My Suburban Escapes

The thing about Spring is she can be cruel, like a gorgeous woman who eludes you at first embrace. Spring Break in the Northeast can go two ways: you can tackle the last of the cold or welcome the first of the heat.  I was recently lucky enough to experience both when I headed to The Cabin in the Woods in the Catskills with some friends.  I’ve dreamt of such a spot for a long time and serendipitously found the perfect one by re-connecting with a friend from my days in the city 30 years ago. She and her husband bought The Cabin twenty years ago and put the finishing touches on it, creating a nest away from the city for their family.

Our journey began in the town of Hudson where we stepped into the landscapes of the Hudson River School, our nation’s first major art movement founded by Thomas Cole, an immigrant from Lancashire. In 1825 Cole took a steamship up the Hudson and never returned, putting down roots at Catskill Landing and making a life of capturing the beauty of the mountains and valley on canvas.  His home on the west bank is directly across the river from Olana, the gorgeous former estate of his prize pupil Frederic Church who led the second generation of the school when Cole died young. The two homesites are now connected by the Hudson River Skywalk, the pedestrian part of the Rip Van Winkle Bridge, and are two highlights on the Hudson River School Art Trail.

Hudson on a Tuesday is a bit lackluster, but it comes alive on weekends and is crazytown in season. We had the place all to ourselves and started with a breakfast beer at Spotty Dog Books & Ale located in an old fire house, then lunch at the Cascades across the street. Both are on Warren Street, the main drag which is lined with antique, curio and clothing shops. A fun fact about Hudson is that it started as a whaling town around 1783 when wealthy sea-faring Quaker settlers sailed up the Hudson from Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard searching for an inland harbor safe from the British Navy and pirates, bringing pre-fab houses and whaling gear. They planned their village meticulously and by the 1920s it had become a beautifully appointed and prosperous town with a bustling Red Light District in the background, a sort of Potemkin village.  

The town of Catskill was also shuttered, so we headed for the hills of a Cole painting after strolling through his yard, crossing the often-painted Catskill Creek which dumps into the Hudson here.  Days later we explored one of its many tributaries right by The Cabin, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Cabin is in the Valley Region of the Great Northern Catskills in Green County, known as the “Irish Alps” for the immigrants who flock to its lush green rolling hills for summer getaways. We marveled at the Irish names of pubs, motels and campgrounds as we made our way. Although desolate on a wintry Tuesday, it too rocks in season. The Valley is also home to the Cat’s Tail Ride, a scenic 25-mile rural motorcycle route along Routes 10 and 20 beginning in East Durham.

We finished our Cat’s Tail at 5pm on the dot, arriving The Cabin just in time for Happy Hour, and went about setting up house.  I love watching ladies move into a vacation home, each with her own little chores and method. Some put flowers in vases, others unpack clothing or peruse bookshelves and some gravitate toward the tire swing. There’s a tacit agreement to give each other a little space before the next event.  We were like kids on the first day of camp, exploring the house and grounds. The Cabin is hand hewn seemingly of giant Lincoln Logs and is exquisitely appointed.  Everything in it reflects the character and integrity of its owners and of the land: stone hearth and pot-belly stove, bird’s nest collection, bark and leaf sculptures in metal and the most comfortable beds and bedding ever. Many of the items are for sale at The Cabin Store on their website, www.catskillandco.com. We had a sunset stroll along the creek, played Celebrity and Bananagrams and perused our many maps and guidebooks after dinner to plan the next day.

Morning Coffee was a bit of a clown show as we collectively tried to figure out how to use the French Press (another deep bow to the authenticity of The Cabin) with no caffeine in our systems. The reward was well worth it. We figured out how to hook a laptop up to the projector in the big open master bedroom upstairs and plugged in Down Dog for some yoga on the big screen. Then we donned our Hiking Barbie gear, packed lunches and were wheels up by noon for a five-mile snow hike on the Escarpment Trail where we re-learned how hard it is to hike in snow.

We again landed back “home” at exactly 5pm (Pavlovian response to Happy Hour?) and parted ways to check in on our families and perform our diurnal chores. Some made Dark and Stormys; others, fires, hors d’oeuvres or dinner; and all reconvened at the firepit at sunset. This evening’s entertainment included a live concert by a Hoot Owl followed by games, dinner, interpretive dance and a surprise snowstorm at bedtime.

Last mornings together are always bittersweet. You’re ready for your own bed and space, but you hate to leave. The temperature had dropped forty degrees from the previous day and snow covered the grounds, so we had a quick chilly walk around the property which led to the discovery of a waterfall at the end of “our” creek. Then another. And another. The spring runoff had filled the creek bed to capacity and numerous waterfalls had sprung up to rush toward….you guessed it: Catskill Creek and the Hudson River. Our art trail ended as it had begun, one big endless circle of beauty.