For Snowshoe Buffs, Some of the Best Spots Around Hachimantai

I recently completed two weeks of snowshoe-guiding around the southern part of Towada-Hachimantai National Park. Hachimantai straddles Iwate and Akita prefectures in the rugged, mountainous, and snowy interior of Honshu Island. It's a great destination all-year round, including the cold of winter.

Of course, autumn is the most popular season in the national park. That's when the array of colored foliage bursts from the top of the mountain downwards. A few months later, the region's spring melt also produces a famous "dragon's eye" phenomenon. That happens when the mountain's bright blue lake begins to melt, leaving a pupil of snow in the middle, reminiscent of a beast's eye.

For those seeking to escape the muggy heat enveloping the rest of Japan, high altitude Hachimantai offers a rare un-airconditioned summer escape. In short, you should go to Hachimantai on your next trip to Japan, whatever the season.

A Snowy Wonderland

In winter, Hachimantai is virtually inaccessible by vehicle because heavy snow makes plowing roads futile. However, national parks in Japan are public, meaning snowshoeing along the park's edges is possible, offering exclusive access to untapped terrain.

*There are 2 meters of snow at this campground. (©Daniel Moore)*

Of course, other activities, including skiing, backcountry skiing, and snowcat tours, are amazing alternatives. Each is stunning, offering its own singular perspective on the snowy country.

Whichever is your preferred method of ingesting Japan's famous white powder, beware, because addiction is instantaneous. You will always want to come back for more.

The Tohoku region includes Iwate, Akita, and four other prefectures, occupying the northern third of Honshu. And it's my favorite winter destination. Tohoku and Hokkaido receive more snow than anywhere else in Japan. Amid globally declining snowfall, I regularly witnessed three-meter-high snow walls and overnight accumulations of 50 cm in 2025-26. I wonder what it was like 50 years ago.

Snowshoeing is predictably cold, but the promise of a cold beer and a hot meal is excellent motivation. Watching a blizzard from a steaming outdoor hot spring is a quintessentially Japanese experience.

Tohoku is also Japan's last wilderness. Vast stretches, including Hachimantai National Park, are uninhabited. They are too rugged, cold, snowy, or seismically active to support life.

It is rare in most of Japan to see no hint of civilization. However, in Tohoku, it is common. Steam vents from hot springs hiss and bubble, making the landscape feel alive despite the lack of people. Tohoku's remoteness also keeps casual tourists away, heightening its allure.

A Slower Pace of Change

Finally, the Sea of Japan coast is remote and resistant to change. Traditions remain preserved here, including some that are long-forgotten elsewhere. My theory is that villages buried in snow for half the year change more slowly. Travel and communication just take longer. The local dialect, for example, is nearly unintelligible if you compare it with standard Japanese.

Foods such as Kiritanpo (hot pot) are regional specialties you won't find anywhere else. Deities, such as the Namahage, are venerated during annual festivals unique to this region. Mixed-gender bathing also remains common, unlike much of modern Japan, although there are now accommodations for more modest visitors.

Tohoku's harshness makes it distinct, but the real beauty is in how the people adapt. Dealing with snow, unlike in other regions, is integral to life and shapes both landscape and culture.

Geothermal Power Through the Lens of a Famous Hot Spring City

The Trip

Arriving in Morioka, Iwate Prefecture, by Shinkansen, the journey starts at Mt Iwate's base. The mountain looms large as a solitary conical volcano. It is Iwate's highest peak and one of Japan's 100 famous mountains. My bucket list includes summiting all of them ー I know I will be back.

Although snow-covered, the Yakehashiri Lava Flow Trail reveals evidence of a major eruption 300 years ago. The slope is still void of vegetation for hundreds of meters in every direction. Craggy black rocks occasionally poke through the white landscape, hinting at what lies below.

*Shy Mt Iwate beckons the snowshoe group. (©Daniel Moore)*

Mt Iwate is a shy mountain. It reveals itself slowly, and never entirely, leaving much to the imagination.

The first afternoon features a hike along an abandoned road in the Matsukawa Valley. It is not technically a snowshoeing course. Then again, anywhere with snow and a gentle slope can be a trail. In the summer, a campground offers tent and auto camping. However, with two meters of packed snow on the roofs, I cannot imagine the snow ever melting. Sleeping outside here seems impossible.

*The bridge at Matsukawa. (©Daniel Moore)*

Our first night is at Matsukawa Onsen Kyounso, where a giant snowman greets visitors. Kyounso is a charming, family-run lodge heated by geothermal energy. The tatami room feels like entering a blast furnace. Thankfully, with renewable energy, I don't feel bad throwing open the windows.

*An unplowed road near Matsukawa Onsen. (©Daniel Moore)*

Breathtaking Perspectives

The onsen itself is another highlight. Kyounso is part of a secret onsen society, a concept so Japanese it deserves its own story. There are no showers, just a trough of hot spring water with buckets, shampoo, and soap. To reach the outdoor onsen, you must skate across 20 meters of ice and snow, naked. The reward is worth it, but it takes courage (and body heat) for the return journey.

*A frozen waterfall along the way. (©Daniel Moore)*

The next day features two hikes in the Matsukawa Valley, including a 5 km return journey to Matsukawa Ohashi. In the summer, it's an easy 5-minute drive, but the unplowed winter road means snowshoeing 90 minutes each way. Thankfully, the tracks of early-morning backcountry skiers crisscross the trail, making the compacted path easier going and impossible to get lost.

Kyounso lends snowshoes for free, an additional benefit of staying there. The afternoon features another short snowshoeing expedition into the Matskawa Valley, this time to see the Genbuiwa, a unique geological feature along the trickling, partly frozen river. Wherever you go, this valley is breathtaking and provides new perspectives.

Over the next few days, we explore Appi Kogen with several hikes around the ski resort and Hachimantai National Park entrance. The abandoned Matsuo Mining Village provides an eerie but fascinating window into regional history. At its peak, 15,000 people lived here until the sulfur mines closed in the 1970s. Life was tough, but people thrived.

Untouched Snow with Local Guides

The following day, we take a gondola to the top of Appi Kogen Ski Resort. The summit is frigid, and the wind howls, but the treeline provides relief. Hot chocolate from the guide helps. From the gondola station, it's a long, gentle snowshoe back down.

Away from the busy slopes, snowshoeing offers a unique perspective and untouched powder. For both Matsuo Mine and Appi Kogen, hire a local guide for safety and the best experience. Appi also offers plenty of outdoor activities in the summer, so it is worth checking out year-round.

Traversing the Yuze Ravine

Next is the Yuze Valley. Famous for autumn colors, the Yuze Resort Hotel is almost abandoned in winter. Its baths are wide open, and the buffet is empty, which suits us. The hotel sits on the Yoneshiro River, my favorite winter onsen view of the entire journey.

*The snowshoe path takes the group over Yuze suspension bridge. (©Daniel Moore)*

*Views from the Yuze Valley.(©Daniel Moore)*

Nearby is the day's snowshoe starting point. Down the Yuze Ravine, the scenery is unlike anything we have seen. Icy waterfalls, a narrow suspension bridge, snowy train tracks, and a river frozen along its edges create a magical valley.

This day takes the reward for the most accessible hike with the best views.

The Snowiest Destination

Our last stop is Nyuto Onsen, the snowiest destination of all. I didn't know you could have too much snow until arriving here.

*The snowshoe group with the author and local guide Hiro at the Nyuto Onsen. (©Daniel Moore)*

As a visitor, the more the better. As a resident, battling the snow must be a nightmare. But the forest is enchanted, the most beautiful of the tour. Our local guide Hiro grew up here, but he lived in Canada and speaks excellent English. His passion for snow, despite having to deal with it every winter, is infectious. He explains the types of snow and its effects on plants and animals.

While Tsurunoyu is the area's famous historic onsen, often featured in brochures and postcards, there are actually seven ryokans. We stay in Taenoyu, a smaller, more modern one. Booking is challenging, so use an agent and hire Hiro as a guide.

Nyuto Onsen also has a network of trails running between the ryokans. I want to come back in the hiking season, stay at all of the inns, and hike around each day, eventually summiting Akita Komagatake in Hachimantai National Park.

It has been an incredible two weeks around Hachimantai, and it is never lost on me how lucky I am to call this a job. Having lived in Japan for 27 years, there is still much to explore and learn.

Tohoku is a fascinating region, worth several trips in my opinion. Certainly, I have not seen everything yet. I hope you can find some new areas of Japan to explore and fall in love with, too. It's also worth revisiting the same areas in the hiking season to compare and admire the beauty in a new light.