Hakuunro (ghost) Hotel

In the late '50s, this hotel resort was Japan's finest place to vacation. It gained it's fame when the emperor came here to swim in the Olympic-size pool and lounge around in the fresh mountain air. The original hotel was a massive structure designed by Frank Loyd Wright in Italian style on a mountain, overlooking the tiny, rural town below.

However, sometimes in the 70s it started losing money and more and more parts were gradually shut down until it was finally abandoned in 1998. The glorious path leading past choirs of fountains and lines of twisted cherry trees was left ungroomed. The small boom town that grew around the resort was cut off from the world. Some people had built their own houses in the hills leading to the enormous palace; these too went unsold, uninhabited and became overgrown with plants.

On Monday, Akiko and I decided to sneak into the abandoned hotel to take some pictures. We woke up early because we heard that during the day there's a guard who makes sure the antiques stay inside the empty building. Despite the ugly fact that we were awake at 6am, the sunrise over the mountains was stunning.

Unfortunately, when we arrived there, it seems the dead hotel really had died. There was a gaping hole in the skyline above the small, mountain town — a haunting emptiness on the mountain. It turns out the hotel was torn down last month by the government, due to danger of collapse. Yes, there was a moment of disbelief, but we decided to brave the overgrown grand entrance to see what was left of the village around it.

The only remains of the hotel was the giant swimming pool. It had partially been used as a dump site, and the workers constructed a dyke to contain some water. It was immense though, and the tile gave hints of the splendor of this ghost hotel.

Along the wide road, which likely led tour buses zig-zagging their way up the mountain passed grandiose, empty fountains and waterfalls, we spotted a house in the forest. There was an mossy, overgrown path, covered in snow. The house looked like a traditional Japanese one, made from mostly wood an paper.

Along one wall, some fruit-bearing vine had grown. There were two levels, and one wall had entirely caved in. So we snuck in. The interior was littered with family articles, mostly kitchen stuff, shoes, as well as a rotary telephone. The tatami was rotten and collapsed back into the earth, but if you stepped on the beams, you could make your way through the house.
The stairs seemed remarkably stable and the upstairs had a lot more furniture — probably stuff they didn't want to carry down the stairs and over the little pathway to the big road. The massive windows let light shine through the vines and the ripped paper screens. This room had the feel of a family bedroom, now tenanted by trailing plants. The ceiling inside also had a leafy covering and one vine curled itself along the electrical cord of a single hanging light bulb.

The calendar was dated March 1973, using western numbers.

Farther up the hill we found, amongst other things, a school house, a replica Edo Period theme park, and an exhibition hall. This complex, contained offices and storage, as well as a small museum. The roof had partially collapsed, and through the window I spotted an old-skool vending machine.

Here you can see the collapsed roof. Inside were replica artifacts from Samurai times. But the real treasure was to be found in the field behind the building. From afar it looked like a grassy garbage dump. But once we got closer and started peeling away the vines and weeds, we found gold!

An abandoned fire truck! The siren is still an analogue one, that works with a fan. The dump site was actually a vehicle grave yard, with a few service vehicles and motor bikes. The bikes were being pulled into the ground by the roots of plants, but the firetruck was still in good condition...relatively, speaking of course.

fig 9: the last resting place of so many cars

This place must be so green in summer. I bet you wouldn't be able to find half the buildings in the forest when all the walls are green.

After we finished a few rolls of film and my digi-cam was running out of memory and battery power, we headed back down the long, snaking road to the village below and took a dip in the hot spring. A good beginning to the day; it was still only 10:00am!

Here's an article about it from 2002. Unfortunately, I was unable to find any pictures of it during it's glory days.