As the vibrancy of the leaves fade, parting from the trees, and the first flurries escape the clouds, a renewed vigor fills the air for those of use who welcome what the winter season brings. We dust off our hooded 6mm wetsuits, booties and gloves, sharpen the edges of our snow crafts, and nurture the committed relationship that we have to our weather apps, restlessly awaiting the inaugural storm. This year, our first snow day will be at one of the top bucket list destinations in the world for skiers and snowboarders. After spending just shy of two months surfing our way across Australia and Fiji, TJ and I touched down in Tokyo, Japan, eager to strap into our bindings.
Like any good rantum scoot, this one began in a sleepy-eyed customs line answering questions like “What is the purpose of your trip?” and “What kind of gear do you have with you?” With sunburnt noses and salty skin, we rummage through the gear on our backs for another layer to make our way to the airport exit where we hop on a train to our van rental. Residing in vehicles is certainly not foreign to us as we have spent more than half of each year, since August 2020, living out of our Tacomas and road tripping or flying to new destinations.
With TJ’s focus on videography and my own on functional nutrition, we are grateful for our ability to run our own businesses remotely as we fill our hearts with our greatest passions. Being consistently on the move allows us to follow the best conditions, as well as remain flexible in case we want to seize impromptu adventure opportunities. We are well adapted to the simplicities of minimalism: brushing our teeth on the side of the road while watching the sun rise over the mountain tops, wearing the same outfit until it fails the sniff test, watercoloring at laundromats, draping wetsuits over the side mirrors while driving through town in order for them to dry, and sleeping soundly next to our trucker neighbors in public parking lots.
Do not fret about our comfort as we certainly make each vehicle feel like home. This time it’s with a dill pickle jar Christmas ornament hung on our curtain line and a thrifted Barclay acoustic guitar in the bed. For us, home truly is wherever we park it.
Once settled into our new home on wheels, the first stop of our trip lands us at the Bussel Empathic Style snowboard shop, where we meet up with our dear friend Yoshihiro Tsujimura and pick up our snowboards. Yoshi runs the Japanese division of Owner Operator, an outerwear company inspired by ‘90s era snowboard icons such as Craig Kelly. This connection planted a seed for many more to grow, first with its team riders, then with the Snowboy Productions and Tenjin Banked Slalom Race communities.
Every person we met along the way - whether they were a rider, restaurant waiter, gas station employee, or simply someone passing by - exemplified sincere kindness of heart, hospitality, and exemplary thoughtfulness. This is not our first time in Japan, so we made a point to study the language because even a few simple phrases go a long way and demonstrate a layer of respect that otherwise can get lost in translation. There is certainly a great deal that we can learn from Japanese culture and the Zen way of being, such as the 無⼼ (mushin) or “no mind” Zen principle that highlights the act of maintaining a clear, open mind, free from preconceptions or ego. In other words, we must treat one another without judgement or expectation simply by being present, practicing unconditional acceptance, and removing any personal bias so that we may honor the inherent value in all beings. This is one of many lessons TJ and I will bring back home with us.
To set our route for the upcoming months, we pull up a map of the Indy Pass resort destinations across the country, determined to hit all twenty-six of them. We plug Gunma into the GPS, and our journey officially begins. The following weeks now consist of full days of riding, seeking out hot noodles or fresh sushi, soaking in onsens, and at least one visit to a 7-Eleven daily. We also had the chance to explore a few backcountry routes with friends from home that classically embodied the “Japow” that we all have daydreamed about. This light, fluffy snow up to our waists can only be compared to the sensation of gliding along the face of a perfect peeler, with a quick shift to heel-side for a tasty turn. We would wake up before the sun, pack our bags with gear and - yep, you guessed it - 7-Eleven snacks, throw on our skins, and begin the ascent.
I inevitably lost a pole basket, making for a very lopsided hike, and face planted on the cross-country ski-like descent, filling my helmet with snow. But by the time we reached the peak and were strapped into our boards, I only felt awe. Awe for the mystic mountains, for the limitless depths of pure powder, for the open glades, and for this life itself, filled to the brim with beauty and friendships rooted in playing within the elements.
We met countless wonderful people along the way: artists, jewelry makers, business owners, film producers, sponsored riders, builders, and nine-to-fivers on vacation. My cheeks - face and tushy - are still sore from laughing all of them on the chairlifts, building jumps, lapping the park, walking 10,000 steps for a famous cup of matcha, hiking for the best view of Mount Fuji, and visiting architecturally ornate shrines and temples.
There is an element of timelessness within Japan’s rich cultural heritage, where the simplistic yet mindful designs seem to stretch across centuries of tradition. Whether it be a communal park filled with cherry blossoms and bamboo, an authentic natural bathhouse, or a small, family-owned restaurant, each one of these places are considered sacred. Shoes are removed at the door for cleanliness and comfort, voices are kept low as a courtesy to others, and onsens require nudity for purification purposes and a sense of equality, removing any social distinctions that clothing might impose. Not only that, but the open acceptance and commonality of being in a raw, vulnerable form also creates a heightened awareness of our basic human nature and a quiet essence of oneness that dissolves bias toward others as well as toward how we see ourselves.
These customs are both liberating and inspiring, coming from a more conservative country ourselves, and go beyond just a bathing ritual or an expression of common etiquette. Japanese values prioritize collective well-being, mutual respect, and social harmony or 和 (wa) over individualism. This promotion of unity fosters a dynamic among the people that is incomparable to anything we’d ever witnessed before. Even as tourists, we were welcomed with open arms.
In the span of two months, TJ and I covered over 10,000 kilometers as we explored ski towns, both those catering to tourists as well as those that embody quintessential Japan. The gift we gained from following Indy Pass destinations was the opportunity to explore lands untouched by foreigners. It was rare for us to come across other travelers in some of these places, which we greatly enjoyed because there are certain areas that one might call “tourist-centric,” where the majority of the population shares English as their native tongue. This homogenization, in our humble opinion, can take away from the experience of being in a new place. We wanted to be fully engrossed in the Japanese way, we craved immersion within a heritage that differed significantly from our own, and for that reason found ourselves dissuaded from what was familiar. I like to refer to this notion as “repotting.” In order to grow and expand, one must uproot from one’s comfort, stability and security, and replant into a new environment, (a new pot so to speak), so that one’s roots can further their reach.
The small, independent mountains throughout the country assuredly scratched that itch. Each resort had its own unique flare, from snow statues to pristine half pipes. While some mountains had vast tree lines and droppable cliffs, others had inexhaustible park features and side hits. Regardless of the terrain, there was something for everyone to savor.
In Sapporo, the main city in Hokkaido, we had the opportunity to attend Lucas Beaufort’s live art exhibition where he drew his trademark ‘Gus Gus’ character across a series of white pieces of paper. Gus Gus is genderless and has no eyes so that they may not see race, gender, or differences, and instead can only feel and harvest connection. Lucas expressed that onlookers who purchased his work would now always be intertwined with this intimate gathering.
This concept continued to ring true as we met up with new friends from the event on the mountain for party laps, sharing stories and basking in the parallelism of our paths as a wholesome reminder of how small this world can be. Though varying cultures remain vast, we can always draw congruency if we pierce the surface. For even if there is a language barrier, we are able to speak through a shared passion for surfing the snow.
With most sports, there is an underlying competitive feel that can impact how each session plays out. Whether it’s a timed race, a paddle battle for the best set wave or an internal battle of the mind, we can psyche ourselves out if we don’t perform how we’d like, the conditions aren’t perfect, or someone is being a ‘kook.’ However, I find that competition ceases to exist in powder riding. There is only stoke, hooting and hollering, supporting one another, capturing clips, sharing chocolate covered almonds, and admiring the scenery because we are all enjoying it together.
You begin each ride after already being high on the accomplishment of making it to the top of the run, and from that moment on, the highly anticipated descent unfolds and the adrenaline kicks in. There is no competition here because you are focused on the terrain around and beneath your feet, and you are monitoring one another's safety. There is no competition because you are all on the same team with a shared intention to etch your line into the mountain as well as into your mind to daydream about until you do it again. When we return to the root of elemental sports, we are reminded that we are simply bystanders at nature’s creations, and our sole responsibility is to embrace it exactly as it is.
On Day 52, we completed our mission to hit all of the Indy Pass destinations and celebrated with the Tsunan Snow Festival where we watched hundreds of lanterns launch into the starry night. Tears filled my eyes as we admired these beautiful symbols of hope, peace, and the connection between human beings and nature. Just as our lungs resemble the branches of a tree, or our fingertips create the same print as that of a tree trunk, we are harmoniously interconnected with the land we walk on. The lanterns are released, often accompanied by a heartfelt intention or prayer, as a way to represent light overcoming darkness, as well as the warmth of community and shared human experiences.
As TJ and I gazed up at the illuminated sky, reflecting on our adventure thus far with more to come, I thought to myself how the richest people in life are the ones who don’t have much money at all. It is not about financial abundance, but the richness of ⽣き甲斐 (ikigai), our reason to get up in the morning, a zest for life. American author Randy Komisar elegantly warns us, “And then there is the most dangerous risk of all — the risk of spending your life not doing what you want on the bet that you can buy yourself the freedom to do it later.”
Be that as it may, art, powder riding, hotdogging, savory cuisine, captivating reads, vibrant melodies, or sight seeing, we can all profess to some act that makes our hearts come alive. So what if we didn’t measure success by the amount of money in our bank accounts, but rather by the number of places we’ve been, the stamps in our passport, the beautiful friendships we’ve nurtured, the days in a year spent on a hill, the belly laughs that leave you in tears, the locally sourced meals made on a camp stove, the 7-Eleven onigiris consumed, or by the art pieces you’ve gifted to strangers? With this next chapter of the trip upon us, as TJ and I once again switch out our snowboard boots for surf booties and point our compass south, I carry the truth within me that nowhere else exists a more abundant life.
