The most physically demanding thing I achieved over the past decade was climbing an actual mountain. At 3,776 metres, it wasn’t anywhere near the scale of, say, Everest (which is 8,848 metres) but for someone who’d rather eat doughnuts than hit the gym, this accomplishment was monumental. I did it for a very special reason - a demonstration of my deep love for my father and a promise to him on how I would fill my days with adventure in remembrance of his spirit.

I’m a person of my word.

To read more about climbing Mount Fuji, click here, here, here, here and here (or search the Japan tag for a travelogue on my other experiences in the land of the rising sun).

I made it! - the summit of Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

Climbing Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

The terrain on the path heading up was quite rocky and not that easy to traverse at 3:00am on limited sleep (©Deborah Clague, 2015).

The path returning to the bottom was different terrain but equally as hard as reaching the summit. The volcanic ash made it slippery and hard to establish grip (©Deborah Clague, 2015).