Kawaguchiko in a Day: Brief, Yet Brimming with Magic

Kawaguchiko greeted me like a dream - a place where autumn leaves dance in the crisp air, Mount Fuji looms proudly in the distance, and every corner seems designed to take your breath away. But one day was not enough. No matter how hard I tried to fit in all the impressions, I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed more time. At least a day and a half, maybe even two. But what a day it was - an unforgettable mix of beauty, warmth and adventure.

To get to Kawaguchiko, don't miss the decorated train. Its charming design, both inside and out, makes you feel special even before you arrive.

Mount Fuji and the Autumn Symphony

The first thing that caught my eye was Mount Fuji. It was perfectly framed by the fiery autumn hues of the trees and its snowy peak penetrated the blue sky like a sentinel guarding the land. I couldn't stop looking. The air was cold enough to tickle my cheeks, and I was very grateful for the gloves I had bought in the shop earlier and the extra thermals and socks I had put in my backpack. Sometimes it is the little things that save the day.

As we walked along the shore of Lake Kavagutis, the calm water reflected the mountains like a masterpiece on glass. It was one of those moments when the world seems utterly calm and all you want to do is take a breath and hope your heart never forgets the view.

Cable car and hike going down.

The easiest way to get up to the top of Mount Tenjo is by cable car, which offers stunning views, but I strongly recommend walking. In autumn, the trails turn into a kaleidoscope of fiery reds and golden yellows, making the journey as memorable as the destination. If the whole walk seems too difficult, you can do what we did - take the funicular up and leisurely descend.

Warning: signs warn of bears in the area. However, if you hike in daylight, you are unlikely to encounter them, and the hike itself is both peaceful and exhilarating.

A warm bowl of comfort: Hoto noodles

By the time we finished the hike, we were hungry. Hoto noodles were just what we needed. This hearty noodles soup with thick, chewy noodles and rich miso broth was the best ramen I had in Japan.

I didn't discover the restaurant where we tasted Hoto noodles on my own - it was a recommendation from a very good friend, and I'm so glad he shared it with me. It was an unforgettable culinary experience, the kind of insider tip that makes you feel like you've discovered a hidden gem. I secretly wished for a traditional Japanese-style table - sitting on the floor would have been perfect, but we were lucky to get a table without a queue at all. At the end of the meal, we shared 2 small 200 ml bottles of sake. It was warm, and comforting and seemed like a toast to our incredible day.

Oshino Hakkai: a glimpse into old Japan

After a hearty lunch, we headed straight to Oshino Hakkai, a traditional village famous for its crystal-clear ponds fed by the melted snow of Mount Fuji. The reflections of autumn trees in the calm water took my breath away, and the charm of the thatched-roof houses made me feel like I had stepped into another era.

We spent about an hour wandering through the village, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. It was a quiet break in the day – a chance to catch our breath and appreciate the beauty of old Japan.

As I was exploring, I stumbled upon a small open-air museum, where the entrance fee was only about 20 cents. It immediately reminded me of the Rumšiškės museum in Lithuania. The museum showcased old Japanese homes, where you could not only walk through but also climb ladders to explore the second and even third floors. Inside, I learned about how the rooms and storage spaces were arranged and got a glimpse of what traditional tea rooms looked like.

I also gained a better understanding of why the Japanese value tea so much and drink it so often. Curious to know more about that? Maybe I’ll tell you next time. Or just ask me :)

Another thing that caught my attention in the village was the abundance of silk goods sold by local vendors. I suspect this area has historical ties to Japanese silk production, although I still need to confirm that. The silk products unexpectedly added to the cultural experience and sparked even more curiosity about Oshino Hakkai’s heritage.

From there, we planned to take a bus to the Chureito Pagoda. Unfortunately, overtourism had other plans for us. Two local buses passed by full, leaving us stranded. We then decided to walk – and that became a whole story in itself, filled with unexpected challenges and lessons.

Chureito Pagoda: A View That Lasts a Lifetime

The Chureito Pagoda is one of those places where you feel like you’ve stepped into a postcard. Set on the slope of a hill as part of the Arakura Sengen Shrine, it offers an iconic view of Mount Fuji, framed by the pagoda and the surrounding landscape.

I was rushing to get there before sunset—a mistake I wouldn’t recommend. In Japan, the journey is just as important as, if not more important than, the destination, and rushing robs you of those priceless moments.

I did manage to make it just before the sun dipped below the horizon, and the view was breathtaking. The pagoda, bathed in golden light, with Mount Fuji majestically towering in the background—everything was just as I had hoped. But as I stood there, catching my breath, camera in hand, I couldn’t ignore the lingering question: Was it really worth the rush? The same awe-inspiring view would have been there early in the morning, at midday, or at dusk.

The journey there was far from peaceful. I walked almost 8 kilometres at a pace much faster than I enjoy, rushing past beautiful autumn scenes that I barely had time to notice, let alone appreciate. Frustration began to settle in as I realized I wasn’t truly in the moment. Even more, disheartening was the decision my friend and I made to go separate ways so that each of us could reach the destination in our own way. The views were undoubtedly beautiful, but the stress and rush dulled them.

I arrived just minutes before sunset, sweaty and breathless, snapped a few photos, and then thought, “Now what?” Worse, I asked myself, “What if I had arrived five minutes later?” The sun would have set, and those two hours of rushing, stress, and disappointment would have been wasted.

It was then that I fully learned the lesson: the journey is more important than the destination. That rushed trip could have been magical if I had only slowed down, enjoyed the views, and embraced the moment. The Chureito Pagoda is beautiful at any time of day—the beauty doesn’t depend on a perfect sunset. If you plan to visit, go there first. Trust me, it’s worth it.

Every trip teaches us something, and for me, this was a humbling reminder to slow down and savor the experience because the journey itself is often the most precious part.

A Day That Was Too Short

As I left Kawaguchiko, I couldn’t shake the thought: I wish I had more time. There was so much I hadn’t experienced yet, so many moments I wished I could relive. But maybe that’s the beauty of it—leaving with a heart full of memories and a longing to return.

If you’re planning a visit, take my advice: give yourself the gift of time. Stay for at least a day and a half, soak in the views, try the local food, and allow yourself to live at a slower pace. Kawaguchiko isn’t just a place; it’s a feeling, a moment that will stay with you long after you’ve left.