A Hilariously Embarrassing Trip Through Snowy Hokkaido: The 'Window Incident' at a Sounkyo Onsen Hotel

When it comes to winter in Hokkaido, Japan, the first image that pops into most people’s minds is that dreamlike silver-white world, along with the bone-chilling yet utterly addictive hot spring experience.

As a Mizuc who loves to find fun (or cause trouble) on the road, I certainly couldn’t miss out on this blend of ice and fire. Last night, after a long journey, I arrived at “Sounkyo Onsen,” located within Daisetsuzan National Park in Hokkaido and famous for its magnificent gorge and stunning snow scenery.

When I smoothly finished checking in and pushed open the warm, spring-like hotel room door, the exhaustion from a whole day of rushing through the snow and ice instantly melted away by more than half.

As everyone knows, indoor heating in Japan during winter is usually turned up very high—high enough that you could even wear a short-sleeved T-shirt and happily eat ice cream in your room. At that moment, I had changed into a light, comfortable Japanese yukata, had just enjoyed a lavish kaiseki meal, and was in an extremely relaxed, floating state of mind.

Looking at the swirling snow outside the window illuminated by dim yellow streetlights, and the faint outline of the gorge, a photographer’s sense of romance welled up in me unconsciously.

“The snow outside is so beautiful—what a shame to shoot through the glass, the reflections would ruin the image quality. Why not… open the window just a crack, breathe in Hokkaido’s purest cold air, and take a clear, reflection-free photo!”

This seemingly reasonable thought—one almost every tourist has had—became the most absurd beginning of my Hokkaido trip.

I walked gently to the window, drew the curtain, gripped the window frame with both hands, and pushed hard to the side.

“Whoosh—!”

In that instant, a piercing wind of minus ten-odd degrees, carrying tiny ice crystals, howled into the room like a beast that had been holding its breath for a long time, slamming straight into my body, which was clad only in a thin yukata. This extreme chill was truly refreshing—but after barely three seconds of bliss, I realized I was about to be frozen into a human popsicle.

“Okay, I’ve experienced the cold wind, I’ve taken the photo, let’s close it quickly!” Shivering, I reached out to pull the window back into place.

And then…

It wouldn’t move.

I pulled hard—it wouldn’t budge. I used both hands plus my whole body weight to push—it still wouldn’t move an inch.

That window, which had slid open so smoothly, had somehow jammed shut—whether because the metal frame had instantly expanded and contracted from the temperature change, or because frost on the track had frozen it. In any case, it was stuck as if under a binding spell, locked in the perfect “maximum draft” position, and would not close again!

Facing the endless polar wind pouring in, the room’s originally spring-like temperature was dropping at a visible, frantic rate. Standing by the window in my thin yukata, my snot nearly freezing into icicles, my mind held only an infinitely magnified “facepalm.”

At that moment I was truly, immensely grateful I wasn’t in some escape room—but this situation was even more desperate than an escape room. Was I really going to experience the ultimate thrill of camping in the wild tonight, inside this expensive hot spring hotel?

The final outcome: shivering madly, I desperately picked up the room phone and, in incoherent broken English with an exaggerated pleading tone, asked the front desk to send someone urgently to rescue a nearly frozen foolish foreign tourist.

This hilariously embarrassing trip to Sounkyo Onsen taught me a precious lesson in physics and travel: in a hotel in an extremely cold snow country, never, ever challenge that window that separates life and death (warmth and deep freeze) out of a moment’s romance and curiosity.

Because nature really will give you a merciless lesson (facepalm).