A MONTH IN JAPAN. THE SEARCH FOR JAPOW

The plane dropped through a ceiling of bruised clouds and landed in Tokyo after a long journey of mixed insomnia on the plane from Chicago. Meal after meal at inopportune hours. Snow was nowhere to be found, which was bit disconcerting given the amount of snowboard gear I had overpacked for this adventure. It was 11:30pm by the time I retrieved my over-stuffed snowboard bag on wheels and time to locate my friend in a hotel somewhere amongst 22 million others. An hour train hop and a failed bus ticket purchase led me to a slick black taxi with a masked Japanese driver to my final destination. He drove in silence which was a relief after my flight of engine noise, interrupted with period childrens cries and outbursts. Landed pefect in front of the correct hotel and was greeted by my childhood amigo with beer in hand pacing the hotel curb awaiting my arrival.

The next morning, we decided to skip the 8 hour train to Sapporo and headed directly back to the airport (in the 75f outdoor temperature that had me wondering if we'd come to the right place in search of a snowstorm or two). We arrived in Sapporo half-feral and under-caffeinated, still clutching a snowboard bag that began to seem ridiculous with the current conditions. The locals moved with eerie calm, like they’d made a long-term pact with the silence. Fast forward 6 hours of minor downtown exploration and I again found myself touching down on a flight into a new territory. Nighttime fell again and we finally found remnants of dirty, plowed snow on the roadsides. Another hour trainride and 2 mile bag drag and we make it to a chic hotel for $90 that we would call home for the next week.

The next morning we decided on a rental car to spread our wings beyond the confines of the train tracks and routine bus routes.

We winded through the roads of Japan on the opposite site of the road as the snow thickened and the the air sharpened. Snow around us deepened, and the mountains loomed like silent witnesses to poor decision-making that was turning around for the better.

The lift creaked upward through a blizzard conditions that seemed personally offended by my presence. Visibility? Optional. Sanity? Also optional for now. At the top, the world quickly dissolved into a white void, —because that’s what you do when you’ve flown thousands of miles fueled by hype, bad monetary decisions, and a pathological need for velocity.

And then—here we are.

The board sank deep into snow so light it felt illegal. Every turn pushed a cloud of powder that erased the past half-second of your life. It wasn’t riding anymore—it was floating and charging at controlled chaos at sometimes higher speed than being cautious would allow. I laughed like a lunatic, the sound swallowed instantly by the wind. We made it.

Hours blurred. My legs burned, lungs screamed at times, and still we chased it over and over—the perfect line, the deeper stash, the untouched face hidden just beyond reason. Every once and a while I would end up upside down... but that was okay. At some point I found myself waist-deep walking out of the woods back to a cat track underneath the chair lifts, seaching for a place to recover back to the board. A local rider glided past effortlessly, gave me a nod that said both “respect” and “you idiot,” then disappeared into the white abyss.

We continued like this for 10 days to 7 different mountains and enjoyed endless snow as storms dumped thicker Japow by the day. Ramen restaurants, endless sweets, and a sense of adventure. We had found what we were looking for...

Niseko- Once everyone talked about this place like it was some kind of sacred temple for powder addicts—we found this to be the snowy, overcrowded Disneyland of Japan. There might as well have been a conveyor belt from the airport the the overpriced tourist palaces. The place hummed with a strange international chaos: Australians shouting, Brits apologizing, Americans pretending they discovered it first. We left after one day (of admittedly great riding.)

Around Japan, steam rose from outdoor onsens as snow fell relentlessly, like the sky had a grudge. I soaked among strangers in silence, skin sizzling in recovery mode, brain still vibrating from the day’s descent into powder-fueled delirium.

Japan provides the kind of meals that reset your soul while simultaneously providing every nutritional necessity.

By the end of it, Hokkaido had rewired something fundamental. Snow wasn’t just weather anymore—it was an addiction, a living entity that demanded respect and reckless devotion in equal measure.

And as I stumbled back through the falling snow, board slung over my shoulder like a weapon I barely knew how to wield, one thought cut through the haze:

This place doesn’t care about you.

And that’s exactly why you come back.