Awe and Peace

Away from the bustle of Japan’s tourist centres exists a serene, less-trodden world; a region of magical forests, sublime mountain vistas and—if you’re driving the new Ferrari Purosangue—no shortage of zen moments.

By Noelle Faulkner 30/06/2025

THE JAPANESE CONCEPT of ikigai has in recent years been co-opted by pop culture, owing to a collective desire to find balance in a changing world. This ancient ideology presents a reason for being, and encompasses passion, pleasure, purpose and fulfilment, both within the self and society.

Last year—a time of turbulence, uncertainty and unrest—challenged ikigai for many people, myself included. So when an invitation landed on my desk to join Ferrari on one of its legendary Grand Tours across the lesser-travelled regions of Japan in the Purosangue super GT, I considered it a sign. What else could restore equilibrium, at least momentarily, than some pure on-road pleasure-seeking, bolstered by an automotive brand that seems to inspire ikigai in everything it touches.

For three decades Grand Tours—exclusive driving events arranged for Ferrari owners—have been a tradition at the Italian marque, held across some of the world’s most challenging and spectacular tarmac. For non-participating mortals, these experiences are still a thrilling event to follow from afar, and consistently provide bucket-list routes to replicate.

Indeed, the expression “grand tour” came from a 17th-century Italian guidebook and grew to become synonymous with a pilgrimage of spirituality, creativity or a coming of age. You could say we’re just modernising Italian tradition on this jaunt.

Photography: Courtesy of Ferrari.
Above left: The Purosangue in the shadow of Mt. Fuji. Above right: On the road in rural Japan, where few travellers ever venture.

Our trip takes us to the Venus Line, a stretch of driving nirvana that hugs woodlands and wildflower-studded rolling hills, offering expansive mountain views.

Our inaugural Purosangue Japanese odyssey begins in the verdant forests of Matsumoto in Nagano Prefecture, four hours’ drive from Tokyo, where we arrive at the Tobira Onsen Myojinkan, a sublimely secluded spa hotel surrounded by babbling brooks, hot springs and lush flora.

Opened in 1931, it’s maintained its Shōwa-era aesthetic; the zen interior of my room, where a traditional bento banquet of textures and flavours await my arrival, is a sensory exhale of the finest expression.

The first leg of our 500 km, two-day trip from the Japanese Alps to the sea takes us to the Venus Line in Nagano, a 76 km stretch of driving nirvana that hugs woodlands and wildflower-studded rolling hills, offering expansive mountain views.

We’re off to a slow and careful start, traversing tight, twisty forest roads. But at least it gives us time to get to know the car and its features.

Production on the 6.5-litre, V12 Purosangue is limited, bucking the trend of other supercar and GT manufacturers like Aston Martin, Maserati and Lamborghini, who all leaned on the SUV as a sales-volume play.

Ferrari has decided to keep it exclusive to existing customers, which the Prancing Horse is wont to do; its purchase-ladder strategy is a hallmark of ownership.

The high-riding Purosangue is certainly not a small car, especially for a Ferrari, but it’s smoothly sculpted to hide its size, in both looks, aero slipperiness and manoeuvrability—meaning that on these constricted roads it’s dreamy and rarely anxiety-inducing.

It’s also the first Ferrari designed to comfortably fit four adults front and back—thanks to reverse-opening “comfort” (or suicide) doors in the rear.

Curiously, the cars in our press fleet are left-hand-drive, perhaps a curious choice given that Japan, like Australia, drives on the left. But I’m told Japanese customers can choose either configuration, as having the wheel on the left is considered a cultural sign of affluence.

On the road in rural Japan, where few travellers ever venture.

We make our way through the Venus Line, along long meandering turns, eventually stopping at the Kirigamine Venus Line Muryo Parking Lot, where a quaint cash-only shop selling souvenirs and soft-serve matcha looks over the alpine scenery.

It’s on this road section that we get our first proper taste of the Purosangue’s razor-sharp steering and sonorous V12, capable of 533 kW at 7,750rpm, and 715 Nm.

As we descend towards Lake Suwa, we encounter Suwa Taisha Kamisha Honmiya, one of the oldest and most prominent shrines in the region, dating back to at least the 7th century.

Here, our cars will be blessed for “safety”, “traffic forgiveness” and “good driving” by Shinto priests (Shinto being Japan’s most observed religion), known as kannushi or shinshoku—a common practice performed via donation.

The fleet of press cars is blessed for good luck by Shinto priests.

We line up our Ferraris near the shrine’s gate and open the doors, bonnet and boot before three kannushi in traditional dress make their way around each car, bowing and shaking a mop-like object to the pounding of a drum. It’s a moving ritual, drawing a crowd.

After more snake-like roads, passing tiny villages and even tinier Japanese cars, we spend the night at the serene, modernist Retreat Fore, another onsen hotel, nestled in the forests of Mt. Hakone.

The following morning, we start early with a packed breakfast as we have at least 210 km of road to devour in our Purosangue—including the legendary Hakone Skyline, one of the most famous driving roads on the planet.

This 5 km ribbon, with 58 turns and an elevation of 169 m, is iconic not only because it’s been etched into motorsport history and pop culture (including the epic Japanese street racing anime series Initial D), but it also presents a breathtaking panorama of Mt. Fuji, which has graced us with a rare, cloud-free presence.

The locals tell me another well-known element of this fabled toll road is that it’s rarely patrolled by police. I can feel the horns in my forehead grow.

Hakone Skyline doesn’t disappoint. The smooth tarmac is lined with flowering blossoms and, most pertinently, traffic-free—and a few runs up and down start to reveal the Purosangue’s technical wizardry.

Outside the Shichiken brewery in Hokuto Yamanashi.

Aside from that glorious V12—a dying breed of engine, sadly—its suspension dynamics are a game-changer.

Usually, a high-riding car at speed will start to roll and pitch naturally. Too much sideways lean and forward and rear pitch can make a performance machine feel imprecise, less planted, and well, less supercar-y.

To fix this, Ferrari sought to challenge the laws of physics by putting sensors and little motors on each axle to control the angle at which the car yaws, affording it added grip.

Out here, at speed on those 58 turns, the Purosangue glues to the road like a much lower car, and never loses feel, as it snarls its way between the road’s toll booths at each end.

It’s a laugh-out-loud joy, and as my emotional cup runs over, I mentally tip my hat to Ferrari—the Prancing Horse’s passion for engineering detail is unmatched.

Taking in fleeting Mt. Fuji cameos along various stops, we head east via Kanazawa to Yoshihama Beach, where the road follows the coastline around Sagami Bay, until we hit Odawara, home to Enoura Observatory and the Odawara Art Foundation—designed by lauded contemporary artist and architect Hiroshi Sugimoto (who held his biggest exhibition to date at the MCA in Sydney last year).

It’s an arresting gallery that extends towards the water, granting unbroken sight lines to the Boso Peninsula and Oshima Island.

Sugimoto’s placid, contemplative works hang in an exquisite minimal architectural space designed to align with the solstices and the horizon, mirroring the practice of ikigai in its own unique way; optical glass reflects the sky above, while patinated metal speaks to the slow process of the natural world.

It’s a meditative spot designed for exhaling, reminding visitors of the power of place, nature and the impact of our presence.

I find myself caught in a moment of gratitude, thinking about the influence that artists like Sugimoto wield and their ability to elicit emotion—a talent, you could argue, echoed by those auto artisans at Maranello.

En route to Tokyo, sea to our right, sun high in the sky, my co-driver adds to the vibes by cranking the epic 21-speaker, 1,420-watt Burmester sound system.

We land on a digital station playing ’90s dance classics; even on the radio, Japan knows how to niche down with perfection.

Ferrari has an audio and acoustic engineering department in-house, and the system is cabin-tuned to meticulous clarity, and acts as a much-needed energy injection as we spear towards the Daikoku PA car park, in Yokohama—a must-visit for any enthusiast of so-called JDM (Japanese Domestic Market) cars.

Via a bird’s nest of highway bridges, we descend into the nondescript expanse of concrete to see what awaits. Despite the prosaic backdrop, Daikoku PA is considered the beating heart of car-spotter culture in Japan, famous for its meets on Sunday mornings and Friday nights.

You’ll often be greeted with supercars, modified JDM dream machines and other two- and four-wheeled oddities.

Midweek, our convoy of Purosangues becomes the main event but, still, we spy a handful of exciting machines, such as a Honda NSX, a few Subaru WRXs and some adorable, minuscule Japanese-spec Toyotas.

Perhaps it was too much to ask for onsens and a cloud-free view of Mt. Fuji. At least the Shinto traffic blessing seems to have worked well.

On the way into Tokyo, I mentally recap the journey, trying to pinpoint where, in the practice of ikigai, the Purosangue ends and Japan begins.

The concept itself doesn’t have hard-set waypoints, and it cannot be found in a single trip, no matter how many roads we traverse.

Like the Purosangue, ikigai is more about adaptability and the passion found in the way we experience things, and a lesson that every path moves you towards purpose.

After all, reaching ikigai itself is a lifelong practice.

Which hopefully means I can look forward to joining another Ferrari Grand Tour or two on the journey towards equilibrium.

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