Last January, BCA Athletes Sophia Rouches and Micah Evangelista, joined by snowboarder Max Djenohan and photographer Colton Jacobs, set out on a ski trip to Japan to explore the country’s rich culture and rumored bottomless pow.
Words by Sophia Rouches, photos by Colton Jacobs
When the forecast calls for an inch, it snows a foot. The snowpack is one of many reasons to visit Japan, and it’s well known that January is the best time to ski there. But we’ve also been skunked in years past. Based on prior experience, we knew the best chance to score was to stay flexible and follow the storms.
After flight delays and an unexpected layover in Tokyo, we made it to the northern island of Hokkaido. A window of high pressure meant our best chance to score was on Hokkaido’s tallest mountain, Asahidake. A tram takes you halfway up the mountain, and from there all the terrain you can see is in play. It had been days since the last storm, but with a bit of walking we found fresh pockets. Amazing what a few good turns will do to lift spirits. Delays and airport chaos felt far away, and the small one-room Airbnb housing six of us seemed spacious enough.
With a storm approaching, we relocated to the small city of Otaru. For a city, it retains a mountainous feel, with many ski areas within reach. Roadside attractions sit just off the highway, and solid sidecountry terrain lies out the gates of nearby Kokusai and Kiroro. We settled into a daily routine of 7-Eleven breakfast, days in the mountains that went until dark, hot ramen, and fresh fish. The place matches the hype.
Backcountry skiing in Japan is becoming more popular but avalanche forecasting is still very limited. More trafficked regions, like Niseko, provide forecasts for small zones, but nothing for the greater region. As snow stacked up, our crew took note of the changes to the snowpack. Large storm slabs seemed likely, so we stayed out of exposed areas and kept to low-angle trees. Slowly, we stepped out to features and searched for natural hits. The trees in Japan are tight, so clean landings are hard to come by. Our trip took a sharp turn when a member of our crew collided with a tree, fracturing his pelvis. Immediately, focus shifted from skiing, and the priority became helping Micah navigate the Japanese medical system.
It was a hard injury to witness. Accidents can happen at any time, and if you spend enough time in the mountains, eventually something will go wrong. The hope is that when it does, you and those you’re with are prepared to deal with it. This scenario made me reflect on the importance of your backcountry partners. Having a dialed crew is the difference in ensuring things don’t go from bad to worse.
I’m so thankful for the crew we had on this trip. Of course, vibes are high when you’re making pow turns, or even fighting for the last chicken tender at the local 7-Eleven, but when things got real, we showed up for each other. I’ve always felt backcountry skiing fosters a rare friendship, hard to find elsewhere, and it’s never felt more true than on this trip.
The group goes for a walk around the lower slopes of Asahidake.
The group goes for a walk around the lower slopes of Asahidake.
Micah Evangelista lays down a butter at the bottom of his run in the Kiroro backcountry.
A cozy spot to grab a bowl of ramen and a cup of sake.
Sophia and Micah take in the view on a clear day on the flanks of Asahidake.
A stormy night walking the streets of Otaru.