

8 September 2025
8 September 2025
Nestled at the base of Mt. Daisetsuzan in central Hokkaido, lies Higashikawa. Known as the “Gateway to Daisetsuzan,” it offers direct access to the untouched backcountry. Powder seekers come for the deep snow and wild terrain, but many stay for the slower rhythms of life that shape the town. In summer, it transforms into a paradise for hikers, photographers, and hot spring lovers drawn to Daisetsuzan’s dramatic beauty
Katsunori Yoneyama stands in front of his old Land Cruiser, smiling like a man who has arranged his life exactly the way he wants it. Just across from his wooden home sits SALT, the outdoor shop he built himself. The shop is built next to his home and feels less like retail and more like an extension of his life. Wooden beams, clean lines, and gear that’s chosen not for display but for use — backpacks, gaiters, jackets, and the kind of tools that work quietly in the mountains. Inside, the selection is small but well curated, nothing excessive, just gear that works when the mountains demand reliability. The rhythm of the place is his own. On a powder day the doors stay closed, because Yoneyama-san is out snowsurfing, and everyone who comes here understands that’s how it should be. SALT is not just a shop but a reflection of a lifestyle — understated, practical, and shaped by the seasons of Hokkaido.
In the heart of Higashikawa, tucked into a second floor corner of the old Less building, sits On the Table—a café run by the son of the town’s unofficial mayor and longtime deer hunter. The space blends retro-modern minimalism with village warmth: wooden floors, clean lines, and small tables where locals and travelers rub elbows over drip coffee and lunchtime plates. The owner, known to locals as Sato san, pours coffee he sources carefully, serves nostalgic favorites like pork ginger over rice, and keeps the vibe humble. It feels alive—not polished—a kind of communal pause before heading back out into Higashikawa’s forested landscape.
Higashikawa has become a quiet hub of craftsmanship in Hokkaido, with nearly a third of all Asahikawa-style furniture made in this valley. Across the street from Goro’s café Nomado, Kenji Suzuki works alone under the name Wood Life Service. His materials are old beams, weathered planks, and forgotten scraps, all pulled back into the light. With steady hands he turns them into tables, stools, mirrors — and the wooden frames he is becoming known for. Nothing about his work is flashy. The charm lies in the marks of time that he refuses to sand away, letting the wood carry its history into something useful again. Outside the shop, his beat-up Volkswagen hippie van sits parked, another project he tinkers with between pieces. Much like his furniture, it’s being kept alive not for nostalgia, but because it still has a story left to tell.
On the main street of Higashikawa sits Roaster Coaster, the workshop of Karl Wilcock — the man behind Amundsen’s drip coffee. Beans are roasted on the first floor, the air spilling out onto the street, while the second floor is used for the careful assembly of drip packs. Alongside the work, there’s a small café space that feels warm and inviting — wooden tables, the smell of fresh brews, and a rhythm that makes you want to sit down for a moment.
It’s a place built around coffee from start to finish. Locals stop in for beans, travelers for a cup, and everyone leaves with the same impression — that good coffee doesn’t need to be complicated, just cared for.