Our Story

Back in the early 2000s, I was invited to be the executive chef at an exclusive Australian ski resort. That’s when my passion for snow was born. I was already a skateboarder and an average surfer, but snowboarding had just hit my radar — and I absolutely loved it.

As a young chef, I had a deep fascination with Japanese food. The subtlety, the intricate balance of flavours, and the thoughtfulness behind creating incredible dishes with only a few ingredients blew my mind. I knew I had to learn more. So the first chance I got, I jumped on a plane to Japan.

Arriving in Kyoto, I fell completely in love with the place. I spent my days soaking up history, culture, and cuisine. I hiked nearly every trail, visited temples, and dined at the best restaurants over summer. When winter rolled around, it was time to ride — I hit the slopes in nearby Shiga and Gifu prefectures.

One night, over drinks in a tiny hole-in-the-wall bar, I heard stories of a small ski resort called Niseko, said to get a mind-blowing 16 meters of snow a season and home to the lightest powder on Earth. A few days later, I was on a bullet train headed north to Hokkaido.

Like many discovering Hokkaido back then, I arrived with little more than a snowboard, a backpack, and barely a sentence of Japanese to my name. I didn’t know much about the area or snow, especially not this much of it.

I landed a job managing a small lodge in the town of Rusutsu, about 25km from Niseko. I quickly realized I wasn’t the only one who’d dropped everything in search of powder. After two seasons there, I moved to Hirafu Village in Niseko to manage a much larger building.

Then came the mistake that changed everything.

One day, I hiked to the peak of the mountain via Hirafu Resort — back when it was still a sleepy Japanese ski town with unreal food and warm hospitality. I lost my hiking buddy (still have no idea where he ended up!) and, completely disoriented, took a wrong turn. I flew off a cornice, dropped over the back of the mountain, and landed in what felt like another world.

I’d stumbled into an untouched, steep powder field that went on forever — and took me miles from where I thought I needed to be.

But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

That mistake led me into the famous back bowl and down into the quiet village of Annupuri — a place that would eventually become my home.

Though my Japanese was still limited, I was an experienced chef and wasn’t afraid of hard work. I took on a management role at a lodge in Annupuri, which eventually led to managing several across the Niseko region. For years, I worked hard and saved every yen I could, dreaming of one day running my own place.

It was during those early years that I met Satoru — one of the kindest souls I’ve ever known. He was like a brother from another mother. Satoru ran a lodge too. He was a fellow boardrider, a professional chef, and he shared my love of music, vintage cars, and collectable snowboards. A true Annupuri local, he knew the mountain better than anyone, and he took me under his wing. He showed me all the secret stashes and the magic this place has to offer.

Years later, the opportunity to buy my dream lodge came up. It was thanks to my family and the support of the local community that I had the courage to take the leap. I was introduced to the owner of a beautiful chalet located just meters from the Annupuri Ski Resort. After many long conversations, a few bottles of sake, a handshake, and a deep bow — Lodge 401 Niseko was born.

The lodge was a classic Japanese pension built in the 1970s, around the time the ski resort first opened. I painstakingly renovated it, giving it new life while respecting its history. I had finally built my dream — the ultimate all-inclusive powderhound’s headquarters.

Lodge 401 Niseko opened its doors in December 2017.

That first season was intense — long days, even longer nights. We had a tight crew of seasonal staff who worked hard, played harder, and lived for the deep powder. I met people from all over the world, and many guests I’d looked after over the years came to support my new venture.

Despite the excitement, being a foreigner in Japan with limited language skills and running a business was tough. Finances were tight. I was lonely and constantly questioning my choices. But Lodge 401 had always been personal, and I was lucky to have the ongoing support of guests and friends who believed in the vision.

Tragically Satoru passed away shortly before I opened Lodge 401. His passing was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. It was a devastating loss for the Niseko community.

A year later, I visited his family to pay my respects. They had always been kind and supportive, and on that day, they introduced me to their friend, Zoey Kuo. I had no idea then that Zoey would become my wife, the mother of my daughter, and the missing piece of Lodge 401.

Today, Satoru’s legendary Gentemstick snowboard hangs in the centre of our guest lounge. I think about him often — how I probably never would have met Zoey without him, and how I might not even be here without his support and friendship.

I miss you mate….