The Ski Journal - Volume 13, Issue 3
SUBNIVEAN
Words and Photos: Michael Israelson 2019-12-08 00:59:19
We were promised monkeys.
It’s only a minor disappointment, one that was more than remedied by the absolute wonder of Japanese toilets.
We are not among monkeys, but in a sublime sushi restaurant off the beaten path in Sapporo. An enormous Japanese man holds court in one of those classic little rooms where your feet dangle into the secret spaces beneath the long banquet-hall table. In Japan, custom dictates that unless you request their attention, the waitstaff will blissfully ignore you.
That man was Mako-San. And Mako-San was requesting their attention. Vehemently.
“SUMMMMI MASSSEN!”
The guttural roar echoed off the thin paper walls. Who was Sumi Masen, and what had they done? Mako-San glanced at us sideways like a beast backed into a corner, eyes darting first right and then left. This was followed by a disarmingly large smile as he shook his head and laughed to himself, eyes clenched tightly shut. Our shock had tickled him.
“Who wants beer? You want beer? Sake? Izzy-San? Okay. BEER! BEER! BEER! BEER! SAKE! SAKE! Arigato gozaimasu.”
Such was our public introduction to the Subnivean, our Japanese guide to northern Hokkaido. Mako-San is the embodiment of the spirit of skiing deep snow. Imagine the skiing equivalent of a kindhearted Godzilla, a larger-than-life mythological Japanese creature. I cannot think of another individual more perfectly suited to ski the deep powder snow blowing down from Siberia and across the Sea of Japan. It is as if the world has cued up the snows for a special type of being, swimming on the frozen sea water. And shouting down the waitstaff for another round of sake.
“SUMMMMMI MMMMMMAAASEN!”
The following day, bellies stuffed full of fish and rubber-boned from the local onsen hot spring, we followed Mako after a particularly deep skin ascent. We watched as he evaluated the untouched goods laid out before him with deafening sincerity. We approached carefully, as if he were a caged animal newly set free.
“Watch him,” Amos said, as if Mako-San might startle easily. “Listen.”
Just out of sight behind a stand of Japanese birch, at the top of an enticing precipice, Mako was shaking his head, muttering. He repeated only one word, softly, under his breath.
“Powwwwww powwwww.”
“Mako-San?” Amos called out, surprising the Subnivean.
“HAI!”
“How does it look?”
Louder now. Same disbelief. “POWWWWWWW POWWWWWWWW.”
Photo Caption: Side to side, up and down. Mako-San making deep turns in Hokkaido, Japan.
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SUBNIVEAN
https://digital.theskijournal.com/articles/subnivean