We’ve all had our fair share of doing dumb things. We’ve all needed some help or rescuing at some point. But on Mount Fuji, a holy mountain in Japan, a young man took things to the next level.

Last week, Japanese authorities airlifted a 27-year-old Chinese university student from the slopes of Mount Fuji—not once, but twice. The first time, he had reached the 3,776-meter summit and then collapsed from altitude sickness. The second time, he returned to retrieve a forgotten mobile phone and had to be rescued again.

Don’t worry, he’s safe now. Police in Shizuoka Prefecture confirmed it. But the back-to-back rescues have reignited public debate over safety and responsible tourism on Japan’s most iconic peak.

An Off-Season Gamble

Every year, hundreds of thousands of people set their sights on Japan’s most iconic peak: Mount Fuji. Rising 3,776 meters above sea level, this near-perfect volcanic cone isn’t just a symbol of natural beauty—it’s a bucket list destination for climbers from around the world. During the official climbing season, from July to early September, trails buzz with activity, from sunrise hikers chasing the “Goraiko” to spiritual seekers following ancient pilgrim routes.

But with that popularity comes pressure. Overcrowding, unprepared tourists, and a surge in off-season attempts have turned the sacred mountain into a stage for growing safety concerns. Which brings us to our student.

He made his ascents outside the official climbing season, which runs from July 10 to September 10. During that window, the mountain’s four trails are staffed with guides, medics, and support facilities. But in April, Mount Fuji is a different beast: winds howl, temperatures plummet, and trails vanish under snow and ice.

None of that could stop my guy.

On Tuesday, he reached the summit via the Fujinomiya trail, but lost his crampons—the metal spikes essential for walking on ice—and couldn’t make it back down. Emergency teams dispatched a helicopter to bring him to safety from 3,000 meters up (10,000 feet). It was, all things considered, a normal save.

But then, things took a weird turn.

Four days later, the same man returned. He had left behind several personal belongings, including his phone, and decided to recover them himself. Again he fell ill from altitude sickness, and again authorities had to step in.

Warnings Unheeded, Rules Reinforced

Altitude sickness can strike without warning above 2,500 meters. Some climbers can have trouble adjusting to the more limited oxygen levels and may experience disorientation and difficulty breathing. That’s why people spend days or weeks adjusting to higher altitudes before climbing mountains like the Himalayas.

If it happens to you once, the odds are it’s going to happen again if you do it all the same. In response to incidents like these, officials from Shizuoka and neighboring Yamanashi Prefecture have tightened access rules to Fuji’s slopes.

“By strongly promoting comprehensive safety measures for climbing Mount Fuji, we will ensure that Mount Fuji, a treasure of the world, is passed on to future generations,” Koutaro Nagasaki, governor of Yamanashi, told CNN.

This year, climbers will be required to pay a ¥4,000 (about $28) fee and reserve a slot online. The number of daily climbers will be capped at 4,000—a doubling of last year’s fee and a drastic change from the previously optional ¥1,000 donation.

In addition to permits, new rules will require hikers to take a short safety course and pass a quiz on trail protocols. Trails will also be closed from 2 p.m. to 3 a.m. for those not staying in the designated huts.

Even seasoned hikers find the off-season treacherous. Hut closures, removed signage, and the absence of medical stations make the climb more dangerous. Authorities have repeatedly urged people to stay away in spring and winter months, when weather can shift abruptly and rescue teams face delays.

But the real story here is about more than one individual. In 2023, over 220,000 people climbed Mount Fuji during the official season. And increasingly, many ignore guidelines, showing up with flip-flops, no water, or worse—little understanding of what the climb entails.