日本夏2026年

June 01, 2026

June 1, 2026

Day 3 (Fujinomiya 5th Station) Fuji Base to Yaizu - 131Km

Start 6:01AM

Finish 6:23PM

Total Duration 12:22

Moving Time 8:10

Stopped Time 4:12

Ascent 1881m

Descent 2829m

Tour Total 428Km

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/387406660

I slept surprisingly well wild camping at the base of Mount Fuji. My tent was tucked neatly into a grid of pine trees, the gravel beneath me more comfortable than expected. It turned cold in the middle of the night, and only in the morning did I realize I’d slept with the flap open. Dawn came early, and the birds made sure I knew it. I shoved in my earplugs and stole another hour of sleep.

When I finally got moving, I packed up my kit and drank the coffee the American tourists had given me yesterday in Hakone. Back on the road, the climbing began immediately.

An LED road sign read 13°C. It was a perfect morning—clear skies, though from beneath the trees I could only catch glimpses. Whenever the forest opened up, Mount Fuji appeared in full, overwhelming scale—an enormous presence filling the horizon. I passed the Gotemba trailhead, still 19 kilometers from my turnoff.

After about 45 minutes of steady climbing, the road flattened briefly as I joined the Fuji Skyline, still shaded by dense forest. The relief didn’t last long before the gradient kicked up again.

By 7:00 a.m., after about an hour on the bike, I reached Mizugatsuka Park—where I had originally planned to camp. Just 9 kilometers in, it felt like I’d already earned the day. The restaurant and gift shop were closed, but a few cars dotted the large parking lot—likely other overnight visitors. I used the bathroom, and when I stepped out, a man stood at the sink brushing his teeth. Behind him, the view of the upper mountain was staggering.

A few kilometers later, I reached the Fujinomiya turnoff: 1,460 meters elevation at 7:32 a.m., blue skies overhead. From there, it was another 13 kilometers and roughly 1,000 meters of climbing to the fifth station.

I stashed my panniers behind a tree at kilometer marker 12.4 and tied my red grocery bag to a sign across the road so I could find the spot again. After wolfing down an onigiri and chugging water, I set off light. The difference was immediate—the climbing felt almost enjoyable.

Soon I hit a stretch of tight, relentless switchbacks. A road sign described them in Japanese as “fish curves,” which felt about right. I stopped again at kilometer 6.6—1,893 meters elevation, 8:41 a.m.—for more water and another onigiri.

Traffic was minimal: the occasional car, truck, or motorcycle. At 9:05, a cyclist flew past me downhill on an e-bike. The forest began to thin, pine giving way to subalpine birch.

I reached the Fujinomiya Fifth Station at 9:45 a.m. A handful of cars were parked—hikers preparing to head higher—but there were no open shops, no water. I was glad I’d carried extra. Looking down, I could see all the way to the Pacific, though the horizon was already beginning to haze.

The descent was fast—almost absurdly so. Within no time I was back at my stash, then flying downhill past climbing cyclists and increasing traffic. I stayed on the descent all the way toward Fujinomiya, eventually stopping at Yamamiya Sengen Shrine near the base.

From there, the landscape softened—fields of neatly trimmed tea bushes rolling toward the coast. I rejoined the Pacific Coast Cycling Route, alternating between a busy coastal highway and quieter village roads. In one small town, shrimp seemed to be the local specialty. I rolled past old wooden houses, small shops, and streets lined with flowers—brief moments of calm before being thrown back onto a harsh four-lane road.

Navigating the shipping port was brutal. The heat had built, and fatigue was catching up with me. In Shimizu, I stopped at Miyamoto Shoten for an incredible sashimi lunch. The server was curious about my trip and seemed genuinely impressed that I’d climbed to Fuji’s fifth station that morning and was riding all the way to Kyushu. I asked about the approaching typhoon—he said it would likely bypass the coast here, though Wednesday’s rain could be heavy.

Leaving the coast, the route sent me over another pass. I had hoped to avoid a highway tunnel, but the smaller road was closed, forcing me to backtrack and take the main route. The historic Tokaido Okabe Inn was shuttered—another missed stop.

The day ended on a gentler note. I followed a beautiful cycling path along the Asahina River, then stopped at Nakamurakan sento. It had the smallest changing and washing area I’ve ever seen, but it did the job—I left feeling human again, phone charged and body reset.

Nearby, I found a quiet place to stealth camp. Before settling in, I stopped at a FamilyMart for supplies. Later, I sat on a bench by the harbor, listening to the low hum of ships as I wrote this.

Tomorrow, rain is coming.