Snowballs, Coffee, and Kawai Towers.

The Yukata-clad gents across the hall decided that their morning cigarette would go down better with the door to the hallway open. Rather than cause a ruckus, I thought I'd crack open our window a sliver - just enough for some fresh air. While I recalled the man who showed us the room warning us not to do this due to bugs, I surmised that he meant overnight, and besides - there was a fly-screen.

Several dozen ladybirds as well as a stinkbug poured in and scattered themselves alarmingly across the previously clean tatami. I scooped them up as best I could (ignoring the occasional crunch) and pushed them through the now-apparent large gap in the fly-screen. We hurried off for breakfast with noone the wiser.

We decided to take the scenic route to Sapporo, so set off along the mountain road - and spotted a rest-stop with some fluffy-white snow perched on top of a timber fence. The kids were in heaven, pelting each other with some of the cold, white stuff. A tourist bus drove past, the looks of profound confusion on the passengers did not stop us in our revelry.

We expected that to be our lot in terms of snow-spotting. We were wrong. The temperature fell to around 2 degrees, but oddly felt far warmer than the Zoo the day before. It became obvious why the tour bus thought we were mad playing about in some skerricks of snow on the road-side.

As the snow got deeper, I wondered what the tell-tale signs of ice on the road were (apart from gaining the steering of a dodgem-car). Jenny was pleased we never got to find out.

We found a spot to pull off the road that actually afforded a view of the mountain above. Joshie felt it an opportune time to charge off into the snowy wastes. As a dutiful parent, I thought it made for a nice photo.

The adventurer returns.

Josh - off into the snow.

Lily was busy taking photos of her own, and it was through clenched teeth that I remarked that her family shot blew mine out of the water (she appreciated the anguish).

Not a bad shot - even if Lily does say so herself.

We had grand plans of visiting the Furano Cheese and Dairy Centre on the outskirts of town. The place was closed. 

GPS Lady sounded a little smug as we wound our way back into Furano proper for some morning tea. We happened across Furano Marche - blessed with a Patisserie, Cafe and Deli / gift shop. It was heaven - the lady behind the counter knew what a Latte was, and we sat down to chocolate scrolls and custard-filled buns. I cannot emphasise enough how this made our day - we were on the verge of skipping Kyoto and camping out in the Furano Marche car park for the rest of the holiday.

Furano Marche - so good, it also has a pumpkin carriage.

We bid farewell to Furano, and drove along some windy mountain roads, head-nodding politely to scores of workmen scooping yet more snow off the road. As we reached the foothills of the mountains - we pulled over to take a look at a dam. It was as dull as that sounds, but a fox decided to wander past as we were stopped. Wary, but not overly concerned. Again, our enthusiasm may  have been lost on the locals (as were the shrill giggles and hand gestures.... the kids not much better).

As we approached our first express-way, Jen confidently directed me into the wrong toll-lane - and I drove for quite some time expecting to see my friends from the Railway Crossing reappear in my rear-view mirror after not paying anything. It turned out that we could just pay at the other end (driver and co-pilot as relieved as each other).

Due partly to an unhealthy obsession with Google Earth prior to our trip, we found our Hotel in Sapporo without major drama (I guess it is but a village of 1.89 million). The nice man behind the counter offered to park my car for me - which I later found in an alley-way next to the Hotel. They welcomed us to our room by serving us green tea, and have generally been very pleasant.

We took a look around the neighbourhood, and found one of Japan's most disappointing spots (known as gakkari) - the Sapporo Clock Tower. Whilst dwarfed by local buildings, I thought it looked quite nice.

Kawai Sapporo Clock Tower

Frosty flakes, Arctic Zoos and brushes with the Law.

Breakfast consisted of bacon and eggs (we opted out of eel and pickled veg), cringe-worthy coffee and croissant-like toast. Oh, did I mention that it started snowing outside as we were eating? Throw in a couple of grazing deer all on display in the large dining hall windows - and things started getting ridiculously picturesque.

How cold was it this morning?
Cold enough to snow apparently.

Our on-board temperature gauge reckoned it was around 4 degrees (not accounting for a fairly emphatic, snowflake-choked breeze), which accounted for my teeth freezing to my lips as I was packing the car. Fortunately, the snow petered out as we headed down out of the mountains and set our sights on Asahiyama (home of Japan's most northerly Zoo).

One of few shots where the chimps weren't 'publically exhibiting' themselves.

We were guided to a parking space by some heavily-uniformed attendants with fluorescent orange batons, who responded to our 'in-car head nods' with emphatic bows of their own. While the rain held off, the temperature didn't get above 5 degrees (I later noticed the hill near the Zoo Car Park doubles as a ski-run).

Emperor Penguins.
It appears they were looking for some misplaced car keys.

The eerie howling of Wolves is something you don't normally hear at Taronga, and in lieu of elephants, you get something called a Raccoon Dog - but, you also get up close and personal with Penguins, Polar Bears as well as a Red Panda or two.

I know, it's no Raccoon Dog - but fairly impressive nevertheless.

Red Panda strutting over the heads of onlookers like he owns the place.

We thawed out a little in a  restaurant located in the Zoo, and caused a little bit of a stir by turning down the Miso Soup as part of our lunch-time order. It was a pretty decent day at the Zoo all in all (which was surprising, due to the potential for sleet at any moment).

Picking up some fuel at the local Eneos Station (they fill the tank and even wipe your windscreen), we then stopped by a 7-Eleven and stocked up on some Milk Chocolate Pocky (if you don't know about this creation - find out), and I even got some more overly-sweet, cold coffee to go. The day was panning out perfectly, with only about 90 minutes until our destination for the evening.

That's when the Police Car pulled me over - lights flashing, siren wailing, commands issued over an on-board PA system. Quickly moving past a momentary thought of how cute the little patrol car looked, my stomach turned a somersault. One of the surprisingly large gentleman (there were three of them) walked up to my window where I was shakily offering my licence and International Drivers Licence, and asked me out of the car. He motioned me towards their car, and then opened the door for me to get into the back seat (cue cold sweats and panicked thoughts). After what seemed an eternity of Very Serious attempts at communication sitting in the Police Car, they gave up and rang someone back at the station who had a fair grasp of English - who explained to me that while Australia treats level-crossings as a 'give-way' intersection, Japan does not. If you don't come to a complete stop, it appears to be an offence on-par with slaughtering a small village. In my defence, it looked like an abandoned line going through some farmer's fields on a back road (that and there were no signs that approximated stop signs elsewhere). I weakly enquired if I would need to pay a fine (and was wondering when the cuffs were going to come out), but the saint on the other end of the line said that I was free to go - just to not go pulling any of that Australian cowboy driving in his country. I was fairly agreeable.

The overly-sweet, chilled coffee picked up at 7-Eleven was not required for a heightened sense of vigilance for the remainder of the trip. The children commenced a barrage of questions including whether I was now a fugitive in Japan. 

Funny.

A very relieved Martin family arrived at Shirogane - and made our way inside the very lovely Yumoto Shirogane Onsen Hotel. The place is perched above a snow-fed waterfall - the snow itself not too far up the mountain.

Yumoto Shirogane Onsen Hotel

Just because I know you are dying to know,
this is what a Raccoon Dog looks like.

Marimo, Happy Hippies, and the Jekyll & Hyde Hotel

We set the coordinates for Sounkyo Gorge in our GPS, and then proceeded to frustrate the GPS Lady (a fragile-sounding thing with quiet desperation in her voice) to tears by heading in the opposite direction to check out some Marimo Balls at Lake Akan. Essentially, the Marimo are balls of algae that the Japanese are absolutely nuts for - they consider them kawai, and keep them as pets on occasion (I kid you not). 

See? Don't you just want to hug these things?

As difficult as it was, we managed to drag ourselves away from the Marimo (as well as the scalding, geothermal sands on the shore of Lake Akan - so inviting). Relief obvious in her voice (as well as a hint of reproach), the GPS Lady was once again able to direct us towards Sounkyo Gorge. We set off in a north-westerly direction, and were struck by the bleakness of both the landscape and dwellings, particularly as we entered the township of Kitami (named after the Japanese restaurant in Newcastle no doubt). It appears that the locals are content for some structures to just rot alongside brand new dwellings, more than once spotting an abandoned dwelling missing some walls in a built-up area. The architecture was utilitarian, a world away from the sophistication/western superficiality of Tokyo.

As we ascended into the mountains, the rain started sheeting down - and the natural landscape took over once again. We emerged from a tunnel over 2 kilometres long, into the village of Sounkyo Gorge. GPS Lady was not impressed, directing us onward for another kilometre or so - to a spot underneath a bridge in the middle of nowhere. Vengeance is a dish best served cold and in digital form it seems. We continued on for another few hundred metres to locate a spot to turn around, and came across a great fall-back accommodation option. The open plan layout would certainly overcome any potential smokiness within.

Our 'Plan B'

Jenny popped into the Sounkyo Kanko Hotel (just to confirm it was the Sounkyo Kanko - as all signage was in Japanese). She came back (having braved the rain and 5 degrees Celsius temps) advising that the place was nearly in darkness, with one guy behind the counter gesturing at his watch to say, "Come back at 3pm". Not exactly the warm welcome we were hoping for.

We decided to take a look around Sounkyo to fill in some time, and stumbled across a cafe called The Happy Hippy. They taunted us with offers of real coffee, so we went in. The woman that ran the place was going for a kind of Rasta feel, and we were a little surprised to hear some Aussie hip-hop on the stereo. I braved the chicken curry (despite her warnings of near-lethal heat) and found it to be a mild affair, suitable for children or those recovering from surgery. Jenny had some pumpkin soup - and it was served with some home-made soda bread. Once Jen raved about the deliciousness of said bread, the owner lost her carefully construed new-age aloofness and grinned with delight.

All warmed up with our lunches, we grit our teeth and set out for Gin Ga No Taki falls. The wind-chill and driving rain not enough to dissuade us - we jumped out of the car for some happy snaps. Joshie was not amused, and dragged us into a nearby souvenir shop to thaw out. We decided to head back to the Hotel, as the rigidly-set 3pm check-in time had finally passed. The entire place had transformed, lights were blazing, there were 3 or 4 staff in the car park alone - handing out umbrellas and desperate to assist us inside. The grumpy guy Jen first encountered earlier in the day must have been shunted off into the basement - and replaced with the most earnest folk we'd seen all day.

Wet, hypothermic and looking smashing in our wet-weather gear.

The room is amazing, with views of the Gorge and the rapids below. In the lift back to our room  (after partaking of a scrumptious dinner at the in-house restaurant) the kids managed to kick off an international incident by greeting a Taiwanese couple with a friendly 'Konichiwa!'. After the pair tersely noted that they were not from Japan, I responded with an equally-serious, 'We aren't from Japan either." The ensuing pause, and subsequent big grin by the gentleman  leads me to believe that dry humour is alive and well in Taiwan (and that our Ambassadors needn't be recalled).

Stinky mountains, watery volcanoes and hot feet.

The first thing we noticed this morning was the fact that the Ryokan doesn't have non-smoking rooms. While it wasn't smoky as such - the room did have the faintest reminder of cigarettes - kind of like your clothes after a night out.

Coughing up a lung each, we got ready and headed downstairs for breakfast. We'd left our run a bit late, so were the only diners left for what appeared to be a buffet. As we neared the centre table, I was unable to identify anything whatsoever - apart from vague impressions of pickled vegetables and some kind of fish. I settled on some bacon and noodles I spotted on one of the side-tables (it kind of went together like bacon and eggs strangely enough). The kids almost wept with relief after spotting some toast and jam. Joshie was a happy little man, tucking into jam on toast with a glass of milk to boot. Some of the ladies from the kitchen came out as we were leaving and were unable to stop themselves from touching Joshies sandy-brown hair and calling him 'Kawai' - despite the daggers he was throwing at them (he has a mean frown on him when pushed).

There was a blaze of autumnal colours here - I swear it!

We thought we'd tackle the source of the sulfurous scent head-on, and set off for Mount Iozan. I spent far too long trying to capture the autumnal colours of the forest on the way to the mountain. There is a tradition of boiling eggs in the steaming, sulfury geothermal vents. Why, I have no idea - yet there were queues (I told you they'd queue for anything) of elderly ladies and gents waiting to purchase some of these at the local kiosk. We settled for some '100% Hokkaido' (apparently that's important) ice cream cones. As a bonus, the vending machines stocked hot Boss coffee in a can. More elderly ladies fussed over Josh as he attempted to smudge soft-serve across his face - the frown (albeit just for show) re-appeared.

Blood-sugar surging, caffeine flooding the system, we pushed on for Lake Mashu, essentially the water-flooded caldera of a hopefully extinct volcano. We failed to impress a couple of the local deer on our way up the windy road to the lake. 

'Whaaat?! - can't you seen I'm foraging?'

Lake Mashu is renowned for having the clearest waters of any lake in the world. I might elegantly refute that statement with a sophisticated pffffft (it was pretty clear though).

Lake Mashu - see, you can't even see the bottom..
oh wait, it's a volcano...

Nothing mirrors the quiet serenity of a
Japanese National Park like a  Martin family group-shot..

We noticed a Foot Spa in our earlier travels around the town, so spent the later part of the afternoon up to our knees in piping-hot geothermal goodness. There may have been some other, more local tourists there, and they may have been driven from the Spa by our familial chaos.

The now-vacated Foot Spa/Onsen

Speed limits, snow tyres and sulfur.

We touched down in Kushiro Airport - our gateway to Hokkaido - and immediately noticed a drop in population density and pace. This place had trees and fields, and a horizon!

We picked up our Mazda 3 from the local Car Hire place (clearly a stretch for us with our Mazda 3 back home), and set off, safe in the knowledge the good folk at Mazda Hire had plugged our trips details into the GPS provided. It appears their plugging lasted as far as the first intersection out of the airport. On the plus side, we did see the fragrant, dairy farm side of Kushiro that we would have otherwise missed.

I was growing a little concerned (and growing a little annoying to my co-pilot) about not having confirmed a speed for the road we were travelling on. When a speed zone sign finally decided to show up - it indicated a limit of 50 km/h. For a highway. Cars started queueing up behind me - and I think I may have been responsible for the first case of road rage in Japan for the last several years. I eventually gave in - and travelled at the break-neck speed of 80 km/h - clearly I was bound for prison before the end of the day.

My decision to wear a short-sleeved shirt unravelled at this point.
(Akan National Park)

As luck would have it, I managed to skirt major jail time (although the local constabulary would have had a hard time pursuing me at their measly 50 km/h) - and entered Akan National Park. Snow gates, boxes with snow chains, and avalanche-barricades led me to believe that things get a little chilly in these neck of the woods. We'd been rolling our eyes at the string of Bambi-inspired 'Deer Crossing' road signs, but came face to face with a couple of them loitering on the side of the road as we crested the high point of the mountain pass.

It started getting dark before getting to Kawayu Onsen (our destination for the next 2 nights) which made navigation just that little bit more delightful. Sulfurous clouds of steam belched from storm grates, providing a distinct olfactory backdrop to a rather chilly (was 7 degrees and falling by the time we arrived) township.

We are staying in a Ryokan Hotel - so were provided with a traditional banquet, yukata (gown) and essentially a yoga mat (a waif-like version of one at any rate) to sleep on this evening.

Sporting the latest Ryokan fashion in our dining room/hallway/bedroom/rumpus.

Joshie subtly displaying his disinterest.

Stepping outside his culinary comfort zone: Hamish!

Markets, crossings and shrines.

We made yet another friend on the Tokyo rail network this morning - an elderly lady originally from Hokkaido, now living in California (she still visits Japan annually). She gave us barely sufficient time to nod our confirmation that we were heading to Tsukiji Fish Market before directing us to follow her, and setting a pace that forced us into a jog. The apparent one-time Olympic walker gave us the low-down on the area, before weaving her way off into the distance.

We made our way along a street lined with food stalls, normally fastidious Japanese folk crammed onto rough timber benches or even milk crates to sample the meals on offer. Pushing past the crowds of diners, we arrived at the Fish Markets proper - and managed to avoid getting collected by several forklifts hurtling around the place in gleeful abandon of anything resembling Work, Health and Safety. Large, pointy hooks and implements that appeared to be 4 foot long Katana blades (presumably to slice up very large fish) simply added to the welcoming atmosphere.

We made our way back to the food stalls, and came across a stall selling wagashi (traditional Japanese sweets). After we clumsily ordered something for each of the Martin kiddies - the lady behind the counter insisted on taking our photo. Mindful of the weaponry on display just a few aisles back, we were not going to argue.

We called into a Cafe for some morning tea - and experienced some truly disgusting coffee, but really lovely staff. One lady made some origami spinning tops for each of the kids - using three sheets of paper apiece.

Our next stop was Shibuya - which boasts the busiest crossing on the planet. Admittedly, it was fairly busy - but the innate consideration of the Japanese folk meant that I wasn't mowed down whilst taking a few piccies (which is nice).

For a complete change of pace, the Meiji-Jingu (Shrine) was an island of calm - soaring trees, ancient temples, and young blokes in white cloth wraps telling you not to sit on the steps. Tomorrow, we fly out to Hokkaido - leaving the frantic pace of Tokyo behind.

Electric Town, ponds and a bit of history.

By-passing the only stand-offish station employee we've encountered to date (I'd like to think his bitterness stemmed from not being allowed to wear those white gloves the other train guards were sporting), we made it to the Yamanote Line (which does a huge loop around Central Tokyo). 

We got off the train at Akihabara, otherwise known as Electric Town (known for its many electronics outlets). Hamish was more than a little keen to take a peek in one of the multi-storey gaming arcades. We obliged, and to our delight - found that the placed reeked of cigarettes and single males.

Note the complimentary ash-trays at each gaming station  - cute.

We thought we'd wash down the smoke with a healthy dosage of KFC. Joshie was quite enjoying his swivel stool, when a young employee (whose sole function was to take peoples trays and navigate the multi-garbage receptacle mine-field) offered a high-chair. Naturally, we accepted the offer - but Josh was not impressed. After a few minutes, a frown appeared, closely followed by an impressively protruding bottom lip. The wail that followed shook the nigh-on silent diners, and woke one poor lass who had been dozing face down on her table. The clearly distressed Tray-technician rushed over and enquired after Joshies well-being, obviously expecting him to have ruptured something to have led to a cry that hearty. We assured the poor young man that everything was fine, and took our leave shortly after. I'm fairly certain we passed some local shopkeepers asking each other the equivalent of, "Did you hear that?". Lily, meanwhile, was announcing to all within ear-shot the details of the fully-automatic toilet she had visited during our short stay in KFC.

Akihabara - home of the smoke-filled arcade,

and normally silent fast food restaurant.

Our next stop was Ueno - known for its Park and Museum. Somewhat embarrassingly, we circled the entire Station complex before finally locating the way across the train line (we did however locate two Cafe Latte Grandes - a fair trade really) to the Park.

Gojo Shrine Torii

Gojo Shrine

The Martin children lit some incense at Benten Hall, not really getting the concept of 'smoulder', and going more for 'leaping flames'. Still - sufficient incense smoke wafted our way to ensure good fortune.

Benten Hall - site of the Great Incense Fire of 2012

Josh and his steed of choice.

Tosho-Gu Shrine

Somewhat ambitiously, we ventured into the Ueno Museum with our silence-shattering children. They were in fact remarkably well-behaved, and enjoyed the statues, Noh masks and Katana swords. They grew a little weary of the rooms dedicated to lacquer-ware boxes housing documents of some 18th Century official of dubious importance (which is fair enough).

As we were leaving, we were pleased the Museum folk advised us of the inherent dangers of the 30 cm deep pond at the front of the main building. It positively oozed danger - I'm pretty sure I saw a dorsal fin.