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.

Festive Myoko

Myoko has been seeing dump of snow, after dump of snow for the past week. Christmas sat smack bang in the middle of all those dumps. Santa strapped on a snowboard and delivered chocolately delights to all he saw and the rest of us went to find some deep snow.

Santa SLEIGHS Myoko from Tom Mitten on Vimeo.

A season almost started

The snow season in Myoko, Japan began in earnest today...almost.

I arrived in Myoko late Monday night and was met by a town of brown keenly anticipating the first big snow falls of the season. Following a few days of getting to know the town and the surrounding area, with everyone getting lost because everything looks different when there aren't towering snowbanks looming over the town, yesterday we headed into Nagano in search of tourist attractions. 

The imposing Zenko-ji Temple is popular with locals and tourists alike. Despite the souvenir and trinket shops encircling the temple's entrances, the grounds still have a presence about them. Japanese people of all ages dropped flaming incense sticks into an ornate stove and waved the smoke onto ailing parts of their body. The smoke is said to have healing powers. Inside the temple there are wooden statues that are worn smooth from people rubbing them for good luck...I think. At least that's why I rubbed the statue. 

Our group split after the Zenko-ji Temple. Those who had been around for a few years went ice skating while the rest went for an adventure to the famed snow monkeys. Of course everyone who spoke Japanese went ice skating, so we monkey hunters were sent out into the wild hills around Nagano armed with only our cameras and a Japanese GPS. The GPS led us to a train station still some distance from the monkeys. After restocking and re-strategising at a 7/11 and now armed with a cartoon map we battled on...to a 'road closed' sign. Battling now against the Japanese GPS, cartoon map and quickly fading light we spotted a sign adorned with a monkey. We forged ahead to the snow monkeys, until we arrived at the car park and were met by a 1.6km walk to the entrance. With fifteen minutes to spare before the gates closed we arrived at the monkeys. Success! And what a success. Monkeys chilling in hot springs. Monkeys fighting. Cute baby monkeys hanging off their mothers. It had it all! Including the beginnings of a snow storm.

This storm was only expected to deliver 4cm of snow. By the time we got home after an hour's drive there was at least 24cm on the side of the road. By the morning it had accumulated to about 74cm and was still building. Today was supposed to be the first day of lifts running so skis and boards were frantically thrown onto roof racks and bodies bundled into the vans. Half way out of the driveway we got the call - the lifts wouldn't be running because the operators weren't expecting so much snow and weren't ready. Bummer.

Tomorrow will be a different story.