Hokkaido 2024 - Frozen wonderland wildlife

Hokkaido!

There are two categories of people going on holidays: those who go to Japan, and those who go to the rest of the world. And for those going to Japan, you know exactly what I mean by that. And when I mention Hokkaido as a destination, in winter, you know this is going to be really, really good!

This adventure started a few years back, before 2024, when I had pre-booked this photo adventure, but due to personal conflict, I had to cancel. As fate had it, in the early days of 2023, I had another opportunity, and this time, all the stars had finally aligned: I booked the trip, and immediately went on to book my flights as well. Again, for those who go to Japan, you know how crazy it can be to find good flights at a moment's notice, or even a few months. Here, I was taking no chances, booking one year in advance. With plenty of miles to redeem, I even treated myself to a return business class ticket to Tokyo Haneda, and then (economy) would fly to Hokkaido with a night stopover at the airport. If possible at all, I tend to avoid red-eye flights. 

Our photo tour guide, Daryl Yeo from Singapore, a well-seasoned specialist of Hokkaido winter photography, would look after us, and started a chat group for us to communicate and coordinate. I had almost all the gear required, but was a bit short of warm clothes: we were advised temperatures in early morning and late night may go down to -20 °C.

No problem, I had almost a year to be ready until our trip in February 2024.

DAY 1 - January 30th 

As scheduled, I departed Singapore a day early, on a six and a half hours flight to Tokyo, Haneda Airport, where I would spend one night at the integrated hotel. With a hefty selection of Japanese restaurants on the upper levels of that airport, there would be no shortage of choice!

The flight was uneventful and passed rather quickly (times, being relative, always pass faster in business class than in premium economy, than in economy: have you noticed?). The weather at our cruising altitude was blue skies all the way, above a patched blanket of mushroomy clouds. Even as the sun was setting in the West, the demarcation line between the darkening clouds and sky was being marked by an intense orange, yellowish band of light, the last witness of what had already been a very good day. 

And after a few more hours, it was pitch dark, except below for the constellation of lights coming out of Tokyo, and finally landed at Haneda airport. I had pre-generated all my immigration and customs QC Codes, so I was out of the airport in no time and walked the short distance to the departure hall and restaurants where the hotel was located. The room was small, but clean, comfortable, and packed with amenities. Unpack for the night, go select a delicious ramen, and recheck that all my things are in order for tomorrow!

DAY 2 - January 31st 

Having not slept much, being too excited for the days of adventures ahead, I jumped out of bed at 5 am, packed, checked out, and boarded the shuttle bus to the domestic terminal, which would bring us to the town of Kushiro, on the island of Hokkaido. I checked in again all my luggage, and caught up with the rest of our group, some faces familiar, like Julian and SP with whom I had shared our Namibia trip (and a memorable balloon ride over the desert), and of course our guide, Daryl.

Checking the weather forecast indicated an average night temperature of -13c and day temperature of -5c: piece of cake, I thought.

The domestic flight was a short one-hour hop. Below us, as we crossed the short channel between the two islands, the land dramatically changed and was now a blanket of snow, where roads and patches of buildings here and there still showed. I looked won, mercerised (not that I had never seen snow before, but anticipating our days exploring the frozen wilderness), and before we knew it, we landed at Kushiro airport. It definitely was fresher in the airport arrival hall, and we all went to the bathrooms and changed into much warmer clothes, and snow boots.

This was happening!

It was barely below freezing, and all puffed up in our oversized winter coat, we exited the airport, taking our first photos of the local attractions sculptured and vending machines, and headed straight to a local restaurant for our first Hokkaido hot meal: as always, deciding what to eat was the real challenge, but I settled for a traditional deep fried pork cutlets and vegetables with rice, accompanied by Miso soup. Mmmmm....

As soon as every day had its fill, we boarded our van again and headed right away to the Akan Crane Centre, where we would be able to photograph the famous, alas, endangered cranes at quite close range. The Japanese Red-crowned crane is world famous for being a sacred symbol of fidelity in marriage, but also for being so distinctive for the exposed little red skin (due to the blood below the skin) on top of its head, which gives it a unique appearance. 

We arrived in no time, exited the van, with camera and tripod and all, and were warned to be careful walking on ice or very slippery snow. And as we settled near the entrance, the first cranes flew in, from the distant forest, barely flapping their wings, seemingly gliding effortlessly towards us. What a sight!

Although we would have ample opportunities to shoot those elegant birds, the sound of the shutter clicks started almost immediately, and in the course of the next hour or so, we would walk along the (wooded) fenced area for better positions and closer shots. IN the distance, some Redpoll finches flew around in small flocks, while at the edge of the forest, a lone White-tailed eagle patrolled.

Back to the cranes, a few, in pairs of course, were prancing and jumping in front of each other, probably reaffirming bonds and vows of unity (no wonder a sacred symbol of fidelity in marriage). As they jumped, they sent little puffs of snow in their wake, and as they landed too, repeating the cycle over and over again, as more and more cranes flew in, and were fed some grains, I believe by the centre's staff.

One hour passed very quickly, and we had to leave already, as some very large Whooper swans flew in and mixed with some of the cranes, resting immediately on the snowy ground. Absolutely mesmerising... and this was day one, hour one even!   

We had a really packed schedule, so when told to 'pack up and get in the van', we packed up. And got in the van, pronto! Next stop, Daryl told us, would bring us to a heavily forested area, and a tree where, we hoped, we would have a chance to take photos of the beautiful Ural owl.

We drove deeper in the countryside, on well-maintained and cleared of snow roads, and up some hills, where eventually our van stopped, and we had to 'Get out, pack your gear': we did. At the back of the van, I fixed my long lens and camera to the tripod, tossed the heavy combos on my shoulder, and moved a leg forward to start the short walk into the forest.

And then both my legs were in the air.

It is a strange feeling, and I could not remember the last time I had lost my balance, but I sure did, feeling like floating in mid-air for a quick moment, before hitting the frozen ground hard. On my bottom. Thank god, I had held dearly to the (very expensive) camera and lens! A stark reminder for the coming days to always be careful and maybe condor buying those snap-on crampons for our snow boots. 

Lesson learned, and bottom still aching quite a bit, we very, very slowly made our way down a small path, looking treacherous and just waiting to take us down, the backup a trail, and finally stopped at the edge of a small ravine. On the other side, a single tree with a hole in its centre, and, to our delight, a single Ural owl looking very sleepy, indeed!

We spent about 40 minutes at the owl, taking as many angles and shots as possible. A first for me, and some very clear and nice photos, indeed. This was a good start! But as the hours ticked by, and 4 pm was slowly creeping on us, we knew night would fall soon and very fast. And when we were told it was time to go, we went, walking back up and down very, very slowly and carefully with all our gear.

We tried to go to another place, but the road there was not being cooperative, and as the sky turned darker, it was decided to turn around after a few landscapes, selfies, and drive to our first night stop in a local farmhouse of the Tsurui district. But first, we would all go to the local minimart, pack up drinks and junk food as well as our first Hokkaido famous, creamy and delicious ice cream, which we all ate outside, in the cold! 

Dinner would be at the guesthouse, which looked like one of those typical snowy chalets, a bit far off the road, in a lonely area of the countryside, far, far from any city light, which would be great for stargazing, if anybody was courageous enough to go out later. But for now, we all gathered around our table, unpacked our dinner boxes (very Japanese), a bottle of sake, and felt really happy, and privileged in a way, being here and now, chasing our photography dreams. 

After dinner, and what would be a nightly routine, it was un pack, prepare for the night with some warm clothes, although the rooms were all nicely warm and cozy. The usual chores of backing up the memory card were inevitable, and I decided to go for a boiling hot shower in the meantime. BY the time I came back, it was pitch black outside, and the window was freezing on the other side. I knew tomorrow would be challenging and a one-of-a-kind experience, with the world-famous sunrise, Ottawa bridge cranes gathering! 

The Ottawa bridge was so famous indeed that photographers and enthusiasts from all over the world were coming here, and at times, crowding the bridge so badly, little disagreements erupted over limited space and people fighting for the best spots. It could be so bad that Daryl had told us he would go first around 3 am and plant our tripods to ensure we would get a good viewpoint by the time we arrived around 6 am. 

 DAY 3 - February 1st  

It was cold when we woke up: about -17c... and after some much-needed hot tea and quick biscuits, we hopped into the van and drove to the bridge, which already had some traffic and photographers pouring in. Daryl welcomed us, helping everybody with Julian's help to get ready for the crane's arrival and morning rituals, as he told us what had happened after he had arrived. 

He had set up the tripods around 3.30 am as planned, then went back to his car to wait and be warm. But as he waited, some photographers had also arrived and started to methodically take out and move our tripods! As he had suspected, he went out and ceremoniously asked those individuals to put them back, which they did, blurbing out some unnecessary excuses.

But for now, we were preparing our cameras, as the cold, on the steel bridge, was starting to seep into every single bone of my body! I had heating pads in my double-layered gloves, so this was not too bad, and my face was very well protected, as my upper body and legs, but my feet, despite the thick soles of my heavy-duty snow boots, started to get cold. I had to move my toes and tiptoe, standing, to get a bit warmer. God, it was cold! 

The light finally decided to show up around 6 am, as the first cranes could be seen in the distance, quite far away, unfortunately, only betrayed by their dancing and jumping on the snowy river banks. Then it started snowing. The cranes, like in cue, got more energetic, far away, jumping higher and practicing all manners of courtship, it seemed, while some flew in closer. I was not only shooting with the long lens but also with the iPhone, which seemed to bother some people behind me, angrily asking me to move away: seriously? "Why don't you wake up a bit earlier like everybody else instead of coming last and demanding a good spot?" Sigh: there will always be queue skippers!

Putting aside the incident, I focused once more on the action in front of me, while my toes were giving me a warning that they were getting really, really cold. Later that day, I would have to buy some heat pads for my feet, too, as ducks also flew in close to the bridge. The snow was heavier by now, and the cranes started to blend in the river landscape, making them look even more like a Japanese painting, with bare tree branches like paint brush masterful strokes and bushes like carefully placed patches. The scene was both enchanting, inspiring in some ways, exciting, and very, very cold.

I was using the dual battery grip on my SONY camera, and twice at the beginning, it seemed to freeze inexplicably, not responding and needing an OFF/ON cycle. After a while, I decided to remove the grip and just use the default one battery compartment: somehow that did it, and I decided to continue shooting as is for now. 

7 am came in slowly, and the crowd on the bridge was now elbow to elbow, so we decided to leave, go back for a good breakfast, and move on to our next spot. Tomorrow morning, we will come back for more crane action at the bridge! 

It was a relief to leave the bridge and quickly warm up in the comfort of the van: I can tell you! I could barely feel my toes and was wondering if my boots were good enough as advertised, or should I wear two pairs or socks, or maybe it would not be so bad once I got some feet/toe heat pads. While all those thoughts were swirling in my head, our driver brought us to the nearby Ito Tancho Crane Sanctuary, where the Red-Crowned cranes should arrive soon (from the Ottawa bridge mostly), and gather in numbers, culminating with the feeding by the centre's staff.

This was an open space, and the wind was picking up snow from the frozen ground and twirling it around in little snow clouds, glittering in the rising morning sun: it was beautiful. It was really cold too, but not as bad as on the bridge! And as we finished setting up our tripod at a good spot, the first cars flew in, a few at first, then in increasing numbers, from all directions. I really liked the way they always seemed to glide in, with little wing flapping, until they landed and slowed down, hovering for a little bit, sending snow crystals all around them.

Coming in fast and furious now, in pairs, trios, half a dozen, dozens at a time, it was difficult to keep track, and knowing where to look and what to shoot! At one point, as the ground in front of us was becoming really crowded with cranes, I directed my attention to a line of trees and started shooting them against the relative darkness of the trees, giving my photos good contrast. I would also look at the shadows their flight projected, and try to be a bit more creative. And of course, there was quite a lot of dancing, parading, and a show of 'marriage fidelity' amongst those beautiful, large birds. 

Soon, it was feeding time, and there was a lot of excitement amongst the cranes, all gathering in the centre of the space in front of the large barn. A single man was pulling a big sleigh behind him, with buckets of grains, and soon delivered the much sought-after grains to the gathering birds. As the feeding started, we noticed, lost in a sea of Red-Crowned cranes, a lone White-napped crane stood, looking for some grains to pick up quickly as well, just to be sure not to be left out cold and hungry!

After almost two hours of shooting, it was time to move again. We were cold and hungry, but we decided to follow our guide to another spot first, and try to get another Ural owl, located not too far from the sanctuary. We all packed up and got into the van! 

We left the main road after a while and onto a snowy path leading us to a bend where a car was already parked: this meant the owl was probably already there. Quickly, we made our way close to the small ravine edge and could see the owl, warming up in a hole in a tree, a small distance from the road. I quickly took a few safe shots (from s distance in case it would fly away), then, with great caution, made the decision to follow some of the team down a short, but very steep and slippery slope, down to the tree line where I would be nearer but also levelled with the ground.

Thankfully, I did not fall, and although the narrow path was difficult to walk on, especially when two photographers crossed paths, I finally managed to reach a good spot and started shooting. The light was glorious, and the owl very cooperative. looking in all directions, eyes shut closed most of the time as it faced the sun, and also half closed. Beautiful feathers. We could not get enough, trying different settings, angles, compositions, and all. And before we knew it, an hour had passed and our stomachs were starting to complain: a sure sign it was time to replenish!

Our lunch place would be a traditional noodle and soup, on the floor, crossed legs type of venue, and while it looked very local, I knew it was going to be murder trying to get back up... But for now, we were just very content eating up all we could, happy to feel a warm sensation going down our bodies, which had been in the cold since 6 am! And after lunch, as we went out, the snow fell again, light, but persistent: it was time to go to a convenience store and buy some Hokkaido ice cream: yum! 

Once we had our fill of ice cream, we drove to another place where we could see the cranes in a different setting, not being in a sanctuary. This would be an open field owned by a farmer, who would take it upon themselves to feed the cranes when possible.

It was early afternoon when we got there, and already a few cranes were dancing around in bright light, and by the time we had set up our gear, more were flying in, giving us great shots of flight and landing action. Light was excellent, both on the left side of our position, facing the sun and giving us full brightness for those flying shots, and confront of us, the gathering of cranes close to the trees, with more shadows, was great for more contrasted and creative composition. I would also tweak my settings in order to later post-process some shots as exaggerated high key low contrast, which would make the crane body almost disappear against the snow, but keep the black and red of course, area stand out, floating in the photo.

It was about 4.30 pm when we had to move back to our farmhouse for the night, and were all looking forward to a nice dinner, catered for by the property's owner. A nice bottle of cold sake we bought on the way would ensure we also loosen up a little bit!

I was too tired for some astrophotography, and I had had enough cold for one day anyway, so I just religiously did my backup, prepared all my gear, went for a quick hot shower, and clapped in bed shortly after. Tomorrow morning, we will go back to the Ottawa bridge! 

DAY 4 - January 2nd

It was a balmy 15 °C when we got up around 4 am... and by the time we reached the bridge, it was a little bit colder. At least the bridge seemed a bit less crowded today, as I guess the 'tourist/group buses had been here the day before'. So we quickly took our place in the centre and patiently waited for the sun to rise, or at least for some light to push away the dark night, which would be another 45 minutes. It was cold, and felt even more so like -20c now, with a slight wind blowing into our face that felt like thousands of razor blades tearing at any exposed flesh. My toes, at least, felt a bit better, now that I had some heat pads cooking in my snow boots.

I also spent some time zooming in on the bare trees bordering the river. With the sun finally giving out some 'warmth' and colours, they took a surreal appearance, again like a very soft water painting on canvas, and trying to capture that very special look was a bit tricky, but I got a few shots at the end, so I was very happy. Makes some wonderful desktop backgrounds...

The conditions were better than the day before for photography, with the air clear and crisp, and the famed morning mist, as the sun rose, starting to condense and rise over the river, with cranes flying in and out of the water. We got some very good shots in the next hour or so, indeed!

Alas, our second and last morning at the bridge was coming to an end, and I was glad to have made it, although at 4 am I must admit I was tempted to sleep in as I thought I had gotten many shots already. But as usual, being determined and getting up, even though you do not want to, paid off.

Next, our van brought us back to the Ito Tancho Crane center, where for an hour or so, where we spent another two hours capturing the cranes. And as for the river and weather compared to yesterday, this morning on the open plains proved to be crispier and clearer, offering us some razor-sharp shots of incoming cranes, flying slow and low. Here and there again, they were jumping, flapping wings excitedly, prancing around, even, and almost rubbing neck to necks with their lifelong partners. Magical spectacle!

And a few times, some pairs could be seen stretching their neck in the air and letting the warm breath from inside their throat escape as little streams of vapour: a classic shot every photographer visiting this place wants to capture! 

As we had already checked out from our first nightly accommodation at the farmhouse, we wasted no time getting on the road again: our destination, Lake Kussharo!

It would take us about two hours or so to get there, but we stopped on the way at a nearby river, river and park, where smaller birds, ducks (like the Tufted duck, Common Golden Eye, European wigeon, etc), and a few Whooper swans greeted us. It was slightly snowing again, the snow was ankle deep, but the temperature was nowhere near this morning, so very manageable. There were a few photo opportunities at the river, too, with a quaint little steel bridge, and we all posed in front. It was fun!

But we were hungry again, it was about that time anyway, so we decided to treat ourselves to some local noodle soup and meat: grilled chicken for me. The bowls were huge, the broth was delicious and filled to the rim, and we absolutely took our time to slurp it all to the last noodle. Yum... 

Finally, we arrived at Kussharo Lake around 2 pm: before our eyes, as we exited the van, a vast expanse of semi-frozen water, bordered on all sides by black sand and gravel, mountains, trees, and tall grass totally covered in ice. And right on the shore, in front of us, steam rises from natural underground streams, melting the ice sheet, allowing elegant, large Whooper swans to gracefully float in the ethereal mist.  

What a spectacle!

For the next hour or so, we would fully concentrate on the Whooper swans, trying different compositions, playing with lights a lot, and spending most of the time around the hot stream: one in particular doubling as an outdoor onsen with minimum privacy. There actually is a sign asking you not to go too close, or take a photo, or disturb the patrons visiting this tiny spot. And being in Japan, of course, everybody respects that privacy request.

We went back to the van for a quick ride to the nearby visitor centre, where you can also buy a small bucket of grain to feed the swans and ducks, and continued our quest to take the best possible swan photo. Gripping the frozen bark of the nearby trees, a few tiny Eurasian Nuthatch were looking for food, hopping here and there, never losing sight of us, while out of the distance, flew in several Mallard ducks, making a great show of splashing and quacking! At times, they even forcibly went after the swans if they came in too close for their liking and bit a few of their tail feathers even so rude (by Japanese standards).

By 3 pm, a thick but persistent veil of fresh snow enveloped the whole lake, as the temperature promptly fell. But far from being a bother, it was a welcome sight, adding to the poetry and magnificence of the lake. And as more ducks decided to fly in, I moved a bit farther away from the group, and took some shots against the darkening forest. And as I moved in a bit closer, chasing some quarrelling ducks, I suddenly spotted a few Yeo sika deer coming out of the trees: a single one at first, but then a whole group: a magical encounter...

It was past 5 pm now, and we all quickly walked back to the van as it was time to check in our hotel/onsen in Kawayu, and look for some seriously hot and delicious food later in the evening. I was too tired and cold at that stage and did not think I would go for the onsen treatment.

The room was quite special, and barren: you literally had to take out the thick mattress, get the sheets and cover, and set it up yourself, which was fun, and move the very low table and small table, and chair slightly to be able to unpack and move around. And once this was all done, we geared up once more into our warm clothes and headed out of the hotel and into the village to our restaurant. 

There was barely any sound outside, which was so wonderful and a welcome change from cosmopolitan Singapore and even the hustling and bustling of the big Japanese cities. Here, as we walked up the main street, it was mainly the half-suppressed and muffled sound of our snow boots in the fresh snow, and a few laughs we exchanged, cracking jokes as we walked deeper into the sleepy village. 

Soon, like out of a Ghibli cartoon, the sound of a small, slowly running river could be heard, as the road ahead of us became shrouded in mist. Our senses became more aware of a slight change in the air, a smell of sulphur or something quite similar. And as the road morphed into a small bridge just made out of stones, we could see the small stream of hot water, crossing our path, and on each side of the hot water, houses, restaurants pathways and snow covered gardens, all illuminated by the nighttime incandescent lights of a few lamp posts and opaque windows. 

I stopped.

This was straight out of Spirited Away, and I was half expecting to see a procession of ancient gods and deities coming out of the mist and stepping onto the bridge, going to their well-deserved nightly routine of eating, playing, and listening to music. This was really, utterly another world. Enchanting almost.

I was late and left behind, so I quickly caught up with my group, and we all huddled inside a small late-night inn. We soon ordered our meals, with a mix of rice, soup, noodles, meat, assorted vegetables, and of course lots of aromatic Sapporo beer! Aaaah, if only I could go on all night there, and have somebody somehow transport me magically back to my bed. But naturally, no such thing was going to happen. And in a way that was fine, as it would mean we would cross again town, back to our hotel, breathing the incredibly fresh, but somehow sulphuric, midnight air.

But I did not care for a bit.

Day 5 - January 3rd

We woke up early, jumped out of bed, and all gathered quickly in the breakfast room around 7 am: this was really a traditional mix soup, fish, egg, vegetables, rice, and fruit type of breakfast. Not entirely my cup of tea, but I ate what I could agree with my internal digestion system. The coffee was quite mild, to say the least, but the famed Hokkaido milk was beyond words: and I must have drunk half a litre of it, refilling many times my tiny glass. We packed up, as tonight we would be sleeping at the edge of another frozen, and I mean entirely frozen, lake in small cabins for a bird of prey spectacle which was advertised as one of the many highlights of the trip. Actually, all venues were highlights... but the birds of prey were high on my list! 

A fresh blanket of snow had kept falling during the night. When we got out, a few of us wasted no time drawing all sorts of smileys in the fresh powder and walking about, making first footprints everywhere we could. Childish. But felt damn good if you ask me! 

It was cold, around -16c maybe, and going back to Kussharo sawn lake, we know it was going to be even colder close to the frozen, open to the winds, lake. But the weather was nice, the sky a crystalline blue colour, and despite a bone-chilling, slow wind, we enjoyed catching up with the Whooper swans and Mallard ducks, always present and eager to check out the visitor for any food. But I was more interested in the incoming and outgoing birds, large and small, especially the ones landing or taking off from the lake. The light was fantastic, the air so pure you could see with pinpoint clarity all the way across the vast lake, and fill your nostrils and lungs with 110% unpolluted air. I felt so invigorated. The feeling was quite unique and marvellous.

Unfortunately, after two hours roaming the lake's snowy shores, it was time to move on, and we all happily got in the van, seeking a bit of warmth, before our next stop. And up we drove, a mere hour away and into the mountain, for a quick stop and refill at the panoramic Lake Mashu.

The viewing platform and restaurant dominated the lake and its small centrepiece island from quite high, and the view was absolutely breathtaking: such an expanse of open space and natural beauty. Good thing I had brought my wide-angle 14mm lens. And after we spent some time lost in the beauty of the lake, we went inside for a well-deserved hot beverage and snacks before hitting the road again. For me, a hot corndog, steaming hot, and hot café au lait, hot tin, delivered by a vending machine. Being way too hot, I simply went hot, and stuck it in the snow, waiting for it to cool down to tolerable human levels, while devouring my corndog, while others we guiding down their ice cream. 

And soon, we were driving down the mountain for a long drive, up the coast of northern Hokkaido, for a change of landscape and a different experience. The drive took us almost two hours and brought us to the coastal region of Nemuro, where we would spend the next few days. We stopped again for a quick lunch at a restaurant in Akkeshi, and for those who liked, or even loved it, fresh or fried oyster was on the menu! Not being a fan of selfish, I passed, and went for some safer traditional beef and rice hot meal, with a complement of miso soup and veggies on the side...  

Since I was one of the faster eaters, and most of the group was only halfway, I decided to grab my camera and go outside, as I had seen some activity on top of the hillside, behind the restaurant.

I walked out, past the side of the restaurant, and immediately recognised a small herd of Yeo sika deer, all walking in line towards the top of the hill. In front of them, stopping and making sure everybody was walking and not left behind, the buck stood tall, horns easily visible. I was taking some photos of the group when suddenly they all froze. On the other side of the hill, slowly coming their way, a lone Ezo red fox lifted its head and smelt the air, before relieving itself for all to see. Was it marking its territory, or was it simply answering nature's call?

I couldn't believe this was happening as I approached the snowy base of the hill and set foot on the fresh snow. I wanted to be as close as possible, but also not too close as to not spook and spoil the scene in front of me. The deer, led by the buck, had slowly resumed their march, passing the hill now for some of the individuals, while the fox was getting closer. For sure, a small fox like that one would not launch an attack on something that much bigger than him. And as it was in their midst, a mere few meters from the main assembly of deers, it barely glanced at them, its eyes on something beyond the hill, maybe towards the restaurant and I guess he may know a good spot for some easy to pick fat rodents or where to pick up some left over? Hard to tell.

The deer, under the watchful eye of the buck, had all but disappeared behind the deer. The fox, too, was nowhere to be seen. And just like that, from finishing my lunch to witnessing a wild encounter, and finding myself alone again in the parking lot, had happened in less than 15 minutes. I needed an ice cream to cool down... 

But the time we all had finished our late lunch, we had to hurry once more if we wanted to explore the almost deserted landscape of the Numero coastline, with more chances to spot deer and foxes, even. With the peninsula jetting out as an arc, we would have a unique experience of visiting one, if not the most Easterly point of Japan. And so, with the golden hour fast approaching, and the air getting chillier by the minute, our van brought us close to the edge of Japan, where we quickly disembarked and cautiously followed an Ezo red fox, which had just appeared out of the tall yellow grass, visibly in search of a meal.

It walked slowly, visibly not being in a rush, which was fantastic for us. From playing hide and seek deep in the tall grass, the same colour as its thick fur coat, from jumping on one of the wooden fences bordering the cliffs, it stopped a few times, seemingly enjoying the last rays of sun and warmth, squirting in the beautiful sunlight. Then it would continue, walking with grace and assurance, balancing its slender body on the fence once more, then jumping down and checking out the rocks, nooks, and crannies further down towards the sea. And when the sun got pretty low on the horizon, suddenly giving out a much more intense golden light all around us, the fox reappeared, jumped once more on the fence and sat there for a few minutes, eyes closed, facing the sun...  

Finally, inexorably, the sun started to dip below the horizon, suddenly sending a chill down our bones. The fox ran away. We jumped into our van and drove back to our place, where we should spend the night, at the Lake Sunset Cabins. Very rustic, quite rudimentary, literarily made and assembled out of prefab chipped wood board and not suited for the cold: but once the heaters were full on, you could stand up in you bathing suit no problem: not that I had brought one as I had no intention to go for a midnight dip!

Dinner was arranged by the old couple's restaurant, closer to the frozen lake, and was a mix of seafood, rice, soup, vegetables, and all sorts of things, delicious and nutritious, like most of the food during this trip (and in general in Japan). No wonder one could see so many old people still working so late in their lives (whereas in other countries and in the West we would be all retirees and enjoying the sunset of our lives). Dinner was wholesome and warmed up our empty stomachs in no time. And with a dash or two of hot sake to top it up and push it down, I was ready to turn in for the day, but not before going out for one last time, rushing to the edge of the frozen lake, where chinks of ice were broken up against the shoreline, and took a few photos of the stars.

It was half frozen by the time I was back at the cabin.

Tomorrow would be an early rise to catch the eagles at the frozen lake!

Day 6 - January 4th 

We woke up around 6 am, and I could tell it was cold outside, even though still in the reassuring warmth of their thick blankets. I quickly jumped out of bed, opened up the curtains slightly, and went back to bed, spending a few precious minutes mentally preparing myself to get up and getting ready, seeing the light already pushing the darkness away, and the first patch of clear skies opened up. That was my cue. Up, out, and off to breakfast. And I will be very honest, Japanese breakfast can be an art form, literally, more art and colours and form than substance, and looking at the Tony Goullas sausages with cabbage, egg, and vegetables, I was wondering how this would sustain me for hours of bitter cold action? I doused everything in soy sauce and left little on my plate, finishing up with some hot coffee and probably too much sugar. 

We were all gathering at the edge of the lake, checking our gear on the tripods which Daryl had set up at first light (same mojo here, be first or be last, this is a dog-eat-dog world!) And it was not long before the first, large birds of prey appeared on the horizon, settling first at quite a distance away, populating the higher branches of the nearby forest.

The first birds flying in, as soon as one of the caretakers delivered a sledge full of frozen fish food on the cracked ice surface, were the Black Kite, and they flew in in numbers, fast, in dazzling dives, being the first to also pick up some of the biggest pieces. Meanwhile, the ones that had been perched in the faraway trees took off almost all at once, and an avenue of birds of prey suddenly flew towards our position. 

Without realising it, and being a bit hesitant at which target to shoot, we were soon surrounded by maybe fifty or so large raptors, including the iconic White-tailed eagle and the star of Hokkaido, the Steller's sea eagle.

All those birds of prey were now flying around us, circling, diving, fighting it off, letting fall and capturing in mid-flight pieces of fish, and never, ever, stopping once for a minute. This was an amazing spectacle, and predicted, the challenge here was discipline, e.g., knowing to select a scene of action, and shooting it, rather than shooting everything, everywhere, and being overwhelmed. And although I eventually tried so, the first half of our session was very difficult, and I spent a few hundred shots shooting... basically at anything that moved! 

After an hour of action, with the food now being scarce and spread wide on the ice, more and more eagles landed on the lake, mostly in a few groups, still looking and quarrelling for scraps, but a few lone ones were walking at the edge, patrolling the ice to check for maybe larger, forgotten fish too. Where there was competition, some eagles gliding to the surface to pick up food were sometimes sliding and skidding on the slippery surface, some able to pick it up and fly away, some becoming a bit clumsy and losing control, allowing a more agile eagle to come sweep away the prized fish.

It was almost another 30 to 40 minutes of action before the mass of feathers started to get thinner, and most eagles flew away, or stayed at a distance, some back to the forest, but many still on the ice looking for anything, or finishing eating their morning meal. And this is when we saw it.

To the left, below the main road where the ice and snow were still covering the edge of the lake, a lone Ezo Red fox appeared out of the woods and slowly made its way towards us. Our group fell silent (more or less), and all cameras turned towards him. I quickly adjusted my settings and captured a few good shots, waiting for it to come, maybe even closer. 

At this point, a very inconsiderate and rude photographer (maybe from the same group as the incident on the Ottawa bridge) jumped over the fence, which is forbidden, and ran towards the lake before plunging into the snow and shooting at the fox. He may have gotten a few shots before the poor animal, spooked out of its wits, most probably, bolted away: never to be seen.  

We were angry and scolded him. He just laughed and said he did not think. And that really was a shame,i even in Japan, some foreigners were acting so inconsiderately!

I checked my camera shots, and was very, very grateful to have captured the beautiful fox on a few images.

We spent a little bit more time at the lake, as some eagles were now flying out in great numbers, making a pass quite close to our position, before heading out to sea, maybe, and towards the forest. Such magnificent creatures, truly... but it was time to move on. We quickly checked out, jumped back into the van, and drove a mere 30 minutes away to our next birding spot. There, at the edge of a patch of forest and well-maintained chalets, would be our chance to take photos of some very little birds, indeed.

We setup our gear in a kind of garden at the back of the cabins, where guests were staying I guess, while admiring the barren beauty of the landscape we had just drive thru: snowy white plains bordered on all sides by large forests, cut here and there by small roads, and swept by a wind sending sheets of loose ice crystals and show gliding on the road and disappearing in the trees. It was cold, to put it bluntly.

There were branches and patches of vegetations where soon enough our first Japanese Coal tit appeared! Really tiny birds, nothing more than a puff of fluffy blue, grey, and dark feathers, and absolutely adorable! You could have just grabbed one and put it in your pocket... This was a first for me, so the shutter went into overdrive as I tried to get a few different angles and wanted to be sure my depth of field was also capable of capturing every single detail of these little cuties. 

Below the branches, at the base of the trees, a pair of Eurasian red squirrels came out of the shadows and started foraging, looking for scraps of nuts, dried vegetables, or other bits the caretaker would have left for them. I slowly knelt down and tried my luck getting a bit closer for some eye-level shots. A newcomer brought me back to my feet! Slightly bigger than the Coal tit, but not by much, now stood a Japanese Pygmy woodpecker, with light white and brown-ish checkered feathers and a dash of light orange it seems under its chin. Squirrel on the left, I quickly turned and took a few shots before turning right to capture a pair of Grey-capped greenfinch! 

In another tree, a very colourful Great Spotted Woodpecker landed and immediately set to inspect the tree trunk and chip away the bark, listening from time to time, its activity triggering the Pygmy woodpecker to join it on the same tree, but to no avail, it seemed. So they both moved to the dried fish set securely in between two sheets of metallic mesh plates, so they could pick at the food without removing it all at once. At the back, maybe waiting for its turn, a familiar Eurasian Nuthatch joined in. And for the next half an hour, the activity revolved around the different trees, with more or less of the same birds flying in and out, all being busy getting as much of the food available as possible.

It was close to noon and we suddenly realised how hungry we all were: after that lean and mean breakfast we had at the frozen lake, there definitely was a lot of space in my stomach! And although the temperature was a sweltering -3c, it felt more like -10c, maybe because of the sweeping wind. But hungry we were, a bit cold, and we all happily walked into a nearby inn serving all sorts of very generous portions of soup, noodles, rice, meat, and fish. I ordered a large meal, going for fish with rice and an extra portion of thick noodle soup. We had a few hours drive in front of us to our next hotel and further up North, the Hokkaido coastline, so I was going all in on my calorie intake! 

It was already 3 pm by the time we finally reached the northern coastline. A calm, deep, blue sea contrasts so beautifully with the snowy landscape and a few long ribbons of grey and white clouds above. The sun was still strong, and hopefully would give us some golden hour wonders, and we had to make the most out of it before it set in a few hours.

As luck would have it, as we explore the peninsula north of Netsuke Bay, a thin strip of land extending East along the Nemuro Strait, reaching Cape Notsukesaki, which we would reach for the sunset, and further east into the Sea of Okhotsk, boarding the Southernmost part of a Russian string of islands, and finally into the vastness of the great Pacific Ocean... it really made you small and wonder when you thought about it and realised, next stop due east in a strait line was more or less San Francisco!

But for now, our van has suddenly stopped. To our left, amidst the large concrete tetrapods bordering the shore and offering some level of protection against storms and violent surges, a single Ezo red fox was lying there. Soaking up the last rays of the sun, looking straight at us. A mere five meters away. I felt incredibly privileged to be so close to this beautiful animal! I got a bit closer and it yawned, opening its jaw very wide for a few seconds before closing it. It had been lying on the relative warmth of the concrete blocks while the sun was up, but as the light eventually started to fade, it stretched its body, yawned some more, and stood up. After a few more minutes of deciding which way to go, it went up and out of view, probably checking out the shoreline on the other side. And so we moved on. 

While the concrete tetrapods were bordering the sea, a vast, dark, and bare forest was bordering a lake on the other side, and we did not drive long along its shores when a long procession of Yeo sika deers slowly streamed out of the forest. The light was all but a distant memory by now, and I had to crank up my ISO and lower shutter speed to try to get some decent shots. And once again, I could see one large buck, with long and tall antlers, a few smaller ones with fewer antlers, and all the rest of the group being does, I guess. No baby. 

And as they moved from one side of the lake to the other, I suddenly spotted another fox, trotting out of the woods and stopping after a little while, positioning itself in the path of the incoming deer. It sat. A crow joined it, landing right next to him, and also watched the deer. I was wondering if any action was going to happen, but again, the fox seemed just happy to sit and watch the herd finishing its crossing, as a last burst of sun bathed the snow in a shimmering sheet of bright light, before the inevitable coming of the darkness.  

It had been a long day, and I think it was an understatement to say we were all looking forward to our new hotel, a good dinner, and a very good night's sleep. Tomorrow will be a challenging day. Possibly a very cold day, and we were all looking forward to it! 

 Day 7 - January 5th 

It was an early morning rise at 6 am, while the outside was still dark, and we were all told to dress up for extreme cold. Today, we would board our fishing vessel and hopefully go explore and drift ice pack in search of the sunrise sea eagles!

It was -10c on land, as we reached the port, and it was cold. I mean, bone chilling, teeth chattering kind of cold, especially when the sea breeze blew in our direction. But we were all excited and promptly boarded our vessels. Hopefully we would be able to find the icepack, and then the eagles. As we heard from our guide, this was no guarantee. If too warm, there would be no ice at all and possibly no eagle. If it was cold enough, but the conditions were not right, there would still be no ice. If all was fine, the ice pack could be much further than we possibly could sail either. So everything had to be right for this outing to be successful, but by the look of it, we would not be disappointed.

And indeed, after a mere 20 minutes of sailing North East, the icepack appeared. Those were no iceberg, far from it. From our perspective, it looked like more a loose area of floating ice sheet and pieces of many sizes, all loosely stuck together at the will of the tides and winds. But as we arrived, the first Steller's sea eagle flew in and settled on some of the ice formation, and we knew the fun was going to start.

Our boat's captain skilfully brought the vessel along the icepack edge, and after delivering some frozen fish to a large flat frozen pancake-shaped piece of ice, we took out position: the eagles were flying in!

At first, it was a bit the same situation as the Sunset Lake: many, many eagles flying around all around us, and too excited to slow down and know which one(s) to pick and follow for some great shots. But quickly, I fell into the rhythm, and observed first what was happening, taking my tie choosing the action, then shooting. But cold was it, oh so cold especially when the wind blew!

There were a few White-tailed eagles, but the vast majority were Steller's sea eagles, and there was a lot of fighting and acrobatics going on, all going to the much needed and food, and sparing no efforts getting it, and keeping it. Many times I observed an eagle picking up a fish, only to have it either stolen from its grip, or voluntarily dropped following too much harassment trying to evade other eagles. Such action was virtually all around us. The Steller's sea eagles, with their prominent, huge orange beak and white feathers and fierce looking stare, were particularly easy to pick on the ice pack and perfect for some portrait shots. And I got a lot of those, indeed!

There was a lot of fighting going on, especially so when large seagulls joined in and also, very forcefully, wanted a share of what was left of the bounty. Faster on short distances, and more agile to run and land and take off again, they more or less were very adapt at cleaning up the ice pack of any food left; to the mounting frustration of the sea eagles. For them, the fight went on in the air, resulting in many aerobatics melees where the fish was either stolen or dropped altogether back into the sea. It was chaos!

I was mostly shooting from one side of the boat, where the light was good and the icepack present, but at times I had to go on the other side to follow up a specific scene. On such an occasion, as I made my way past the bow, I suddenly felt my left leg slip, and go up in the air... and before I knew it my arms were flailing and my camera went into zero gravity mode. IN slow mode and in horror I saw myself landing back on my butt, and on a very hard metallic surface indeed. But somehow, both my feet found grip again, one hand gripped the handrail while the other grabbed the camera, and I managed to land back upright: if not very ungracefully!

Most of the early action, while the food was concentrated on one ice sheet, I moved to a different style of shooting and looked for individual eagles posing on the ice, looking hopefully right back at me. We had been almost an hour at sea and finally, finally, the sun was up and warming the p a little bit. But my fingertips were screaming in pain, as many times my gloves made pressing the shutter a little difficult, and I removed them to my inner layer for better handling of the camera, but it always came at the cost of the biting, frozen cold snipping at my fingers. 

I would later develop a very slight frost bite on two of my finger tips, which healed back quickly after being back in Singapore: but this was just to show the danger of the cold and how to be aware of it...

It was almost 8 am when we had to leave the ice pack and return to the port of Rausu. It was a mixed feeling, leaving the sea eagles, as the experience had been so unique and intense. But in a way, we knew we would come back for another sailing, and we were all looking for a warm breakfast as well. And so we did. It was quick, warm, and not as sufficient as I had wished, but we were concerned about going back out and on to our next venue. 

We did not have to go far for our next location, as we would just walk up the port wharf, which extended all the way out at sea. It looked treacherous, as the whole ground was frozen, covered in icy patches here and there, or deep snow most of the way. But the wildlife was abundant, surprisingly, in the port still. Countless birds were busy with the business of the morning rising sun, as the sea took on a deeper blue colour and the ice glistened and sparkled everywhere. On one side, to my surprise, some Harlequin ducks were floating close to shore, while on the other side, where the sea was a bit rougher, Pelagic cormorants made a great show of landing on water, and taking off, my waling on water as their wings flapped with great force. 

Closer to us, very close actually, on the concrete walls of the jetty, White-tailed eagles soaked in the morning sun, oblivious to our presence. And with each boat coming back to port, squadrons of noisy and always hungry seagulls would make a racket while trying to get the last bits of fish from the fishermen. Large, glistening, dark crows, the first I had seen, I think, also joined the port commotion. 

Before we knew, it was noon, and we were starving. And cold and thirsty. Our lunch place was thankfully not so far off and we all quickly and eagerly climbed the stairs of the restaurant, at the edge of the road and a mere meters from the seashore. I ordered a huge ball of rice, crab meat, and fish roe, with some burning green tea, and ice cream for dessert, followed by an ice cream cappuccino kind of coffee... Life was good. And as I was about to just recline and digest for a bit, I saw a commotion high above the sea, as a large fishing boat was coming back to port. 

I jumped out of my seat, ran across the road, and set up my tripod at the edge of the shore. Countless birds of all sorts were now following that fishing vessel, throwing some leftovers over the side, and needless to say, it was lunch time for the birds too! A few eagles got the fish leftover first, but were always chased by either other eagles of the countless seagulls circling the boat. I was alone, with the rest of the group savouring some more of the delicious food and resting their feet and stomach, but I was all hyped up and enjoying the scene unfolding in front of me.

Finally, we all had to pack up once more and get into our van, and return to the hotel to rest and recuperate: tonight would be a challenging night photography session at the local river special place where we hoped to catch the largest owl in the world feeding: the Blakiston owl!

By 7 pm, as we reached the small off-road where basic seating was being rented out for night photographers, the temperature had dropped to -12c. Thank god, the inside of the cabin, facing the Chitorai rover and Washi No Yado 'lodges' where the owl spotting area was, were well warmed up, and that was good as we had no idea if the owl would show up early, late, or at all! We were prepared to stay the whole night.

The scene at night was magical, a mix of a well-lit area where the owl may appear near the river, and fading away after a few meters into complete darkness. It started snowing. The place was eerily quiet now, with muffled conversations between the courageous night birders, as warm coffee and chocolate were being passed around. We were ready to stake out!

And the first hour passed.

After a few minutes past 8 pm, I realised this could be a long wait into the increasingly cold night and was wondering if I had what it took to last. I did not have many snacks with me. We were warned, if you go to the bathroom, make it quick because if the owl comes, it could catch a fish and take off within a minute, and that would be it for the night. Scary...

And 9 pm came and passed slowly.

By 10 pm, I was becoming a bit restless, and jokes were circulating amongst some of the other photographers, some of whom had had previous experiences or heard of guests staying up the whole night and not catching the owl. Two days in a row for some. Scary. 

And just like that, at two minutes past 10 pm, there were murmurs of excitement, as the owl may have arrived and perched in a nearby tree overlooking the river. It was right at the edge of the lighted area, so difficult to see. I tried zooming in and slowing my shutter speed dramatically to just peak at it, and suddenly it flew in and dropped, without a sound, on the snowy riverbank. I readjusted my settings and got a bit hectic as the large owl looked down a hole and moved slowly in, before propping itself up and diving in, wings spread out! 

A few seconds passed, all fingers pressed on the shutter button in the cabin, and it emerged quickly, with a glistening dark fish firmly secured in its claw: it might have been a small trout, but the look of it. Fantastic! It turned its head and looked at the cabin row of lenses, while the fish twisted a few more times, revealing some sparkling blue and pink scales.

It had been less than two minutes since its appearance, and just as fast, it flapped its massive wings and disappeared stealthily into the night.

It was all finished. We could pack and go celebrate!

At least I did, I had a few killer shots and was happy to go back to the hotel, maybe have a try at the onsen bath, and go through the evening routine before getting a few hours of good sleep: early tomorrow morning, we would go back at sea!

Day 8 - January 6th 

It was around 4.30 am when I first woke up during that night, and a quick check outside showed a temperature of at least -12c near the hotel, meaning it ought to be much colder at sea, where we would go find the eagles later. But for now, I still had at least another hour and a half of warm bedtime...

Eventually, we all had to get up, get some warm coffee and tidbits in our bodies, and head out to the nearby port. We followed the same routine as the day before and were at the harbour just before 6 am, when just a hint of orange light pierced the darkness over the horizon. Every surface was frozen. It was very cold, but we did not feel any wind, yet, so it was manageable, as we boarded, and very quickly the captain took us out of the harbour.

Another 20 minutes later, we reached the ice again, and the crew got busy preparing the feed for the eagles. The light was coming up, finally revealing the extent of the ice, which extended all the way to the horizon as far as we could see, and reached quite a distance on the sides as well. Here and there on the ice, a dark little patch indicated where the first Steller's sea eagles had landed. A large White-tailed eagle flew right above the boat, coming from the land, which was not very far off our boat. And as the sun finally showed up, the whole landscape of the nearby mountains and the ice pack got illuminated by a warm, welcoming golden light. That is when the feeding started! 

Like yesterday, when the feeding started, it got into a frenzy really fast, with dozens and dozens of eagles competing for the food, flying in all directions, over the boat, stealing from each other, sometimes flying far away for a potential easy pick. It was crazy! And even though the 600mm lens helped for the action at large, many times it was too much for very close subjects, which unfortunately did not even fit into the full frame of the camera, but it made for some interesting cropping anyway.

For me, the Steller's sea eagles were still the star of the show, especially when landing hard on the ice, sometimes sending clouds of snow crystals flying off, then surveying their surroundings, judging where to strike and whom to take food from! I could even see some of those eagles fight going as far as the shore, battling it out still, before either the fish fell back into the water or one eventually evaded their pursuance. Those eagles were really hungry...

Two hours later, it was time to go back to the port, and in a way, I was glad: my fingertips did not have any feeling anymore, while my hands overall felt a bit slow to respond. At sea, when the breeze blew, while the weather was fantastic, the air must have been no warmer than -15c at the very least. Not to be underestimated!

But we reached port all good and safe and very happy, with hundreds, maybe thousands of shots to go through when back home, and quickly drove to our next stop: this would be the place where we had caught the Pakistan owl the previous night. During the day, the place looked so different and we could have a clear view of the forest on both sides, and the river running in the middle of the small ravine. While I quickly walked to the edge of the trees to capture some nice shots of Steller's sea eagle perched high on the branches, the rest of the group was spread along the river, as small birds were stopping buy to drink and hunt.

One of them, the aptly named Brown dipper, was hopping from stone to stone, and at times diving under the water to catch some little insects and maybe what looked like crustaceans. It was amazing to see how the water flowed away effortlessly from their feathers once they resurfaced! It was fast and very agile, and at times I had difficulty following it, unless it slowed down for one final dive, before flying away. I got up from my crouching position just to see that a few deer had reached the top of the hill where the eagles had been in the trees, and were gazing at the dry, brown vegetation where the snow had receded a little bit.  

We ended our stop here with a few group pictures, with the sun now high in the sky and the morning bitterly cold all but a memory. And once more, it was time to leave our hotel and get in the van, for a few hours' drive to our last stop: the Yuyado Daiichi luxurious spa, onsen hotel.

We stopped once more for an absolutely delicious lunch: for me, Yudon noodles in clear broth, with tempura chicken, rice, and veggies on the side. This trip was not only a feast for the eyes, but also for the gourmets in us! For dessert, we made an emergency stop at a nearby convenience store: Hokkaido, milk, creamy ice cream for me! 

Finally, around 3 pm, we arrived at our final destination, and indeed, this was a palace, comparing to all our previous accommodations (not that we did not enjoyed them!), and tonight we would all sleep in large, comfortable real bed, after a 7 course traditional meal and a 24/7 viewing window lounge on the river and trees in the foyer which would give us opportunities to spot again an Bakiston owl and if lucky some Marten as well! 

It was free and easy from now on until dinner time, and I first chose to unpack and repack properly all my luggage, take a good, long, hot shower, and then explore the beautifully wooden contrasted resort's many halls and public areas. There were many little exhibits and places where you could just sit down close to a hot fireplace or fake fire and enjoy your evening reading or just socialising with friends. This was so quaint and peaceful, relaxing and bordering on the zen. It was good to wind down after a hectic week of long, cold days and short nights ;-) 

I brought along my short lens telephoto for a chance to shoot some birds from the warmth and comfort of the foyer. Outside, the first little birds we saw were the Coal tits, following by the much sought after Japanese Long-tailed tits: quite a few of them on the ground, in the trees and feeding at the food dispensers. Those seem to attract much of the attention from all types of visitors (birders and others). Already known, but much closer this time, next came the Brown-eared Bulbul, again the Japanese Pygmy Woodpecker, the Great-spotted Woodpecker, the Eurasian Nuthatch, and also the Eurasian Jay. It was almost nonstop, but made a little bit challenging at times due to the fact that we were shooting through the window bay, so any shots at an angle had a risk of incorporating some reflections. 

As our dinner was early, we all converged into the foyer, then the private venue of the restaurant to sit down, and carefully listen to our waiter explain all the items on our menu we were going to eat. A lot of it sounded very exotic, and I was not sure my stomach would agree to it. But with a bit of hot sake and rice, food should go down easily, I assumed...

Since we had no view of the window bay and nobody was going to come and alert us if the Bakiston owl or Marten showed up, I volunteered to do regular check to the foyer: although it may be quite risky not to have a constant presence as we had seen the night before: the owl had come and gone in less than three minutes! But no choice, and after about half an hour, I dutifully got up and went outside to check, and as I approached, rising from the riverbank, a lone Marten appeared! I quickly ran back and alerted everybody. 

MARTEN!

And our commotion created an even bigger commotion as nobody else in the whole restaurant was watching, and now all converged to look at the little, sleek animal making his way onto the main platform in front of the hotel.

I guess the smell of dry fish in the caged food dispenser on top the main tree first attracted it, and after checking around the base there was no danger, it quickly climbed, and started licking, then take small delicate bite out of the fish through the metallic mesh: always keeping an eye on us. Success! And slowly, after the Marten had disappeared, walking back towards the river below, everybody went back to their dinner.

Later, after about half an hour, and feeling much warmer still with the hot sake taking effect on my body, I got up and slowly walked back to the window bay.

A large Bakiston owl literally flew down the tree opposite the river. It must have been perched for a bit and landed smack in front of me on the little platform, giving an opening to the water below and some food, probably! Was I lucky or what?

I quickly ran back to the private venue and told everybody: BAKISTON OWL!

Again, commotion in the restaurant as everybody, camera, iPhone, Android, and other diverse magically appeared in their hands, and the foyer once again was full. And it did not take long for the owl to spot something below. As the now from the previous night had done, it suddenly plunged, claws first, and came back up quickly with a small fish, which it promptly squeezed first, then put in its mouth to bite off the head. It was small indeed, so we were not surprised when it went back for some more, and just as easily as the first time, came back up with another, smaller fish. That one it kept firmly in its grip, squeezing the life out of it, I think, before giving us one last look and flying off in the darkness.

It could not have been more successful than that, our guide told us. Twice we had caught a Bicknell's owl, and tonight the Marten had shown up as well. I had a really good night's sleep that night, feeling lucky, content, and privileged again to have witnessed such natural beauty during our trip, which was coming to an end. And so many memories to post process when back home, stories to share, and experiences to reflect on.

Day 9+10 - January 7th and 8th 

This was our last day in Hokkaido: so sad! But even so, we still had a bit of time in the morning before leaving to take some last shots. It was a nice, clear morning, and the birds were already out foraging, and we were all casually sitting in the foyer, taking shots now and then.

Then the Marten returned!

This was out of this world, and the word, again, spread quickly. It had appeared very slowly, coming up from the river, and sniffing the air around the wooden platform right outside the window bay, before slowly making its way up, showing its wet fur. It was obvious it had done this in the past, because it knew where to go immediately, squeezing its slender, brown body under the main door of the platform where the owl was normally fishing, and disappeared for a while. When it reappeared, after again having squeezed out from under the main gate, it licked its mouth, with a sense of satisfaction and content which could only mean one thing, I thought... Turning its head for one last look, while we were thanking it for having said goodbye to us, it finally went back down to the river. It was time for us to check out: perfect timing!

It would be a slightly less than two hours drive to the airport, where we would have to change back to some lighter clothes for our flight back to Tokyo Haneda airport: for the group, a connection later that evening, whereas I had decided to spend one night so I could go to Tokyo city centre the morning after do some shopping for the family, before coming back to the hotel to check out my luggage and heading back to Singapore.

A fellow photographer had a much later flight, so we decided to have dinner together at the airport restaurant gallery. After much indecision as to which to try, we settled for something a little different and walked in the Hiroshimayaki Okonomiyaki restaurant: a specialised place with a famous large, thick Japanese omelette filled with all sorts of ingredients you could choose, and topped with even more what whatever you wanted. The menu photos were tantalising, and we wasted no more time ordering, insisting on having our large, fresh Japanese beer first. Aaaah.... Life was good!

The day after, as planned, I took the subway to the city centre and headed first to the Uniqlo flagship store: the largest in the world, where I decided to buy a few more items I was short of in Singapore, and some you could not find anyway. For those of you not familiar with that store on Ginza street, it is 11 floors of shopping heaven and always busy, but you can find some really unique items there.

Then I headed to one of the department store food basements and chose some coffee, fresh strawberries, and other incredibly well and carefully packed delicacies. That done, my next stop was at the famed Manneken Waffles place, and I chose to buy a 10-piece box, 5 different flavours to bring back to some hungry bodies back home. That was it, all items crossed off my shopping list, and it was time to take the train to the airport. 

After checking in again at the counter, I slowly made my way to the gate, passed immigration and security stops, then spent some more time shopping at the duty-free for some of those incredibly tasty Japanese treats, including some instant ramen noodles packs, and then some. The store was packed. People were buying a suitcase full of items. There was pushing and elbow rubbing, but everybody seemed to really enjoy the chaos and smiling, though I was happy to finally find a way out after paying for my goods. 

Next stop home, and a ton of work waiting for me :-)

THE END

Reference Notes

If you are interested in such a trip, please email me at contact@lanceflare.com and I will help you with your inquiry.

If you are interested in some of the photographs presented in this documents, or wished to see more snapshots related to a particular subject, just for viewing or for print, email me as well contact@lanceflare.com 

At this point in time I did not insert all the snapshots descriptions, especially for wildlife naming. I may do so in an updated version.

Acknowledgements

Daryl, thank you again for looking after us during this trip, your dedication and courage at the Otawa bridge, and knowledge of this wonderful land.

Thanks SP for our dinner at Haneda airport!

Gear

SONY a1 (version 1)

SONY a7RIII

SEL 70200 telephoto lens

FE600mm f/4

x1.4 TC

Tripod

2TB SSD backup storage