In Japan, Skiing on a Dormant Volcano Elevates Adventure to New Levels

Huddled just below the ridgeline, shielded from the howling wind, I gaze down at the pristine expanse of untouched snow unfurling beneath my skis. This white slope flows directly into the inviting sea, glistening under the sunlight.

After four hours of ascent, we've reached this spot, just over 3,500 feet above sea level. I begin to peel the skins off my skis, essential for any backcountry skier aiming to conquer peaks. From here, I can barely glimpse the mountain’s summit, which remains out of reach due to the fierce winter winds. The only sounds on this quiet slope are the gusts of wind and the rhythmic beating of my heart in my ears.

Soon, the moment arrives to descend. I angle my skis toward the water, and the soft snow envelops me up to my waist as I pick up speed. I dig my heels to carve a turn, sending a flurry of powder spraying across my face and dusting my lips. A truly dreamlike experience.

Prior to the pandemic, winter sports lovers from around the globe would converge on Japan, seeking the sensation of weightlessness that comes with its famously light snow. This winter, after two seasons without international visitors due to travel restrictions from the coronavirus, the borders have finally reopened. Popular resorts like Niseko and Furano in Hokkaido, along with Hakuba on Honshu, are set to welcome visitors once again.

On the secluded island of Rishiri, located off Japan's northwestern coast, you won’t have to contend with crowds of skiers waiting for lifts to ascend the slopes—because there are no ski lifts here. To enjoy the skiing, you must hike up the mountains yourself, which adds a layer of significance—and joy—to every turn as you descend.

Soaring to 5,646 feet above sea level, Rishiri is an extinct volcano characterized by numerous ridges and gullies that converge at a solitary peak. In the ancient tongue of the Ainu people, the island's original inhabitants, its name means “high island.” Today, Japanese locals often call it ukishima—the floating island. During winter, the landscape transforms into a realm of cornices, mushrooms, and snow monsters, sculpted by the fierce, icy winds sweeping in from Siberia.

To the east, a brief 12.5-mile stretch of sea separates Rishiri from Hokkaido. Although short, this crossing can be treacherous and stormy during winter months. Thus, reaching Rishiri can test your patience and resolve.

I spent two days stranded in Wakkanai, Japan’s northernmost city, waiting for the seas to permit a safe journey, only to endure a bumpy ferry ride alongside a handful of other passengers. As we arrived at Rishiri’s tranquil harbor, relieved to escape the wind and waves, I noticed a solitary sign of activity: a truck unloading snow from the streets directly into the sea, a clear indication of the season's primary challenge—managing all the snow.

During winter, most hotels are shuttered and fishing boats lie idle at the docks, awaiting the summer months when they will venture back out to sea in pursuit of the prized Rishiri kombu (seaweed) and uni (sea urchin). These local delicacies, along with summer tourism, form the foundation of the island’s economy.

Once home to nearly 22,000 residents in the late 1950s, Rishiri now boasts a population of just over 5,000. This decline is attributed to an aging population, dwindling fish stocks, and limited opportunities during the winter months when the island goes into a sort of hibernation. While more than 130,000 tourists flock to the island in summer, fewer than 5,000 visit throughout the entire winter, according to local officials.

Some locals are striving to change this trend. Toshiya Watanabe, the first and only mountain guide born on the island, recognized the unique potential offered by Rishiri’s harsh winter conditions when he began offering backcountry ski tours in 2004. “Skiing here isn’t for everyone,” Watanabe remarks. “But for some, it’s an unforgettable experience. Many of our clients return every year.”

Alongside his wife, Maki, Watanabe operates Rera Mosir, which translates from Ainu to “the domain of the wind.” It is one of the few accommodations available on the island during winter. At full capacity, the Watanabes can host no more than 25 guests, primarily outdoor enthusiasts and backcountry skiers from Japan and beyond, seeking tranquility, snow, and Watanabe’s extensive expertise of the mountain. Typically, one or two other guides stay at the lodge, and Watanabe organizes groups based on skill level and preferences; some guests arrive with their own guides or choose to explore independently. (Travelers can book either a room or a guided tour package.)

During my three-day stay at Rera Mosir, each day unfolded a new adventure. Mornings were spent with Watanabe over breakfast, gazing out the large living room windows at the mountains as he outlined our day's journey. Once we decided on our destination, we would pack our gear and take a brief drive—never exceeding 20 minutes—to the trailhead where our ascent would begin. From steep ridges to gentle tree runs, every outing on Rishiri offered a unique experience, making it hard to believe I was on the same island, much less the same mountain. When I shared this sentiment with Watanabe, he nodded in agreement. “Rishiri is a 360-degree playground with limitless possibilities,” he remarked.