Time is the enemy. A winter tale in Northern Japan.

I'm still dazed by the lack of sleep over the past two days. Eight hours of jet lag and the long journey to the opposite side of the world have been intense, yet incredibly exciting.

The elevator doors open, and I walk to my room after breakfast. In the hotel corridor, gentle xylophone music plays softly in the background, filling the space with a pleasant ambiance that transforms what would be an anonymous hallway. The burgundy carpet and pearl-white walls enhance the charming atmosphere, making it feel exceptionally relaxing.

I feel like I'm walking inside a space station on another planet. As I turn the corner to reach my room, the view outside the windows at both ends of the corridor makes this moment feel almost heavenly.

It's snowing outside, a sight that is not particularly new to me. It's not the first time I've seen snow falling, but there is something different about this snowfall. The snowflakes descend so slowly that they seem to be suspended by invisible lines, gently delaying their landing. The stillness they create outside has a magical atmosphere.

Perhaps I'm influenced by the high expectations I had for Japanese snow, formed by tales of North Pacific storms meeting cold Siberian winds in the north. Yet, I'm as excited as a child on Christmas morning. In a few hours, I'll climb the mountains to carve fresh lines in the backcountry—a dream coming true.

It's 7:25 local time in Furano, in the Hokkaido region of northern Japan. We arrived last night after a long journey, having missed a flight and catching four trains that brought us to this snowy paradise.

A 1000+ km train journey from Tokyo transported us from the madness of one of the most peculiar megalopolises I've ever visited to one of the world's farthest corners—a place I will hardly forget.

This article aims to discuss one of the seeds planted in my mind that began my process of change. It is also an invitation to you—to the deepest part of yourself that is trapped in uncertainty and fear. Let yourself go, do it now.

Flashback to a month earlier, I was at home in Barcelona, facing a peculiar start to the year. I had recently returned from an epic trip to Chile with my girlfriend, but we were both at a crossroads, making significant decisions for the near future and finding ourselves in a limbo of uncertainty.

Time felt like the enemy. I had wanted to visit Japan since I was a child, but the cost of traveling from Europe, the long distance, and the time needed to explore different places had always kept me from finding the perfect moment.

The truth is, the perfect moment doesn't exist. I had to create it myself.

I had enough money to organize the trip, so I asked my boss for a bit more than a week of holiday. It was time to go—now or never, I thought.

The next thing I did was cycling to my friend's apartment under the guise of hanging out. I started rambling about the winter season, the lack of snow in Europe, and my hopes, but before I could say anything significant, he looked at me and said, "Japan?"

I couldn't have asked for better, I knew how quickly he could get excited. Step one was complete, and now the second gate was about to be opened. "Give me 20 minutes, and I'll find a way to convince her," he said.

Five minutes later, he returned with a proud grin. "That's why I love her," he said.

The organization went smoother than I expected. Flights were not as expensive as I had initially predicted, and we also found an affordable way to recruit a backcountry tour guide.

We were set for our very first trip to Japan, and what a trip! Two days and nights in Tokyo, five days in Hokkaido, and a final night in Tokyo, followed by a full day to explore the city before catching our return flight.

When weighing the pros and cons, I realized that time will never be enough to fully explore a new country on your bucket list. However, there will be no experiences if you don't take the leap and make it happen in one way or another.

A few months later, I wanted to reflect on the decision that led to one of the best experiences of my life. Until then, I thought a backcountry snowboarding trip was only possible for pros, influencers, or those people with lots of money and time.

Once I started visualizing and manifesting what awaited me, I put myself in a position where anything was possible. What followed is already history.

Let me share some highlights of what we encountered during our time in Hokkaido:

On our first day of snowboarding, we went to the Furano slope station, got a daily pass, and explored every possible corner of the slopes. It snowed non-stop through the late afternoon. Surprisingly, there were not as many people as we had expected, and they were all snowboarders. It was an amazing start, culminating in an even better finish as we plunged into the steamy pools of the hotel onsen, fully naked, as tradition dictates.

On the second day, we started to have some real fun with Jesse, our tour guide, who brought us into all the backcountry “gates” around Furano. We navigated mountain ridges with steep walls, thick woods, narrow passages, and tons of fresh snow exploding at each turn.

The first descent of the day was a "funny" jump into the unknown—nothing but a steep wall between thick trees. Jesse said, "Okay, we go down here."

I asked, "Here, like here here?"

Jesse replied, "Yeah, I go first. You guys track your lines in the same direction."

I thought, Okay, it’s going to be an interesting warm-up.

That pattern continued all day: lift, climb up the ridge through thigh-high snow, and descend through crazy, untapped tracks to carve spectacular lines, including jumping on pillows of snow. If the first day was amazing, the second was an absolute dream.

Wednesday, the third day, had a particular reason for us to come north: I wanted to snowboard a volcano.

"What? A volcano, you said?" my friend Euge asked while we were planning a month before.

Indeed, an active volcano, descending between the fumaroles. And there we were, after the uncertainty of the first days when the spot was closed due to strong winds and snowstorms, we were extremely lucky to catch the only favorable window to climb Asahidake and descend it a few times.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of arriving at the base of a steaming, snow-covered mountain, putting on your snowshoes, strapping the board to your backpack, and starting to climb the ridge as the steaming craters get closer and closer.

Like many children, I always dreamt of being an astronaut. This experience on Asahidake felt like walking on another planet for the first time. The vastness of the forests beneath the peak is disarming; you can’t see the end of it, and the unpredictable weather adds to the mystery of this place.

We approached every descent with great respect. This place is no joke—without Jesse, we would have lost our way multiple times, and bad surprises could have been around every corner.

Nevertheless, once we passed the ridge with its beautiful virgin lines, we had to walk through a thick forest while a constant snowfall matched our heavy steps.

The sound of the still silence in those moments was something special. I will never forget the feeling of being lost, yet completely connected with the present moment in an undefined space and time.

On the last day of snowboarding, the sun finally made an appearance. We were on our own and spent a good hour building a kicker, followed by another hour throwing 360s and occasional backflips, which didn't always turn out well.

Suddenly, it started snowing again. We treated ourselves to the best ramen we had by far at the lift restaurant and shortly after called the day as our leg muscles were completely shredded.

Heading back to the hotel, the only thing we could dream about was the final bath at the onsen that evening—a last dip that was truly unforgettable.

There were other epic episodes on this trip worth mentioning, but I'll save those for another chapter.

The trip to Japan was merely a step in a transformative journey that began just before it, shaped by Shintoism, maniacal perfectionism, untouched nature, adrenaline, failures, and successes.

This adventure began by manifesting itself even before I thought it could be possible, and it paved the way for new frontiers with a limitless mindset.