The article below originally appeared in the April-June 2009 issue of Vacations & Travel magazine.
Justin Wastnage heads to the northern reaches of Japan to explore the wideopen landscapes and natural beauty of Hokkaido.
Dmitry Medvedev had won the
lottery, Mayumi Yamamoto tells me
as she opens the door to the
Presidential Suite. In the subtle game
of diplomatic brinkmanship, the
Russian president had scored an early
coup: the best available room in the
imposing Windsor Hotel overlooking
Lake Toya on the northern Japanese
island of Hokkaido, where Yamamoto
is a manager.
Medvedev was in town for the G8
Summit meeting. Mayumi explains
that the guest list posed some
unique protocol problems. “We had
three presidents, four prime ministers
and a chancellor, so they couldn’t all
have the Presidential Suite,” she
recalls. Instead, they drew lots for
the best rooms.
As voyeurism goes, it doesn’t get
much better than trying to guess on
which side of the enormous bed
Medvedev slept. Even the bodyguards
would have had it pretty easy: the
suite comes with an adjoining family
room, where the burly minders could
have popped their earpieces on the
bedside cabinet after a day’s work.
Henchmen would not look out of
place here, for the hotel’s bold
design, by modernist architect
Hiroyasu Higuchi, is reminiscent of a
Bond film baddy’s retreat. A tower of
ever-smaller concrete slabs forms the
hotel and resort complex. Brutal and
angular, the building is in striking
contrast to the serene natural beauty
surrounding it. Sitting atop the 625-
metre peak of Mount Poromoi on the
Oshima Peninsula, it looks out over
both Lake Toya itself and Uchiura
Bay.
It is also at the end of a 20-
kilometre private road, perfect for
James Bond villains and G8 Summits.
Many hundreds make the journey
each year, not to stay in the hotel,
but to dine at the restaurants
contained within it.
French chef Michel Bras opened his second
restaurant at the Windsor in 2002,
only three years after receiving three
Michelin stars. The establishment has
been booked out pretty much every
night since.
Japan’s decision to host the G8
Summit in Hokkaido was part of a
wider renaissance taking place
around the northern island, best
known to Australians for its ski
resorts. There is much more to
Hokkaido than winter sports,
however. The island is Japan’s great
natural wilderness, frigid in winter
but bursting with life in summer.
Crystal-clear streams, lush green
mountains and deep, cold lakes are
reminiscent of Tasmania, but the
island’s ever-present volcanic activity
and hot springs lift it that notch
higher. In the far north of Hokkaido,
you can watch ice floes drift by in
February while in summer, gigantic
fields of lavender leave immense
purple bruises on the landscape of
the island’s centre.
Hokkaido has a distinct frontier
feel about it. The island is rugged
rather than dainty, wild rather than
cultivated. Even its architecture –
one area in which you’d expect to
find an orthodox approach – is
startlingly un-Japanese. The island’s
capital, Sapporo, is laid out in a grid
like a US downtown, brick
warehouses cheek-by-jowl with
sandstone office blocks, while the
countryside is punctuated with
Scandinavian-style chalets.
But the areas of urbanisation are
tiny; for the main part, Hokkaido
remains untouched by humans. What
draws most visitors to Hokkaido is
open space and water. The island is
still being formed, thanks to active
volcanoes dotted around, and
virtually all the tourism hot-spots in
the southwest are located near real
hot spots. While the onsen communal
bathing experience should be a
mandatory inclusion on any Japanese
itinerary, Hokkaido is where it
reaches its zenith: cold air on your
skin heightens the sensation of the
geothermal water on your body.
While the idea of bathing naked
with a loved one may put off only
the most prudish, bathing with
colleagues or strangers is a whole
different matter. Yet the onsen is a
strangely liberating experience.
Stripped down to your bare
essentials, there is no room for airs
or graces and everyone, rich or poor,
must scrub themselves down before
plopping into the steaming water.
Getting back to nature is a whole
lot more appealing in this part of
Hokkaido. Soaking up the hot water,
we are metres from Lake Toya, our
modesty preserved by a hedgerow.
Women, meanwhile, get far better
treatment on the fifth floor, their al
fresco bath commanding spectacular
views of the caldera lake, its islands
and the surrounding mountains.
Lake Toya has had a chequered
history. Created by volcanic activity,
its popularity among domestic
tourists has been equally dented, at
regular intervals, by volcanic
eruptions. Walking around the
Volcano Science Museum in Toyako,
it is easy to see why.
Mount Usu, one in a ring of
mountains that border the near-circular
lake, last erupted in 2000,
washing away two highways and a
rail track and burying countless
vehicles and buildings under its lava.
A text-book evacuation plan meant
no-one was killed. The town’s tourist
chiefs have clubbed together to stage
nightly fireworks displays on the lake
during summer ever since – best
viewed from one of the many cruise
ships that ply the lakefront.
Hokkaido is also loved by Asian
tourists, who flock here for the
island’s food. Considering its
northerly location, it is surprising
that Hokkaido’s produce is giantsized.
Red apples barely fit into an
adult palm; wild salmon leap
upstream in such great numbers that
only the extra-large ones get caught;
but the pièce de résistance has to be
the island’s red king crabs. Dozens of
restaurants dedicated to consuming
this hairy crustacean dot the
coastline near Lake Toya.
I sit, transfixed, as a crab the size
of an average dinner plate is wheeled
out, followed by another until
everyone sitting alongside me at the
steaming cauldron has received one.
I avoid making any sudden moves
until one of my companions
unceremoniously chops off a giant
claw and pops it into the broth. We
all follow, until the cauldron is awash
with vegetables, tofu and limbs. A
few minutes later, as we scoop out
the flesh from inside the cavities of
our crabs, it is clear to see why this
is a must for all Hokkaido-borne
travellers. The taste is incomparable.
This beauty had been swimming,
care-free, that morning, probably in the deep,
cold ocean surrounding Hokkaido, when it had
been yanked out by one of the hundreds of
Japanese and Russian fishermen who call the
picturesque port of Otaru home. Not that the
Russians have always been welcome in Hokkaido:
there is a lingering land dispute in the
northernmost islands. But this didn’t stop the
Japanese hosts plying Medvedev and fellow G8
summiteers with the giant crab during their stay.
With food like this, Medvedev would have
known for sure he had won the lottery.
To read the article as it appeared, click on the page images above.
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