The dawn mission: Witnessing the cult of ice

Have you ever heard of “Jewelry Ice?” It’s fundamentally different from sea drift ice; it’s highly transparent, diamond-like freshwater ice that forms at a river mouth. After drifting briefly in the sea, the pieces get rounded and polished before being washed ashore. This phenomenon, according to Wikipedia, occurs almost exclusively along the coast of a specific small town in Hokkaido.

Last weekend, I undertook the 200km mission to see it. I learned that dawn is the best time, as the rising sun reflects off the ice, maximizing its beauty. I stayed nearby, arrived before 5 a.m., and endured the extreme cold to await the sunrise.

The ice was indeed stunning, but honestly, what impressed me more was the sheer number of people gathered there. More than 100 people—including foreigners—in the middle of nowhere, before dawn, in punishing weather. Some people were even lying flat on the freezing ground, aiming huge telephoto lenses at the ice. I, for one, hated having to take my hands out of my pockets just to snap a couple of photos (which I begrudgingly took for this article), so I felt a terror that exceeded respect for these dedicated photographers. But do not judge me a lazy failure! This very diversity is what allowed humanity to flourish. [Note: The images uploaded here are ones I took. Please visit the town’s official website for pictures that truly capture its nature.]

This pilgrimage—this cult of dedicated viewers—highlights the incredible power of a simple idea.

The magic of naming: From river trash to global treasure

I was born and raised in Hokkaido, but I had never heard of “Jewelry Ice” when I was young. My memory is correct: according to Wikipedia, this natural phenomenon was officially named “Jewelry Ice” by a local teacher in 2012.

The phenomenon itself didn’t suddenly appear in 2012; the ice has been washing up there from time immemorial. Local people recall kicking the ice pieces around the beach when they were kids, treating them like worthless river trash. No one paid any attention until someone decided to give it a beautiful name and share beautiful images.

Don’t you find this amazing? A local resident gave this previously worthless ice a magnificent name, shared the images, and suddenly, this small, nameless town became a major sightseeing spot attracting people from overseas.

If it had been named “River Ice” or “Freshwater Ice,” it would have remained ignored. The name “Jewelry Ice” is a masterstroke. This success is not just economic; it’s a triumph of perception. People find and appreciate a new natural wonder, local residents gain pride in their hometown, and the economic benefits flow naturally because money is, in essence, a form of appreciation for perceived value.

The pursuit of ‘Jewelry Wood’

I know the secret is not just good naming; that would be simplistic. The core challenge is learning how to find new, compelling value in common things or everyday occurrences.

However, my inflexible mind keeps clinging to the easiest path: renaming or redefining our products (wooden furniture).

If ordinary ice can become globally famous by transforming into “Jewelry Ice,” what can we achieve? What if we called it “Jewelry Wood?” Perhaps it’s not the name itself, but the deliberate act of reframing the material—highlighting the transparent, diamond-like quality of the resin in the knots, or the rare light reflected by the grain—that matters.

We must find the “Jewelry Ice” moment for our furniture, where we stop seeing it as mere wood and start seeing the breathtaking, polished treasure it truly is.

---

Shungo Ijima

He is travelling around the world. His passion is to explain Japan to the world, from the unique viewpoint accumulated through his career: overseas posting, MBA holder, former official of the Ministry of Finance.

---