The Rising Cost of Mountain Huts in Japan

Are Japan’s Mountain Huts Becoming a Luxury?

As the 2025 summer hiking season kicks into gear, one thing remains clear: staying in a mountain hut isn’t cheap—especially in the Northern Alps. At huts like Hakuba-yari Onsen-koya and Kiretto-goya, a one-night stay with two meals now costs around ¥16,000. Even opting for no meals (sudomari, 素泊まり) will still set you back ¥12,000—prices on par with budget city hotels. Tent sites offer some relief, but even these now run as high as ¥4,000 per night.

It’s a far cry from just a few years ago. In 2018, a stay with two meals cost ¥9,800, sudomari ¥6,800, and pitching a tent was a modest ¥1,000. While this isn’t to single out Hakuba-Yari Onsen-koya, it reflects a broader trend across Japan’s mountain hut network.

These once-humble refuges have long served as lifelines for hikers—providing shelter, warmth, and a shared sense of community amid Japan’s rugged alpine terrain. But as prices rise and new systems like online reservations and walk-in surcharges become standard, the question of who huts are for—and at what cost—grows ever more pressing.

The Rising Cost of Sudomari

Hikers once relied on basic “roof-only” sudomari plans to save money, but these no-frills stays have become increasingly expensive. At Karasawa Hütte in the Northern Alps, for example, a single night without meals now costs ¥12,000 during peak season—about 50% more than pre-COVID rates. While meals were once the main add-on, the base accommodation rate itself has risen significantly across the board, making what was once a budget-friendly option considerably less affordable for many hikers.

Karasawa Hütte Historical Pricing

*2025 prices include an additional ¥2,000 peak season levy (mid-Sept to mid-Oct).

Reservations vs. First-Come, First-Served

A growing number of huts now charge extra for unreserved guests. Nanatsuishi-goya in Okutama, for example, introduced a ¥2,000 fee for overnight walk-ins (and ¥1,000 for unreserved tent stays) starting in April 2025. Lodges under the Hakubakan umbrella go even further, adding a ¥3,000 surcharge for walk-ins and ¥2,000 for a campsite. While these fees are intended to encourage advance planning and ease the burden on hut operators, they may inadvertently penalise hikers who need to adjust plans due to bad weather or emergencies.

Japan’s huts have historically embraced a walk-in culture, with the motto: “We never turn anyone away”. COVID-19 forced a pivot to online reservations and reduced capacity. Even as restrictions ease, many huts have retained the system. While this ensures comfort and prevents overcrowding, it limits flexibility—particularly for those adapting to bad weather, changing itineraries, or lacking internet access on the trail.

Why Huts Are So Expensive

It’s easy to criticise price hikes, but running a mountain hut is a monumental challenge. The short season, unpredictable visitor numbers (due to increasingly frequent severe weather events), labour shortages, and soaring helicopter transport costs all play a role. Operators also contend with rising fuel prices, escalating supply costs, and growing labour expenses.

Helicopter companies, which once offered flat rates for supply drops, are shifting focus to more profitable public works contracts. With skilled pilots in short supply and mountain weather notoriously fickle, logistics are now a premium service—and hut owners are left footing the bill.

Who Can Still Afford the Mountains?

Perhaps the most pressing concern is who gets left behind. As hut prices rise, the backcountry risks becoming a luxury reserved for the well-heeled. For students, families, or younger hikers—especially those lacking lightweight gear for self-sufficiency, or a steady income to absorb hut fees—the cost can be prohibitive.

Recognising the growing cost barrier, some efforts are afoot to make hiking more accessible. The Yarigatake Sanso Group, for example, offers a ¥6,000 discount for elementary school students, ¥3,000 off for junior high and high school students, and tent site fees reduced to just ¥1,000 for university students and younger. Similarly, Hakubakan lodges provide a ¥6,000 discount for elementary school students, a ¥3,000 discount for students of all levels, and ¥1,000 off tent sites—though these discounts typically exclude the peak summer and autumn seasons. Still, such initiatives remain the exception rather than the norm.

What Could Change

So, what’s the way forward? Some possibilities include:

• Sliding scale pricing: Adjusting rates by weekday vs. weekend or age group to encourage broader participation.

• Tiered accommodations: Offering a range from full-service lodgings to bare-bones “refuge huts” for emergencies or self-supported hikers.

• Public funding or subsidies: Recognising mountain huts as semi-public infrastructure, given their important role in national parks.

• Better communication and transparency: Helping hikers understand what goes into pricing—and what their fees help support.

At the very least, there needs to be room for flexibility—especially in the face of changeable mountain weather. Striking a balance between sustainability, safety, and accessibility is no easy feat. If current trends continue unchecked, the mountains risk becoming less egalitarian than ever. With prices climbing and access narrowing, it’s worth asking: what kind of hut culture do we want to see in the years ahead?

As someone who’s spent the odd night in Japan’s huts, I hope we can find a way that keeps these spaces open, welcoming, and within reach for all. The mountains shouldn’t become the preserve of those who can afford to pay a premium. Keeping huts accessible is a challenge—but it’s one the hiking community must take seriously.