Whenever I return to Mt. Fuji, I remember one of my earliest experiences visiting and camping there. After a few days of planning pre-departure, I was off to Mt. Fuji, where my new Japanese family and wife had booked me into a campground. The campground was crowded with visitors, all of them sharing a singular perspective of Fujisan. This is the kind of on-the-beaten path exploration that I can do without, and the type of Mt. Fuji Photo Workshop that many agencies and photo workshop companies offer to their participants, a shallow and forgettable introduction to one of Japan’s most iconic symbols. Before, during, and post C/19, being elbow to elbow with many other photographers is something I have energetically avoided. Health and safety are always paramount for my participants, group support team members, workshop co-leaders, and, of course, myself as well. During my first solo visit to Mt. fuji years ago, I decided to leave the campground after two days, but the morning I was leaving, I met a kind Japanese gentleman who spoke English, who explained to me that camping around the forest of Mount Fuji was allowed. After half a day of enjoying the fantastic natural surroundings and scouting for a new campsite, I found one on a well laid out hiking trail, with a small stream nearby, on the Northwest base of Mt. Fuji, in what I would later learn is called (Aokigahara – The Sea Of Trees). I enjoyed a peaceful night and slept calmly in nature. The following morning, I woke up unusually late, well after sunrise, due to the canopy blocking much of the incoming light. After breakfast, I thought I would do a little hiking through the beautiful lush peat moss-filled forest. After a few steps off the trail, I was shocked, and luckily, I realized the ground beneath me was unstable with the possibility of volcanic crevices, as I mentioned in part 1 of this 2 part newsletter. ( I realized the ground beneath me was unstable. Carefully, I kneeled and spread my body out on the ground; I lifted up a thick layer of green moss and dug into about a foot of peat moss, and below that was razor-sharp volcanic rock. If I had ended up continuing my stroll, I could have very easily fallen into a volcanic planting pot, broken my ankle or leg, or even worse, and I could have fallen into a cave, gone forever. Thankfully, I was close to my campsite and trail, not veering too far from the established path.)