Traveling through East Hokkaido
A 4-day tale of ice, silence and long train rides
This trip was from March 12th to March 15th, 2021. Originally planned for 2020 as a graduation celebration for me and my partner, it was postponed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. In 2021 the situation was way worse than in 2020, but Japan was entering a “finding a way to travel around safely” phase, and thus, we decided to embark on this adventure. We took all precautions and on a chilly friday morning we headed to the airport to go to an even chillier place.
Hokkaido? East Hokkaido?
北海道 (ほっかいどう — Hokkaido) is the second biggest island in Japan, after 本州 (ほんしゅう — Honshuu), the main island. Of all 47 prefectures, it is, by a very large margin, the biggest one, and for being on the north, it is usually remembered by its coldness and the amount of snow it gets in winter. This time the trip was mainly through the east of the island, via Kushiro.
We took the flight from Peach airlines, Japan’s first low cost carrier, from Kansai Airport, in Osaka, to Kushiro. After a little over 2 hours, just before landing, you realize you are in Hokkaido by the snowy scenery outside the plane window. Truth is, I’ve never been there in summer before, so in my mind Hokkaido equals to snow and completely different landscapes than what we have down there in Kansai.
After arriving at the airport and taking the bus that would take us to Kushiro downtown, we went straight to the station to purchase a special ticket that would make our lives way easier in Hokkaido. At the time, Peach airlines and JR Hokkaido, the main railway company there, were selling this ticket that would allow us to board trains in East Hokkaido as much as we like, including limited express trains. They also had a West Hokkaido pass, which covered less area but was also really nice. When traveling in Japan, it is always a good idea to check if there are not special passes to the place you intend to visit, because a lot of times, there are. For JR Pass holders the JR trains can already be boarded free of extra charge, of course, so if riding JR these passes may be unnecessary, but if riding other railway companies, it is worth checking.
Anyway, in our case, to be able to purchase this ticket you needed to fly with Peach at least one leg, so that is why we chose them in the first place. In possession of our magic card that would open us all doors of East Hokkaido, first, we went to see the city we had just arrived at.
釧路 (くしろ — Kushiro)
Kushiro is a medium-sized city, with a little more than 150 thousand inhabitants, 5th most populous of Hokkaido at the time (as of December 2023 it is now 6th, after being surpassed by the city of Obihiro also in East Hokkaido), and upon arriving and walking around until we found the hotel our impression was that it was a calm and easy to navigate place, as all Japanese cities of the same scale tend to be.
I have been interested in visiting Kushiro since 2018, for a quite peculiar reason. I remember I was on a flight from Los Angeles to Tokyo, and the plane flew over East Hokkaido when arriving in Japan. As I was in a window seat I remember seeing Kushiro from up there, and since it was January I also remember how everything looked so cold and inhospitable. That attracted me somehow, and I just kept imagining how it was down there. But now, finally visiting the city, it was not like that at all. Sure, it was cold, but East Hokkaido gets way less snow than the rest of the prefecture. There was still leftover snow from winter, but not so much that it would make it difficult to walk. But the city’s main attraction is in its outskirts, the 釧路湿原 (くしろしつげん — Kushiro shitsugen), Kushiro wetlands.
釧路湿原(くしろしつげん — Kushiro shitsugen)
There were two options to go there, by bus or by train. Although trains are common throughout Japan, Hokkaido has more remote places than anywhere else. In the past, when Japan wanted to claim ownership of the island, they made an effort to develop it and many railroads were built, but with the population decline nowadays a lot of lines are being abandoned. Even among those that still survive, many of them have only a few trains per day (yes, per day, not per hour). The line we took, the 釧網線 (Senmou line) only has one train every few hours.
Luckily for us, there was a train right after lunch time that stopped at Kushiro Shitsugen station (not all of them do), and after a 20 minute ride we were there. It felt like I had came to a place totally different from anywhere I had ever been. Perhaps it is not so impactful for those that live in remote areas or snowy countries, but for me it was indescribable.
As we left the station there was this small wooden cabin that served as the station waiting room, and this little building contrasted marvelously with the white landscape. As soon as the train departed we were left to ourselves in that wild scenery and went to explore a bit. After a brief walk we got to the observatory that offers a panoramic view of the wetlands.
One of the most incredible experiences we had there was when we ceased all conversation and realized there was absolutely no other sound around us apart from our footsteps. Maybe the occasional sound of snow melting, or the deer, present in large numbers, trotting nearby. No sound of cars, or any other human element, only natural, true silence, which I believe not that many people know. We just stood there for a while, absorbing that silence, and it’s not an exaggeration when I say that moment left a permanent mark on me. After this experience I have been to other places looking for a similar silence, but still haven’t found it. There is always the sound of cars on a faraway highway, or even the sound of bugs in a forest, which makes me realize even more the preciousness of that moment in 2021.
At some time we realized we should go back, and that is when the awkward part begins. According to the train schedule there was no other Kushiro bound train that day that would stop at Kushiro shitsugen. We were aware of that, but we planned on coming back by bus. We looked for the bus stop only to find out it didn’t exist. We tried to search for it a little more and then understood that the stop we were looking for was actually at the other side of the wetlands, more than 10km away. We usually plan every trip very well, but for some reason it never occurred to us that the station and the bus stop were in totally different places.
At that time, looking at our possibilities, we even considered finding a way to ask for a taxi, or asking the man in the small museum they had there for help, thinking that otherwise we would have to sleep with the deer. After thinking rationally we decided to check whether there was any train going the other way, since we could go to another station and then board a train headed for Kushiro. Lucky for us, there was a train in less than one hour that would stop at 塘路 (とうろ — Touro), and two hours later there would be another train in 塘路 bound for Kushiro.
I had never heard about this place, 塘路 — Touro, before, but its name is derived of another word with a similar pronunciation in the Ainu language, Hokkaido’s natives, and means “swamped place”. A lot of place names in Hokkaido sound very different from the rest of Japan for the same reason. Anyway, we knew we would miss the sunset that Kushiro proudly claims is best in the whole country, but at least we would be able to return to our lodging and have a bed to sleep that night.
The Japanese expression “不幸中の幸い” (ふこうちゅうのさいわい — fukouchuu no saiwai), happiness in misfortune, describes our situation perfectly. But our only real misfortune was not researching beforehand about the bus station, because getting to visit Touro, which was not in our schedule and is probably not in any schedule of any tourist visiting Hokkaido, was actually pretty nice. As part of the town of 標茶 (しべちゃ — Shibecha), this small settlement is at the shore of 塘路湖 (とうろこ — Touro-ko), Touro lake, and despite having a few houses, a post office (like any corner of Japan does) and an elementary school, I remember seeing more deer than humans on the street. And, in the end, the sunset there was amazing as well.
網走 (あばしり — Abashiri)
The next morning we took the train at Kushiro station, again in the 釧網線 (Senmou line), this time to go all the way to the final station, 網走 (あばしり — Abashiri), the most northern city in East Hokkaido and located on the shore of the Okhotsk sea. It is famous for a prison originally built in the 19th century, which we actually did not visit, as our goal was something else.
I have never been to Russia, but upon arriving in Abashiri I imagined that Russian cities probably look somehow similar, although with different architecture.
The reason I wanted to come here is because it is the most southern place in the north hemisphere where it is possible to observe drift ice. Our goal was boarding the オーロラ号 (おーろらごう — Aurora-gou), an ice-breaker ship that brings tourists to see the phenomenon.
Since it is up to nature to decide, it is not guaranteed that the ice will be close enough to the shore of Abashiri on any given day, so being able to observe them or not is a matter of luck. On the day we went, for instance, it wasn’t possible to see the ice from the beach, but when we purchased tickets to the ship it was announced the trip would be 1 hour longer than usual due to the drift ice being located 30 minutes into open sea that day. 30 minutes was the limit for them to take us there and if it was any further away the whole expedition would be canceled, so lucky us!
After about 20 minutes into the journey we started to notice something white on the horizon, and soon after that we entered an area where more and more drift ice started colliding with the ship while it elegantly continued ahead as if it was nothing. That was the second magical moment of this entire trip. Everyone on board was focused on observing and hearing the crackling sound of the ship breaking the ice, ice blocks getting bigger and bigger as we moved further into the area where their density was higher. At that moment we even forgot the chilly wind from the Okhotsk sea that was blowing on our cheeks.
旭川 (あさひかわ — Asahikawa)
As our tickets allowed us to take limited express trains as well (which usually require an extra fee) we took the 大雪 (たいせつ — Taisetsu) bound for 旭川 (あさひかわ — Asahikawa). Although 大雪 usually refers to “heavy snow” and read as “おおゆき”, “ooyuki”, this train is named after the 大雪山 (たいせつざん — Taisetsuzan) mountain range near Asahikawa in central Hokkaido (also referred as Daisetsuzan). The 2291 meters high 旭岳(あさひだけ — Mt. Asahidake) in the range is the highest peak in Hokkaido.
The train journey itself was very pleasant, going through frozen landscapes and remote cities and villages with privileged views of the surrounding white mountains.
After riding for 3 hours and 40 minutes we arrived at Asahikawa, Hokkaido’s second most populous city with little over 300 thousand inhabitants. The city is known for heavy snowfalls (one of the snowiest places in the world) and coldness (Japan’s lowest ever recorded temperature in inhabited areas was in Asahikawa at freezing -41 degrees Celsius). Thus, upon arriving there those were the first things we went to check. We didn’t even need to go that far, as just leaving the station was hard due to the amount of snow.
Walking was a pain and the parks of the city were basically just a very big pile of snow (this is not a complaint, we actually really enjoyed that). As for the temperature, despite all that snow the weather was pleasant at around 10 degrees Celsius at the end of March .
We didn’t have much time to explore though, if we had, we also wanted to see Asahikawa Zoo, famous for being home to polar bears and other animals of cold climates, and for trying to simulate the animal’s natural habitats as much as possible.
Therefore, after lunch (we had gengiskan, a typical Hokkaido dish made by grilling muttons and vegetables) and after visiting a local cafe we took another limited express train, the ライラック (rairakku — Lilac) to Sapporo. A brief trip of 1 hour and a half took us to Hokkaido’s capital, our final long-distance leg in the 4 days journey.
札幌 (さっぽろ — Sapporo) and 小樽 (おたる — Otaru)
After spending the last days in smaller and more rural cities, as we approached Sapporo, Japan’s 5th largest city with almost 2 million inhabitants (if we include the Tokyo metropolis), we felt kind of mesmerized when the train entered the urban area with its tall buildings before arriving at the terminal in Sapporo station.
The first difference I noticed was how Sapporo has way less accumulated snow than Asahikawa. It also snows a lot in Sapporo though, and when I visited it for the first time in February 2017 there were piles and piles of snow on the sidewalk. This time most of it had already melted, making it way easier to stroll around, and the temperatures were also not in the negative. It was already near sunset when we finally made it there.
The 大通公園 (おおどりこうえん — Oodori kouen) is the main park, located in downtown Sapporo. This is where the 雪祭り (ゆきまつり — yuki matsuri), the snow festival, is held every year in February. The Sapporo Tower, also in the park, offers great views of the city in any season.
The next day, the last one, we walked around Hokkaido University, not far from Sapporo station, and then took the train to 小樽 (おたる — Otaru), a coastal city nearby.
Otaru is usually remembered for its canal and warehouses, the 小樽運河 (おたるうんが — Otaru unga), a symbol of Hokkaido’s development. The canal is also a place of many events in winter, like the festival that happens at the same time as the snow festival in Sapporo. This time we only went there for one or two hours, and since it was a Monday we could appreciate the city with less tourists than on weekends.
After going back to Sapporo and having lunch (soup curry this time, another popular dish from Hokkaido) we took the train to 新千歳空港 (しんちとせくうこう — Shin-Chitose kuukou), Shin-Chitose airport, Hokkaido’s main airport. As we finished our trip we were already planning our next one, thinking about how nice it would be to visit Hokkaido in summer next time.
