A Fresh Powder Day in the Japanese Alps


Thereís nothing like waking up to the sound of silenceÖthe sound of a fresh snowfall. Thatís how I feel as I hurriedly jump out of bed and onto the chairlift taking me up to the top of Happo Mountain. Itís an early start and the sun is still warming up, so the chilly morning air sharply wakes me. Wisps of breath catch in front of my face and a light wind blows down the back of my neck, but I donít care, soon I wonít even feel the cold.

Itís late in the season, meaning that with the start of Spring comes sunny days and no lift lines. Perfect. We are moving fast but as I make my ascent I urge the lift to speed up, uselessly tapping my knees and fidgeting. I feel a childlike anticipation for the day that lies ahead.

I pass trees around me that have turned white overnight, yet somehow still look so Japanese with their web of branches and snow-tipped buds that are wrapped up until Spring. The terrain here is nothing like what you would encounter anywhere else; the mountains seem sharper and the snow undoubtedly deeper. Thereís a reason why Japan is renowned for its skiing and Iím about to be lucky enough to experience it. The backdrop of the Japanese Alps starts to come into view and in crisp, clear definition I can see the craggy rocks jutting out through their white, snowy blanket.

To my right, a group of skiers fly down the hill, throwing up great waves of white dust. Whoops and shouts reach me at the chairlift and I cant help but let out one of my own in encouragement and acknowledgement of the fun theyíre having. I stop myself from panicking that all the fresh lines will be taken by the time I reach the top Ė the mountainís big enough for all of us and thereís plenty of snow to go around today. Besides, thereís barely a handful of tracks weaving their way from top to bottom like snail trails. I will get mine.

Finally my chair docks at the lift station and I am plunged into momentary darkness before emerging at the top of the world. Below there is an undisturbed view of the valley and itís ant-like villages. Above me, just the blue sky. Nothing but fresh, fluffy powder lies in front, looking like soft, marshmallow clouds waiting and inviting me to bounce across their surface. As I clip my board onto my feet and shuffle towards the edge, I stop to absorb the almost deafening silence before taking a deep breath. Time slows down, I point my board down the mountain and as I begin to float through the white gold, I disappear.

T Shaw

More information on advertising opportunities,
Click Here