I check my watch; it is 2:57 a.m. I usher the last guests out of the bar; their day is coming to a close, but mine is just beginning. I finish my closing duties and pack my bag with my camera and ski gear. I put on my snow pants and jacket and get ready to head out. The owner of the bar is having a cigarette after our shift, and I wish him a good night as I walk out the door.
The ski hill isn't far away—maybe a ten-minute walk up the street from the bar. It's still dark, but I know there is no time to waste as dawn is fast approaching. I meet up with my friends at the base of the Grand Hirafu resort as planned. The lifts don't run in the middle of the night, so we have to walk up the slopes.
We put our skins on and swiftly we are on our way. It is a beautiful night. As we tour up underneath the empty chairlifts, the stars sparkle above us in the crisp night air. As we continue higher, we are suddenly blinded by lights. A groomer getting the runs ready for the morning has stopped and spotted us. He has probably never seen anyone walking up the ski hill at night and must have been confused. Luckily, he carries on and leaves us be; technically, we aren't supposed to be there past closing hours. We carry on, climbing higher and higher. The sky is starting to get lighter, and morning is fast approaching.
Almost at the top, we decide to have a midnight snack. Gazing down on Niseko Village is magical. The glow of the houses, Mount Yōtei looming above them, and the stars above We take in the moment in silence, awestruck by the beauty and serenity of it all. We must press on; it's not long until sunrise now.
The last few steps to the summit are exhausting. Between working all night, carrying my gear for several hours, and the lack of sleep, I'm beat, but I've never felt more alive. It's freezing out, at least -20° C and the wind is howling. We huddled together in a makeshift snow shelter, waiting for daybreak.
Finally, the sun peaks over the horizon. Its warm rays are welcome on my skin. We are ready to ride down, and I get into position to take the shot. My hands are frozen, but the scene that lies before us is too breathtaking to worry about them. The gusts of wind are whisking trails of snow through the air as my friends descend before me, sparkling in the soft morning light. The volcano stands proudly before us, across the valley, as if approving of our antics.
I pack up my gear and continue to follow my friends down the mountain. We have the whole place to ourselves long before anyone else gets to ski it. This was a truly special moment that I will never forget. Now I know why they call it the land of the rising sun.
