My Suburban Escapes

I’ve been hearing about the mysterious Gunks forever, but always thought they were outta my league, that only the hippest of the hip could tackle them: the rock climbers.  “Let’s hit the Gunks this weekend” is not a sentence that would naturally fall from my lips.  I just didn’t know what they were until I recently took a little trip up there. They are a mountain range called The Shawangunk Mountains (pronounced “SHON-gum”), technically the southeastern edge of the Catskill Mountains, a ridge extending west from Pennsylvania (where it’s called Blue Mountain) to New Jersey (Kittatinny Mountain) to New York where it is called Shawangunk, the Lenape word for “in the smoky air.” It was created about 350 million years ago when the African and North American tectonic plates collided, created an uplift that deformed and rose, folding and faulting.  It’s made of quartz conglomerate, solid rock with horizontal rather than vertical cracks – the stuff climbers dream of.

I’m not a climber. I’m not wiry enough or young enough. But I do love “scrambling” and “bouldering”.  You and your old knees can have plenty of fun without doing the scary stuff.  The region offers amazing variety. The Trapps and Near Trapps challenge technical climbers, while walkers can enjoy the same spectacular views from groomed carriage roads.  It’s a landscape painting, dramatic and beautiful, of white cliffs and ledges, clear mountaintop lakes, deep oak forests and sparse ridgetops covered in pitch pine.

At the top of the ridge lies a magnificent old grand dame, The Mohonk Mountain House, which started out as a humble ten-room inn on a lake.  Founder Albert Smiley purchased it in 1869 and began its expansion into the sprawling hotel it is today. The area then was largely untamed wilderness, and he carved out carriage roads, walking paths and gardens. The Smiley family still owns it, now into the fourth and fifth generations, and honors Albert’s vision “to preserve a natural paradise for guests, a place to rejuvenate away from the stresses of work and city life.” Sky Top Tower, a stone landmark at the top of the Mohonk Ridge, was erected in his honor in 1923.  The Smileys donated land in 1963 to establish a trust known as the Mohonk Preserve. Guests have access to its 8,000 acres as well as 1,200 acres of Mountain House property. 22,275 acres of Minnewaska State Park Preserve are also yours to explore.

The centerpiece of the grounds, Lake Mohonk, is like an oblong Victorian mirror trimmed in majestic cliffs and fall colors, perfectly reflecting the Mountain House. A foot path encircles it with gentle swells up and down, offering glorious views from over 125 “summer houses,” small wooden structures built for rest and reflection. If this path is all you do, it’s enough.

But there are challenging hikes as well. Rock scrambles have always been popular at the Mohonk, allowing guests to navigate remarkable tunnels and fields of boulders. The Labyrinth, with its famous Lemon Squeeze, begins right out the back door of the hotel and ends at the Sky Top Tower. It is well marked and maintained so even a novice scrambler can do it. I scouted it from the regular foot path up to watch the sunset and the moonrise, then again at dawn just in time to see the sun rise. Now totally comfortable that I could handle it, I ran down and climbed the Labyrinth up. It was the single most rewarding thing I’ve done in a while, full of mysterious stairs, crevices and twists and turns.  Don’t bring anything with you – backpack, water bottle, camera (I stuffed my phone in my bra for pics)- as you’ll need all your hands and feet for climbing. It’s only ¾ of a mile and takes about an hour, but it’s straight up with a 300-foot gain in elevation. And it’s as cool as a rock climber.

Staying at The Mountain House is a bit like stepping into the Victorian era, like sailing through the mountains on the Queen Mary. The rooms are a bit sparse, yet comfortable: the walls are paper thin; no televisions or radios.  But you don’t go there to sit in your room. Your stay includes three square meals a day and teatime, and it’s not a drinking man’s hotel. Each pop you order seems to create a bit of a stir. You get a sense you could just age in place here, being fed like a thanksgiving turkey and slowly moving from rocking chair to rocking chair on the many porches and alcoves. But then there’s all that LAND to explore. You just roll out of bed, into your boots and onto the trail, resting easy in the knowledge that thousands of people have gone before you. The only risk you run is fatting to death. Its pricey, but worth it for a short stay, especially if you’re hiking solo. Oh, and there’s the spa. World renowned. Nothing better after a ten-mile hike than collapsing in a lounge chair with a good book by a heated pool with that expensive whiskey you felt criminal ordering. With the sun setting at 4:30pm and dinner not until 8pm, I rewarded my Lemon Squeeze by doing nothing. There are plenty of options – lectures, movies, concerts, tomahawk throwing, spa treatments and campfires – but nothing trumped all else for me.

One good trick I learned is that you can make it a day trip. If you book a meal or a spa treatment, you can park at the hotel and use the grounds all day. It’s only 84 miles from Rye, so you can hike to your heart’s content, have a late lunch (last seating 2pm) and get home before sunset. Or buy a day hiking pass or a Winter or Summer Sports Pass. If I were a Smiley, I’d add The Labyrinth and Lunch Special to the menu as the perfect Christmas gift.