Abundent alps to Tokyo temples: Oshoogatsu (New Years), Japanese style

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Leaving the Hakuba valley was with trepidation and a tinge of sadness. Mainly for the anticipated historical snowfall that was to curtail the activity over the next few days of Oshoogatsu, New Years celebrations



Making full use of the free local shuttles in the area from Happo village, I headed out to get the gear hire from Iwatake. Iwatake translates as ‘place of hideously loud and tasteless music’, piped through the speakers attracting a mixed crowd of Japanese and foreigner boarders and skiers. On the upside, the terrin of cross country routes through trees and undulating hills fit the bill nicely.



I ditched the plan of staying on familiar trails there to go on to Tsugaike’s Maeyama cross country paths, farther east up the valley and about 30 minutes along heavily snowed roads



A short 5 minutes’ walk down from the gondola brings you to the entrance, recently graded by the many bulldozer and snow moving machines in town. Smooth and powdery, I practiced my falls, my uphill climbs and got to carve some paths freshly downhill, at a slow pace, to boost my confidence level. One more bruise to add to the pallet that was my thighs, and another gear trial to base any future purchases on.



Settling back into Happo for a short onsen at Hotel Gorukan, the wealthy neighbour of Hotel Square, and it was time for a taxi to the train station and onwards travel to Myoko Kogen, north west of Nagano. Passing frozen lakes and diminishing snow falls, the reverse happened as the train routed north west into the second valley and well known at the for skiing in the Alps



A packed out train of cell phone staring folk, bent over their screens throughout the 40 minute trip, and I arrived in Myoko, dark and cold at 3 Celsius. My chatty Japanese speaking driver took me to Hotel Silverhorn, at that time bequeathed in little snow outside and clear roads. Little did I know of the historical falls to come.



Traditional bathing and a tatami room for the night put me back into the mental frame of traveling locally. Squatting, cross legged sitting and shared facilities on hot loo seats are the norm in such places and the interior onsen, albeit small, a haven of warmth as the mercury dropped sub zero



By morning, my double glazed frosted window, unable to be opened, acted as a good refrigerator and soon I discovered the blanket of white and negative 10 Celsius that had descended.



Waiting for Bill, the guide from Dancing Snow for the day, took some time, in between hot drinks and talking with fellow travellers. Being such dramatic conditions, and draped in heavy snow, he could not move his vehicle to get to me at Akakura field at our planned time. We eventually kicked off at 10am with an open itinerary, better boots than in Hakuba, and plans for some sort of back country adventure and skiing.



To imagine such a landscape I could not. Parking the car in a small space up the valley with at least 3 metre walls of white, we trekked into the valley, pushing hard through thigh deep snow with our skis and poles, across frozen road ways and a small river via a snow bridge no wider than 75 to 100 cm. As the scrawly snow flurries worsened, any remaining wildlife scattered and it was simply us and the silence of being in the remote snowy valley.



We cut the morning adventure at midday returning to a roof line of our vehicle, the rest being buried in snow, resuming after lunch at Akakura, and determined to give free heeled skiing a go at Bill’s recommendation. His great tuition only got me so far, and although I ended up slightly better than starting, it was work in progress. I do wonder if one can ‘teach an old dog new tricks’ when fear of falling holds me back.



As snow conditions became more severe, the loads became too much for the trains from Myoko. I arrived at the station train’less, minus five degrees at 4:30pm, and building up a worrying shiver from the rapid change in activity. In his kindness, Bill took me to a nearby station with operating trains, and with a short delay we started to chug off, windows heavy with ice and commuters focusing again on their phones.



Before long we hit Nagano, the main bullet train lines, with visions of meeting my pre booked accommodation in Shinegawa by nightfall becoming reality. I met my bed and dinner with gusto, and after finally locating an ATM that worked to pay them, and configuring the multi functioning toilet system, I hit the decks well stuffed.



The New Years in Japan (Oshoogatsu) was to be the Tokyo stay’s focus. Chihiro and her two children, now nearly statuesque adults, met me and we trundled off to Zojoji temple and its near neighbour. We paid respects to one of the oldest Japanese families shrine (Tokugawa), offer smoke to the gods and my hair for healing, and set our hopes on a loosely tied good luck message I paid 200 yen for. May the smoke embellish my spirit, treat my bruises, and deliver lifelong happiness. All for 200 yen, you can’t get that anywhere for the same price!



Veering away from the performing monkey, we settled into an aged wooden soba restaurant for some sustenance, and headed on to the adjacent Tokyo Tower to relive my trip there as a teenager, 20 plus years before. Reassuringly the tower lookout (at 150 metres) had been pimped and preened, jealous of its taller and rambunctious cousin, the now tallest (tower), Tokyo Sky Tree that I had visited 2 years prior. One thing had not changed however, cheap, quality souvenirs!



In between hot drinks, train rides, photos, and wandering around Shibuya for rectangular frying pan searches with Ayu’chan on GPS navigation, the afternoon slipped away.



Before long it was farewell to Chihiro and her whanau, and hello to Hiroshi for dinner that evening. A decadent affair a traditional meal always is, we drew it out with a late café visit seeing us both weary eyed and enriched with philosophical conversation and catch up to cover a few more years

Succumbing to my first severe laryngitis in a long time, making for a horrible night sleep, I am trudging on for the final day fortified by OTC drugs. Headed to Karuizawa, home to outlet shopping and a last chance to see alpine scenery, will empty my pockets of remaining yen, with a sky couch awaiting my late flight, no doubt crashing on the plinth for the return home and great memories.

'Ja Mata' for now

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