Frosty Weasel

This past weekend was Frosty Weasel, a huge three day ski trip to Appi Kogen. Kogen is a Japanese word meaning plateau or heights. Our neighbor was in charge of planning the trip, so needless to say, we signed up for the trip.

On Saturday morning, we dropped the pups off at my boss's house (she's a lifesaver) and picked up some new friends who got here a few days earlier and didn't have drivers' licenses yet.

Map of Appi

We got to the resort around 2 p.m., checked in, and immediately changed into our ski gear. Based on my first ski attempt, I was already working myself up into a tizzy, but there was no time to spare, as our neighbors were on their way to meet up with us.

Our neighbor, Tapper, has been skiing since he was three, so he volunteered to teach me during the weekend. Once they got there, we walked a little and skied down a small hill (on the map it's the green run next to K, where it intersects) to get to the chairlift. This is where my lessons began. I did well in the fact that I didn't fall down at all, though if you ask Mark, it was nothing to be proud of. He's so encouraging.

At the bottom, they asked how everyone was feeling, would we rather do the lift or the gondola? I voted for whichever one was more shallow. This was the gondola apparently, and probably the wrong choice.

So we took our skis off, and got in the gondola. The gondola was nice in that I didn't feel like I was going to fall off at every moment. However, that calm soon disappeared when Tapper told us to get comfy because we would be on it for at least 15 minutes. 15 freaking minutes? How big is this damn mountain?! Long, I soon found out.

Gondola house (blue building). It was crazy windy all weekend.

We went down route I, or the Yamabato Run, on the map. That run is 5 kilometers, or just a little over 3 miles. Tapper skied backwards the whole time, and had me work on skiing to him. I went out of control a few times, and he stopped me. Mark tried to stop me once, and I now have a lovely bruise from his ski pole on my leg.

Eventually, Mark and Tapper's wife, Nicole, got sick of waiting for me to slowly ski down the hill, so they took off, leaving me to learn with Tapper.

There were numerous awkward moments, like when I lost my balance and put my hands on the ground and my skis started going backwards, with my butt waving in the air. After struggling in that position for far too long, I fell and tried again. I also fell into some deep powder, which was awesome getting a mouthful of snow as Tapper laughed at me. I flailed around for about 20 minutes trying to get out of that, until finally Tapper took my skis off and pulled me out.

By this point, we're about halfway down the mountain and my legs and butt are on fire and it's starting to get dark. I never knew I was so out of shape until this moment. At this point I asked Tapper about the possibility of a snow machine coming and getting me. He said no, but he had a plan.

"Okay, Sarah, I'm going to get you down the mountain, but you have to trust me."

I agree and he reaches out his ski poles towards me horizontally. I didn't have any poles to worry about; he took those away from me as soon as we got off the lift, saying they were throwing me off balance and I didn't know how to use them.


"Sarah. Grab on to my poles, so to speak, don't let go and please, for the love of God, don't fall."

I do as I'm told, positioning my skis between his. Tapper then maneuvers us down the hill, skiing backwards the whole time. We were going fast. Straight down, no pizza.

"OH MY GOD! TAPPER! I'm so scared. I'm so scared. I'm so scared. SH!T!!"

I screamed the whole way down. I focused on his shoulder, trying not to look at the trees and other skiers we whizzed past. We made it safely to the bottom, just as it started to get dark and just in time to get ready for dinner. No longer gripped by fear, I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast and was extremely hungry.

Dinner was a buffet, that had some American-ish looking items on it, which was unexpected and awesome. Our accommodations were standard Japanese - small and uncomfortable. I barely fit in the bathroom and the beds came up to my mid-calf. The pillows were literally filled with rice. As I learned in college, when presented with an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement, drink yourself through it!

Gathering up courage for the lift (to the right).

I woke up the second day sore, probably a combination of my ski "run" and the bed board we slept on. We ate the buffet breakfast, which wasn't as good as the dinner, but had some awesome items on it.

I'm sorry, you did what with the plums?

I took it easy the second day and only went down the beginner run, the Shirakaba run (A and highlighted pink on the map). This was the moment that Mark and I decided that we cannot ski together ever again. We got into a large couples battle on the side of the mountain, consisting of me freaking out about about going too fast (I wasn't) and Mark being patient with me and letting me go at my own pace (he didn't). The best part about the entire thing is since we're in Japan no one can understand us, especially if we use slang.

They love making snow creatures. This one was huge - the eyes are actually tires, to put it to scale.

We took a lunch break after the first run, which was delicious. I got the meat-filled bun things, can't remember what those are called, and a Chu-Hi, the sneakiest form of alcohol ever. It goes down way too easy and tastes like sunshine.

Meat buns and Chu-Hi!

Mouthful of beer, anyone?

After the second attempt and another couples battle, I decided to hang up my skis for the weekend, and hit the onsen, or Japanese bathhouse. We had a party after dinner, which was fun and relaxing.

Greeting us at the party - fighter pilot mascot wars. Yes, the panther is icing the samurai.

The following morning, we packed up, headed home, and I began the mountain of laundry waiting for us. All in all the trip was worth it, and for the most part, even though I was terrified, I had a lot of fun. Next time, we're bringing our own pillows!