Oh my dear boys, wake up, wake up! It's bluebird out there! So there we were, into the world's smallest one-piece bathroom, down to the 1970s breakfast room and out into the cold. Guten Morgen Furano!
Bit of a leg-burner on the massive wide open pistes at first as without any new neige, things were starting off a bit crusty. Poor old Toby was stuck with Princess Michael and the Egyptian Snoring Love-God for the morning "Oh but Toby, we need you to show us around the entire mountain, on piste". FFS, why the hell have you come on a "powder tour" to Japan if you want to ride on piste.
Meanwhile, the brothers were struggling thanks to Alan. Time for a bit of Weider Energy Gel "supplying carbohydrates equivalent to one rice ball". No, that's not so good. "Now we know how it feels for the girls" said Jarmarl. A bit of a lumpy one. Still, we seemed to regain something or other and headed under the ropes. Now they're not too keen on you going off piste in Furano. Ok, so all of the other skifields have signs warning you, but nobody's really bothered. Here though, I think I racked up 3 warnings in the first hour. 3 strikes and you're out?
Couple of days since any real neige here and still we managed to find ourselves deep in the fluffy white stuff. Rode a sweet line under one of the lifts for most of the avo. This started with timing it right so the lifties didn't see you duck the rope (with the big red KEEP OUT sign!), staying low so they didn't catch you coming round the corner, then nailing it into the trees. Damn good lines down here, roosters till the end of the day! Last bit was a bit sketchy though as had to straightline it down a steep, onto a tight bridge, 90 degree turn, unclip, run, strap in again and get out of there right under the nose of the bottom lifty. None of which was helped by a) wearing bright green jackets and b) Jarmarl standing at the bottom filming us (no, they're not my friends). I reckon they must've got bored of telling us as we managed the last run without even a look from them. 
One-Piece Action and a Dutch Oven
Yep, there's always one. Check out this beauty. And on the way back, how about a Dutch Oven? 40-0 no contest.
To the Onsen
So there we were stuck with a choice. 1 hour Bus trip to a traditional Onsen, with Princess Michaela and the Egyptian Freak. Or, nail some vodka and hit the communal bath in the hotel. Vodka it is then. Wigs and Kimonos on, off downstairs we went. Ok, so what's the deal here? 3 naked Japanese men in the bath, lots of little plastic stools (no Dan Black not that sort) and only Japanese instructions. Bags not playing this game. We gave careful consideration to "bombing" in to the bath, but not being black belts in taekwondo thought the better of it. Back to the vodka it is then.
Pork Rectum with Salt
The brothers were in need of a good feed, so out into the -15c to downtown Furano. Got ourselves into this awesome Korean Barbeque, where we'd been recommended to try the "Genghis Khan" dishes - just some way that the meat is prepared I think. Anyway, that was all good, but there was one dish that we couldn't miss on the menu. In there amongst the Pork Tongue and Chicken Gizzards, there she was "Port Rectum with Salt mix". Straight in, no kissing. Was it any good? Hmm, it had the consistency of squid that had been cooked for 5 years, the taste of bad bacon and the smell lingered on our clothes for several days. Still, it all washed down ok with some Asahi stout.
Just a wee nightcap
Back to a Tyrolean bar near the hotel for a warm sake. Sloth stumbling around packing in the room, not realising he'd left everybody down in the foyer. Mark calls up "Masi-masi?" says Sloth in his old Japanese woman's voice. "Sorry, must have the wrong number" says Mark. Repeat this another couple of times. Back to you. "Bring the vodka". Oh holy crap. So there we all were down in the empty hotel foyer around the fire nailing a big bottle of Absolut. Then Sake, then beers. That should set us up nicely for the morning then.
Well that was a nice story, thanks Mr Fancy. Here's the photos.