So there’s a lot of talk and buzz—mostly positive, mostly hopeful, some apprehensive—about the changes afoot up to Jay Peak. And I guess the biggest question is this: when the face of Jay raises up in the form of two nice hotels, an ice rink, contemporary themed restaurants and bars, will we still want to raise our kids, our spouses, and ourselves here? Me, I’m banking on yes. I could go on at length about how I don’t feel threatened by progress or how the remoteness of the NEK will protect the mountain from silly “resortness” or how the terrain and weather will continue to keep the gumbies looping around their green circle runs down to the south of us. Yet, I’ve seen development go horribly awry—beach areas in Thailand that seemed immune from mass tourism are now overrun by the flabby lobsters of the West; don’t get me started on Cape Cod. I don’t claim to know any answers, but obviously there are right ways and wrong ways to expand.

I happen to like the changes I’ve seen at Jay Peak over the past few years: I’m pleased that we don’t have to T-Bar surf up the Jet any longer, the Flyer (despite being freezing cold and “wind-challenged”) beats the crap out of that old double that used to drop us off at the top of Exhibition, and I dig the new red chair with access to the CanAm “Supertrail.” It’s also pretty damned sweet to have a real restaurant, bar, and café that look out upon the mountain. I’m sure the rooms upstairs are quite charming and well-appointed, as well. Still, most of these changes are largely superficial, which brings me to my point. The wrong way to develop is to march in and fire everyone and piss everyone off by growling, like a sailing program director I once worked for, “There’s gonna be some changes around here.” The right way, it seems to me, is what we’re seeing right now—involve the local community, sell local products in the shops, and keep the staff that we’ve all come to know and love.

While I was happy to find the Golden Eagle transformed into the new ski school base, what’s really cool is seeing so many familiar faces among the instructional staff. Luke’s favorite instructors from last year, Phil and Billy, are back. Phil Graziano, with his long white beard, has this Father Jay look about him, accentuated by his gentle rumbling voice. By lunchtime of day one, he had taken Luke into their group again, and he kept molding him for the week. He remembers him from last March as a “little ripper.” Consistency is key in any instructional program, and it feels so much more comfortable, both for kid and for parent, to see lessons pick up right where they left off. When I came in at the end of the day one, Phil and Billy took turns updating me on my son’s progress, talking about how his stance is already much more stable than it was nine long months ago, how he’s doing great, working on pole plants, and having a ball.

I’ve noticed this consistency not only with Luke, but also with my wife, Yupin. Last year, she took lessons all season and steadily rose from beginner runs to the blue squares. This year, most of the instructors already know her. They remember her strengths and areas where she most needs to work. On her third day of this season, as she rode the lift with Scott, he told her that five hands had shot up at the question, “Who’s taught Yupin before?” Then he flattered her by saying that he had won by getting to ski with her all morning. Despite fairly icy conditions, he then guided her down Haynes, her first black diamond run. It’s enough to make me go all warm and fuzzy, this level of personal attention and tangible results.

Before I had a family of my own, I never felt this type of connection to the mountain. My skiing experience was largely solitary. I liked it that way, and I still enjoy skiing by myself in the mornings while Yupin and Luke are in lessons, but this new, human, dimension is pretty cool. It makes me feel a part of a larger family, and it makes the mountain feel even more like home. I’m pretty confident that so long as Jay Peak keeps this at the forefront of their development plans, all will be well.