy couldn’t be there with us, but we will have more days at Fuji together in the future. We live here, it isn’t impossible to see such a sight again and next time he could drive and save us the train faff. Regardless, I gave my biggest thanks for such an experience with my sister on that day, and have done so every time I’ve been at a shrine since.
BONUS: I had the most delicious brown sugar matcha latte while we were there. If you’re in the area, be sure to check out:
https://www.instagram.com/kawaguchiko_ryo/?hl=en : Kawaguchiko – ft. our story about catching a rare view of Mount Fuji
