Asamushi-shi to Furano-shi

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Asamushi onsen cleared on our leaving day but was deceptively icy on the morning run using the smaller roads north, passing several scallop sellers. With “mushi” in its name (steaming), eggs could, we’d heard, be cooked up at the local health-giving drinkable water spring and water bath. A helpful local was keen to share his experience of it, noting fifteen minutes was the ideal cooking time, and the virtues of the mineral rich tepid spring water that flowed beside. Tentatively, we drank, and so far we remain well, or “genki de”.



Taking another vantage point of the town above a shrine, we hopped on the train after midday to go a short distance back to Aomori, to be based there for a few nights. Hirosaki would be within reach here, so we made sure before we could check-in to see some of the harbour area.



After a wander beneath the motorway over bridge to get to the west port side, for a short picnic on melting snow, we tracked back east to Memorial park, and saw the old ship that once took passengers by sea to Hokkaido, before the undersea train tunnel was built. We passed on the A-factory for overpriced ($9NZD flat white) hot coffee. Our search for a supermarket was a bit miss more than hit, with early closings leading us again to the reliable and well stocked convenience store!



The room at Aomori My Stays had a brilliant harbour view on the ninth floor. It also, that evening, highlighted being so high up that quakes could be felt. Getting ready for bed, P2 watched as my moderately heavy fabric back hanging on the door hinge swung back and forth. Despite the small room size, it was not the nearby heat pump pushing out air. A 6 Richter scale quake had hit Eastern Hokkaido, with a few nearby quakes following, but we were well and truly ok.



Hirosaki had like Aomori a fairly dense overnight snow fall, but I passed no less than five joggers on my run, and many older folks out and about, familiar and undeterred by what is to us severe winter weather. The hoards piling off at Hirosaki dispersed quickly and widely that the historic castle precinct was nice and quiet for a weekend, with the castle undergoing refurbishment yet grounds remained open. It’s known for its age (original from the 1600s), with fire leading to a reconstruction around 1810 following a major fire. Flurries of snow fell during the day which was sub zero, and slowly we took in the old samurai residences, frozen canals, red bridges, and cherry blossom avenue (snow clad now, but crowded in spring). Amazake from the castle cafe, and several vending machine visits, ensured the hands and body stayed warm.



More snow fell on departure day and it was blizzard-like when headed to our Shin-Aomori transfer, five minutes on the local train from Aomori town. The split of 7 minutes was barely enough, as we were reassured to the contrary, but once on, we could settle in and be rocked asleep for the next 3.5 hours to Sapporo.



Although the east coast was almost bare of snow, the train soon entered a heavier snow setting slowing our arrival, which fortunately our apartment host understood (unusual for Japanese trains to be late, but expected with how heavy it got). We found the local Max Value, gleefully striding out in the deep powdery snow with no risk of slipping or falling.



However, as Sapporo defrosted over the coming days, one of which became 8C, the powder turned to slush, then deep puddles with polished icy pavements around it. Quite the skating challenge for anyone’s feet.



Snow shoeing in Otaru was missed by P2 last time, so we wanted to make up for it by conjuring up a day trip on foot that would get the legs moving. The canals, deeply packed with snow at the northern end, and glorious blue sky day, made it all the more beautiful for starters. A winding 5km amble got us eventually above the Neuschloss hotel, looking well past its heyday. Our feet sank deeply as we waded up the trail, carefully reconciling the trail map to terrain to “rock stack viewpoint”, which I’d fathom standing a good 1-1.5m higher than three years ago. Dodging tree branches and keeping to trail tested us on Mt Shimoakaiwa and the subsequent 900m (distance) slog up the second hill of Mt Akaiwa was a thigh burner, rewarded with a branchy view down to Otaru and out to sea at the summit. The kilometre descent was slightly off piste, as I erroneously added an ascent to with the GPS mis-orientation. Either way, we would have ended up at a road that actually became a continuation of snow shoeing, only that time it was in the Otaru suburban outskirts.



Afternoon tea, care of the Lawson, was the first goal once the shoes and poles were stowed in my pack, then a further 3.5km to the canals was the walk for the Otaru night view. It was becoming a clear “Instagrammable” spot from those gathered, in contrast to the silence of what we’d just done. Shoe bags slung over our shoulders as we now wearily walked, I grabbed us something chocolate from the St Germain, instantly lifting energy for the last of our JR pass day. P2 commented poignantly, we’d just crossed into “next level” snow shoeing.



There would be avocado, scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast for at least a few more days, and clean clothes, with a kitchen and washing machine. Lap it up!



We’d earned a lie in after that day, and appropriately it involved a new discovery; nearby mountain gear outlet stores, an adjacent coffee roaster (who I managed for the first time to buy espresso grind - decaf is elusive - for the Wacaco), and that the Sunshine pool had exceptional Covid-19 health and safety measures.



We wandered a little, seeing the Sapporo beer old factory near our accomodation, and many happy snappers at the Prefectural building (which was looking uncannily real with the fabric facade placed there during its current restoration).



Another re-pack began to move ourselves on the next day in relaxed fashion to Furano, away from the Max Value and hyaku-en shops I’d grown to like, and foot-polished icy streets I’d grown to fear falling on. Reserved seats took us there on the midday departure, and snow walls alongside the railway got bigger.



The local train typically is a crowded ride from Asahikawa as it was for us, with standing room only behind the driver being the usual interesting experience as the train climbs gradually in altitude. The ‘snow eaves removal team’ were active at Furano station, and the response of the passengers in filming them equally curious for what was a daily event for them.



The Natulux has been a predictable base for us, this time far longer than in January 2020. Our fairly ample hotel room, plus our portable food prep getup, would do well to keep this long trip going. Basic in-room purifiers, and massive HEPA filters by the elevator, intermittently on, put my concerns at rest about shared hotel aircon systems. Technicalities aside, the view from floor 6 is fantastic, and I got perhaps my last on-my-own onsen there, before the busyness of more guests arriving.



Making our Hokkaido rail passes work, and reconciling the weather forecast, we planned out the next few days. Unfortunately the low cloud came and went at Hakuginso on the Thursday, making it tricky progress in a sea of white as our depth and steepness perception really got challenged. The odd tree luckily gave context, and with GPS help, we did get within sight of Bogakudai lookout before snow shoeing back for an onsen. Some passengers on the bus to Fukiage had used their backcountry skis to reach the summit and ski down, and their comment “it was borderline” (safety) highlighted that mountains always need respect.

Several memorial stones are on the trails, barely visible as covered by snow, that translate roughly as ‘enjoy the park but do take care’.



Wakkanai was jostled around as an idea for an overnighter, with our accommodation bookings already made, and with looming windy weather, we drew that line in the sand and booked a day in advance. After an early start, a rocking train did lull us to drowsiness, but when the valleys full of high snow walls and frozen rivers near Otoineppu arose, we were glued to the scenery. Wakkanai had a little less snow, but with my insistence that snow shoes maybe could be taken for the jaunt, they’d certainly prove useful with the depth we saw above the Hokumon jinja. Cape Noshappu walkway was an icy and flat 9km wander, passing seaweed and fish drying on bamboo hangers, done in a brisk wind with a probable more severely sub zero wind chill temperature. Fortunately, the trucks and few cars for the first two kilometres were respectful enough that walking by keeping left on the road was very acceptable.



The indoor-outdoor rooftop onsen was accessed three times in that stay. I was but for one occasion alone (with seemingly a hotel full of more men than women) and it was 100% relaxing.



Having had a hazy view the day before, Wakkanai then put on a blue sky day so that we could literally see for miles from the Centennial Monument lookout area to Rishiri Fuji, a volcanic peak offshore of over 1700m. From the snowy hills, and convergent lines of the foreground scenery, it definitely satisfied the photographer even if we ran out of time to get to the actual lookout. Wakkanai say, there was too much to see.



The train back was sadly without the respectful and (quite entertaining in their end-of-Japan-railroad photo antics) U3A passengers of the incoming trip. Instead, it was with a carriage of snifflers and unprotected coughing ‘neighbours’ for the 3.5 hours to Asahikawa. But we did see frozen rivers and briefly one Hokkaido fox to add to the ‘wildlife library’ we were banking up.



A lie in was needed, so we put off the keen hotel cleaners until half eleven when we finally set off for Bibaushi, with tentatively planning Nishinaka as a snow shoe spot later on. Getting used to mounting my shoes on a shoulder strap, P2 continued to look like he was off to work, with his steady pace on the roads plus blue and black bag carried by hand.



Bjbaushi was lovely and quiet, and within fifteen minutes or so we began to catch sight of the Tokachidake panorama this area is known for and where we’d experienced my flat tyre some years ago. Suddenly a tour bus pulls up a kilometre ahead and then we knew this particular “Chritmas” (no typo) tree was famous. Our attempt to walk to the lookout was thwarted by large snow heaps, and applying our caution with accidental trespass of someone’s property, we chose a slightly longer road route. But grand views could be had anywhere (who needs a lookout anyway!) and the large ginger cat I thought I’d spotted by the snow heap for the cat lover clearly wasn’t; it was another Hokkaido fox!



Back on board the JR line to Nishinaka we alighted to P2s rough plan for snow shoeing, and with the fine cool day, we headed straight up the gentle hill to find our place. Woodpeckers sounded jackhammer like, almost in ‘call and response’ pecking action. And Tokachi lay before us the afternoon sun, begging for more photos. As we discovered, the edging in of spring had begun, with some fields starting to be raked and churned up for the planting ahead. Action by the community had started, and the vast white fields were steadily fading to brown-grey.



Adding to our plans was somewhere we flew through in a snow storm last time, Shirogane onsen and the famous (at that time frozen) waterfall. We’d alighted at Biei with plenty of time, but when no bus arrived before the due departure at the eki-mae as first thought, we ended up missing the exact bus location, and hence bus. Our second taxi in this trip was requested at the helpful tourism centre, and in comfort we were taken to the onsen resort. Now if only the tourist centre or public conveniences were open. We weren’t so lucky, as they were boarded up.



Packed to the rafters at times, and else wise quiet when you pick the moment, the waterfall was more defrosted than before although still incredible with its lengthy icicles. We swiftly got out of the melee to climb the approximately 250 steps to the higher platform that took us to closed roads, that we were free to walk on. From a rise in the road, Mount Tokachi was seen fuming at the vent, in what became an increasingly fine scene. Squirrels were spotted ‘squeaking’ among the trees, and so fast too, as they were only bushy tails caught on camera.



We forwent the Shirogane onsen possibility (with the numerous people there and our time limits) to catch the 1:07 bus back to Biei and for the train to Kamifurano area. A long wander was set up, taking in possibly a bakery, a coffee roastery, and back down to Nishinaka for another possible onsen opportunity, if we had the time. The spirit of my travel times past was channeled, when spending was more economic and experiences like long walks on rural roads were made enjoyable. This was the real world Kamifurano-Nishinaka.



About 6km on and we were approaching the roastery, with a sequence of unusually fast drivers coming dangerously close to us, that seemed most unruly. When one in van with blackened windows reversed to speak to us, I motioned to P2 to keep walking. Through a forced smile from the driver, we responded with “driving fast is dangerous and we were frightened” for this reason. Off they drove, and we discussed yet again as to ‘was this general unruliness?’, or we are becoming older that we notice it more!



Intending to have a short transaction at the roastery, with 5km remaining of our long walk, we ended up staying and having a French roasted Brazilian coffee chosen by the kind owner, having purchased the only decaf espresso grind we’d located so far in Japan. They love their drip coffee and to be “kafueenresu” here is most odd with taking ‘kusuri’ / “medical reasons” well understood. Sensing our remaining long walk, the attentive younger fellow raised the Te Araroa trail with us, being keen to go to Aotearoa NZ to walk the length of it. It is often the visitors that outshine us as NZ citizens, as we shared we’d only done maybe 100km of parts of the trail in our lives.



The march back to Nishinaka was high spirited after that caffeine injection, and after a few enquiries at La Terre, we opted to return when time was more afforded to enjoy it. And quieter! The higher budget day ended with a low budget dinner in the hotel, and the deep sleep that follows 20km of walking with a pack.



About that lie in.

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