We sat down with adventurer, traveller, world class boarder, and self proclaimed “hard man,” Dolph, to answer some questions about his recent escapades across Honshu and deep into the snow covered mountains of Japan.
“One word to describe Japan in winter?” we asked.
“Deep,” Dolph replied.
Deep. Not just the snow, or the stacked plates of conveyor belt sushi, but the quiet lessons learned from tough terrain, old friends, and the peace of mind that only serene powder covered mountains and a warm bowl of ramen can bring.
“We stayed on Honshu, the main island, for the entire trip. We based ourselves just outside Iiyama, which put us in a good position to drive to Hakuba when weather allowed us to get into the alpine, and spend storm days riding Nozawa,” Dolph said.
The conditions were perfect, a lucky turnaround from early in the trip when terrain was shaky and snowpack stability was questionable.
“Like North America, they had a rough start to the season with long dry spells, warmups, rain crusts, faceting snow, open creek crossings, and recently covered glide cracks. After about two weeks of consistent snowfall things began to stabilize and we were able to venture farther into the backcountry.”
But Japan has a way of rewarding patience.
One of the most memorable days didn’t begin with certainty, but with modest expectations.
“A perfect day would have to be the day we filmed the K truck car scene and rode the resort afterward,” Dolph recalls. “We woke up surprised that it had only snowed a couple inches overnight, but by late morning snowfall rates were hitting close to six inches per hour.”
It was the kind of snowfall that transformed everything. What was once familiar became unknown again, untouched and waiting for Dolph and the crew to sculpt and carve a new path forward.
“That photo I took of Goldie sitting on the chairlift covered in about an inch of snow was from that same day. The fact that it could be snowing that hard, be that cold, and still have no lift lines was mind boggling.”
Dolph wasn’t alone on the journey. He was joined by Steve Armintrout, Jacob Schroder, Sawyer Mahoney, and Jeremy Harvey Goldie, a crew brought together through deep rooted friendships and a shared understanding of what it means to move with the season.
“Steve was guiding in the area for the winter and the rest of us linked up around that,” Dolph explains.
Their setup reflected the environment they had come for. Dolph brought both the Signal Tailgunner Deep State splitboard and the Signal Tailgunner solid deck board, seemingly built for Japan’s legendary terrain.
“Japan conditions are typically deep, low density snow in tight terrain, and the Tailgunner shape is designed specifically for that style of riding.”
It wasn’t just the boards beneath their feet, sometimes the minor details are what make everything click.
“A second pair of goggles made a huge difference,” Dolph says. “Many of the mountains are less than an hour from the ocean, so moisture can be high. Having a dry pair to swap into when your goggles fog up changed everything.”
And off the mountain, it was the simple rituals that defined the experience.
“The 7 Eleven pancakes,” he laughs. “They come in a small bag with maple syrup that’s more like jelly and butter that probably isn’t real butter, but there’s something special about them.”
Food became part of the rhythm of each day. Conveyor belt sushi after long sessions. Small ramen shops tucked between towns. Convenience store gyoza that somehow tasted better than anything back home.
Beyond the snow, it was Japan itself that left the deepest impression.
“Stopping at small ramen shops between towns, traveling easily by bullet train, and the quiet peacefulness of the small towns outside the ski areas,” Dolph says. “Japan has a way of making the whole experience around snowboarding feel simple and intentional. That was just as memorable as the riding itself.”
But like all meaningful trips, the experience carried perspective.
“This trip showed me how quickly this lifestyle and these places can be taken away,” Dolph reflects. “Two friends lost friends in separate avalanches in North America during that one month, and another friend suffered a season ending achilles injury.”
It was a reminder that nothing is guaranteed.
“It taught me not to take a single day for granted and to slow down and be present. What made the trip special wasn’t one big line or trick, but the people and the culture we got to experience every day.”
Three weeks. Countless storms. Endless turns. But the real takeaway wasn’t measured in inches or runs.
It was measured in moments.