January
9, 2015, aboard Finnair flight 72
I’m
somewhere over the Russian Far North, almost too far north to be called
Siberia, on my way home from an enormously entertaining two and a half weeks in
Japan, skiing and visiting old friends.
It’s been a whirlwind, but I will try to summarize as best I can. (For those of you looking for more succinct
practical information, it’s at the very bottom of the post.)
The Plan
After
living and working in Japan five separate times between 1995 and 2006 for a
total of three and a half years, between long stretches of travel, I had only
been back to Japan once since then, for a ski trip in 2008/9. Whenever I left Japan, I always said that it
was the last time that I would be back, but somehow it never was. This time, after telling my friends and
fellow skiers in Leysin for the past 4 seasons about the sheer quantity of snow
that I was used to in Japan (and which was so rare in the Alps!), my friends
Sion, Steve and Finn decided in early September that this was the year to find
out whether I was telling the truth or not.
They bought tickets to visit the northern island of Hokkaido for 9 days
starting on New Year’s Day, and I decided to head over earlier to visit my
friends Miklos and Greg on the main island, Honshu, before joining the other
Leysinouds. The fall went by in the
usual blur of (over)work, and the cast evolved slightly, with Finn breaking his
ankle a month before the trip, ruling him out, and our former colleague Joe
joining the trip as an escape from rainy London.
On Honshu
By
December 20th, LAS had let its teachers out to play for three weeks,
and I was on the way to Tokyo and on to Oyama, Tochigi Prefecture (a prefecture
about 70 km north of Tokyo, where I spent three stints of work between 1999 and
2003). There I spent a few days catching
up with my friend Miklos (now into his 15th year in Japan).
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| Miklos and the wonder-camper |
We played Scrabble, reminisced a lot and
headed up into the lower mountains ringing the Kanto Plain (the vast, flat
conurbation of 35 million people centred on Tokyo that may be the densest
collection of closely-packed people in the world. Miklos has a beautifully equipped camper van
that we drove up to a tiny, out-of-the-way village in the hills called Nanmoku
to camp and hike for two days.
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| The lovely onsen that we had entirely to ourselves |
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| Japanese stone temple monuments, always picturesque |
The
hiking was challenging, to say the least, with snow and ice lingering on the
steep rocky ridges, and we had to turn back on one of the two routes, but it
was still great to get into the middle of rural Japan, soak in a beautiful,
remote hot spring (in which we were the only bathers) and catch up on the last
six years, since our trip together to Niseko over Christmas, 2008.
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| The snowless lower mountains bordering the Kanto Plain |
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| Fun with late-afternoon shadows |
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| Greg and I on the lift |
I
headed from there to Nagano prefecture, another of my former hangouts (1995-96
and 2006), where my friend Greg lives in a ski lodge that he bought in
Minenohara, a small ski area near Ueda.
On the drive up from Ueda station to Minenohara, the surrounding
countryside changed from snowless and drab to a winter wonderland as we climbed
from 400 to 1400 metres’ elevation. We
drove the last few kilometres in a blinding blizzard, and awoke the next day to
a brilliant sunny but cold morning that we spent flying through the light
fluffy snow, carving turns through the woods and down ungroomed pistes,
whooping with glee.
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| Trying to snowboard at Minenohara, with Neko-dake looming behind |
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| On the way up Neko-dake |
The
next five days were equally enjoyable, a mix of skiing, snowboarding (I rarely
snowboard, but I try to get out once a year at least), cooking, playing hockey
and indulging in long sessions of speed chess beside the roaring wood stove.
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| Greg tellies the pow on the way down Neko-dake |
It
was great fun, with a skin up Neko-dake and a fun powder descent a particular
highlight on a rare bluebird day.
Magical Asahi-dake: The Deepest, Lightest Powder
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| The Shirakabaso YHA hostel, our home for three nights at Asahi-dake |
On
Jan. 1st I said goodbye to Greg and had a planes, trains and
automobiles trip up to Hokkaido. I met
Steve, Joe and Sion in the Sapporo airport, picked up our rental van and headed
north, through empty, snowy desolation to Asahi-dake Onsen, a hot spring hamlet
in the middle of nowhere, at the foot of Hokkaido’s tallest mountain,
Asahi-dake. We stayed in a wonderful
hotel/youth hostel that was very Japanese, from the tatami-mat rooms where we
slept on futons on the floor, through the hot spring baths to the delicious
Japanese breakfasts and dinners that were served up.
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| Breakfast fare |
The
meals might have been too genuinely Japanese for Sion and Steve, who found the
prospect of fish, fish roe and pickles a bit much to face first thing in the
morning.
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| Din-dins |
What
made Asahi-dake special, though, was the snow.
There was a prodigious amount of it on the ground, continually topped up
by fresh snow falling despite the minus 18 degree temperatures. The powder was everywhere: deep on the ground, mantling the trees,
clinging to our hair and our clothes as we skied.
Asahi-dake
is a strange place, with a single cable car leading halfway to the summit the
only lift. There are two cat tracks
pisted down to the base, but the pistes are not what draws the skiers. Instead it’s the almost infinite possibilities
for off-piste descents, through the trees and down the rare steep pitches near
the top. It’s not a perfect ski
area: the overall pitch is not terribly
steep, the cable car only runs every 20 minutes, and there are long runouts to
the base that would be tedious on a snowboard and required a fair bit of poling
to get through the deep snow, and the wind and cold at the top are pretty
extreme, but the quality of the snow more than makes up for it.
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| Steve amidst the copious snow |
The
sheer beauty of the snow-covered trees was probably the scenic highlight of the
entire trip. The wonderful descents that
we scouted out on the second day on the skier’s left of the mountain were truly
breathtaking. Even the long runouts
through the forest along old tracks were tremendously fun, like a snowy
rollercoaster ride. It would clearly be
an amazing place to tour, given better visibility, but it was great even in a
continual blizzard. It was also neat to
be at a spot where everyone was on fat powder skis and huge powder snowboards,
carrying backcountry gear and skiing serious terrain.
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| Red-faced after a day of cold and windy fun |
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| At the end of another fun descent with a couple of Scandinavian powderhounds |
Kamui and Tokachi-dake: A Blue Sky Interlude
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| The back bowl run that was my favourite run of the day |
After
two days, we headed away from the magical mountain Asahi-dake and back towards
civilization. On the outskirts of the
city of Asahikawa we spent a bluebird day exploring Kamui Ski Links, a little
resort that I had been told about by an Aussie man while we waited for luggage
at the airport. It was a great tip. Despite the huge Sunday crowds thronging the
parking lot, we quickly found our way into the side-country powder descents
that ring the resort.
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| Looking for fresh lines in the forest |
Unlike
many Japanese resorts, Kamui positively encourages people to get into the trees
and the back bowls, marking the return traverse tracks with flagging tape and
not giving anyone any grief for riding out of bounds. In fact, on our first trip up the mountain,
it was a veteran ski instructor who eyed up our powder skis and gave us
directions on how to find the best powder.
A brief skin led to perhaps the nicest descent of the day, off the
summit, through magical snow-shrouded birch trees. We left the resort fully satisfied with our
day’s work and with the steep terrain available for skiing.
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| Brilliant bluebird skies |
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| Trudging off the summit in search of fresh powder |
After
a night in Asahikawa, we drove the next morning to another onsen (hot spring)
high in the mountains, about an hour and a half south of Asahikawa. I had heard about Tokachi-dake on a ski blog
about Hokkaido, where it was described as the Rogers Pass of the island.
We
drove high up to 1270 metres, into a magical landscape of steep ridges and
volcanic peaks. After consulting maps
and looking at the slightly dubious weather, we drove down to 1000 metres and
what looked like the right trailhead.
We overcame a long false start that cost us an hour before getting onto the right path and skinned up a long ridge to near the summit of Sandanyama. On the way up we passed a Japanese skier who had stopped for lunch who said that the snow wasn’t very good this year: not enough of it, and not soft and fluffy enough. Clearly he had higher standards than we did!
The weather wasn’t quite as bluebird as the day before, and as we neared the summit, the wind began to howl and the visibility disappeared as cloud blanketed the summit ridge.
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| Part of our unscheduled early detour |
We overcame a long false start that cost us an hour before getting onto the right path and skinned up a long ridge to near the summit of Sandanyama. On the way up we passed a Japanese skier who had stopped for lunch who said that the snow wasn’t very good this year: not enough of it, and not soft and fluffy enough. Clearly he had higher standards than we did!
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| Skinning our way up the ridge |
The weather wasn’t quite as bluebird as the day before, and as we neared the summit, the wind began to howl and the visibility disappeared as cloud blanketed the summit ridge.
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| Freezing on the summit ridge |
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| Feeling pretty satisfied, with our peak behind |
We
quickly took off our skins and started our descent. We were already becoming Hokkaido powder
snobs, as we all noted that the snow below the wind-scoured summit wasn’t quite
perfect, although our fat skis rode over top of it just fine. Partway down we were more sheltered from the
wind and the snow was once again vintage champagne, and we hooted and hollered our
way down through the delicious snow and the birches and pines.
The
last hundred vertical metres was a bit of a rodeo obstacle course, what Sion
would call “James Bond combat skiing”, but soon enough we were back at the car
and driving back uphill to the Ryounkaku onsen, where we relaxed our tired legs
in possibly the most perfectly-situated outdoor hot pool in all of Japan. We stretched out in the rust-red steaming
water and stared out at the vista of volcanic peaks, all begging to be climbed
and skied. The next time I come to
Hokkaido, when I spot a two-day window of clear weather in the forecast, I will
be back at Ryounkaku for full days of touring and skiing some of the most
beautiful mountains in the world, and soaking in the onsens.
Rusutsu:
Riders on the Storm
That
night we drove to Niseko, a long slog through the dark. When we got to Niseko, it was a shock to the
system. After four days of being
immersed in Japan and in wilderness, we were suddenly in a cross between
Chamonix and Kuta Beach. In the six
years since I was last in Niseko, Aussie tourism and property development have
absolutely exploded. There’s barely a
Japanese face to be seen in the town, with even the staff in the ski shops and
the waitresses in the restaurants being mostly Aussie. We stayed in the Niseko youth hostel, an old
elementary school, and it was definitely the low point of the accommodation for
our trip, with very thin futons making for poor sleep, slightly down-at-heel
facilities and a room that was either freezing or broiling. As well, the rooms seemed to aggravate
allergies for both Sion and Steve
We
woke up the next day to……rain. Suddenly
all that beautiful, glistening crystalline snow was being transformed into
slush. We drove over to Rusutsu, about a
40-minute drive from Niseko, and decided against skiing in the rain (“like a
bunch of Belgian tourists”, as my friend Bill Hanson would say). After wandering open-mouthed through the
crazy Disneyesque Las Vegas atmosphere of the resort hotel, we took the day
off, reading and lunching in a comically tiny restaurant called Kobito (the
Dwarf) before meeting up with my friend Jason, whom I knew from Tochigi days,
for pizza that could have been anywhere on earth where tourists gather in
hordes. It was strangely unsettling to
encourage that bland sameness that mass tourism seems to impose all over the
world, and we decided to get out of town the next day.
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| The indoor Disneyland-like silliness at the foot of Rusutsu |
Despite the crazy conditions, almost all the lifts were operating (except for the gondolas) all the way to the top of two of the three mountains making up the resort. We spent the day riding the chairlifts (we were thankful that they were enclosed with bubbles, since otherwise we might have died of exposure on the chairs) through the screaming blizzard, scouting out fresh lines and then diving into the trees to enjoy them.
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| Riding the cold chair through the blizzard |
Every line seemed to be better than the previous one, as we mastered the art of the gentle diagonal lines that maximized the length of each tree run. At the top we could barely see, let alone talk to each other, as the storm got more and more intense. Yet once we dropped off the summit and into the trees, the powder transported there by the wind was some of the finest and deepest of the entire trip. Joe, Sion and Steve by now had gotten the hang of skiing trees, and we were taking the descents at a pretty decent pace, slaloming among the birches with barely a hiccup. It was sad to be chased off the mountain early as the resort shut down Isola and East mountains by 3 pm to get skiers safely off the mountain.
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| Joe buried in powder and further entombed by slough |
Rusutsu was a real find, and I can see that between the huge amount of terrain accessed by the lifts, the relaxed attitude of the resort to riding in the trees and the constant snowfall, you could easily spend four or five days there without getting bored in the slightest. It basically has the Niseko snow and terrain without the crowds, and gets my vote for the best resort skiing of the trip (since Asahi-dake isn’t really a resort by any stretch of the imagination). Isola Mountain was where we focused our efforts, but East Mountain must have an equal quantity of great off-piste terrain, and we didn’t even look at West Mountain except on our very last run of the day. I will be back to explore further!
Kiroro:
A brief taste
The
drive that night to Kiroro, our final ski spot of the trip, was white-knuckle
stuff, with the blizzard building in intensity as Joe drove. The direct route to Kiroro was closed by the
storm as we were on our way, but luckily our trusty sat nav system knew
immediately and rerouted us. The snow on
the road piled up deeper and deeper, the icy ruts got bumpier and bumpier and
we barely made it past a police roadblock before they closed the road we were
on. It was a relief to make it to Kiroro
and check into the most luxurious room of the trip, one that cost less than our
grotty youth hostel in Niseko. The
resort gets its money back on food, with no competing restaurants nearby, so we
ate a large proportion of our own bodyweight at the expensive all-you-can-eat
buffet that night. I spent some time up
on the roof that night, soaking in the onsen and watching the wind and snow
continue to pound the hotel.
The
next morning the wind had dropped somewhat but the snow continued to
accumulate. Our car was completely
drifted in in the parking lot, with the job completed by a passing
snowplow. We went down and grazed our
way through the buffet again and then hit the slopes. It was strange to see that despite the
conditions being far less extreme than in Rusutsu the day before, only half the
mountain was open, with the best steep lines at the top tantalizingly out of
reach.
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| Playing in the Kiroro trees |
We were kind of bummed about this, but after a few exploratory runs, we started to find better lines. The snow wasn’t as purely champagne as we had gotten used to (that Hokkaido powder snobbery again!) but it was eminently skiable and we got longer and longer runs through the trees as the day wore on.
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| Steve rocking his big Black Crows at Kiroro |
The one downer was the attitude of the mountain’s management: the ski patrol chased us off one off-piste run (we were just unlucky that they passed by while we were eyeing up our line) while a lift operator scolded us for skiing off-piste.
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| Joe racing through the woods of Kiroro |
Of
course, being Japan, the snow was still falling and we still had to rescue the
car from the snowdrift. Fifteen minutes
of hard work with our avvy shovels and we were good to go.
Our drive to the airport town of Chitose took
far longer than expected, with the snowplows having been overwhelmed by the
storm and the expressway almost as snowed under as the road to Kiroro the day
before. We eventually found our airport
hotel, unloaded our mountain of ski gear, returned the car to the airport and
went out for a final feast of gyoza (dumplings), ramen and beer. I had one last soak in the hotel’s public
bath (I certainly got my fix of soaking in the baths this trip; to me it’s one
of the best feelings in the world to sit in steaming hot water watching the
snow fall), packed my ski bag and went to sleep with snow still falling
steadily.
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| How's that for overnight snow? |
It
was still snowing heavily as we left this morning, and our flight was delayed
almost an hour as we waited for the plane to be de-iced and the runway to be
plowed. In our eight days on Hokkaido,
only one of them was fully clear, and another one had no snow falling although
it was clouding up for a big storm. The
bad weather and lack of visibility, though, is a small price to pay for the
perfect snow and winter wonderland scenery.
Sion, Steve and Joe are already talking about “the next time”; I think
I’ve helped create powder snobs who will rarely be satisfied by the Alps again
(especially not this year in the vicinity of Leysin).
So
now it’s back to Leysin for a final five months there before hitting the road
again. I hope the dire snow situation
improves, and that we can have some days in the Alps that are as memorable as
this trip to Japan has been.
Some practical information
Car
rental: There are a bunch of outfits
at New Chitose airport, but book early if you’re looking over the busy New Year
period. Car rental is relatively pricey
but well worth it for the flexibility it gives you to chase the best snow and
the best weather. We used Toyota Suzuran
and were very pleased with our 4WD van’s performance in some pretty challenging
conditions.
Accommodation: We stayed at the YHA Shirakaba-so in
Asahi-dake, which gets two thumbs up for price, location, food (great Japanese
fare, so bring your adventurous tastebuds!) and hot springs (although when it’s
bitterly cold, the outdoor bath is far too cool). We stayed at the Asahikawa Toyo Hotel in
Asahikawa which was cheap and cheerful.
We didn’t stay at Ryounkaku at Tokachi-dake, but rather wished we had;
look on Booking.com for good deals there.
The YHA Fujiyama Karimpani in Niseko was about as cheap as accommodation
gets in Niseko but wasn’t very good value for money. Rusutsu seems not to have much cheap
accommodation at all. I think if we did
it again, it would be best to stay in somewhere between Rusutsu and Niseko
(such as Kutchan) to give better value for money and more flexibility about
where to ski every day. Niseko didn’t
really appeal to me in its current mass-tourism state. And Kiroro Mountain Hotel is pretty good
value for accommodation, although the dinner options are pretty expensive
(breakfast is included).
Skiing: Everywhere we skied was really good
(everywhere is great on a powder day!), but Rusutsu, Asahi-dake and
Tokachi-dake stand out for me. We didn’t
ski in Niseko despite being there for two nights; I’m sure the terrain and snow
are as great as I remember, but I imagine that you would be competing far more
vigorously for fresh snow there than elsewhere, given the crowds of
powder-hungry Aussies in town. I feel as
though we just scratched the surface, and that there are tons of great spots to
ski lifts and to tour scattered all around the island. I definitely plan to go back again, maybe for
longer and after the New Year’s holiday rush, with Terri, who wanted to go this
time but was prevented by forces beyond her control.
Costs: When I first went to Japan in 1995, the yen
was at 79 to the US dollar and prices were eye-popping. Since then most prices in yen have either
stayed the same or dropped, while the yen has dropped to 120 to the US dollar
and prices in the rest of the world, especially for accommodation and skiing,
have gone up significantly. The net
result is that Japan is now, relative to other industrialized countries,
somewhat of a bargain. The most we paid
for a lift ticket was 5100 yen (about CHF 42), and at Kamui it was a bargain
3100 yen (about CHF 26). Accommodation
was cheaper than Switzerland; we seemed to average about 7000-8000 yen per
person for accommodation, breakfast and dinner.
Even on a ski hill, you can have a pretty filling, tasty lunch for
900-1000 yen (CHF 7-8); try doing that in Switzerland! Skiing is expensive everywhere, but I think
that for lift tickets, food and accommodation, Japan is no longer expensive,
and is cheaper than much of North America or Europe.
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| Look at those big powder-eating grins!!! |
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