Below is a selection of articles from magazines and websites relating to Niseko, Japan.

Niseko gets about 13 to 15 metres of snow each year and the natural build-up on the mountains is about 4 to 5 metres.

The ski elevation, at 1,000 metres, is also "world-class and the temperature is not too cold", adds Ben Kerr, managing director of Niseko Real Estate.

When it comes to skiing the powder on Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido, bigger is definitely better

“Whooo! Hooo! Whoo! Hoo-oo-gag-ack-gag.” “Shut your mouth!” my mind screams, as my lungs gasp for air. Too late — I’m already inhaling mouthfuls of the snow billowing up from the ground.

With nothing before me but a calm sea of untouched powder, I race downhill.

I’ve seen moondrops. They fell the first night. They’re falling now as I pack. It was different the first night.

Green light glowing on the hill. A pint of Japanese whiskey that tasted like rum. Florescent lights pouring through a sluice in the trees.

Four-foot snow drifts. Half-inch flakes. Twenty people on the mountain. We didn’t know what was going on, but it was piling up around us.

A well-kept secret just a few years ago, today Niseko is booming thanks to consistent falls of great powder, a burgeoning infrastructure and less crowds than in many Honshu resorts.

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Today's Niseko is a collection of eccentric-looking postmodern ski chalets, mostly built in the past 35 years, with sharply slanting roofs and oddly-shaped windows.

Hirafu is by far the biggest of the three resorts and has the edge when it comes to apres-ski, boasting a buzzing nightlife, while Annupuri and Higashiyama are quieter and more village-like.

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The short stomp to Miharashii leaves the crowds behind. Rasping breath, crunching snow, followed by the wind in the branches of a withered silver birch tree.

The Japanese pop is fading into a distant, tinny rattle. The chirpy Japanese announcement as the gondola approaches, carries across the slope. Mamonaku shuten desu...

Four short stories inspired by the rising sun - By Ian MacKenzie

We emerge from the onsen, the hot spring, to the street. Steam rises from the drains by the road like patient ghosts.

The worn weatherboards around the outside pool look like an old fort on the corner of the street. Snowflakes the size of 500 yen coins fall under the lights and into the steam.