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5 min.

What do you actually pack for a really cold trip? It is one of the best questions you can ask before heading north in winter, and getting it right is the difference between a magical trip and a miserable one. This is the packing list I have refined over years of cold-weather travel, from the far north of Japan to the mountains and beyond, and it works wherever the temperature drops well below zero.

It began with the coldest week of my life. Hokkaido, the big island of northern Japan, was my first taste of the country and remains one of my fondest memories: daily snowfalls, a Siberian wind, temperatures far below freezing, and an astonishing amount of poetry. I arrived one late-January evening on the train from New Chitose airport to Sapporo, saw nothing at all through the blizzard, felt the chill pour in through the sliding doors at every stop, and began to worry about how on earth I would cope. The wonderful staff at the almost-too-heated YuYu Guest House met me with warm tea and cheerful smiles, and I realised: I had packed well, I just needed to wear it all. Everything was going to be fine.

That same kit has since served me across northern Honshu, in the mountains, and anywhere the cold really bites. If you are bound for the far north of Europe, for Lapland, Scandinavia or the Arctic, for the northern reaches of Japan, or for high altitude in winter, this is what I would tell you to bring.

What I wear: the layering system

The secret to real cold is not one huge coat, it is layers you can add and shed. Here is what I wore day after day between Sapporo and Hakodate, and have worn many times since:

The product links here are affiliate links; if you buy through them I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. They are the kinds of things I actually travel with, though specific models come and go, so pick the current equivalent that suits you.

How it all packs down

None of this has to mean a giant suitcase. My starting point is always the one in my guide to packing light: everything rolled into packing cubes. Several thermal tops, rolled, take up almost no room; the fine wool tights, the leggings and the thin wool jumpers pack down to about the size of a single t-shirt. The two hooded fleeces are bulkier, but rolled one inside the other they come down to the size of a jumper. The one genuinely bulky item is the snow boots, so I simply wear them on the plane; they are warm, comfortable and safe on both snow and ice.

The small things that save the day

Mindful of the freezing days I once spent working outdoors at Disneyland Paris, I always pack disposable warmers, and they are transformative:

  • Hand warmers (the shake-to-activate kind) start working in seconds. I tuck one between my two layers of gloves and the heat lasts all day; press it to your nose now and then, too.
  • Foot warmers are adhesive pads: warm them briefly in your hands, then stick them to your socks under the ball of the foot. The heat is almost too much for the first hour, then settles into a lovely warmth that lasts five or six hours in the snow.
  • A tip learned the hard way: your phone battery dies fast below zero. I keep my phone in an inside pocket between two hand warmers, and it never once cut out.

In Japan these disposable warmers are called kairo, and you will find them in every convenience store in winter, so you can stock up cheaply once you arrive.

Dressed like this, I could spend whole days outside in comfort, wandering Sapporo, Otaru, Noboribetsu and Hakodate, where the damp sea wind made it feel colder still. And that, really, is the whole point: the right clothing is what lets you stop enduring a cold destination and start loving it. I saw so many travellers in Japan, and later in the north of Europe, cutting their days short simply because they had dressed for the wrong trip. Pack well, and the cold becomes the best part.

Frequently asked questions

What should you pack for a winter trip to a very cold destination?

Think in layers rather than one thick coat: a thermal base layer (top and leggings), a mid layer of wool or fleece, and a waterproof insulated outer shell, plus waterproof boots with good snow soles, liner gloves under thicker gloves, a warm hat and earmuffs. Add disposable hand and foot warmers, and keep your phone warm, as batteries fail fast below zero.

How cold does it get in northern Japan in winter, and how do you dress for it?

Hokkaido and northern Honshu in winter regularly sit well below freezing, with heavy snow and biting wind, especially on the coast. The layering system above handles it comfortably: thermal base layers, wool or fleece mid layers, and a waterproof insulated jacket and boots. Disposable warmers (kairo), sold in every convenience store, make a real difference.

Can you pack light for a cold-weather trip?

Yes. Thermal base layers, fine wool and leggings all roll down very small in packing cubes, taking up little more room than summer clothes. The only bulky item is snow boots, which you can simply wear on the plane. A cold-weather trip does not have to mean a huge suitcase.

Does this packing list work for Lapland and the Arctic too?

Yes. The same layering principles apply anywhere the temperature drops well below zero, from northern Japan to Lapland, Scandinavia and the Arctic, or high mountains in winter. For the very extreme cold or for activities like snowmobiling or husky sledding, tour operators often provide heavy-duty outer suits and boots on top of your own base and mid layers, so check before you over-buy.

How do you keep your phone from dying in the cold?

Cold drains and can shut down phone batteries very quickly, sometimes within minutes below zero. Keep your phone in an inside pocket close to your body, and, as I do, tuck it between two disposable hand warmers. Carry a power bank too, and avoid leaving your phone out in the wind for photos any longer than you need.

Further reading

Silvia Moggia

Silvia Moggia is an Italian travel writer, boutique hotel owner and tourism consultant based in Levanto, on the Ligurian coast. After fifteen years working in opera houses, including the Paris Opera and the Palau de les Arts in Valencia, she returned home to run a small hotel in the Cinque Terre and to write. She travels independently and usually alone, on foot, on horseback and under sail, and writes about it honestly, the difficult parts as well as the good ones. She also works on sustainable tourism and destination management, writing about overtourism from inside a place that lives with it. Everything on Silvia's Trips is based on direct experience