Our sleeping accomadations
The top of Hakuba-Goryu. Please click on this picture, you can't appreciate it without the full view
At the summit!
Buddha's protecting as always.
Taken by a couple of guys from Australia that invited me to a party.
Always nice to see a temple at the top of a mountain
Cheesu!
I thought this was a nice shot.
Mount Hakuba proper.
The child Buddhas providing protection for hikers and skiers alike.
The valley where our hotel was located.
Enjoying propping our feet on something for the first time in a long time. Don is near, Ben is far.
A great shot of Ben being pensive I think.
Ah....the boat race. Cheers indeed.
Me, failing.
And we are destroyed by the competition.
Ben and Don have an awesome little martial arts duel. The bar is quieting down at this point.
Don had one LONG ass day.
And a serenade to finish the night...
Incompatible Regata
Week 40
Well, in an odd twist of fate, this was to be an extremely short work week as well, only three days. I spent the Tuesday to Thursday taking care of the same-old-same-old while preparing for my weekend trip up to that fabled site of the 1998 winter olympics, Nagano.
My departure on Friday night for the mountains was a little bit more complex than I expected. Initially, the plan had been to catch a ride up with someone I was connected with through the trip organizer, one Fred. Unfortunately, late in the day when I was scheduled to meet him in nishi-hachioji, I received a text informing me that my ride had come down with the flu and bailed. I had to pack quickly and bounce out down to Shinjuku before realizing that I went the wrong damn direction. I reversed and took the Azusa out to Kofu before transferring to a local train.
So, complicated train arrangements aside, I arrived in Hakuba pretty much unharmed. I almost walked off the train platform into the snow due to some confusion as to where I was supposed to exit, but I figured it out just in time.
The station was, after all, unattended. How was I supposed to know?
The blizzard that had been raging while I was on the train had also intensified by the time I arrived at Hakuba. I was beginning to regret having only brought along running shoes, but I wasn’t about to trek the kilometer or so to the hotel in my freaking hiking boots.
It was a nice little walk though, despite the fact that I had a tough time finding the hotel. The maps I had seen described the bath I had to follow as one long curve alongside the a river. Unfortunately, it twisted and turned a lot more than expected, so I thought on numerous occasions that I had arrived at my destination, only to discover that I was completely wrong. I did pass by a bar that advertised itself as “Canadian” which was pleasant, although ultimately disappointing later on in the night.
I finally arrived at the hotel around 10:30 PM. I was quickly introduced to Fred for the first time having only met him online previously. I was also pleased to be introduced to a large, large number of teachers from the Yamanashi area. At the time, it seemed to me as though they were all old friends, as the conversation was flowing smoothly among many different groups of people. I was therefore somewhat surprised to learn that most of the people there were meeting each other for the first or second time only.
Those Yamanashi folks are of an admirably amiable disposition.
I spent a short while chatting with various people before being attached to an expedition intent on purchasing more alcohol. Tragically, the drinks machine at the hotel had run out of precious Asahi. This foolish endeavour was relatively short lived and feature a cast comprised of two Californians and an Australian. In the latter’s case, this was only the second time he had ever seen snow. Wow. The nice part of hanging out in literal winter wonderlands with people from warmer climes is that you can demonstrate skills that wouldn’t impress anyone from back in Canada. Like how to slide 8 meters on a snowy road in tennis shoes with a running start. Thank you hockey, for providing the odd occasion where I had to walk across the ice in sneakers.
Oddly enough, we ran into Winny as she arrive her rented car. She was accompanied with one Don and another English teacher, Erik, from the Fuji-Yoshida area. They informed us that our quest was folly, that 7/11 was too far away for us to continue. As it turned out, it was quite close, but we turned around before we got there.
We stopped by the Canadian bar to see if there was any beer we could buy there. Again, no dice. I was especially let down in this case as I was hoping for an imported Keith’s or some such.
We commiserated back at the hotel for a little while before heading off, along with everyone else, to the massive sleeping rooms we had rented for the night. Something like 15 guys in one room and still with a lot of space to spare. No beds though of course, only comfortable futons on the floor and the requisite tatami mats.
I slept really poorly that night, only a few hours before waking up at around 7:30. Got up, no shower and picked up my ski rentals. The hill itself, Hakuba-Goryu, was just a short walk up the road from the hotel. I met Ben there, who had spent the night in a resting room in the ski lodge. We picked up our electronic tags, grabbed our equipment and hit the slopes.
Now Ben, it should be mentioned, is a powder hound. Dude lives for back country. So, it was no surprise that we headed for the freshest powder we could find for the first run of the day. This led to problems for me.
I learned in the middle of my first descent that my rentals were not nearly the same quality as those found up in Hokkaido a week previous. The bindings on my left boot had been set just wide enough that they would lock when I put my boot in. However, they were far enough apart that, should I jerk the ski into something deep or heavy enough, the boot would fall out of the bindings without popping the binding open.
The first run therefore went as follows: Ben takes off ahead, Ian follow his track. Ben leads the route into an area of foot deep powder crusted with a light ice on top. Ian’s ski falls off. Ian face plants. Ian struggles around like a beached whale trying to get his ski on in snow that provides no resistance to the stomp required to lock a binding in. Ian skis to the bottom and meets up with Ben. Ian is covered in snow. Ian is pissed off.
The second run went essentially the same…except that the face plant was so bad this time that all I saw for a couple of seconds was snow. I couldn’t figure out what happened, why my vision was whited out. It also shook my confidence for the rest of the day.
Problem.
I ended up having to slog back to the hotel with my equipment and, with the help of Fred the organization machine, got my skis exchanged for a new pair.
By the time I arrived back at the hill it seemed as though someone had discovered gold at the top of the mountain. The lines were insane. A couple of hundred people waiting for the gondola at the bottom of the hill. This was due mostly I suppose to the gondola having been closed for the first part of the day due to high winds. Still, it was like a 25 minute wait just to get on the lift. That’s unacceptable. After getting off the lift I did have the pleasure of getting caught in one of the many snow-devils that were whirling around the mountain that day. That was actually pretty cool. Super strong wind and whiteout conditions for like 2 seconds then clear. Weird.
I then made a critical error. I skied down to the lift that went up to the summit. What looked like a small line ended up being almost interminable. I think the wait at this lift probably qualifies as the longest one I’ve ever done, somewhere in the area of a half hour.
It was, however, made much more interesting by the company of two Japanese snowboarders. The conversation started out simply enough with introductions. I told him I was Canadian after he guessed I was American. Then things got really surprising.
The boarder proceeded to point at my crotch and say “big” then point at his own and comment “small”.
He just perpetuated a negative stereotype about his own people. That’s pretty unusual.
I carried on a halting conversation with him for quite some time before he and his friend got separated from me up ahead.
Eventually I hopped on the lift with, awesomely enough, another passenger. Only time it happened all day. As it turned out the passenger was a Japanese woman from Osaka. She had visited Australia at one point on a home stay so her English was quite good. We chatted on the way up. I told her that I love Japan and she was actually really happy to hear it. She said that generally she doesn’t hear Japanese people express that much interest in her country, so it was novel hearing it from me. She happened to be there that day after the regular season for her University’s ski club had finished. Nice conversation all in all. Made up for the horrendous wait.
I skied the mountain once in total, dodging hordes of people slowly descending in stuttering snow -plows. Hakuba is really way steeper than Niseko. I found it really tough to build any speed before having to slide to a stop due to the slopes being too busy. It was kind of frustrating.
The next trip up I basically just said “fuck it.” I’d had enough of the over population. So I took extreme action. I took the lift up to the highest point I could get to on the mountain, popped my skis off and climbed through the knee deep snow to the top of the mountain.
This was the best part of the day.
I had an amazing view of Shirouma-dake (White horse mountain) and the actual highest peak of Hakuba, towering somewhat menacingly in the distance. I spent more than an hour snapping photos at the top of the hill. I even got invited to a party by a couple of guys up there, but unfortunately was unable to attend due to the party that was scheduled to happen with my group of skiers later that night.
Several hundred photos in the bag, I hopped down in giant leaps to my skis late in the afternoon. I didn’t ski for too much longer before heading back to the hotel.
The next few hours were spent showering, relaxing and shooting the shit with the other folks who had been out that day. We hung around until about 9 PM when it was time to head to the party location for the night.
Get this.
4 star hotel.
Happy hour prices for the whole night.
Fireplace.
FUCK YES.
Oh man, it was amazing. For one, you could actually PUT YOUR FEET UP ON THE HEARTH OF THE FIREPLACE. I hadn’t put my feet up on ANYTHING since I got to Japan. It’s considered incredibly impolite here. So, since the hotel was owned by westerners, it was incredibly relaxing to kick back with a big-ass beer and throw my feet up next to that toasty hearth. Beautiful.
The party was fantastic too. I got to know a few of the others who were attending that night. Great people, the lot of them. There were two memorable events that night. One was the game of drunken charades we played. I somehow managed to convey “holocaust” to my team, which I’m a bit proud of.
The other event was just plain epic.
A skulling boat race.
I had no idea what this was when it was originally proposed. Apparently ‘skulling’ means ‘chugging’ in the UK and Australia. A boat race is basically a relay drinking game wherein two teams chug their drinks in a line, each person starting their drink after the person before finishes theirs.
The teams in this case?
USA vs. The World.
I was on team USA due to lack of Americans and the general proximity of my country to theirs.
We got our asses kicked.
Badly
Really badly.
I didn’t improve the situation. I was probably the weakest chugger on our team.
It should be mentioned that the other team was mostly 35 years old and above, whereas ours was all 30 and below. Experience was definitely in their favour.
But it was a free beer and a good time, so no problem.
People began to trickle out of the bar shortly after that. I kept on drinking and ended up shutting the place down at about 3 AM along with Mike and Darcy, the two Californians I’d tried to get alcohol with the night before. We left the hotel and I was surprised when Mike immediately took off running down the road. The last thing I remember about that night was running after him with Darcy at full tilt and (I think) beating him to the hotel? Don’t remember, too much beer.
What I also don’t remember doing is setting an alarm back at the hotel when I went to bed.
Which makes sense because I didn’t do it. I slept in past 11:00.
I had a BRUTAL hangover that day, but still managed to wakeup and head up to the ski hill. Quite late mind you. I didn’t hit the slopes until just past 12, which also meant that I missed the best skiing of the day. Apparently the conditions had been perfect in the morning, but by the time I got there everything was turning to slush as the temperature went well above zero.
Crap.
It also didn’t help that going over anything seriously bumpy triggered a serious headache for yours truly.
I then made my second critical error of the trip. I traversed from Hakuba-Goryu over to its sister hill, Hakuba-47. Soon after my first decent I was miffed when the gondola stopped running. Those same high winds from the day before had returned, shutting off access to the hill with my hotel.
Perfect.
I took a long lunch and eventually a shuttle bus over to Hakuba-goryu. It was already almost 4 at this point and, as it turned out, Winny had told me she was leaving shortly. Since the weather only seemed to be getting worse, I accepted her offer of a ride as far as Kofu and absconded from Hakuba-Goryu as soon as possible.
The trip home was complete shit. We got stuck in a stand still traffic jam for 2 hours. A trip that originally took Winny 2 ½ hours took almost 5. It also didn’t help that I had to take a long train ride back down to Koganei that night. This ride was shortened when I ran into a girl from the trip. Provided conversation for the first half an hour of the trip. We also played travel games in the car for several almost the whole trip. That was pretty fun actually.
I finally made it back home and passed the hell out. Hakuba-Goryu was on the whole a better party than it was a ski trip. Oh well. Still met some really cool people. Niseko is still the holder of the title for best ski hill in my experience.
Monday just saw me relaxing and recuperating from the trip. A pretty hectic weekend all in all.
Phew.
Tune in next time!
Not hungover now…
Ian “Mello Yello” Cantello”
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