Squealing through Nozawa Onsen

A week of rain interspersed with fog does not make for happy skiers. A week of rain interspersed with fog followed by two days of snow and exploring a new resort on the other hand...

High fives, squeals, giggles and a whole lotta smiles were on the cards for a day at Nozawa Onsen. After weather which reminded us of skiing at home Mark Bremner, Daz Horkings and I were ready for some juicy pow turns. An easy one hour drive through the mountain range from Akakura Onsen left us staring up into the huge expanse of Nozawa Onsen. (Yep, we did drive through the mountain range. They really know how to build tunnels in Japan). A snappy ride up a gondola with a dog leg in it left us trying to decide where to begin our adventures.

Mark and Daz deciding where to start the adventures.

Daz, spraying with the best of them.

To put it simply, our adventures led us to glorious trees, snow bikers, bottomless powder landings, snow bladers, a half pipe, dead end streets, the fear of dropping a car tyre into a deep gutter, a whole lot more of Nozawa Onsen left to explore and a desire to get back there and ski the rest of it. It is quite the place.

Daz finishing the day on a high.

Welcome to the Hotel Abandonment

A walk up an empty ski hill through fog to an abandoned hotel. Intrigue and spookiness followed. This was one of those buildings your parents told you not to go into because it's dangerous. Oops. 

Damo and Marcel slogging their way up.

Broken windows: Getting inside shouldn't have been a problem...

... for most people.

They charged for external calls. Damnit!

Artsy, right. Right?

Damo had a bar tab to pay.

Hopefully more to come on this place.

"If I owned a ski resort..."

I know I have spent many an evening propped up against the bar, bandying around ideas that begin with the phrase, "If I owned a ski resort..." 

And clearly, others have too, because there is a place called Seki Onsen. This is a ski area made up of a double chair, a single chair and many truck loads of ungroomed, fresh snow. The owner hangs out at the bottom, smoking his pipe and sharing a knowing smile with his happy skiers and snowboarders. 

Being rostered onto a lesson at Seki is one of the occasional perks of working at Myoko Snowsports. Here's a summary of a day there.

Seki Onsen: two lifts, no grooming from Tom Mitten on Vimeo.


For an entertaining read about our first experience there, check out photographer extraodinaire, Matt Hull's blog here.

Living in a disaster zone

I live in a disaster zone. But I am not living in northern Africa, enduring a crippling drought. Nor am I living in Queensland, rebuilding a home after it was washed away by flooding. And I am not living in America's Tornado Alley, watching towns have swathes cut through them. I am living in Japan, but nowhere near Fukushima, location of last year's nuclear power plant meltdown. The disaster zone I am located in is Myoko.

The last four days have brought over three metres of snow. Check out reports and videos here. Local trains have been unable to run for several days and the Japanese government has provided aid money to the town of Myoko to assist snow clearing. It has officially been declared a disaster zone. These are most definitely difficult times for non snow riders.

Skiers and snowboarders on the other hand, have obviously had reason to rejoice.

Photo: Damien St Pierre.

Photo: Damien St Pierre.

There aren't many places, the day after Australia Day, you can get turns like this on a popular run at around 2.30pm. Thanks Damo for the sick photos. Check out more of his stuff here.

I have not intended to trivialise the other disasters I mentioned. Not much good can come from them.

In holes

"Haha, are you stuck in the powder, Tom?" asked Matt as he slid up beside me on his snowboard. A frantic look on may face urged him to take closer look. "Oh, are you stuck in a hole, Tom?" Matt corrected himself. A silent frantic nod of my head was confirmation.

The third run of the morning that delivered 70cm of fresh snow is as it should be - the kind of run that make people throw their head back and laugh, say "Whoop!" and high five their friends. (The friends sharing high fives this morning are Matt Hull, Damien St Pierre and Tim Hayes). As I pull in next to Damo, and am half way into throwing my head back to laugh, he yells "Hole!" Seeing the impending ring of doom in the snow fast approaching I spread my skis to skirt around either side of the 30cm wide hole. The added weight of my lanky frame though, crumbles the perimeter of the hole and my skis quickly slide backwards into the abyss. Sensing a slow and painful climb out of the hole if my skis slide any further, I throw my body into reverse and brace my back against one wall and my skis against the other. Solid.

Behind me I hear Damo tearing off his bindings. Being in a similar position to me last year, Damo is instantly empathetic to my situation. He grabs me under the arms as Tim dives in to get a grip on my legs and torso. As the hole steadily crumbles further, the boys use pure strength and awesomeness to drag me to safety.

Peering back into the hole I get to throw my head back and laugh, realising death was not upon me if I had ended up arse-end-first in the mud at the bottom. High fives are shared and maybe a "whoop!" or two and we keep skiing. Crisis averted. Now for some more pow.

Nearby a faded and torn handkerchief hangs limply from an overhanging branch. It seems that the hole is marked after all.

Thanks to Damo, Tim and Matt for saving me the hard slog of climbing out of the hole. Legends.