While I live in the city of Shizuoka (
Shizuoka-shi), which has a population of around 700,000, Shizuoka Prefecture (
Shizuoka-ken) extends west past Hamamatsu, north toward the central alps of Honshu, northeast to include half of Mt. Fuji, and east toward Tokyo, also encompassing the Izu Peninsula—a long, thick arm extending into the Pacific Ocean. On a clear-ish day in Shizuoka City, one can gaze across Suruga Bay at the dark shadow of the Izu, only imagining its lushness and relative quiet.
Trains only run partway across the Izu. Where the tracks end, tourism drops to those willing to navigate sporadic bus schedules, or those with their own set of wheels. Thus, to really see the Izu the way we wanted, in the time we had, with the smallest budget we could manage, Jackson, Davin, and I rented a car and worked our way from the freeways linking Shizuoka City and Numazu, to the highways of the northern Izu, to the narrowest one-lane dirt roads in the vast depths of the south-central peninsula’s forested mountains...crazy to think this was still our
ken.
At this point, I was still semi-panicked about driving in Japan (driving on the left, mind you, in a vehicle with the steering wheel on the right), but I was the only one with a license. Jackson made me drive-thru a damn McDonald's, then we had a slight tollgate mishap getting on the expressway, but we rolled on...and after passing Fuji on the road between Shizuoka and Numazu, we turned south and entered the peninsula's armpit, making our first stop at a beach in Toi, where we could look back across the bay at Shizuoka City.
The Izu is known for its
onsen (hot springs). These boats had hot spring water flowing into them, so beachgoers could sit, hot-tub-style, and enjoy the view!
Shizuoka-ken is home to not only the World's Longest Wooden Bridge, but also the World's Largest Floral Clock Face! Makes me wonder what percentage of Guinness Book records have been set in Japan.
Around the giant clock was a stone walkway, the rocks with varying degrees of pointiness; completing the full circle was to hit all important pressure points of the feet.
Next, we traveled south down the western coast of the Izu to Dogashima, known for its picturesque rock outcroppings.
From Dogashima, we cruised on to the southernmost tip of the peninsula, to Shimoda, famous as the site where Commodore Perry landed (the
Kurofune, or Black Ships). This event was significant as Japan's first opening to the Western world, and the first Western consulate was established in Shimoda in 1856.
This was our room in the
ryokan (family-run inn), with futon, tatami-mat flooring, tea service...the usual awesomeness. We walked the streets of Shimoda and finally found this great bar for dinner and drinks.
The next morning, we searched for coffee along the canals, then began our journey back north.
There were so many amazing overlooks around every twist in the narrow, curving roads we drove...up and down, over steep hills, down to beachside roads around coves along the coast.
It was a hot, bright day and we were quite jealous of these kids' kayaks...thought of borrowing them while the group took a lunch break. Instead, we headed over to Hagachi-zaki to the monkey park for which we'd seen brochures. Davin and I had just monkeyed it up in Kyoto, but not Jackson...and the monkeys loved him!
These monkeys had some sweet oceanside territory to roam.
We were climbing on some rocks, so I set my Coke can down for a minute. I am not a litterer; I was going to pick it up again on the way back. What I didn't realize is how interesting it might be to a lil' critter. He was inspecting it so cutely that I didn't take it away...
But two seconds later he skillfully ripped into it with his razorblade teeth, and did
not want to give it up when we tried taking it. Eventually, Jackson got it away from him with a stick. Oops.
Then we took a dip in the most beautiful rocky inlet...paradise! Our moment of Zen.
We swam to shore holding our bundled belongings above the water. On the way out of the park, we saw a monkey hanging out in the road...so of course we fed him. He seemed to enjoy the potato chips.
Our next plan was to leave the coast and drive up Izu's central mountains to the onsen village of Shuzen-ji. There, we would take a soak in the hot springs before returning to Shiz. So we took one highway to another highway, which then started to narrow and wind into the hills...
We drove for kilometers, ever-so-slowly, through dark forest, getting peeks every so often, when there were breaks in the trees, at the steep-hilled, coniferous vastness enveloping us. We hadn't been paying too much attention to our Japanese-speaking GPS unit thus far, but at this point we were watching intently as the single road the arrow was traveling on turned from a solid yellow line to a paler gray line...and the actual road changed from paved to unpaved to eventually, a rocky dirt path barely wide enough for our car.
When we finally found a safe enough spot to turn around, we grudgingly did just that. The road might have taken us somewhere (as the map we saw earlier seemed to indicate), but it appeared to be leading to where the sidewalk ends, and it was getting dark. Despite our frustration at having to retrace our difficult path, it was amazing to be so removed from the bustle of our usual lives here in Japan, to be in such a wild place, with only the whispers of trees in our ears when we turned off the engine.
When we passed through Shuzen-ji, it was getting a bit late for onsen, so we pressed on and settled for a stop at Baird Beer in Numazu before driving back to Shizuoka.
A full, glorious two days later, I was actually comfortable driving the car through Shizuoka's busy city center, back to the rental car facility. No car trouble, no real fiascos. And in retrospect, we really couldn’t have done it another way; while I am quick to sing the praises of public transport, there’s no convenient ride to the absolute middle of nowhere…which is exactly where we ended up. And that was a great, refreshing thing.
We got off the train at Fujinomiya and waited in the sunset for the bus that would take us to Fuji's 5th station. The hike is divided into 10 sections, with a mountain hut at stations 5-10 (10 being the summit). Most people don't traverse the rolling hills and quiet forests of stations 1-5, which I am sure are beautiful and would love to see someday, but we too opted to save our hiking legs and bus to the halfway point. 
The hourlong bus ride ended at an altitude of 2,400 m (7,874 ft). We were dropped off near a small building offering food and souvenirs, and after we put on all our warm clothes, we napped for a couple hours in the building's hallway before starting our climb at around 10 p.m. The idea was to hike through the night to arrive at the summit at sunrise. 
I had expected to step off the bus at the 5th station and be gasping for air (we grabbed cans of O2 at a convenience store in Fujinomiya just in case), but I was surprisingly fine. The whole hike was a bit blurry, surely due to general sleepiness, slight oxygen deprivation...but we hiked slowly and stopped at several stations along the way, taking little naps curled up outside where we could find a windbreak. We stopped for hot beverages and a snack at the 9th station (only 3,460 m), and the sun was already rising! Didn't get our timing quite right. 
It was absolutely beautiful; we were able to see the shadow Fuji was casting over the surrounding area. But we still had a bit more climbing to do...
Sweet sleep-deprived victory: 3,776 m (12,388 ft). 
At the top, on the Fujinomiya side: a post office, a small shrine where people could get their walking sticks stamped with a Fuji summit imprint, and a shelter with space to sit, eat, and sleep.
(We did the same thing about two seconds after I took this photo.)
After a brief nap, we considered hiking around the crater at the top, but it was terribly windy (a hard-to-stand-up kind of windy), so we took in the view from the top, then started our journey down. 
Looking back toward the summit, it was wild to see how quickly the sky could change, and the whole trip it was interesting (and a little scary) to observe how fast the weather in general could shift. We had decent weather throughout our day on Fuji (relatively speaking...we were on top of a huge mountain, certain extremes to be expected), but we heard from some friends that had climbed up the other side of the mountain the day before, that there was a huge storm, people were asked to turn around at the 9th station, and two people got lost in the fog and eventually died of hypothermia. Fuji didn't seem so monstrous to me, but looking back, we were lucky. 
Down, down, and more down. At this point, walking through a cloud, I could certainly understand how easy it would be to get lost on Fuji: 
I am so glad to have conquered the highest peak in Japan!
We witnessed a pretty spectacular solar eclipse here in Shizuoka on July 22. The day before, sweet solar shades had been distributed to all the teachers and students, and a couple telescopes had also been set up in preparation for the event.
Everyone grabbed their black shades and ran outside, many immediately flattening themselves out on the pavement to look straight up at the sky (it was nice to see such an interest in this event...granted, the students were getting out of class, too, but they really did seem genuinely jazzed about the eclipse). It was only a partial eclipse in Shizuoka, but it was still pretty cool (One of the science teachers at my school had flown down to Okinawa just for the day, because it was a total eclipse there...hardcore).
