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The Mazda MX-5 RF: the all-seasons sports car

The snow-covered Japanese island of Hokkaido gives the Mazda MX-5 RF a chance to show off in extreme conditions.

The most tempting thing to do would be to turn around. To head back to the Mazda depot and ask if they have a Mazda CX-5 or a Mazda CX-3—something with i-Activ all-wheel drive. The northern Japanese island of Hokkaido is completely blanketed in snow—more than I’ve ever seen before. And I am driving a Mazda MX-5.

A low-slung, rear-wheel drive roadster is not the obvious choice of transportation around here. But this MX-5 is the RF, its retractable roof making it a genuine all-season sports car. Or, at least, that’s what I’m about to find out. This car, and every Mazda besides, was honed on Hokkaido at Mazda’s Kenbuchi Proving Ground testing facility.

“The road is an endless white sheet, layer upon layer of compacted snow and ice, and it takes a little time to work out the best approach just to get moving.”

With winter temperatures plummeting into double-digits below freezing, this is where Mazda pushes its new models to their limits. Every component, from wheel nuts to heating systems, brakes and stability control, is tested to extremes. And so are Mazda’s engineers, who live here during the long, cold winter months.

Bitterly cold it may be, but Hokkaido is also very beautiful. And I’m aiming to see as much of it as I can in the next couple of days from the unique vantage point of the MX-5 RF. The cabin of this Japanese-specification MX-5 RF is really rather lovely. A deep nappa leather envelops the seats and it takes a mere matter of seconds to get comfortable behind the wheel. The controls, steering wheel and pedals have been positioned to make you feel instantly at one with the car. That’s Mazda’s philosophy of Jinba Ittai—car and driver as one—at work, even before you start the engine.

Hokkaido is Japan’s second largest island, its landscape forged by millennia of seismic activity, and there are more than 20 active volcanoes. You’re never far from the smell of sulphur or other earthly emanations, but the trade-off is that the land itself is tremendously rich. Dense green forests cover vast swaths of the island, feeding a prolific paper trade, while flat plains are home to a huge farming industry. Hokkaido’s delicious pumpkins and potatoes, as well as milk and beef from its cattle, feed the whole of Japan. But in the winter you wouldn’t know it. Only the eerie skeletal structures of polytunnels or the occasional sign advertising the presence of Holstein cows suggest the abundance that the warmer summer months bring.

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With a quick kick to check the winter tires and a prod of the heated-seat switch (which is an obvious option for driving a car in these sub-zero temperatures), it’s time to head off. The road is an endless white sheet, layer upon layer of compacted snow and ice, and it takes a little time to work out the best approach just to get moving. However, after a bit of experimentation, I find that a manual shift to second gear, using the paddle mounted on the steering column, is the best way to get going. In fact, manual mode seems to suit both me and the conditions better, allowing early upshifts to avoid overpowering the rear tires. There’s the promise of much sideways fun to come, but I’m now approaching the serenity of the Kenbuchi Shinto shrine and it’s hardly the place for that kind of behaviour. So I step out and ring the temple’s huge bell for good luck instead—I may need it.

With visibility getting worse and night closing in, I think it’s best to take the Hokkaido Expressway towards Sapporo, my overnight stop. At higher speeds and on clear asphalt, the RF is remarkably refined. With the roof up, exterior noise is kept to a minimum and the journey passes quickly.

Sapporo is a city of almost two million people, where the winter is made more manageable with such feats of weather-defying engineering as heated streets and sidewalks. I put the car in the hotel’s automated parking facility—simply park on a turntable, get out and watch in awe as the car is whisked away by robots to some unseen spot. A good reason for leaving the car behind is that Sapporo is home to Japan’s first brewery, founded in 1876. Sapporo’s namesake lager goes down very well with a steaming hot bowl of ramen.

The morning brings clear skies and, although the outside temperature gauge reads -10°C, I decide to enjoy the sun while it lasts and drop the roof of the RF. After warming the engine (and the seats), I press the switch and just 13 seconds later the roof has been stowed away, thanks to a mechanical ballet that draws approval and some disbelief from the locals.

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“I press the switch and just 13 seconds later the roof has been stowed away, thanks to a mechanical ballet that draws approval and some disbelief from the locals.”

With hat and gloves on, heater blowing, and a posterior that is gently toasting, I leave Sapporo behind. The built-in wind deflector means there’s little buffeting, and it’s only when I have reached the Nakayama Pass an hour to the south, and the snow has begun to fall in earnest, that I raise the roof again. Slowing right down to a near-walking pace, the precision performance takes place in reverse as the roof goes up and I’m soon peeling off layers of clothing as it’s so snug inside.

At this time of year the Hokkaido snow itself is the main attraction. Widely regarded as the best powder on the planet, it draws visitors from all over the world to a growing number of ski resorts. Top of the list for many is Niseko. The area is booming, with the number of fine restaurants, hotels and luxury homes growing year by year. Think of it as Japan’s Aspen.

Many travellers, like Canadian Andrew Spragg, end up staying. The founder of Rising Sun Guides, he specializes in guiding groups of adventurous skiers and snowboarders in the back-country areas, away from the busy slopes. Andrew has been in Niseko since 2005 and still gets excited when there’s a fresh dump of snow. “If you want to ski pow [powder] then this is the place,” he says.

There are many ways to ascend the mountains, from the resort’s lifts to snowmobiles, caterpillar-tracked vehicles or even helicopters, and one that’s becoming increasingly popular, says Andrew, is splitboarding. As the name suggests, a splitboard is a snowboard that can be split in two (lengthways) to effectively form two skis. The bindings can be switched around and sticky “skins” applied for traction, allowing the rider to hike to places that could not be reached by snowboard. When the rider gets to their desired starting point, they simply re-assemble and board down, carving fresh tracks in the waist-deep powder. It sounds like heaven.

Later that day I head an hour south to Lake Tōya where the extraordinary Windsor Hotel Tōya Resort & Spa has been built with views of the lake on one side and the Sea of Japan on the other. It has its own ski slope, golf course and spa. Not a bad spot to wind up at.

Turning off the main road onto the hotel’s lengthy private drive, I switch off the car’s traction control and carve a few turns, steering more with throttle than wheel, relishing the astonishing balance of this MX-5 RF as it powerslides with grace and poise through the frigid winter night. It’s a fitting end to the trip, a reminder of just how fun to drive the Mazda MX-5 RF really is. But what I have also discovered after long hours behind the wheel, in sometimes highly treacherous conditions, is how comfortable and confidence-inspiring it is, no matter what the road or the weather throws at it. This truly is the sports car for all seasons.

Words Nik Berg / Images Eric Micotto

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