Fuji-Hakone-Izu National Park

Start with the air. Here it is thinner and cooler than in Tokyo, and on many days it carries a faint smell of sulphur, like a struck match. Underfoot, the ground can be black volcanic gravel, soft cedar needles, or the warm wet stone of a hot spring path. Look up, and if the clouds are kind, you will see the long, even slopes of a single mountain rising above everything else. This is Fuji-Hakone-Izu National Park, and almost everything here comes from fire below the ground.

The name lists three places, and that is a useful map to keep in your head. Fuji is the mountain and the lakes around its northern foot. Hakone is an old volcanic basin of hot springs, forests and a long cold lake. Izu is a peninsula that pushes south into the Pacific Ocean, along with a chain of islands beyond it. These are not one continuous landscape. They are separate pieces, joined by a shared volcanic story and by a single protected status.

Here is the first surprise. Most visitors think of this park as a day trip out of Tokyo. But part of it actually belongs to Tokyo. The Izu Islands, which stretch far south into the ocean, are governed as part of the Tokyo Metropolis. So a city famous for neon and trains also governs remote volcanic islands with black sand beaches and small fishing harbours. The park ties the mountain, the hot springs and those distant islands into one idea of protected land.

The park is one of the oldest in Japan. The Fuji and Hakone areas were protected in 1936, during the first wave of Japanese national parks. The Izu Peninsula and the islands were added later, after the Second World War. Today it is one of the most visited national parks in the country. That is not surprising, since so much of it lies within a few hours of one of the largest cities on Earth.

Now, the mountain itself. Mount Fuji stands 3,776 metres high, the tallest peak in Japan. It is a stratovolcano — a cone built from many layers of lava and ash, one eruption on top of another. That is why the shape looks so smooth and regular. Fuji is not extinct. It last erupted in 1707, and that eruption covered parts of the region, including old Edo, the city that became Tokyo, in ash. Scientists still watch it closely.

For centuries, Fuji was a holy mountain before it was a view. Pilgrims climbed it as a religious act, dressed in white, carrying staffs and chanting as they walked. Shinto shrines stand at its base and on its summit. In 2013, UNESCO listed Fuji as a World Heritage Site — but as a cultural site, not a natural one. The listing honours the mountain as a sacred place and as a source of art. That choice tells you a lot about how Japan sees this peak.

The art is everywhere, even if you do not notice it at first. In the nineteenth century, the woodblock artist Katsushika Hokusai made his famous series, Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji. In many of those prints, the mountain is small. It sits behind a wave, a bridge, or a group of working people. Fuji is a quiet presence, not the main subject. As you travel through the park, you may find yourself framing the mountain the same way, half hidden behind a pine tree or a rooftop.

At the northern foot of the mountain lie the Fuji Five Lakes. Their names are Kawaguchiko, Yamanakako, Saiko, Shojiko and Motosuko. Lava flows from old eruptions blocked rivers and valleys, and water filled the spaces behind them. On calm mornings, the surface of the water can hold a mirror image of the mountain, upside down and perfectly still. Nearby is a dense forest called Aokigahara. It grows on a lava field from an eruption more than a thousand years ago, and its roots twist over the rock because the soil is so thin.

Now move east, to Hakone. This area sits inside the remains of an ancient volcano that collapsed in on itself. The result is a wide bowl of hills, with Lake Ashi lying in it. Here you will find the second surprise of the park. In a steaming valley called Owakudani, the ground still vents gas and hot water. Vendors boil ordinary chicken eggs in the hot springs, and the minerals turn the shells completely black.

Locals say that eating one of these black eggs adds seven years to your life. That is folklore, of course, not science — but people queue for them happily, and the eggs taste like normal boiled eggs inside. The valley itself is the real attraction. Yellow sulphur stains the rocks, white steam drifts across the slopes, and the smell reaches you before the view does. On some days, volcanic activity closes the area, so it is worth checking local notices before you go.

Hakone also carries a human history. During the Edo period, from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, the main road between Edo and Kyoto passed through these hills. It was called the Tokaido. The shogun's government placed a checkpoint near Lake Ashi to control who travelled and what they carried. Guards watched especially for weapons coming in and for women leaving the capital. Parts of the old stone road survive, shaded by tall cedar trees planted along its edges.

Further south, the Izu Peninsula feels different again. The air is warmer and softer here, and the coast is rocky, with small bays and fishing towns. Hot spring inns line the valleys, and the sea is never far away. Volcanic activity shaped this coast too, and you can see old lava in the dark cliffs along the shore. Many people from Tokyo come here not for sightseeing, but simply to rest in the warm water and eat fresh fish.

It helps to know one thing about this whole park: the mountain is shy. Fuji is often hidden by cloud, especially in summer and in the middle of the day. Clear views are more common in the cold months and in the early morning. If you do not see it today, you are in good company. Generations of travellers have waited at these lakes and passes for the clouds to move. The waiting is part of the experience here.

So take a moment where you are standing now. Notice the temperature of the air, the sound of water or wind in the trees, and the colour of the ground under your shoes. All of it came from heat deep inside the Earth, cooled and softened over thousands of years. When you walk on, glance back once more toward the mountain, whether you can see it or not. It has been there the whole time, and it will still be there when the clouds clear.