A skier on Niseko, with Mt Yotei in the background. Photo / Sarah Ivey
A skier on Niseko, with Mt Yotei in the background. Photo / Sarah Ivey
If perfect ski snow is your passion this is the Japanese destination for you, but don't count on admiring the scenery, writes David Lewis.
Ski bunnies like to head to offshore pistes. They hang out with their tax-dodging brethren in the US Rockies and British Columbia, or maybe Europe if they've had a good year and been avoiding those pesky provisional tax demands even more than usual.
Japan is a place they've heard about, maybe considered, but not many head that way. Certainly, last January it was hard to find a single Herne Bay private equity baron, Mooloo dairy millionaire or Cashmere radiologist up in Niseko. Nor even any stray pot-bellied retired first-fives from Waiuku who might be plying their footy trade in Japan.
Niseko is a small town on Japan's northernmost island of Hokkaido (the Kurils and geopolitics aside). It's a bit like Ohakune. Not large, a few thousand residents. They're both towns that look like they would be pretty nice in summer, not that you'd ever go there then. And they grow plenty of veges. Good for you, veges.
Ohakune's Turoa tends to get more snow than the other ski areas it measures itself by, like Whakapapa and Mt 'Naki. Niseko tends to get more snow than, well, pretty much any ski hill in the world. (There's probably some obscure peak in Kashmir that beats it, but smart bunnies who know about mortars and sectarian mayhem would probably pick Niseko.)
The hill is, by ski area standards, pretty low at about 1150m. Puny, your pub quiz bore would smirk. Turoa soars another kilometre higher. But unlike Turoa, Niseko is situated close to the Sea of Japan and just across from Siberia. What's important about this little geography lesson, other than being pretty handy in a pub quiz against that bore, is that Siberia lies to the west, where the wind and weather comes from.
The trillion square kilometres of frozen tundra to the right of the Urals is home to Putin's bear hunts, possibly the odd unclosed gulag and some of the coldest air going about. The air is even colder and very dry by the time it finishes its traverse of the steppe, hits the Sea of Japan, picks up some nice moisture, freezes it, and then like a heavily laden snow factory conveyer belt operating at full capacity, unloads it as snow on the first hill (Niseko) that it can find.
The writer on Niseko. Photo / David Lewis
It averages around 16m of snow a year. (That's over 50ft deep for old schoolers and pub quiz champions. Think of eight Brodie Retallicks - or, for old schoolers, 10 Colin Meads - end-on-end stacked upright, and you're getting the picture of how deep that is).
And not just any snow. As any self-respecting, tax-averse ski bunny knows, the colder the air, the drier the snow, the lighter and more crisp the powder. Niseko pretty much doesn't get above -12C. During 10 days in January, -12C was the warm day.
The powder is deep. Knee deep. Thigh deep. Waist deep. Take your pick - it's there. It's light. It's squeaky. Yes, that special sound that all ski stoners who've fallen out of their Wanaka caravan after a big winter dump know to be the money shot of skiing - deep, light and squeaky. But it's not all perfect.
If your vision of ski heaven is a beautiful mountain, clear skies, bright sunlight glinting off the snow crystals as you sip a glass of gluhwein or feuerzangenbowle and work on a rather fetching little ski tan, then maybe Aspen, Kitzbuhel or even Kashmir is where you should be. Niseko is gray dull. Most of the time, with a good pair of goggles and the right lenses, you can see. (By the standards of any connoisseur of the Whakapapa whiteout, it's high visibility.) But if you're there for a week, you might glimpse the sun once or twice.
Doesn't help the view. Directly opposite Niseko is the spectacular Mt Yotei - a classic volcanic cone like Mt Fuji. Quite beautiful. Chances are you'll never see it.
The freezing temperatures and the constant conveyer belt of snow operating most of the time make it particularly suited for anyone still wearing a 1990s fluoro, double insulated, onesie ski suit with padded shoulders. For those who regret throwing theirs out, thankfully some of the chair lifts have perspex covers which shut out (some of) the snow and wind chill.
The writer on Niseko. Photo / David Lewis
Besides the hooded chairlifts and gondolas, there's a single seater chair which gives access to the highest part of the hill. Calling it a chair is like calling TV3's political editor Paddy Gower restrained. It is more a small wooden disc hanging from a wire. Riding it feels like balancing on a thin stool 15m off the ground. It doesn't have a safety bar - let alone a comforting perspex cover shielding one from the weather - but it does take the stoner bunnies to the waist deep, squeakiest powder.
Best to close your eyes, think of Judith Collins and Cameron Slater, and the ride will be comparatively pleasant.
After skiing, well, Japan is not too shabby and reasonably priced. The food is great and the accommodation is the sort of excellent apartments which Len Brown wants for all of Auckland.
And for the true sinning ski bunny who likes whisky ($25 a bottle), smoking yourself to an early death ($5 a pack), and enjoys sharing communal baths (onsen) with your own sex, it's pretty much the dream place.
Possibly the most recognisable name of all of Japan's ski areas, Niseko is a hit with skiers and snowboarders. They're drawn to all the snow that seems to continually fall each season across the four independently-owned resorts that make up Niseko. Travel website Powderhounds rates it the best resort in Japan for terrain and powder. It's on Hokkaido, the country's smaller northern island, about 100km southwest of Sapporo. It has terrain suitable for everyone, and you're even allowed to ride off-piste and out-of-bounds.
The top lift on the skifield on Niseko. Photo / Hayden Donnell
Hakuba
If you're after choice then head straight to Hakuba, which is actually a valley comprising 10 resorts. The resort is on Honshu, about an hour's drive west of Nagano. This is where the Winter Olympics was held in 1998, but don't let that put you off if you're a beginner or intermediate - the terrain largely caters to you. Advanced riders should note that heading off-piste and going tree skiing is strictly banned.
Rusutsu
Think powder and variety when you think of Rusutsu. Located 90 minutes south-west of Sapporo, Rusutsu is the largest ski resort on Hokkaido. It's a resort that has a reputation for plenty of deep, dry snow and tree skiing, and powderhounds.com describes the snow as "absolute bliss". The terrain is fairly gentle so it's a great spot to get used to riding powder. This season has also seen the introduction of a new off-piste park area called Side Country Park. It's all about natural features, including log rides and drops.
Ski bunnies head in droves to Furano, on Hokkaido. One of Japan's larger resorts, it has plenty of long groomers. The trees and off-piste are policed here, too, but you can join a backcountry tour and also go snowmobiling. Furano isn't blessed with as much powder as Japan's other popular resorts, (it gets about 9m each season) but enough flakes fall to make it frequently knee deep. It's also said to be one of the steepest mountains in Hokkaido.
- AAP
CHECKLIST
Getting there:Air New Zealand flies non-stop daily from Auckland to Tokyo. Local carriers continue to Niseko.
