Hana Beaman, pillow-to-pillow method in yet another discovery in a hush-hush zone near Yuzawa, Japan. SOMEPLACE NEW Japan’s main island of Honshu got off to a slow start last winter. Lower elevations in Hakuba were unusually thin. Elena and Hana had ar-rived before the rest of the crew and reported marginal, windblown conditions. But by the time I got there in the third week of January, the usual North Pacific moisture had arrived, bringing two feet of new snow. We could have stayed in Hakuba—they had a nice cabin already secured on the outskirts of town, lift access, knowledge of nearby ter-rain, all the trappings of easy film days. But the lure of someplace new was enough to send us packing. Yuzawa is easily accessed from Japan’s megalopolis via the Shinkan-sen bullet train—it’s only an hour-long ride from Tokyo station. Yet, compared to Hakuba, it’s rarely visited by foreigners. To get to Yuzawa, we had to drive over a winding mountain pass, and that takes awhile in an overstuffed toaster-shaped rental van. Luckily, said mountain pass went through typically steep mountains. As we drove east and gained elevation, the snowbanks grew from five to 15 feet high, prompting us to stop and sample a few roadside attractions under rapidly changing weather. A step ahead of us, Travis had mapped out several promising zones, and sent us pins like a trail of breadcrumbs to chase lines for the day as he freerode with Shin. I began to wonder if Travis was simply buying time, getting a few more laps in before the need to log footage slowed down his powder-pillaging operation. And I wouldn’t blame him for doing so. Meanwhile, we passed people engaged in all forms of snow removal, using everything from hand shovels to a colossal, elephant-like ma-chine that hoovered up new snow, spat it out in front of a rotating blade, and vaporized most of its molecular structure. Then, arrival: In contrast to the chic, modern village of Hakuba, Yuzawa felt like a throwback to the 1980s. Imposing high-rises in vari-ous earthy shades dominated the scene, towering over tight streets that are home to 8,000-or-so folks. But there were mountains in every di-rection, or so we’d been told. Thick snowflakes obscured everything beyond a hundred-yard radius. They stacked impossibly high; eight inches deep on the power lines. Travis would meet us at nearby Mt. Naeba in the morning. For now, we’d settle into the NASPA New Otani Resort and try the buffet. YUZAWA 061
The Snowboarder's Journal frequency 17.1: Page 61
