Thirty three years ago this very winter I rolled into the parking lot of Sugarloaf Mountain as a newly-minted ski mom of two on a mission.

My goal? To comfortably slide into ski mom life; pre-schooler in ski school, infant baby in slopeside childcare and my husband and me ripping up big time runs, not a care in the world.

Impossible task back then BC (before cellphones)? I knew in my heart I’d chosen the right spot to test it all out.

I’d skied Sugarloaf for the first time a few years prior and I felt at once among friends. It was in their DNA, that kind of welcoming spirit, and it permeates the community as a whole. I knew instinctively that Sugarloaf and its community would take care of us.

They did. And all day long – back when if ski school or childcare needed you they informed you via a chalkboard at each lift base – my family settled into and embraced family ski life.

Now here I am, almost exactly 33 years later, gasping once again at “Oh my Gawd Corner,” the local’s name for the spot the entire mountain is fully revealed to you and settling into the Sugarloaf Mountain Inn at the base of that very mountain. I am no longer that nervous mom; this trip I have only me to please. But right away, I feel it: that Sugarloaf vibe. That iconic feeling that make this mountain what it is: A big, beautiful resort with (I would argue)  perhaps the “biggest” skiing east of the Rockies, all accented by this non-tangible but always there “you belong here” feel.

I think I understand why. Sugarloaf, much like famed spots like Vail, Colorado, Whistler and Sun Peaks Canada, was a mountain first and community next, the town sprouting up to enhance the ski region.

But here’s what I realized in my visit this year; the secret sauce that I believe makes Sugarloaf one of the most unique, special and visit-worthy mountain out there:

Their community wasn’t manufactured; it was manifested.

To tweak a famed “Seinfeld” line: It’s real, and it’s spectacular. From great cruiser runs to harder stuff, from a morning slopeside fresh doughnut to a gourmet slopeside dinner; from a hot cider break mid mountain to all kinds of live music apres, to locals who embrace you as one of their own, Sugarloaf delivers with authenticity: the only way it has ever known.

The “Entering Carrabassett Valley” sign says it well: From here your life will never be the same. And they mean that in the best of ways.

Let’s say the hard part first: It’s not easy to get there. But it’s not the worst, either. A solid four hours from Boston proper (if you don’t stop) is average. But consider what’s at the end of that drive, really just a half hour or so longer than most other New England destination resorts: plenty of skiing for every level, more dining choices than you can hit in even a full-week stay, a top rated ski school, and most that special little world that rubs off on you in the best ways. In other words: Make the drive.

But here’s the easy part: Once there, you’ll settle into this kind of magical oasis; a community where recreation comes first, where despite a town population of just over 700 you’ll find world class indoor and outdoor recreation, where there’s some kind of apres music or the like every day of the week, and where, for me, true and beautiful “escape” is a go-to setting.

I headed out on my first morning with a long-time ski friend who raised her children in Carrabassett Valley, the town incorporated by the ski bums who called Sugarloaf their home mountain early on; the community that melds itself seamlessly with the mountain operations.

We headed first to Sugarloaf’s new West Mountain; a real estate project to be sure – 18 of the 20 phase one lots are sold and construction has begun (in the end there will be more than 200 residences; some single-family, some multi-unit). But it’s more than that. The dozen new trails, nine green and three blue wind and roll over 120 acres lined with red and white oaks and Eastern hemlocks, creating a kind of mellower-ski haven. They’re accessed by a new chair, and locals in the know realize the abutting parking lots are are great way to avoid the morning rush. They are the perfect Ying to the Yan of the Loaf’s hard core trails and snowfields.

I loved carving these trails and found that on this windy and below zero day, the tree line there protected me, I never felt cold.

But who doesn’t love a mid mountain break? I headed into Bullwinkles mid-mountain. The walls are dotted with old gear and photos like a mid-mountain museum. In a bar to the right, locals are already filling tables and socializing. The windows are huge and let the world in; we look up at the Snowfields as we warm up with cocoa and cider.

There’s hard core skiing as well. Since they first hosted a World Cup in 1971, the world has recognized the challenging terrain you can find at the Loaf. Ski Narrow Gauge just like the champions did, or hop off in the snowfields and carve your way down the long vertical all the way to the base.

And save energy for apres. After a pick me up in the hotel’s huge hot tub, each night we found live music and a great crowd. The sure thing? Just about any night at The Rack. I was there on a Wednesday; open mic. The room was full and the crowd singing along, more pep than a weekend apres just about anywhere.

There’s family stuff too, like the Anti-gravity complex, Sports and Fitness Center and Sugarloaf Outdoor Center with Nordic skiing, snowshoeing, skating and a must-see view of the mountain. But tonight I’m just me, a ski gal in a true ski town,

I sip an Old Fashion and laugh at a story a local tells me. And then, as it always does, it the notion enters my mind:

Do I want to relocate her and spend the rest of my life in this bubble of ski life perfection? Of course I do. But until I convince my kids to move my grands there, I’ll settle for visits.

You should too. I”m here, Sugarloafer since 1988 and mom to two Sugarloafers since 1991. In a town built by true ski bums, that’s entry enough.