I should back up slightly in my narrative and go back to Monday morning. I took a cab to the car rental place but got dropped about a block away. A parade was in progress so off I went on foot, dragging my luggage. The car I wanted (a Dodge Challenger) was not available so I had to grudgingly settle for a Camaro RS. Big deal, right? well it did turn out that way. About an hour later, a hands free phone rings as I’m driving down the road. The rental agent had left her cell phone in the car and I had to drive all the way back to return it. 2 Hours of my vacation wasted. I finally got on with my trip North. I went through Sleepy Hollow and was somewhat disappointed to find it nothing more than a suburb of New York.
Finally I crossed the Tappan Zee bridge and was away from the city’s influence. As I entered the Hudson river Valley the theme song from “last of the Mohicans” began to play endlessly in my head. After a bit, I got to wondering and parked the car by the side of the road. I looked behind a small boulder and found a tiny speaker playing the song. “There must be millions of these” I thought to myself and kept driving up I-87.
A note on I-87. As a tax payer I am a little peeved that a piece of the US interstate system is a toll road. They spent the money on wonderful toll road service stations, but still. The Camaro had a navigation system second to none and got me to New Paltz. From there I climbed up and up a mountain till I reached the main gate. They were serious about keeping out unwanted visitors and I had to prove my identity. I drove round more twisting turns and reached the main house. Mohonk mountain house is one of those old-time resorts that people like the Rockefellers and Carnegies would visit all the time. They really played up the natural and rustic charm of the place and the world-class service.
Up close and far the building is an impressive sight. But not as impressive as the service. The main gate had called ahead and told them I was coming. I was greeted by name and entered in to the reception area while my car and bags were similarly taken care of. I arrived in time for afternoon tea and cookies and in less than five minutes after arriving I was on the back porch overlooking the lake with a ginger green tea and raspberry cookie rocking in a chair. Until I saw the watchtower hill. Perched on the opposite shore on a steep rocky precipice was a stone watchtower. I tossed the cookies and tea and just about ran all the way up the hill. I then just about tossed my cookies from running all that way up a steep hill but I made it and climbed up the tower. I then proceeded to take pictures of everything from up there. As I walked down the hill I reflected on the nature of the place. I imagined generations of wealthy New Yorkers spending their summers here and bringing their kids. Those kids would explore the house and grounds and get into all sorts of adventures. They would form little “lord of the flies” like tribes and impose tests of courage on each other like swimming the lake at night or swearing blood brotherhood and at the end of the summer they would all swear eternal friendship, even the spoiled jock and the nerdy kid with glasses would become the closest of companions. They would all bring their kids back years later to start the cycle again.
But I’m drifting off the story. Dinner was a formal affair. Coats and jackets at the very least and held in a dining hall with more wood paneling than a small national forest. I thought the soup they served would be bland and dull but the butternut squash soup was to die for and so were the lamb shanks and the creme brulee afterwards. I took a stroll afterwards around the grounds. I started to get a creepy “Shining” feel about the place at this time. The hallways were slightly dark and the grounds outside pitch black. They had no TV service so guests made do with community movies in a lounge or conversation or reading in the library. If you’re not into any of that the solitude of the area can be a bit creepy. I was too tired to entertain that line of thought too long and went to bed.
Next day I was up and took an unguided hike around the grounds. In 4 hours I had wandered most of the flat paths so I decided to take on the rough paths. These are mainly straight down the hillsides over and under boulders. Not extremely difficult but still somewhat dangerous. Not for everyone, but I got this wonderful feeling of accomplishment afterwards and I suppose that is the main point of the exercise.
In the afternoon came more tea and cookies and a stroll on the main grounds. Dinner was again, more amazing than words can describe. I would have liked to stay another night but the place was so popular that I was only able to book 2 nights. I packed and prepared to make my way north to Sagamore.
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