🇯🇵 Japan Snowboarding 2025 Recap: Trees, Wind, and Pow

For years, my Instagram feed has been filled with images of riders floating through pristine powder amidst ethereal Japanese forests. They call it “Japow” - legendary bottomless snow under a canopy of perfectly spaced trees. After seeing Pete Graham’s footage years ago and then breaking my leg in Canada in 2016 (when my recovery Instagram algorithm went full snowboarding content), Japan has been on my list for a long time. This winter, I finally made it happen.

I kept the trip focused on riding: no Tokyo, no sightseeing - just straight to Hokkaido for snowboarding. I didn’t want to trade potential riding days at home for tourist days. I booked a week with Mint Tours, guided by Scott Anfang who I’d met back in 2020 at an AASI Level 1 prep clinic and then rode with at National Academy in 2021. Our final group was just Scott and six guests: four Australians, one Bulgarian, and me.

The resorts around Asahikawa aren’t what Colorado riders would call “big.” They have few groomed runs, but that wasn’t why we were there. Scott took us through tree islands and sidecountry areas that either flowed back into the resort or down to roads with easy boot packs out. No major hiking required to find untracked snow - even when it hadn’t snowed for a few days.

The tree riding in Japan absolutely lived up to the hype. Unlike North America’s many evergreen forests, many of these trees were deciduous, creating a well-lit, almost dreamlike riding environment. One afternoon, we hit the trees as the sun was dropping, bathing everything in golden hour light. Riding Japanese trees at golden hour wasn’t something I’d anticipated, but it became a highlight of the trip.

The spacing in these forests is ideal - occasionally tight but always interesting with room to flow. I appreciate the occasional jacket-ripping tree line at home, but there’s something different about hitting natural jumps and dropping off pillows without worrying about your landing space, knowing the snow below will cushion you no matter what.

At the start of the trip, I worried about the timing. I might have landed during a dry spell between storm cycles. While we were still having fun in days-old snow that somehow remained untracked, I was hoping to experience at least one solid powder day during my visit.

I hadn’t anticipated how much wind would impact our week. The same winds that bring the storms shut down lifts at speeds that wouldn’t make Breckenridge locals blink. This forced our guides to constantly recalculate: Is it better to go to a resort with more snow if winds might close the upper lifts? Is it worth the risk of driving somewhere farther from the city?

Tuesday’s planned resort announced it would close for the day after we’d already driven a significant distance. Our backup option was a tiny hill with a single lift and one groomed run. We spent the day tracking all the unridden snow on either side of the boundaries, through bamboo and birch groves. At another resort, the previous day’s winds had littered the snow with broken branches and twigs - a riding experience I’d never had before and found oddly unsettling.

Then Thursday arrived with the storm I’d been waiting for. A full day of riding untracked snow, experiencing that weightless sensation where nothing pushes back against your movements. That first run made me realize I’d forgotten what true bottomless powder feels like. My excitement was through the roof - hollering with joy, giggling, and finding that perfect flow state where you’re completely present in the moment.

There were surprises too - having to dodge vines to avoid being clotheslined, watching for unexpected holes and exposed creeks (sometimes requiring a boot pack or air to cross). We even went night riding through tree islands at the local Asahikawa hill, Santa Present. After the first line that night, I remember saying, “Every part of my brain that cares about safety is screaming that this is a terrible idea.” But the runs along the boundary of the resort that night made for a unique experience.

The whole experience felt worlds away from American resorts. While Niseko has become more corporate and touristy (from what I’ve heard), central Hokkaido’s ski hills were small independent operations, often associated with local onsen. Lift tickets were generally under $30 (though ours were included in the tour cost). Meals were ordered by buying tickets from a machine and prepared by just one or two kitchen staff, totally unlike the homogenized corporate dining I’m used to. Lift lines were practically non-existent. Almost everywhere we went, school groups were learning to ski. And at nearly every hill, we saw military groups learning to telemark on surprisingly spartan equipment - leather boots and straight skis.

Mint Tours handled everything seamlessly - monitoring conditions daily, handling all driving, leading us to the best snow, and organizing dinners. They even helped navigate cultural differences and ran airport shuttles. For those interested, they offer private tours if you can gather a group of six riders (anyone want to come with next time?). Mint also runs tours in other parts of Hokkaido and on the main island, and I’d love to check out some of those other zones on a future trip.

Though we didn’t make it to any onsen (some days had 90+ minute drives to the mountains), we experienced plenty of Japanese culture through food. We stopped at numerous konbini for snacks - I don’t usually eat junk food in the US, but it felt like part of the experience, even if I regretted some of it. For dinner, we feasted on yakitori, curry soup, sushi, burgers, shabu shabu, and yakiniku. The resort lunches were deliciously satisfying - udon, katsudon, katsu curry, and karaage. Similar to how I felt about New Zealand’s meat pies and sausage rolls, I found myself wishing we could have these Japanese options at resorts back home.

The trip was almost exactly what I hoped it would be - a chance to experience a completely different riding environment and culture. That Thursday powder day gave me a taste of what makes Japanese powder riding so sought after. It was deeply satisfying to finally experience what I’d seen in all those videos, while still leaving me wanting more.

If I go again (and I will), I’ll plan for two weeks next time, giving myself more opportunity to catch a proper storm cycle. For now, I’ve had my first taste of Japan, and I’m already thinking about going back.