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Seven fixture entries (March 25 Narita through April 1 Seoul) used as Playwright test fixtures for tracker ordering and entry-page tests. Removes the leftover June 18 test entry. Co-Authored-By: Claude Sonnet 4.6 <noreply@anthropic.com>
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title, date, template, published, hero_image, lat, lng, location_city, location_country, weather_temp_c, weather_desc
| title | date | template | published | hero_image | lat | lng | location_city | location_country | weather_temp_c | weather_desc |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Summit Clouds and Snow | 2026-03-27 07:15 | entry | true | 35.5095 | 138.7646 | Kawaguchiko | Japan | 1 | Snow |
Nobody told me it would snow.
I took the early bus from Shinjuku at 6:45am because the forecast for the Fuji Five Lakes region said "clear morning, clouds by noon." That is the window you want — Fuji is notorious for hiding inside its own weather system, and most visitors spend an entire day staring at a blank white sky where a mountain ought to be.
I got the mountain. For about forty minutes.
By the time the bus pulled into Kawaguchiko, the first flakes were already coming down. Light at first — the decorative kind that you hold your hand out for. Then, steadily, not decorative at all. I walked down to the lake with my bag under my jacket and stood at the water's edge while the snow thickened and Fuji turned from a sharply defined white cone into a suggestion, and then into nothing.
The lake surface was perfectly still. The snow fell straight down. There were no other tourists on the path, or if there were I could not see them. It was one of those moments of completely accidental solitude that you cannot plan for and would not trade.
I sat on a wooden bench on the lakefront for longer than made any meteorological sense. The snow kept falling. A single cormorant sat on a rock offshore and did not move the entire time I was there.
Caught the bus back to Shinjuku in the afternoon. The mountain never reappeared. I do not mind even slightly.