Kazushige Fujita
Kazushige Fujita’s Beautiful Track
It’s mid-November and, clad in a thick drysuit and atop a 7-foot-6 surfboard, Kazushige Fujita is out in the Sea of Japan sharing peeling right-handers with friends. As winter nears, cold seasonal winds blowing from Siberia bring a simultaneous bounty to Japan’s coastal flank: world-class surf and very deep powder.
“Should we head to the mountains soon?” Shige says.
The next day, Shige is heading deep into the northern Japanese Alps, bound for the backcountry sanctuary of Tateyama. After hiking and riding three solid laps, most would be content. But Shige wants to ride the final light of the setting sun, so he begins to bootpack up once more. Just before he reaches the ridge, a dense bank of clouds swallows the peak, dropping visibility to zero. The crew is ready to call it, but Shige stands still, studying the subtle shifts in the wind.
“If the temperature drops just a bit more, it’ll clear. I know it will,” he mutters.
True to his word, 15 minutes later the clouds split, revealing a dramatic, blood-orange sunset. Below him lies smooth, bottomless, fast snow. Dropping into a massive, shadowy face as twilight looms, Shige opens up top gear, leaving a single, immaculate arc on the canvas. The season has officially begun.
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