Sapporo to Abashiri
February 1, 2006, Arrived in Japan 14 days agoI suppose I wanted to pretend like it’s the north pole. In reality, the north coast of Hokkaido, the northernmost territory of Japan, is at a lower latitude than Portland, Oregon. What makes it seem so far north is the floating ice on the Sea of Okhotsk. Because this area of ocean is bounded by land on three sides, and a dense archipelago on the fourth, the fresh water that flows into the area from the continents and larger islands doesn’t mix as effectively with the salt water as it would if it were open to the rest of the Pacific Ocean. There aren’t the same deep-water circulations of water that are found in the open ocean, so a layer of brackish water stays near the surface of the Sea, allowing it to freeze in the winter months. Although the entire sea is south of the Arctic Circle, an icebreaker ship runs from Abashiri for tours of this sea ice. I had to see it, so I took a 5-hour train ride from Sapporo, going through Asahigawa on the way.
Sapporo Station. Area over the tracks by the platform is covered, yet there is snow.
Not nearly as much of it as there is outside, though.
Downtown Sapporo viewed from the right side of the train going roughly north. You can see the TV tower in the distance.
They have enough snow that it has to be disposed of near the city limits, in what looks like a landfill. Those are dump trucks taking plowed snow from around the city and piling it on. Images on the train ride:
Just to the southwest of Abashiri, there is a large lake that freezes over in the winter. I saw tents and people on the ice.
The train arrived in Abashiri after 4:00 pm. Unfortunately, this left precious little daylight because it was winter. I had to find the hostel before it got dark, or I’d be in trouble with the cold weather and 50+ pounds to carry. The train station in Abashiri has a nice map of the city, but no indication of the hostel. They also had fish.
The guidebook and a printed map let me know that the hostel was on the northern edge of the city, above the bluff overlooking the sea, but it lacked a scale so I didn’t know how far I would need to walk. Taking it on faith that it would be a reasonable distance (<3 miles), I started walking on the bridge over the river north of the train station. I was surprised to see swans in the water.
I continued to walk toward the sea, about 8 blocks away, where I planned to turn north along the coast until finding a road that wound up the steep hill to the left. I knew the characters for the name of the road, and I hoped there would be a sign for the hostel. Along the road, there were small industrial buildings to the left that seemed to be in the business of processing seafood for market. The smell wasn’t pleasant. The farther along I got, the fewer buildings I saw. I walked a block past where there were no buildings, and chickened out, turning back for a couple of blocks looking up the hill for the road. It was dark by this time, and very cold. I walked back north again for a few blocks, seeing nothing, and turned back. I was nearly panicked. The hotel across the road from the train station was full, and the one next to it was as well. Abashiri is a city, but a small one, and I hadn’t seen other hotels on my walk. I was becoming concerned not that I would freeze to death, but that I would need to impose myself upon the warm interior of a business like a convenience store or gas station, or the government building I walked by, and stay awake all night. I needed my sleep, so I walked several blocks back to streetlights and activity, and hailed a cab. At first, the driver seemed very pleased to get a passenger after dark in the dead of winter where almost no one was out. It took me a few minutes to communicate with pointing gestures on my map the name and supposed location of the hostel. He started driving through the blocks north, along the road I walked and past the farthest point I walked and turned around from. Much to my chagrin, the road up the hill was literally 100 feet from where I turned around, and there was a sign for the hostel, with English on it. As I was about to curse myself for wasting money on a cab, the road turned out to be steep, a little slippery, and with some blind turns, so I decided it’s best I didn’t end up walking it. Then the cab driver got lost. Every wrong turn, U-turn, missed turn, he became more embarrassed. Cabbies are supposed to know their territory well enough not just to get someplace, but well enough to know all the shortcuts. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. It was after dark and hard to see. Road signs were obstructed by snow. He eventually reached a dead end, where a lone house with the lights on and smoke rising from the chimney sat. He got out of the car, and in the final blow to his ego, he interrupted the family’s dinner to ask for directions. We were at the hostel in under 2 minutes. He had stopped the meter around 1200 yen, when he got lost, which was a reasonable fare, not inflated by the extra driving around. Before stepping out the cab, I tried to pay him. He refused. I insisted. He refused. I offered him a 1000 yen note, as a compromise for his minor failure, something. He refused. I felt so bad for him. I know that embarrassing situations are much worse for Japanese, and I just wanted him to feel better about himself on the lonely winter night. But he drove away a sad, sad Japanese man.
The hostel was a large house on a stretch of road with woods on one side and farmland on the other. Having arrived after dark, but not tremendously late (around 7:00 pm), the proprietor of the hostel, a middle-aged, tall man with bookish glasses looked up from his newspaper at the front desk surprised to see a customer at all. A weeknight in February on the northern frontier of Japan is probably the lowest time/place for a hostel owner. I ended up being the only guest that night.
I didn’t have dinner because of the incident with finding the hostel and the cab ride, and no restaurants were within walking distance. I had only a CalorieMate and bottle of water for dinner.
