{"id":107574,"date":"2025-01-28T21:49:06","date_gmt":"2025-01-28T12:49:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/voyapon.com\/?p=107574"},"modified":"2025-02-09T10:56:39","modified_gmt":"2025-02-09T01:56:39","slug":"kitami-hokkaido-winter-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/voyapon.com\/kitami-hokkaido-winter-day\/","title":{"rendered":"Eastern Hokkaido on a Winter’s Day"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
The hum of an engine and swirl of water followed by ice breaking surprises the morning silence. The fisherman clad in purple, stands in a white boat full of harvested scallops. He revs the engine churning the brackish port water. The boat rises onto the ice which now covers Lake Saroma and, for a moment, it glides on its surface before it breaks into slabs and disappears under the waves<\/strong>. He reverses, a meter or so, and fires the engine again breaking the slab. Finally positioned, he cuts the engine and lumbers portside. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The morning is quiet again but only for a moment, he fiddles with a large metal wire where nets dangle. The fisherman struggles for a sheet of ice the size and girth of a fridge door. Unaware of my presence atop the bridge, he curses in an abstract fisherman\u2019s brogue in battle with the heavy ice. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A curious eagle circles above, large and kingly, its brown head revolves mechanically scanning for prey. Soon it loses interest and flies towards open waters. <\/strong>I walk down the bridge and get back in my car in pursuit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n After a few minutes, I pull off to the side of the road and wade through dead but still prickly vines to the water’s edge. The bird, in the presence of others, fully aware of my presence, leers at me. Known as a Stellar\u2019s Sea Eagle, this magnificent bird only vacations here in Hokkaido during its winter<\/a>. Following the drift ice from the northern Okhotsk Sea, the eagles rule the winter skies, striking fear both above and below the frozen alien world.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I stand on the edge of the water, and the eagle calls to me. Its shrill voice is backed with a bass demanding I go no further. It flaps its wings, wider than I am tall, and takes flight disappearing into the blue sky. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Mount Meakan rises above frozen primeval green forests snowcapped white and bright against virgin skies. <\/p>\n\n\n\n My stomach churns as I take my first few steps onto Lake Onetto, the crunch of snow gives way revealing a glassy pocked surface. From the depths, ancient moss-covered trees reach up, eldritch and bone-like plotting my capture. A thick crack shows the true thickness of ice holding me up from a certain demise. Under a mid-afternoon sun, the ice cracks and warps, each shift an alien blaster firing from the unknown.<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n Across the lake, other adventurers shuffle slowly across the snow. A few thrillseekers with skates in tow fly across the ice in earnest. Carving long tracks in the thin ice, slush flies into the air, shimmering as floats airy back to the surface. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n As I continue walking atop the glass, orbs of air, trapped in the sudden freeze wait for release just under the surface. Shiny against the winter light, warped, and glossy, ranging in size from mere specks to dinner bowls. Each shape is unique, fingerprints of a god long forgotten, refracting light into the murky green depths of Lake Onetto. Dotting the lake, spots of freshly swept snow reveal these hidden treasures, a photographer’s bounty soon to be buried beneath the snow, lost until spring. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
The Solitude of Morning <\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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Snow in the Afternoon<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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