Not Campy. Not Glampy. Just Perfect.
How a mother-daughter weekend at Mohonk Mountain House reminded me that the best memories rarely follow the original recipe.
I am incredibly lucky to have a summer home in the Hamptons. It’s stunning on Long Island’s East End, and the contrast with Boca is stark; I go from manicured suburban lawns to beach grass and wild hydrangeas. But, as much as I love the change, I miss some of the traveling we used to do. Trips are planned for spring and fall, and summer is for hosting family and friends. But one year I knew I needed a little girl time and specifically, a mother-daughter getaway.
My summer style is relaxed. That said, and while I spent many wonderful summers at sleep away camp, I am officially no longer campy. My daughter, who preferred Kutsher’s Sports Academy to the top shelf New Hampshire sleep away camp we took out a mortgage for (kidding, sort of), is also not campy. In fact, we are not even Glampy. So how we ended up at the 100-year-old Mohonk Mountain House is a mystery. Well, not such a mystery; though not cheap, it was a lot less than the $2000 a night alternatives we explored. Thus, cue the 2-hour drive from New Jersey, most of it a medley of Broadway tunes sung by us (Lea Michele’s career is safe) and a final 2-mile drive up the mountain characterized by nervous laughter and expectations a bit sketchy.
The Mountain House was true to form, outside and in. Walls and décor with original woodwork (mantels and veiny mirrors), a humongous, camp-like dining room (more wood) and rooms with, you guessed it, floor-to-ceiling wood. We had requested a room with two beds and that’s what we got, except the two beds were a queen and a twin. Yes, a twin! (Yes, that’s yours honey!)
Well, you might think we hated it. Think again. It’s hard to believe that a resort so timeless (my generous word for old) could have a spirit of renewal and life that’s so current and extraordinary. I’ve heard it said that a bonfire is just a nightclub outside? Make mine a double, stars and s’mores on the rocks!
I grew up vacationing in the Catskill mountains; learned to ski at the Homowack and still have a Birenbaum menorah from Grossingers. In fact, my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah was at Kutshers. Yes, a destination Bat Mitzvah, you mean everyone doesn’t have one? But the setting at Mohonk was unlike any memory of my childhood or hers. High up on the Shawangunk Ridge (no I never heard of it either and no it’s not Shawshank) that your ears pop on the drive up. Trails for all levels through the mountain and around the magnificent Lake Mohonk that are no less than inspiring. In fact, this 66-year-old body that complains if the golf course is cart path only, hiked to the highest point on Eagle Cliff and Copes Lookout. Think stunning vistas and vertical drops but more, think breathless determination and a reason for pride and the eventual mother-daughter high five. I mean, it’s amazing what transpires amid nature. More encouraging than a coach or guide, the beauty truly beckons. If I was wavering, it’s like I heard someone say, “Don’t miss this chance”. Well, that may have been my daughter but I’m going with the mountain that was beckoning.
In addition, there were classes you might not ordinarily take; mindfulness meditation, full body stretching in the forest (ok it wasn’t actually in the forest but in a room with floor to ceiling windows facing the forest, plus biking, boating and food from 4-star chef Jim Palmeri. This chef, a superstar of Culinary Institute and the Hudson Valley foodie movement gave 10 of us a kitchen tour unlike any I’ve ever seen. The dining room may have been rustic but the professional equipment and brass lamps and symmetry of the service behind the scenes would rival Le Bernadin’. (I think. Although I’ve met Eric Ripert’ he’s never offered me a kitchen tour.)
And of course, there was the spa; Swedish for me and deep tissue for my girl. Daily.
I have no stock in the Mohonk Mountain House and I didn’t mean to write a review. I guess I just wanted to comment on being open to new experiences and having perspective when the WIFI isn’t perfect, and the TV is oddly placed and ‘the beach’ is manmade and small, and so you just make it about connecting with someone you love no matter where you are.
Finally, a confession: Woodbury Commons Outlets were on the way home. We may not be campy, but we sure know how to end a campy long weekend.
I hope your summer is progressing wonderfully and you’re spending it with the ones you love!
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Cooking Therapy pioneer Debra Borden, LCSW, is the author of four books, including Cooking As Therapy - How to Improve Mental Health Through Cooking. Learn more here about her writing journey, how she became known as The Sous Therapist, and the stories that shape her work.