At precisely 2:46pm on Monday, May 19, my world changed.
More on that later.

Tokyo had a hard time letting us go. My boon of souvenirs from Hands department store exploded all over my sleep capsule as I struggled to get all my trinkets condensed into just two bags. Loaded fore and aft with barnacle backpacks and feeling every bit a bloated beetle, I dove into the Tokyo metro with Nancy for a second round of Mont Blanc desserts from the underground shopping malls, buoying our spirits for the travel day ahead. We arrived at the teeming Shibuya Station with ample time to find our bus to Kawaguchiko, but encountered construction, closed pedestrian pathways, confusing directions in broken English, and dead ends on our endless speedwalking loops of the busy transit terminal. We finally found the 1:30pm bus (on the FIFTH floor of a hotel?) at 1:32pm, running with bags bouncing as it drove to meet us at the curb. Flustered and sweaty, we fell into our seats as the last riders to board, settling in for the two-hour journey southwest.

I caught my breath just in time for it to be stolen away again. At precisely 2:46 pm, my world changed. The faintest shadow emerged through the bus window, obtusely angular yet unmistakable. In a hoped- and prayed-for sighting, Mt. Fuji ameliorated all the pains of our Shibuya Station scramble.

I have had a handful of experiences in my life which have stopped me in my tracks, invoking an awe-filled speechlessness: Iceland’s Gullfoss, Oregon’s Mount Hood, Minnesota’s North Shore, and now – Japan’s Mt. Fuji. My eyes glittered as I swiveled my neck to catch sight of the highest mountain peak on the Japan archipelago. Nancy received an abundance of elbow jabs and finger pointing as I fixed my gaze on Fujisan through whichever bus window afforded a view on our twisting drive. She claimed it is impossible to flirt with a mountain… but I know she’s wrong.

We walked 10 minutes to our accommodation in Kawaguchiko, a second-floor room with a view of Mt. Fuji. I danced, enamored, around the room – my back never facing my new obsession.

I tore myself away from the window and we rode squeaky $10.35 rented bikes into town. Stomachs rumbling, we stepped into Fujimusubi Cafe, a lakeside restaurant with the most delightful tofu hot pot and roasted sweet potato — a welcome vegan option for struggling vegetarian palettes. A squeaky bike ride back to the hotel during the golden hour only widened my grin. The sun set and cloaked Fujisan in darkness, so I could finally close my tired eyes – it’s a lot of work flirting with a mountain all day.

I awoke 30 minutes before my 4:00am alarm, eager to see the mountain progress through the shades of morning twilight. I scurried out of the hotel soon after dawn to get (100 feet) closer to Mt Fuji and gaze on its panoramic beauty. My efforts paid hefty dividends: I danced, skipped, stared, twirled, grinned, wept, and giggled. I stood, squatted, kneeled, and sat at the edge of the hotel parking lot, testing out every possible view this side of the railroad fence. My breath caught in my chest, finally released in heavy sighs of contentment.

I finally tore my gaze away at 5:30 for a quick breakfast before we biked around the perimeter of Lake Kawaguchiko. We were delighted by blue skies, scarce clouds, cool breezes, and Mt Fuji peeking out above them all. What a delight!

After lunching at the same hot pot spot as the night before, we waited in a hot, crowded line to ride a funicular to the top of Mt. Mitsutoge. We caught sight of Mt Fuji through a cloud of pollen and summer haze as we enjoyed ice cream cones, listening to the captivating and grating soundtrack played over the loud speakers as couples took their fee-paid turns on the mountaintop swingset. Japan is fascinating.

A trail run down the forested mountain trails brought us back to the lake. My anxiety from nearly missing our bus from Tokyo brought us to the bus stop 90 minutes early. We successfully nabbed seats on the bus to Mishimo where we transferred to our first Shinkansen – the bullet train!