Almost 40 in Japan: Witnessing a Shinhotaka Ropeway Virtual Whiteout

The world feels like it’s dissolving into a swirling, endless expanse. The whiteout envelops everything: sky, mountains, trees, all blending into a seamless haze. The squall sends snow whirling violently in the wind, blurring the edges of the observation deck, where I stand with a small group of strangers. We’re all clutching our jackets against the biting cold. The view, usually breathtaking, is lost to the thick mist, leaving only an eerie quiet, punctuated by the occasional gust. The wind howls, muffling any sound except the faint crunch of snow beneath our boots. Looking around, I see other people’s silhouettes hovering about me, hoods lowered, and heads turned upward as though to catch the mountains beyond the storm. Still, this great, barren whiteness is all that’s left; it’s an exciting and confusing experience that makes you feel as though the mountains have come alive, hiding under mystery and silence.

I’m on the Nishihotakaguchi Station Observation Deck of the Shinhotaka Ropeway, a magnificent but—in this weather—challenging trip across the heart of the Japanese Alps.

The entrance to Shinhotaka Ropeway is surrounded by a winter landscape.

A near whiteout winter view greets passengers while riding the first Shinhotaka Ropeway cable car.

The Shirakabadaira Station, a mid-point stop in the Shinhotaka Ropeway, stands on snow-covered grounds.

I start my day at dawn riding the first bus from Takayama Bus Station, arriving at the base about 8:30 a.m., to get here. Shinhotaka Ropeway is a popular day trip from Takayama, but the heavy snow had me worried that bus trips here would get canceled. Fortunately, they didn’t, but the landscape outside is nevertheless covered in snow, creating an ominous winter wonderland.

After purchasing a round-trip ticket, we begin our ascent on the first ropeway, gradually ascending higher into the mountains. The ride is smooth at first, but we soon arrive at Shirakabadaira Station, where the second leg of our journey to the observation deck begins. As I step into the station, a staff member, a gangly spectacled man likely in his late 20s or 30s, stutters his apologies. “I’m so sorry, but strong winds had forced the suspension of the ropeway operations,” he says. With a quick bow, he hurries away.

A female voice from the public announcement system expounds a bit on the situation: “Due to strong winds, the second ropeway operations is suspended. We don’t have a timetable when the operations will resume, but you can ask for a refund at the ticket counter.”

At this point, I am faced with a decision: wait for the winds to calm and risk missing my chance to reach Hirayu Onsen (my next destination), or go down and request a refund, forfeiting the experience at the observation deck.

I decide after much thought to wait until 12:30 p.m. It seems the rest of the visitors have made the same decision as well because, rather than going down for refunds, each one finds their space in the station and plants themselves in it.

Two hopeful passengers enjoy the picturesque view at the Shirakabadaira Station cafe.

I buy a Hida beef curry bun and a café latte made with Hida milk while I wait at the station cafeteria. I find a cozy nook near a large window and savor my brunch amid the breathtakingly beautiful snowy landscape. After eating, I go outside to see the surroundings, even writing “I love Japan” on the immaculate snow. Time seems to drag on, yet the landscape has a special magic to entertain me even though the falling snow partially conceals it.

Two hours later, the female voice from the speaker announces that the operations have resumed. Thrilled and relieved, we board the second cable car.

And now I’m here on top. I hear a collective frustrated chuckle from some in the group when we see what’s outside.

The Japanese Alps are a mountain range spanning the Hida, Kiso, and Akaishi Mountains, with some of Japan’s picturesque natural landscapes. Divided into the Northern, Central, and Southern Alps, this region is a paradise for outdoor enthusiasts, with activities ranging from hiking and mountaineering in summer to skiing and snowboarding in winter. The Shinhotaka Ropeway in particular is located in the Northern Alps, home to peaks like Mount Hotaka and Mount Tateyama, which supposedly can be seen from here, on the observation deck.

But what should have been a panoramic view of the Japanese Alps is instead a great swath of white blending everything outside the deck’s fence into a seamless, otherworldly haze. With the temperature at -12°C, the wind howling around us and biting into every layer of clothing, staying on the deck becomes a matter of endurance as well.

A snowman welcomes visitors as they arrive at the deck.

The observation deck is shrouded in thick white fog, obscuring views of the Japanese Alps.

Nearby pine trees are the only things visible through the snow.

I, however, am not complaining; in fact, I am loving this. Mainly it’s because, as a Filipino, I’m experiencing subzero temperatures as novelty. But also because, even in this virtual whiteout, the beauty of Shinhotaka Ropeway in winter is undeniable. If anything, this reminds me of the power of nature and its capacity to cut away worldly distractions and leave just the basics. And within that overwhelming whiteness lies something beautiful—a raw, untamed wonder that forces you to slow down and truly see what’s around you. It’s nature showing its strength and majesty all at once.

It is in this low visibility condition that I feel in sync with something much larger than myself. It somehow feels like an invitation to surrender to the natural processes, to sense deeply, and to witness a world that exists beyond what can be seen. A world where everything blends into the vast, quiet landscape.

But while I honestly love to be in the midst of this, I’m under time pressure, especially with the two-hour delay. So after a few minutes more being whipped by strong winds and sprinkled with heavy snow, I get to the next cable car trip down, hoping to catch the bus to Hirayu Onsen and give myself enough time to relax in a hot spring.

The descent from Shirakabadaira is equally breathtaking, but in a different way. It’s much more quiet with only me and a Japanese couple the only passengers. The rest stayed on top to either marvel at the whiteout, where the Japanese Alps are supposed to be, or hang out in the cafeteria.

With snow and fog covering much of the view, the descent from Shinhotaka Ropeway resembles a submarine journey.

An eerie view of the Japanese Alps in heavy snow creates a dramatic winter atmosphere.

As the cable car descends, the world outside becomes eerie and surreal. The dense fog, swirling like an ocean of clouds, surrounds the cabin, blending the land and sky into an unrecognizable blur. Snow-covered trees rise from the haze, resembling coral formations in an endless, icy abyss. Instead of the deep blues of the sea, the landscape is an ethereal blend of white and dark powder blue—an uncharted Arctic seascape. It feels like we’re submerged beneath an endless, frigid ocean, with the winds pushing against the cabin walls as we descend, rocking the cable car slightly.

The silence in the cable car is interrupted by a staff’s voice coming through the public announcement system. “The views from the Shinhotaka Ropeway change with every season,” she says. “We invite you to return and experience its beauty in a different season.”

I’ll definitely keep that in mind. As it is, in the winter, the whole ropeway trip is both haunting and magnificent. The experience is radically different from what I had envisioned, but it turns out to be one of those moments when you’re left in awe by nature’s revelation of its true power. It’s fierce, it’s unpredictable, and above all, it’s utterly mesmerizing.

Shinhotaka Ropeway Travel Basics

Timing

Winter (December–February) is best for snow-covered alpine scenery, although check weather forecasts as snow squalls can result in near-whiteout conditions.
In spring (March–May), snow lingers at higher elevations, but lower areas start turning green.
Summer (June–August) provides clear views of the Northern Japan Alps, and is a popular time for hiking.
Autumn (September–November) has stunning fall foliage, with colors peaking from late September to October.

Access

Hourly buses run between Takayama and the Shinhotaka Ropeway, stopping at various onsen villages in Okuhida:
- A bus ride from Takayama costs JPY 2,200 and takes about 90 minutes.
- A bus ride from Hirayu Onsen bus terminal costs JPY 910 and takes about 40 minutes.

Admission

Shinhotaka Ropeway operates daily:
- The first ride is at 8:30 a.m. (9 a.m. in winter).
- The last ride is at 4:00 p.m. (3:30 p.m. in winter).
Round-trip tickets cost JPY 3,800 for adults and JPY 1,900 for children.
Tickets can be purchased at the base station or online in advance for convenience.

For more practical information, visit the Shinhotaka Ropeway’s official website.

The Tourist Gaze