10 Places to Hit the Slopes

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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!

Birthday Celebrations

This past weekend marked my 27th birthday, and consequently, my golden birthday. Typically, we don't really do much for birthdays, but this year I decided it would be a great idea to try something new...

Skiing.

Couple of things about me:

1. I'm scared of heights.

2. Mark and I don't do sports together.

So after spending far too many weekends in our little shack, (there is a serious drought on the festivals from November to February) I signed us up for a ski trip with Outdoor Recreation. 

The best part about my job is I read about all the stuff there is to do in Japan 40 hours a week, so I have a pretty good handle on where to go and how to go about doing it. So I knew that if I signed up to ski with Outdoor Rec we wouldn't have to drive and we would save money on the toll roads. 

I chose the trip to Okunakayama, because it was advertised as good for beginners. Yep. That's me alright. An added bonus was that I would get to correct Mark every time he tried to say the name. OH-COO-NAH-KEY-YAH-MAH. Easy as pie. 

Okunakayama is about an hour and a half south of Misawa. We left at 7 a.m. sharp on Saturday morning with a bus full of sleeping people. Forever ruined by morning radio, I was wide awake and working myself up into a tizzy. Our guide popped in a ski & snowboarding fanatic DVD and we were on our way.

Once we got there, the guide tells us the mountain got a bunch of snow overnight, apparently making conditions better. He suggests that I practice on the little sledding hill at the bottom of the mountain. 

Okunakayama. The sledding hill is over to the right.

I strapped in to my skis and made my first out of control, uncoordinated attempt down the sledding hill. Mark praised me and asked if I was ready for the chair lift.

"Are you out of your mind?! I went down ONCE. Let me practice."

Mark left and went up the lift, leaving me with a few uncoordinated snowboarders. I continued walking up the sledding hill, trying to master locking my boot into the ski. I spent a good 20 minutes trying to line myself up and go down the hill. Every time I tried to turn, I end up going backwards. Finally, a nice snowboarder pulled me forward, and I had a good run, if you can even call it that.

I'm ready for the lift. I can do this. This is fun. I'm outside, it's beautiful out here.

Since he had already made a few runs down the mountain, Mark was sore and hungry, so we went inside and grabbed some ramen from the kitchen. Then it was time to face the mountain.

Greeting you at the chair lift. Japan is hilarious.

Mark warned me the ski lift was a little scary, and took some getting used to. Understatement. I hyperventilated about halfway up the mountain, screaming that I was going to fall off. As we got close to the top, Mark explained how to get off the chair lift. Knowing how to do something, and physically doing it are two different things. I faceplant it immediately off the chairlift, and a little Japanese woman struggles to help me to my feet.

Then there was another 20 minutes of struggle to get over to the second, less crowded run down the mountain. I start going down, way too fast for my comfort level. I'm screaming bloody murder down about half the mountain, until I can't take it anymore and force myself to fall down. Mark skis up behind me, telling me I was doing great. Lie. Another 10 minutes of struggle as I try to get back up. This cycle repeats at least twice until I reach the bottom. I tell Mark I have to go to the bathroom, so he goes again while I wait.

We get on the chair lift a second time, without hyperventilating like the first time. Progress. We get to the top, and the workers must have remembered me because they are outside the hut, ready to catch me if needed. This time I make it off the lift, ski down the little hill and THEN fall. Yep. I'm a winner. 

Another 20 minutes of struggle to get over to the second, less crowded run. I'm all lined up and ready to go when I make the mistake of looking at the lodge at the bottom.

"OH MY GOD. MARK! IT'S SO FAR AWAY. I CAN'T. I CAN'T GO. I'M SCARED."

As patiently as he can muster, Mark waits a bit until I can calm down. I break into hysterics and begin crying. Embarrassing doesn't even begin to describe it. Small children are effortless gliding down the mountain on either side of me. Mark reminds me I have to get down. Okay. I sideways pizza at a snail's pace, while Mark grows increasingly more impatient. I tried turning and picked up some "major" speed. I bail again. After force falling about six or seven times, Mark is completely fed up and says he'll hold on to me to slow me down. Yeah, that's real safe, trust me.

We finally make it to the bottom at which point I decide to call it a day. I'm emotionally exhausted. I post up in the lodge and work on something that I'm great at...drinking a beer.

The best part of the trip.

 
We get back to Misawa at about 6 p.m., and starving, we decide to hit up Kappa Sushi. Kappa is a sushi-go-round and all the plates are about ¥100, a little more than a $1.

Hamburg sushi! It's a Royale with Cheese!

On my actual birthday, we checked out Les Miserables and finished the night at CoCo's Curry. My office gave me a unique cake of Rockstar and beef jerky. They know me well. :)

Apparently the dog is asking if you would like something to drink.

Overall it was a pretty eventful weekend. Cheers to 27 - harder, better, faster, stronger!