SKIING WITH YUKIUMI HOUSE IN HOKKAIDO
Hokkaido doesn't need you to explain it.
You understand it when you're inside.
The snow falls steadily, silently.
The forest remains closed, dense, offering no obvious lines.
And skiing starts long before putting on the skis.
This is a day of ULLER skiing in Hokkaido, organized together with Yukiumi House.
A day without rush, without forced epicness, and without the need to prove anything.
Just skiing, snow, and well-made decisions.
TOMORROW: OBSERVE BEFORE MOVING
The day starts slowly.
In Hokkaido, you don't enter the forest in a hurry.
It is observed.
The environment is read.
The snow is deep, dry, constant.
That kind of snow that doesn't forgive mistakes but rewards finesse.
There are no big open faces or clear references from afar here.
Everything happens among trees.
Every turn matters.
Every meter demands attention.
From the first runs it is clear that in Hokkaido you don’t ski against the mountain.
You ski with it.
MID-MORNING: SKIING SMOOTH, NOT HARD
As the body gets into rhythm, skiing changes.
Turns shorten.
Landings soften.
The margin of error is small and requires being present.
There is no room for excess.
There is no place for haste.
Deep snow does not ask for speed.
It demands balance, reading, and respect.
Here skiing becomes silent.
More intimate.
More precise.
NOON: STOPPING IS ALSO SKIING
One of the things that defines skiing in Hokkaido is the natural way of stopping.
They don't talk about wasting time.
They don't run to go back up.
They rest.
They talk about what has worked.
Decisions are adjusted without dramatizing.
It’s shared skiing, very much a group thing.
If someone doesn’t see it clearly, the plan changes.
If tiredness appears, it is listened to.
The Japanese forest leaves little room for ego.
And that organizes everything.
AFTERNOON: REPEAT TO UNDERSTAND
In the afternoon, the areas repeat.
The same forest.
The same entries.
The same references.
And that’s when skiing really starts to refine.
Repeating here does not mean doing more of the same.
It means understanding better.
Recognize how the snow moves.
Know where the most dust accumulates.
Detect when it's a good time to stop before losing clarity.
In Hokkaido, repeating means deepening.
COLD AS PART OF THE RHYTHM
The cold is present all day.
It doesn’t hit.
It accompanies.
It forces you to move calmly, to close each layer well, to value each pause.
When you stop, the body takes time to warm up and that slows everything down.
There are no quick gestures.
There are no unnecessary movements.
Here the cold is not an enemy.
It’s part of the natural rhythm of the day.
END OF THE DAY: LESS NOISE, MORE CLARITY
The day ends without exaggerated celebrations.
There is tiredness.
There is comfortable silence.
There is a clear feeling of having done the right thing.
It hasn’t been a day to look for the perfect run.
It has been a day to ski well.
To remember that not everything is measured in intensity.
It’s not all about going further.
Knowing when to stop is also part of skiing.
COMING BACK WITH SOMETHING CLEARER
A day of ULLER skiing in Hokkaido doesn’t leave great epic stories.
It doesn't set records.
It doesn't make headlines.
It leaves something more lasting.
More patience.
More judgment.
More respect for the environment and for the group.
And the feeling that, when skiing is understood this way,
everything fits a little better.
— ULLER
HOKKAIDO: WHY THE BEST SNOW IN THE WORLD IS HERE
Talking about Hokkaido is talking about snow in its purest form.
It is not a matter of marketing or myth.
It is a very specific combination of geography, climate, and consistency.
Hokkaido is the northernmost island of Japan, fully exposed to cold air masses coming directly from Siberia.
That air, loaded with moisture after crossing the Sea of Japan, releases snow almost continuously when it hits the inland mountains.
The result is exceptionally dry, light, and deep snow.
Snow that doesn't need big storms to accumulate meters.
It falls little by little, day after day, maintaining a constant quality throughout the season.
Unlike other destinations, here the snow does not depend on a big single event.
It depends on regularity.
That completely changes the way of skiing.
Hokkaido snow allows you to float without speed.
It forgives soft supports.
It invites skiing with precision in enclosed spaces.
That is why the forests are the protagonists.
Visibility is usually better among trees than in open areas.
And the quality of the powder remains even days after it has snowed.
But perhaps the most important thing is not just the snow.
It is the culture that surrounds it.
In Hokkaido, snow is not an extraordinary event.
It is part of everyday life.
And that creates a much calmer and more respectful relationship with the mountain.
There is no urgency to make the most of everything.
There is no anxiety to arrive earlier.
The snow will keep falling tomorrow.
That is why many consider Hokkaido not only the place with the best snow in the world,
but one of the few places where skiing regains its most essential form.
Less noise.
More consistency.
And a quality that needs no demonstration.
