m038
24acae2a85
- Create trips/japan-korea-2026/{tracker,map,stats,stories} hierarchy
- Move 8 entry folders from 01.tracker into trips/.../01.tracker/
- Add active_trip: japan-korea-2026 to site.yaml
- Whitelist GPX file type in media.yaml
1.6 KiB
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.