nickelass

So I said my goodbyes to GK and Dina as they had some more things to do in Tokyo before meeting Irene, Mike and I in the snow. Onto the airport bus to Henada. Mike and I were JAL’ing it to the island with Irene ANA’ing it. In retrospect I wished I had flown ANA simply to ride this bad boy...

Anyway, Mike and I arrive at the airport way too early so we grab some food and play some video games. My personal favourite is the Tiako drumming game, complete with massive drums and sticks. It’s all in Japanese so the old lady running the arcade hobbles over and starts teaching us. Turns out that I really don’t have any drumming rhythm at all, it’s official ... well according to the machine.

Finally we decided to go through the security gates and commit ourselves to the journey. Mike and I are queuing to go through security and I explain how I hate taking off my belt because I’m so skinny I always struggle trying to put my belt back on whilst recovering my hand luggage, wallet, keys and phone. Mike it’s confident that my belt could just stay on because he’s never had an issue with metal detection whilst wearing his belt. This coming from a guy who got searched for drugs on the way into the country, yeah right. "Dude! They finger printed and took our photo on entry to the country, all the camera's are on you. I bet they have some facial recognition software which has ID'ed you already." Well I figure I’ll give it a bash on and Mike figures for once he’ll take his off (no homo). So I go through belt on and sure enough no issues. Amazing! I pick up my bag and personal affects and just keep on rolling. I turn around to ask Mike what gate number we need to head for. Only one problem. There is no Mike? I walk back around the corner and there he is, legs apart getting searched again with the metal detector flashing in the background.

On the plane Mike and I score the most awesome economy seats. I’m seeing a theme here. All my domestic flights have heaps of legroom. Anything international you get nothing. About 30 minutes into our flight out of Tokyo and there is nothing but snow below us. I’m beginning to feel just a little bit excited. 2 hours later we are crossing a bay and landing surrounding by snow. Sweet! Off the plane and we locate the most confusing bus group booking system ever. It’s fairly obvious that the Bogan count is already alarming high. I’m not going to mention any more about this accept that the snow in Japan rules. The Australians also think they do.

On the bus, there is snow everywhere... and we are at sea level. Of course vending machines are still working in –6 degrees no worries.
I’m way too excited for my own good. The bus ride can be best described as a bus ride of death.
The snow is so dry that no one bothers with snow chains. It’s going to be long ride but as we pass through a few mountain ranges on the way to Niseko the view is always pretty and I'm just taking it all in.
The roads are busy and as we literally slide around a few bends I kick off the pod-of-I. I need something else to think about rather then my impending death just before finally experiencing decent snow.

Sites I enjoy from my foggy window include a farm with a hill where someone has put in some orange polls that make a mini slalom course. The farm tractor is parked near by. I’m impressed because I so know that if live in the area I’d do the same thing. In fact I’d build my own diesel rope tow. You know it’s true. I also see some deer chilling in the forest. Cars driving with about 10 center meters of snow on the roof. We arrive out our rest stop and I’m on a mission to pick up some Pokey men’s chocolate (by now I’ve fully accepted my addiction to it)
I’ve gotten used to the cold already. I take my first steps onto snow and the most amazing crunching sound I’ve heard for a while. I smile. That sound is something I never tire of. If this is what the snow is like 250 meters above sea level I can tell the snow conditions are going to be off the hook.

We arrive in Niseko at night and get our connecting van to our Lodge for the week.
Now I hope you have noticed the vending machine we have straight outside our lodge! Yep, all my dreams have come true. After sorting out some booking issues we unpack and take our new friendly lodge mangers, Liz and Gori's, advice to check out a local restaurant called Rin that has yet to be taken over my foreigners. A quick walk around the block and we locate what will turn out to be a place we’ll visit more then once. Yep the food was THAT good.

The food is actually really cheap at Rin and we have managed to learn enough Japanese to even order some foods in it. But like everything good eating wise in Niseko, book in advance.

I want to call it an early night as I’m already in no-friends-on-powder-days mode. As we exit the restaurant it begins to snow. Now for all you Australian readers when it snows at Niseko it doesn’t automatically mean a blizzard. It more often then not will fall very gently and more importantly it’s dry.
Irene gives our vending machine a bash... or at least attempts too. She ends up needing to dig it out to open the door to retrieve the drink. Yep, it snows that much.

Next morning we are greeted with a view of where we have landed. I call it paradise.


When it comes to snow it is heaven on earth. I was best described as well ready for adventure.

I could rabbit on about the snow conditions and the amazing snow but I’ll let this video of mike going down a run that was fully groomed only 2 hours before plus some other pictures do the talking.

Oh and yeh, that is me who he 0wneds with snow at the end of that video. At this stage Niseko still has enough powder for everyone and with the help of local knowledge (thanks Liz and Gori!) it’s still easy to found powder on the very very very odd day where is doesn’t snow.

Yes, that's little old me waiting for the boarders to get strapped in. Come on guys, no friends on powder days remember?!?! And no, I’m not going to share with you any secret locations. That said I will inform you on one of my more interesting attempts to find fresh powder.


On one day I decided it would be an awesome idea to go outside gate 5 and grab some fresh tracks. This is an un-patrolled area that rewards the adventurous with fresh tracks but also could kill you if not taken with care. So Mike and I head out turn right and begin to truck through nipple deep powder. I’m smiling like I’ve never before. Mikes ripping up so much powder it’s like it is snowing every time he goes hillside. You have to understand that the snow is so light that on ski’s you just kick some of your weight backwards and enjoy the silky smooth ride. That is until your left ski comes off and you end up trying to gracefully stop on one ski. So one full body rotation in the air I’ve stopped. Mike’s kept on going ahead of me unaware of my attempt at one ski powder turning. A very gentle landing but my left leg is hurting a bit. I pad myself down to get the snow off me and check nothing is broken. Sweet. Now where is that other ski? I look up and see two tracks above me so I start to dig either side of them. 30 minutes later still no ski. I am trying to remember if my insurance covers lost skis.

A Japanese man comes to give me a hand. He proceeds to talk Japanese to me. I try to work out what he means and reply in English. The thing I’ve noticed in Japan is that it doesn’t matter that you cannot speak Japanese and they know it. They are still going to talk to you in Japanese. From his gestures I think he telling me to look either side of my tracks because skis will shoot off. Sideways usually. He starts to help but to me honest I’ve been digging for a while now and I’ve kinda got the shits about the whole thing so I try to thank him for his advice and tell him I’ll be ok to keep looking. After a while he wishes me luck and skis on. Ten minutes I’m about to give up and ski on one ski back to the village and face the cost, when another Japanese guy who looks about my age stops and asks me something in Japanese. But this time I’m really feeling weak from all this digging and over it all but I try to be really polite. He sees my Dakine alpine pack and I work out he is asking if I have a shovel. Apart from the fact I’m digging with my hands I smile and answer no. He offers to give me his and I try to indicate thanks and I’ll leave it at the bottom of the Hanazono top chair when I’m done.

This is typical of Japanese people, they will just give you their stuff to use and assume that you will be kind enough to return it (via a stranger who operates a lift!). As he undoes his bag and starts to attempt to put the handle on the shovel clip, his ski polls are still attached to his wrists and getting in the way. He undoes one of his wrist straps and goes to slam it into the snow so it’s stays upright. *bang*. He looks at me really shocked. He does this funny ‘whaaaaaaa’ and starts to laugh. He has managed to put it pole straight into the binding of my missing ski sitting 10cms under the surface.

I look at his face then follow the pole down to my ski. Picking it up I’m arigato'ing like I’ve never done before. He is smiling and I’m laughing. I shake his hand and being very non-Japanese I give him a hug. He turns bright red and begins to laugh again. He is probably thinking all Australians are weird people but I think he gets how excited I am to have two skis!

Well I certainly discovered fresh snow. By the time I make it to the lift Mike is long gone probably wondering why I didn’t wait for him :) I’m so out of it I actually accidentally sail past the ski que not realising and get yelled at by a few people. My apology is ignored and more Japanese yelling at me. I’m to wasted to even try and rescue my behaviour so I just cop it sweat. I’m just happy to have both skis. I end up meeting up with Mike and Irene at 1pm for lunch as previously planned.

Other highlights include GK’s arrival and Mike, GK and I heading to a nice little hidden valley and ripping up some fresh facial shots (no homo) on the one sunny day. Mike is the recipient of the 'I wonder why that other guys have stopped there' award for ignoring my advise, or the obvious and being way late on the brakes and dropping a 4 meter vertical on his bum onto a green run, much to the amusement of the beginner Japanese students but not so much the instructor. The stack it hard award goes to the anonymous boarder who I was following and proceeded to slam into a fork of a tree with a lovely *thud* sound. Irene gets the 'Cerebral hemorrhage' award for managing to board into everyone in our group despite having the whole mountain to ride on. Bonus points for getting a concussion and ending up in an indo hospital a week later. GK receives that ‘donkey says let’s do that again’ award for generally having no fear as always. Dina receives the ‘Navigator award’ and no I’m not going to explain that.

Hirafu village itself is set on a hill so getting around can be interesting.
That said I preferred being below the main street and it was close to some hidden restaurants, bars and a pretty good Onsen.


Onsen's rule, particularly after a day of doing a 40 minute dig to locate ones ski and self out of a few meters of refresh powder. Some people get a little bit freaked out by the whole naked with strangers’ thing, but what the point of a modesty towel? Really, your naked, big deal.

There were some memorable nights out for dinner, including Mike’s birthday dinner. Mike was busy chilling in the afternoon so I went on a hunt up to the Seicomart to get him a birthday cake and some candles. I manage to find a cake but cannot find any candles. So it’s a walk down to the Lawson's in the hope I can find some. Rewarded with a find back to the lodge. Liz and Gori help me set up Mike with the surprise.


The world smallest birthday cake! That night we went out to a steak house called Rosso Rosso because Mike had been bitching all the time in Japan about just missing having a decent stake. To be honest the meat wasn’t made of awesome but you would have to admit that we do come from a land with pretty good meat (sorry Lana!).
They cooked it till it was I’d say Medium-Rare and then there was little hot stone on your plate so you could do a little more if that is how you like it.
Complete with authentic Japanese being spoken in the background and expert commentary by Irene and Mike.

One of the nights we final got around to checking out this bar we’d been walking past ever day.
Yep, that is the front entrance. The front door is a fridge door. Makes perfect sense.
And not very big fridge either. I’d hate to see the backdoor; Mike would be on his stomach trying to get out the freezer door. Inside the place is like a Jazz record lovers wet dream, complete with turntables.
The style like many bars is well thought out with the retro-funky look well executed, even down to the light fittings



I must say that this was one of the rare times that neither Mike nor I actually smashed our heads into a low doorframe.
On a side note, one thing that mike also shared in common was an appreciation of how well formed Japanese ice cubes are.
You must understand each ice cube is perfectly square. Always.

So for our big final meal, Liz recommends a not so well known (aka not full of Bogan aussies) place. And no I’m not going to name it; it needs to stay hidden away for only those who bother to find it. It’s described, as a little wooden lodge with a weighted door, “so be careful when closing it unless you want the whole lodge to shake”. Now when I mean little I mean little folks. Upon arrival there is one group downstairs sitting on the floor around a large pot hanging from the ceiling. There is a Japanese couple at the bar which has two stools and that’s that. To the right of the entrance an open “staircase” leading to a little loft. We are pointed in that direction.
View from the loft down to the bar.

After about 3 entries and what I consider to be 2 mains everyone is pretty stuffed and might I add after I get stuck into the soju a little bit hammered. Little did we know the real meal had yet to arrive. So the owners’ wife brings up with metal bucket and places some hot-charcoaled wood down in the ashes of our little pit we have been eating around. She hurries away and comes back with a massive pot. Like boil and bubble here comes some trouble.
By this stage everyone is relaxed and pretty ready to take a nap...


But Sir Mike will have none of this and orders us to find some room. I take that to mean more drinking is required.




The only way Mike finally stops eating is by getting so animated about how he is the only one doing it for the team that in a mighty effort to adjust his sitting (or in GK’s state, just chilling) position that he slams his knee into the table. 0wned himself big time.

We decided to call it a night on that moment and stumble back. Tomorrow is a big day that no one wants to face.