Ohfuckyes. In the initial mayhem I’d forgotten that Niseko stays open from 8.30am to 8.30pm, with the later hours floodlit on the lower slopes. That means you can get some early laps in before the hordes descend, go chill in an onsen or grab a bite, then come back for the free refills in the evening. And as I had run around like a madman for three days, the storm cycle had chugged back into gear and Japan was getting it. Hard. Apologies dear companion, this is the part where I vanish off into the wild. Good job visiting hours are after the lifts shut.

Riding powder under lights is something else. With one sense dampened, your others fire up to meet and fight the cold. You feel your surroundings more keenly, especially in the eerie quiet with only the faintest ‘bing bong’ from the chairlift calling you back to the safety of the base. It’s bucket list shit – chucking up a cloud burst in a patch of light before plunging back into darkness should be on every snowboarder’s to-do-ticket. And for me, this was just the start.

So why does Japan get such insane snow so reliably? After all, it doesn’t have masses of high alpine like the Alps or the Rockies – in fact, their mountains are more like hills apart from the odd volcano. Niseko’s highest point is only a little over 1000m – barely above Europe’s snowline these days. But yet the snow kept coming for the entire two weeks I was there. Deep ‘n’ light – and even with every Aussie seasonaire I met telling me ‘this winter is shiiiit mayte’ – this felt like the movies. This was ‘Japow’.

“With so much snow the area attracts a lot of visitors – everyone from dirtbag Australians to Gore-Tex-clad Skandis – so after an hour or so of morning laps you’ve got to get walking to get the goods”

In actual fact, it’s four areas joined under the Niseko United banner: Niseko Village, Annupuri, Grand Hirafu and Hanazono. Grand Hirafu is the most vibrant of the resorts, though on the hill all the lifts blend seamlessly with one another. If you have the full area pass you can effortlessly navigate your way around, the one exception is when coming back down into Annupuri, some tracks lead over to nearby Moiwa.

Although it’s not part of the same pass, Moiwa is a hidden gem and worthy of at least a day of your time due to its quieter slopes. Local guide Owain Bassett was good enough to show us around its two chairs and acres of untracked terrain, mostly accessible from a snaking cat track with countless departure points, all coming back to the base station. Your hiking muscles get a workout, but after a week or so in Japan you get used to it. With so much snow the area attracts a lot of visitors – everyone from dirtbag Australians to Gore-Tex-clad Skandis – so after an hour or so of morning laps you’ve got to get walking to get the goods.

Nowhere was this more evident than the geisha ‘experience’ I was lucky enough to be invited to. A short way down the road, Otaru is home to the only North Island geishas in Japan. Nothing will spin you out like watching pissed businessmen being persuaded to play cup and ball by a giggling hostess whilst eating the most insane food you’ve ever seen. I still have no idea what it was.

But for the original soul of Niseko, there’s no need to look further than the new Gentemstick showroom just outside of Hirafu. Taro Tamai’s legendary brand is still based here, and between running your hands over some of the most beautiful shapes you’ll see and watching the real locals put them to work on the groomers, it won’t be long before you’re setting your stance positive and spending all your time perfecting your snowsurf technique.

With my companion rested up post-surgery and about to be released from hospital, the back half of the trip has been more of the usual Whitelines fare, swapping luxury accommodation for a free bed in a seasonaire cellar. It’s comfortable and homely, despite my roommate’s amorous antics with the odd American cougar, and with what’s now an embedded routine – wake up, shred, lunch, onsen, night shred, hospital visit – it’s making the thought of going even harder.

But we’ll push that to one side for now, it’s time to drop in. The snow is so deep and forgiving that bouncing around from pillow to pillow is almost effortless, and flat landings that would result in knees to the chest back home welcome you out without much more than a face shot for your troubles. I ain’t no Kazu or Gigi, but this place made me feel like I could go toe to toe with them. Just one more lap, please?

Japan, man. It’s the place.

How We Did It

Fly to Chitose via Tokyo: ∼£600
Return transfer to Niseko:∼£60
Stayed at Powder Tracks with Niseko Central
Lift pass: ∼£290
Catboarding with Niseko Photography