Daisetsuzan National Park

Listen for a moment. Up here the wind moves low across the ground, through dwarf pine and grass no taller than your boots. Somewhere a thin, sharp whistle cuts through the air — short, almost like a bird. It is not a bird. Under your feet the trail is gritty volcanic ash, grey and pink and rust-coloured, and the air smells faintly of sulphur. Welcome to Daisetsuzan, the high, wild heart of Hokkaido.

This was Japan's largest national park until 2024. It was designated in 1934, among the first group of national parks in the country. It covers a huge block of central Hokkaido, a cluster of volcanic peaks, high plateaus, gorges and forests. There is no single entrance gate and no single view. Most visitors know only one corner of it. That is part of the point. Daisetsuzan is less a place you visit and more a landscape you slowly enter.

The name itself is worth a pause. In Japanese, Daisetsuzan means roughly great snowy mountains, and the name fits. Snow arrives early and leaves late. Long before the Japanese name, though, the Ainu people, the Indigenous people of Hokkaido, knew these mountains as Kamuy Mintar. It is often translated as the playground of the gods. Stand on one of the open plateaus, with peak after peak around you and no road in sight, and the old name makes quiet sense.

The highest point in the park, and in all of Hokkaido, is Asahidake. It rises to a little over 2,290 metres. On its western slope a ropeway lifts visitors from the forest up toward the alpine zone. When you step out at the top, the change is sudden. The tall trees are gone. Instead there is a wide, open basin of rock, low shrubs and small ponds, with the summit cone rising ahead.

Look at that summit cone closely. On clear days you will see white plumes rising from vents on its flank. These are fumaroles, openings where volcanic gas and steam escape from inside the mountain. Asahidake is a volcano, and it is still breathing. That is the sulphur you may be smelling. Near the ropeway station, a short loop trail leads to Sugatami Pond, where on a calm day the peak and its steam sit reflected in the still water.

Now, about that whistle. The sound most likely came from a pika, a tiny relative of the rabbit, with round ears and almost no visible tail. Scientists consider the Hokkaido pika a survivor from the last ice age. As the climate warmed, it retreated to cold, rocky places like these mountain boulder fields. It lives among the stones, gathering grass for winter. Watch the rock piles quietly, and you may catch one darting between gaps.

The pika is not the only animal here. Daisetsuzan is also home to the Hokkaido brown bear, one of the largest land animals in Japan. Sightings are not common, but they do happen, and rangers take them seriously. You will see warning signs and hear hikers with bells on their packs. Foxes, deer, and chipmunks are more often seen. In summer the alpine meadows fill with small flowers, many of them suited to short seasons and hard winds.

Here is something many visitors miss. The snow on these mountains does not simply melt and vanish. Large snow patches survive deep into summer in shaded hollows. Their slow meltwater feeds the land below. Two of Hokkaido's great rivers, the Ishikari and the Tokachi, have their headwaters in this park. The water that flows past the cities of the island begins its journey in these high, quiet basins.

On the northeastern side of the park, the landscape changes completely. At Sounkyo, a river has cut a deep gorge through layers of volcanic rock. The cliffs rise in tall columns, shaped as the lava cooled and cracked. Two waterfalls, known as Ginga and Ryusei, fall side by side down the cliffs. Their names mean Milky Way and Shooting Star. A small hot spring town sits in the gorge, and another ropeway climbs toward the peak of Kurodake.

And then there is the colour. Daisetsuzan is known as the first place in Japan where autumn leaves appear each year. Because of its height and northern position, the change often begins here in early or mid September, weeks before Kyoto or Tokyo. The low shrubs on the plateaus turn deep red, the birches turn gold, and the dwarf pine stays dark green. For a short time the mountainsides look like a patchwork blanket. Shortly after, the first snow often arrives.

For the people of Hokkaido, these mountains are not only scenery. Hot spring towns at the edges of the park, such as Sounkyo and Asahidake Onsen, have welcomed travellers for generations. After a long day on the trail, hikers sit in steaming outdoor baths and watch the ridges darken. Further south, Tokachidake, another active volcano, rises above wide farmland. The park is close to human life, yet most of its interior still has no roads at all.

That lack of roads shapes the experience. Serious hikers can walk for several days across the high ground, staying in simple mountain huts. Weather here can change quickly, even in summer. Clear sky can become cold fog within an hour, and snow is possible in almost any month. That is why the trails are marked with poles and cairns. The mountains are generous with views, but they ask for respect and good preparation.

So take one more look around you. Notice the shape of the ridges, the colour of the ground, the steam on the far slope or the water falling down the cliff. Listen again for the pika, and for the wind. As you walk back toward the ropeway or the road, remember that the snow above you is slowly feeding a river, and that the land under your feet is still warm. The gods, it seems, are still at play here.