Mount Fuji — at 3,776 meters high the closest anyone on Japanese soil can get to the heavens — is beautiful, dangerous, spiritual. But here they also know that Fuji is shy, often evasive. Some days the mountain pulls clouds around itself like a geisha hiding her face behind a fan, or a kabuki actor stepping back, theatrically, behind his kimono sleeves. And on this golden autumn morning, the sacred peak puts on no less of a performance for me. From a viewing point on the far shore of Lake Motosu, some 17 kilometers northwest of the volcano’s conical summit, I wait expectantly for Fuji to appear from behind a bank of conspiring clouds. Eventually, it does, but only briefly, with the fleeting beauty of a shooting star.
Motosu is…
