A LOVE LETTER FROM JAPAN

A Love Letter from Japan 

There was a time when ski trips to Japan were considered exotic and rare, something that surprised friends and made it onto many people's bucket lists. Enthusiasts felt that discovering something unique—the deep powder, the scarcity of Westerners, and the vibrant culture—made it a true adventure to visit the Land of the Rising Sun. On those early trips, encountering a Westerner was almost like truckers honking their horns when they meet on the highway — a gesture saying, “Oh, you made it here too.” We were so few that it was natural to start a conversation if you crossed paths in a lift line or a restaurant.

Fast forward to today, and moments like that are clearly in the past. Today, ski trips to Japan are a popular choice among many passionate skiers worldwide, including both beginners and experts. At Chitose Airport near Sapporo in January and February, there are more foreigners with ski bags than Japanese travellers. The once exotic and unique ski resorts are now bustling with Western visitors staying at the stylish, new hotels. I am not claiming all the recent changes in Japanese ski resorts have been negative. Not at all. Japanese society has long been heavily influenced by Western cultures, which is evident in many aspects of life, including clothing, lifestyle, technology, industry, values, and even skiing.  Many local ski communities throughout Japan have flourished due to the influence of foreigners, particularly in enjoying free skiing and powder.

Although popular ski destinations in Japan attract many visitors from the US, Canada, and Europe, it doesn't mean the country’s pristine powder gets quickly tracked out everywhere. If you want authentic Japan and untouched snow, skip the well-known resorts like Niseko and Hakuba. Instead, explore lesser-known regions, venture off the beaten path, and earn your turns. Japan still provides excellent chances for fresh tracks and memorable skiing adventures in spots that most tourists overlook. 

I've enjoyed exploring Japan for skiing since the mid-2000s. Over the years, I've travelled to Japan about 15 times, visiting many ski resorts and backcountry locations. In the early years, it was rare for us to meet foreigners at the ski resorts. It was an odd Aussie and a few Americans, but mostly Japanese people. At the restaurants, there were no English menus, and in fact, few people spoke English anywhere we went. Things were more authentic, and the experience, even in the bigger resorts, was more genuine. 

In my career as a photographer, I started travelling to Japan for work trips with professional skiers. I quickly embraced the culture, the people, the food, the landscape, and the rhythm of Japan. The annual trip to Japan became a tradition, and I enjoyed exploring different parts of the country. Over time, I came to value these visits more than any other, which eventually led to vacations in Japan. Few places offer the relaxing atmosphere that these trips do. I love skiing powder, and no destination is as consistent for deep powder as Japan. Sure, there are no big lines like in the Alps, British Columbia, or Alaska, but deep powder among perfectly spaced trees never gets old. And for those who think Japan isn’t steep, you need to search for the terrain more carefully or stop trusting your negative friends. There is steep and challenging terrain if you know where to look, especially if you’re willing to earn your turns in the backcountry.

On my recent trips, I focused on ski touring away from popular tourist spots. In these remote towns, I discovered peace and an authentic experience where Japanese culture continues to flourish. These areas usually lack ski resorts, but the terrain is ideal for human-powered ski adventures starting from secluded roads. You drive to the backcountry, park, and hike into the woods. Instead of crowded lift lines and runs filled with other gaijin, which is the Japanese word for foreigners or outsiders, I encountered almost no one, making these days some of the most memorable ski experiences of my life.

✒️📸 Mattias Fredriksson