“What is your favorite prefecture?”
If I got 100 yen every time someone asked me this, I would probably have enough to fund my own rural tourism campaign by now, complete with cultish pamphlets and questionable daikon mascot.
Coming from a tropical country basically means I have spent my entire life in sweltering heat, perpetually sweaty shirts, and weather forecasts that are completely useless, which probably explains why I am endlessly drawn to what I cannot have.
A world of silver fluff. Air so crisp and quiet it actually hurts your face a little.
After traveling all 47 prefectures, twice, somewhere along the way it stopped being about ticking boxes and started becoming about noticing patterns, and one pattern stood out very clearly: there are places you visit once for the experience, and then there are places you feel strangely compelled to return to, without even knowing why.
For me, the northern part of Akita Prefecture is one of those places. It has quietly turned into an almost yearly routine.
Kita Akita
For those who aren’t geography nerds, Kita Akita refers to the northern part of Akita Prefecture, a stretch of towns and mountain areas that feel distinctly different from the southern side of the prefecture. It includes places like Odate and the mountainous Ani and Moriyoshi area, quietly existing up there among forests, rivers, heavy snow, and communities that function at a completely different rhythm from the cities.
In this article, I want to share my two favorite things about Kita Akita, the two reasons that keep pulling me back year after year, along with some of the most unique experiences you can only have here, experiences that don’t feel manufactured for visitors but instead feel like you’ve stepped into something that was already happening long before you arrived.
Odate, the home of Hachiko
If I really had to narrow it down, the first reason is very obvious: Akita Inu.
Odate, a city in northern Akita, is officially known as the birthplace of the Akita Inu, and while many people associate these majestic dogs with the statue of Hachiko outside Shibuya Station in Tokyo, what most don’t realize is that Hachiko himself was born right here in Odate.
In Tokyo, Hachiko is a meeting point. A cliched landmark. A selfie backdrop with endless tourists. In Odate, he is just a local boy who made it big.
If you are going all the way to Odate for Akita Inu, which you absolutely should, there are a few places that make the experience feel more complete than just spotting a fluffy celebrity and going home.
First, the Akita Dog Museum. A compact, slightly old-school, and very earnest, which honestly makes it even better. You get to see archival photos, documents about the preservation of the breed, and learn how close the Akita Inu once came to disappearing during difficult periods in history. It adds context. Suddenly this isn’t just a cute dog story, it’s about cultural identity and protection.
Then there’s Akita Inu no Sato, located right near Odate Station.
This is where you can sometimes meet actual Akita Inu up close. Not through a screen. Not zoomed in from across a fence. Properly. In person. The facility also doubles as a tourist information center, which means you walk in for fluffy therapy and walk out accidentally educated about the entire region. Efficient.
And when you see an Akita Inu sitting calmly against a backdrop of snow all over its prefetctural tourism posters, you start to understand why this region holds onto them so tightly. Fluffy northern royalty is very hard to resist.
And recently, Odate added another very therapeutic spot: Akita Dog Café, a brand-new café that opened right in town where you don’t just see Akita dogs from a distance or behind glass… you actually get to encounter them up close while sipping a drink and trying your best not to embarrass yourself with how loudly you coo at every wagging tail.
Two very friendly Akita dogs — Mutsu and Genta — will greet you with delightfully enthusiastic tails. The concept is simple but effective: for an entry fee that includes a drink and about thirty minutes of interaction (with options to just visit or just have coffee too), you can pet, play, and take photos with the dogs, and even treat them a snack!
Matagi: Japan’s Ancient Hunter-Gatherer
If I had to name one culture in Akita that fascinates me the most, it would definitely be the matagi.
While the current world slowly swings back toward ancestral living, traditional skills, and reconnecting with something older than modern convenience, the matagi have quietly been doing exactly that for centuries without needing to call it a trend.
Right now, globally, everyone seems to be tracing their way back from the material world to the intangible, from overconsumption to self-sufficiency, from hyper-connectivity to silence, and there are entire industries built around selling this idea of “returning to basics.” Meanwhile, in the mountains of northern Akita, there are communities whose entire philosophy has always been rooted in survival, respect, and living within the limits of nature.
There is so much to learn there.
The matagi are traditional winter hunters of northern Japan, particularly in regions like Ani and around Mount Moriyoshi. Their history stretches back as far as over 10,000 years ago in pre-Jomon era, where hunting was never treated as recreation or sport. It was a means of survival in some of Japan’s harshest winter environments. But more than that, it was structured around strict rituals and communal codes. The mountains were considered sacred territory. Before entering, they prayed. After a successful bear hunt, the animal was treated with respect and the meat distributed within the community fairly and absolutely nothing was wasted.
Through Oriyama-san of Oriyamake, a humble little guest house deep in the Moriyoshi woods, I had the chance to step into that world, even if only briefly. We stayed the night in his guesthouse, warming ourselves with a bubbling pot of kiritanpo hotpot while Oriyama-san shared stories of local matagi.
The next morning, we hiked into the deep winter forest, and I need to clarify something here because snow is very aesthetic until you are physically walking through it in a pair of traditional kanjiki — snowshoes that strap onto your boots and distribute your weight so you don’t sink straight down. The snow was deep enough that every step required commitment, and within minutes I understood that this was not a backdrop but an environment that demands awareness. Oriyama-san moved through it with calm familiarity, explaining how the matagi traditionally read the forest, how they respected boundaries, how survival was never separated from spirituality.
Later, we shaved kuromoji wood to make our own chopsticks and prepared bear hotpot together which he hunted last autumn. Bear is part of matagi tradition, and historically it was shared within the community as sustenance, especially during long winters. The broth was rich and deeply warming, and holding the warm bowls with our icy fingers after sinking ourselves knee-deep in the snow snow made immediate sense in a way that no fine dining experience ever quite does.
In a world where we are constantly trying to reconstruct that connection through books, podcasts, and expensive retreats, it was humbling to witness a culture that never severed it in the first place.
Unique Experiences
Beyond the dogs and the mountains, what really makes Kita Akita memorable are the hands-on experiences you can’t easily replicate elsewhere, from learning how venison is prepared with a 16th-generation matagi to rolling up your sleeves and making your own miso the old-fashioned way.
1. Mt Moriyoshi’s Snow Monsters
One of the most surreal winter sights in Kita Akita has to be the snow monsters of Mount Moriyoshi. These aren’t decorative snow-covered trees that look politely frosted for Instagram. They are massive formations called juhyō, created when strong winds carry moisture that freezes layer upon layer onto the trees until their original shape completely disappears. The result is a forest of towering white figures that look slightly alien and mildly intimidating, especially when you’re standing among them trying to keep your eyelashes from freezing.
You can access them via the ropeway at Ani Ski Resort, which gradually lifts you from normal winter scenery into something that feels almost otherworldly.
2. Venison Processing with a Local Matagi
Spending time with a local matagi and learning how venison is processed after a hunt was easily one of the most eye-opening experiences one may have in Kita Akita. I joined Kakeru-san, a young matagi who also happens to be the 16th generation in his family line, which immediately makes you realize this is not a hobby or a weekend identity but something deeply inherited.
For most of us, meat appears in tidy supermarket packaging, completely disconnected from the effort and reality behind it. With a knife in your hand, even briefly, you begin to understand in a very direct way how food reaches the table and how life here is sustained through very real and honest processes.
And if you want to see how that same mountain harvest transforms into something entirely different, you can later book dinner at Boire Un Coup, where local game like venison is prepared with French technique but still firmly rooted in northern Akita.
Website: https://www.boire-un-coup.com/
3. Cooking experience with Maki at Gokigen Cabin
If you love interacting with the locals, cooking with Maki-san would be your perfect activity. We joined a side-by-side rice tasting, where you get to sample rice from different local farmers and compare them properly (given that there are more than 1 participant). One might be slightly sweeter, another firmer, another softer and almost creamy.
The meal itself is built around very simple home cooking. Seasonal vegetables, miso soup, small dishes that reflect the daily live of local residents here.
And if you’re not ready to leave just yet, Maki-san also offers a stay at her guest house, which feels like the natural extension of the experience.
Maki san’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gokigen_cabin/
4. Miso Making with Akiko
If you think miso is just that brown paste sitting quietly in your fridge, this experience will reset that assumption very quickly.
Joining a session with Akiko-san is not a cooking class in the conventional sense. You’re there to understand fermentation, and more specifically, to understand the power of koji.
Koji, the mold culture that drives so much of Japanese fermentation, is responsible for miso, soy sauce, sake, and a huge part of Japan’s culinary backbone. During the session, Akiko-san explains how miso is built slowly, how time does most of the work, and how fermentation is less about control and more about creating the right environment and then trusting the process.
Making miso with your own hands feels surprisingly grounding. You mix, knead, press, seal in a traditional Akita cedar wood barrel. And then you wait. Months, sometimes longer. There’s something almost rebellious about that pace in a world that expects instant results. And understanding that context makes you look at a simple bowl of miso soup very differently.
Akiko san’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/miso_akikokoyama/
Bonus: A Home-Cooked Lunch with Kimiko
If you want a bonus food stop that feels like you discovered a secret, this is it. Gateau Mignon is a scozy house café in a quiet settlement surrounded by nature, and it almost feels like you are visiting an old friend’s home!
The lunch typical features a course meal of a hearty soup, pizza or pasta for the main, plus a delicious sweets plate and a drink. Gateau Mignon is by reservation only, since Kimiko-san runs everything herself, so make sure you book in advance.
Website: https://studio-leon.net/gateau_mignon/
Final Thoughts
I sometimes ask myself why I keep revisiting certain places. After all, once you’ve seen something iconic, you’ve seen it. A gold pagoda is beautiful, but you don’t necessarily want to see it five times.
It took me a while to realize that, in the end, it’s about the people.
Kita Akita is the kind of place where you bond over a bear hotpot, mash soybeans and even missing a flight because the snow decided it had its own schedule that day. Those are not brochure moments. They are mildly inconvenient, slightly chaotic, completely unpolished moments.
And somehow, those are the ones that stay with you. The shared table. The shared stories.
If you’re curious about experiencing it for yourself — the festivals, the food, the forests, the dogs, the deeply human moments — start here:
PS: If you enjoy this article or find it helpful, it would mean the world if you could help me support Japan by buying a daikon!
