I spent October 6–10, 2025 hiking in the Japanese Northern Alps and wanted to share a quick report. I’ve been reading about these peaks for years, but hiking them and staying in the huts was a completely different experience.

Day 1 and 2: Tokyo → Takayama → Norikura (3,026 m)

I left Tokyo on the Hokuriku Shinkansen to Toyama, then switched to the JR Hida Line into the mountains. The Hida section is slow but really scenic, following the Miyagawa River through valleys and small onsen towns. Door to door, it was about four and a half hours to Takayama.

Takayama is an easy base: compact, quiet, and with enough “mountain town” feel that you know you’ve left the city behind. I just dropped my pack, found a small local place still open for dinner, and went to bed early.

The next morning I took Nohi buses up to Tatamidaira at 2,702 m, the highest bus terminal in Japan. The whole ride is about 90 minutes. You start the hike already above the treeline, with tundra, shrines, volcanic rock, and a very organized setup: restaurant, toilets, vending machines, and clear trail signs.

From Tatamidaira I followed the main route to Kengamine, Norikura’s highest point at 3,026 m. It is only about 350 m of elevation gain over 3.5 km one way, but the thin air makes it more tiring than the stats suggest. The trail begins as a wide gravel path through low alpine pine, then turns into looser rock and sandy scree. Around 2,800 m you pass Katano-koya, a small hut selling water and snacks. It was my first close look at a Japanese mountain hut and it set the tone: compact, clean, and efficient.

Weather kept shifting between fog and drizzle, with short breaks where the clouds opened just enough to hint at the surrounding ridges. On clear days you can apparently see Ontake and even Fuji, but I didn’t get that. Walking above the clouds at 3,000 m was still worth it.

The mix of people on the trail stood out: older couples with poles, students, families, solo hikers. Everyone greeting each other, nobody in a rush. It feels more social and less competitive than what I’m used to in the Pacific Northwest.

I headed back down in time for the afternoon bus, returned to Takayama, and still had some light to wander the old town before sleep.

Day 3: Kamikochi and Yake-dake attempt (2,444 m)

Day three depended on weather. I wanted to climb Yake-dake, an active volcano, but chose the Kamikochi side so the day would still be worth it even if conditions turned bad.

I left Takayama early and reached Kamikochi Bus Terminal mid-morning. From there it is about a 45 minute walk on a flat forest path along the Azusa River to the Yake-dake trailhead. I stopped at the visitor center to check conditions. The staff were clear: the trail was open, but visibility was poor.

The route from Kamikochi to Yake-dake is roughly 12.5 km round trip with about 1,150 m of elevation gain. The first hour is quiet forest walking with streams close by. After that it gets steeper and more rugged, with ladders and chains. In dry weather it would be straightforward, but rain made the rock and volcanic soil slick. Trekking poles helped a lot.

About two hours in, I met a solo hiker from Switzerland on her way down. She had reached the hut near the upper section but said visibility was basically zero and the rain was heavier higher up. I thought about continuing, then decided to turn around. Solo in those conditions, with no views and a long muddy descent waiting, didn’t feel like a smart trade.

Back in Kamikochi I took my time. Since cars aren’t allowed in the valley, it stays quiet in a way you don’t often get in popular destinations. I grabbed soft-serve, walked along the river, and watched clouds move in and out of the peaks.

Day 4: Mount Tsubakuro (2,763 m) and Enzanso Hut

This was the main goal of the trip. Mount Tsubakuro is known for its white granite ridge and views of Hotaka and Yari, and Enzanso Hut has a big reputation among Japanese hikers.

I woke before six, caught a bus to Matsumoto, then took the JR Oito Line to Hotaka. From there I took a taxi to Nakabusa Onsen, the main trailhead. The taxi is about 9,000 yen, which hurts a bit, but it is the practical way to start early enough.

The Nakabusa trail gains around 1,300 m over 5.5 km and usually takes 5 to 6 hours to reach Enzanso. I grabbed a quick ice cream at the shop near the trailhead and started up. The trail is steep from the beginning, climbing through forest with roots and some wooden steps. The first 90 minutes gain roughly 500 m. The ground was damp but firm and the cool air made it easy to keep a steady pace.

As the trees began to thin around 2,200 m, the terrain changed to more rock and slick soil. I relied on my poles more here. Somewhere around 2,400–2,500 m there is a small rest hut that sells water, soda, and Pocari Sweat. While I was resting there, a helicopter kept flying up the valley, carrying supplies on a long cable toward Enzanso. Seeing a resupply operation like that in person was pretty surreal.

The final section is where Tsubakuro really shows itself. The dark soil gives way to pale granite, and suddenly the views open in all directions. The granite is almost white and makes the ridge stand out against the sky. Fall colors were at their peak, with reds and oranges running down the slopes below.

I reached Enzanso earlier than expected, dropped my pack, and decided to head for the summit right away instead of waiting until morning. The weather looked stable enough and I didn’t want to waste the window. From the hut it is about 1.5 km along the ridge to the summit, with roughly 200 m more elevation gain. The path crosses open granite fields with a few narrow spots that require attention but nothing technical. On the way I saw a Rock Ptarmigan, which only lives in Japan’s alpine zones and is the bird symbol of Nagano. It felt like a small reward for the climb.

By the time I reached the summit at 2,763 m, it was late afternoon and mostly clouded over, but the ridge still felt endless in every direction. I stayed for a bit, then returned to the hut.

Enzanso sits on a broad ridge around 2,700 m and has been operating since 1921. It can host hundreds of hikers in peak season, but it doesn’t feel chaotic. The staff move with a kind of quiet efficiency that keeps everything running smoothly.

Dinner was served at 5:30 p.m. Teishoku style: rice, miso soup, grilled fish, pickles, a small dessert. You eat at shared tables, and the group I sat with were mostly middle aged Japanese hikers. People were friendly, curious about where I was from, and a couple of them used the chance to practice their English. After dinner I stepped outside for a bit, then lights went out at 8:30.

I had my own sleeping pod that night. It was simple, warm, and quiet enough that I slept straight through. Breakfast is served at 4:30 a.m. so people can move on to other peaks or start the long descent.

Day 5: Descent and Return

I thought about going back up to the summit for sunrise but the clouds were thick and it was very cold, so I stayed near the hut and watched the weather instead. When the clouds did open for a minute, you could see Yari and the Hotaka range from the terrace, which was more than enough.

I started down just after six in the morning because I wanted to catch the 9 a.m. bus from Nakabusa Onsen back to Hotaka. The descent is long and steep, dropping the same 1,300 m over about three hours. It started raining halfway down and got heavier near the bottom. The granite and roots turned slick, and I was glad to have poles and shoes with good traction. I reached the onsen area just as the bus pulled in.

From Hotaka I took the Oito Line back to Matsumoto, spent a couple of hours walking around, stopped briefly at Matsumoto Castle, and then caught my train back to Tokyo. It felt like a clean way to close the mountain part of the trip: from the city to the peaks and back again.

Quick Note:

If you are thinking about hiking in the Northern Alps and have questions about routes, buses, huts, or logistics, I am happy to share more details. Tsubakuro with an overnight at Enzanso is especially good if you want a classic hut experience without a tent.