I am The Mountain – Challenging Conditions on a High Traverse in Japan’s Northern Alps

 Mountainwatch | Words Shaun Mittwollen Photos Hamish Lockett

Last March Cameron Wood and Shaun Mittwollen undertook a mission to traverse 25 kilometres across Japan’s Northern Alps from Myoko to the Sea of Japan. The multi-day traverse involved summiting and skiing three major volcanic peaks, documenting the trip for a film titled I am The Mountain that will be released online this week.

Avalanche! I didn’t hear it, but Woody yelled in alarm over the radio. I was already in the grasps of the slide. One moment I was standing admiring the beautiful view after a couple of backlit pow turns on the ridgeline of a perfect conical volcano. It was warm in the sun and a few scrubby bushes below me bristled with a frosting of ice.

Suddenly, I felt movement. The muffled thump of falling snow and the sensation of rapid acceleration. I glanced up, seeing a thick crown wall of 40cm or so. Still standing, I attempted to rock backwards and forwards to gain some forward momentum in an attempt to grab some bushes just below me and to the left. No good. The tips of my skis clacked against the bushes, and I missed the branches only just with my hands. Ricocheting into a backwards tumble the avalanche accelerated, flinging me around in a tomahawk head-over-heels. If only I could gain some purchase on the ground, I could slow myself.

I tried to time my tumbles grabbing the snow with each cartwheel, but my sunglasses quickly filled with snow, and it was impossible to see up from down. After a few seconds I began to slow. Maybe this would be my chance! But the avalanche had other ideas. Stepping down a layer it gained momentum once more bearing down on several stands of grand old birch trees.

Why am I here? What is the point of all this? It all happened so quickly yet I still had moments of self-reflection during the avalanche. It was simply not worth it. Would I ever see my girlfriend Zoe again? Would I get to have another surf? But surprisingly I didn’t feel entirely helpless. I didn’t feel like I was about to die, but damn was I annoyed. Annoyed at myself for putting myself here. Disregarding the deep winter snowpack in the efforts to make our film. Annoyed at the mountain too.

During the second burst of acceleration, I was buried momentarily but managed to push myself to the surface to again start another round of tomahawks. Eventually the movement slowed and I grabbed the snow and slid to a stop. I threw off my sunnies to see the last remnants of snow filtering around me tumbling below into spindly young stands of birch.

I instinctively brushed my helmet to see if my GoPro was still there. Gone. Skis gone. Poles gone. But I was completely unharmed. Eventually I spotted a ski and pole above. I heard Woody yell out and as he made his way down bits of snow started rolling down. In the effort to get out of the path of any follow up avy I made my way over to hide behind a large tree. In a state of shock, still a good minute or so after, I noticed a single glove missing on one hand.

I instinctively brushed my helmet to see if my GoPro was still there. Gone. Skis gone. Poles gone. But I was completely unharmed. Eventually I spotted a ski and pole above. I heard Woody yell out and as he made his way down bits of snow started rolling down. In the effort to get out of the path of any follow up avy I made my way over to hide behind a large tree. In a state of shock, still a good minute or so after, I noticed a single glove missing on one hand.

I’d been driven through several stands of trees passing headfirst through a gap no more than a metre wide. Like a hole in one, by some miracle I had escaped serious injury. A cheap lesson in the mountains. But the overwhelming feeling was not relief. I felt embarrassment. Woody skied down to me and asked if I was ok. I sheepishly respond. “Yea,h I’m fine”. A drip of blood fell from a tiny cut on my gloveless finger. That and a slightly stiff neck were my only injuries. It was the first ski day of our grand traverse, our film, incredible snow and perfect weather. But the mountains had other ideas. They were pushing back and pushing back hard.

The “grand traverse” was a project I’d envisaged after spending many season in Myoko, staring across the valley at Mount Hiuchi every morning and dusk. After several years exploring the area around Hiuchi I wondered about continuing all the way down to the west coast, some two and a half kilometres vertical below. The route would pass by Mount Yakeyama- Japan’s newest volcano and persistently off limits with the threat of eruption. Each still night at the hut we’d hear the constant high-pressure escape of steam from the mountain’s northern flanks.

What an adventure! I hatched my plan to Woody, a fellow ambassador for The North Face wo I had met on a memorable ski mountaineering trip in NZ and he was all in. As was TNF. We would start from the highest lifted point in Myoko, climb up and around the Myoko caldera rim basing ourselves at the Kouyaike Hutte. From here we’d have several days of steep skiing on beautiful gullies on the Myoko’s west and north faces, huge open bowls on Hiuchi before continuing over to Yakeyama and down to the west coast. It was all so simple. 25km, 3000m vert and several days to complete it. How hard could it be?

The last piece of missing kit I found was my left ski that had become wedged against a tree. Prying it out from the snow it looked fine at first but turning it over and inspecting the base revealed a buckled tail and peeled P-Tex right down to the core. Snapped from the force of moving snow against the tree. I clipped in and started skiing down the mellower lower third. We still had some distance to cover to reach the hut. Down in the crater the sun had ducked behind the ridge and it was frigidly cold. By this stage I’d announced my retirement from skiing but unfortunately for my pledge we still had some skiing to do! The climb out of the crater was nothing short of laborious. Refreezing crud made skinning difficult and the route steepened towards the top. Barely skinnable, but so close. I felt as if the mountain wanted to take me there and then to finish me off. Rounding over a small wind lip, at last I was free. It felt good to be alive.

Day three and perfect weather once more. By now the deep snowfall had consolidated and it was an ideal touring day. We lay inside the hut until mid-morning somewhat defeated by the events the day before, cooking noodles and attempting to recover. Some time had passed and I was considering some more easy skiing and we decided to climb Hiuchi and ski off the south face in the beautiful evening light. At least then we will have skied something successfully and enjoy the stunning day in the mountains.

Despite the shark-like tooth of P-Tex hanging off the tail of my ski it still seemed to work just fine. We gained the summit as soft afternoon light illuminated tortured wind features of the upper ridge. To the west the coastline and Sea of Japan were clearly visible, dotted with coastal fishing villages. Ahead Yakeyama was just stone’s throw away. Comically this point, a place I’d visited many times before, was the furthest point we’d make on the traverse.

Skiing off the summit was simply terrible. As the chill of the impending night descended a crust had begun to form and it was several hundred metres of survival skiing back to the hut. I spent the evening sawing the P-Tex wedge out of my ski using Woody’s pocket tool – a tool I’d previously scoffed at for its weight but now was all too glad he had carried it along. Tomorrow we’d attempt the final leg of the traverse, camping up high before continuing towards the coast. Morale was lifted by the decision to continue after a sorry chain of events.

As our forecast predicted, the next day was perfect weather. Hayden launched his drone at sunrise capturing some truly incredible footage of the string of volcanic summits. I think it was at this point that I rescinded my retirement from skiing and full froth returned. We prepped to leave and made our way up the east shoulder of Hiuchi, expecting some passing snow showers by the afternoon but nothing major. Ideally, we’d be at our high camp on the west shoulder having traced the stunning ridgeline of Hiuchi towards Yakeyama.

As we reached the east shoulder clouds had begun to ominously appear on the peaks to our north. It was not even mid-morning, well before it was forecasted to close in. Pretty soon snow began to fall, and the upper summit ridge became shrouded in fog. It’d be complex navigation trying to avoid huge leeward cornices in no vis. Nevertheless, we continued. Approaching the final climb my left ski was suddenly held back like an anchor. Removing the ski the entire base from behind the crack had ripped off and was jagging semi-detached into the snow. The left rail had peeled off and was dangling freely to the side. As clouds swirled around the summit, I took this as a sign. Hiuchi says no. If there was ever a sign from the mountains to not continue this was it. We defeatedly returned to the hut as whiteout descended lower on the mountain’s flanks.

It was all over. We were pretty bummed, but where there’s a will there’s a way and pretty soon we began scheming. Bad weather was due to move through but in a few days’ time there’d be a single one-day weather window before our flights out of Japan. Would it be possible to complete the traverse in a single day? Surely it would! A new plan and a last-ditch effort to cross the divide.

We sourced some new touring skis from Woody’s friend Joey in Myoko who let us crash above his cafe and rental business whilst foul weather passed through for a few days. We hung out and recovered, sipping on coffee and downing a fair share of toasties ready for our big single-day push (huge shout out here to Joey’s Myoko).

We sped upwards at our best pace, climbing at rates approaching trail running vertical gains, topping out on the caldera within the hour. Here we looked out at Hiuchi summit where plumes of snow were lifting off the summit ridge like a storm on Everest. Was it supposed to be this windy today, questioning the forecast of moderate 50km/h winds? Moving quickly, it was only an hour or so later and we were back on the east shoulder of Hiuchi, and we prepped for battle with the upper-level winds still ripping snow off the summit. Hoods cinched down, goggles on and camera out we climbed occasionally bracing for vicious down drafts that eddied around the high ground.

It was slow going with deep wind-drifted snow accumulating around us. When we were just 10 metres shy of the summit it became almost impossible to stand as Woody and I crawled up the ridge, sandblasted by spindrift and winds bullying the skis on our pack. At one point the gusts nearly lifted us off our feet. A long crossing of the west ridge began to make no sense at all, and we retreated back to the relative calm behind the final summit ridge. Hayden and Hamish were frozen, Hamish’s cheeks weathered red like a crusty old fisherman but still a big grin on his face.

It was an easy decision to make. Hiuchi says no. The mountain was speaking to us and as we made our way back to the east shoulder we were bowled over by one final huge gust. Our best laid plans stood in ruins, but I was not disappointed. While we had come for the traverse what we were given was one huge adventure. It sounds cliche but to me the journey is worth much more than the destination. We were taught a valuable lesson, humbled by the mountains and given the chance of a second go. We had not succeeded in reaching our goal; however we had an unexpected and rewarding experience, tested ourselves and practiced the art of turning around.

The mountains aren’t going anywhere, and I’ll be sure to return another time for another great and unknown adventure in the Japan Alps. As always, the best adventures are not always straightforward.