Making Memories at Mohonk Mountain House

Mohonk Mountain House in Upstate New York opened in 1879. Pam LeBlanc photo

If you look closely beneath the dirt that covers my body, you can see a scraped shin and a tear in my shorts – all signs of a few days well spent at Mohonk Mountain House in Upstate New York. 

Early guests of this historic resort, where visitors once arrived by carriage and strolled the grounds in proper Victorian attire, might raise an eyebrow at my disheveled appearance. But like me, they came here to immerse themselves in nature and take a break from the city life.  

And that I’ve done.  

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Four days at Mohonk Mountain House 

Guests at Mohonk Mountain House can paddle canoes or kayaks or row boats across a small lake. Pam LeBlanc photo

So far during my three-night stay, I’ve paddled a canoe across a deep lake carved by a glacier. I’ve inched my way along a cliff on the resort’s new via ferrata and pedaled a bike through the woods at night. I’ve one for a goosebump-raising dawn swim in the property’s half-mile long lake. I even dozed off during a massage delivered in an outdoor cabana. 

But for now, I’m happily parked on a slightly splintery wooden bench in one of the resort’s “summer houses,” where I’m soaking in the old-school yet luxurious charm of this retreat in the Shawangunk Mountains 90 miles north of New York City. 

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Small “summer houses” offer hikers a place to rest and take in views. Pam LeBlanc photo

The summer houses at Mohonk are a thing. Roughly 125 of the small wooden shelters, each with a bench positioned so whoever sits on it gets a spectacular view, are scattered across the resort grounds. Each is unique. Some perch on cliffs above the lake, others are nestled in leafy alcoves or atop boulders. Most have names, including the one where I’m now sitting, called Thurston’s Rock. It’s tucked out of sight, and I feel like I’m in my own secret hidey hole behind a curtain of green crafted by Mother Nature. 

A lodge steeped in history 

More than 600 rocking chairs are scattered across the property. Pam LeBlanc photo

The lodge itself rambles along a ridgeline at one end of a lake. The owners – the same family for five generations now – added on to the structure over the years, creating a slightly mishmash effect. My room overlooks the lake. It has its own balcony, fireplace and clawfoot tub. There are no TVs (huzzah!), but I’ve discovered plenty of secret reading nooks. Half the fun of staying at Mohonk comes in tiptoeing down long carpeted hallways and finding a soft couch and a stack of books. 

Outside, you can wander 85 miles of trails on Mohonk’s 1,200 private acres, or hike into the 8,000 acres of the surrounding preserve. At a spot on the property called Pinnacle Ledge, you can scramble over armchair-sized boulders and into rock cervices. Down at the resort’s small beach, hidden in a cliff-lined alcove, you can leap off a  dock. There’s a fancy garden, an indoor swimming pool and a barn that’s been converted into a museum, too. 

One afternoon I sprawled on a massage table and listened to birds chirp as a therapist pummeled my muscles. Another I borrowed a canoe and paddled down the lake and back. For an entire hour, I shut my eyes and tried to focus on the present during a wellness session. And did I mention the rocking chairs? More than 600 of them creak away on Mohonk’s grounds. I spent more than a few minutes gazing at the lake and sipping hot tea from one on the lodge’s big back porch. 

Mohonk Mountain House’s new via ferrata 

Darlene Fiske navigates the new via ferrata at Mohonk Mountain House. Pam LeBlanc photo

In May, the resort unveiled a new cabled climbing route called the Eagle Cliff Via Ferrata. Via ferratas date to World War I, when soldiers used a series of ladders and ropes to traverse jagged peaks in the Dolomites. Modern versions featuring metal rungs and footholds are popping up around the country. While some experienced climbers might think they’re too easy, they offer beginners like me a safe way to dangle, in a harness, off 70-foot cliffs. 

The Eagle Cliff Via Ferrata stretches for a half mile across the rocky cliffs of the “the Gunks,” the locals nickname for the Shawangunk Mountains. It took me about 3 hours to make the trip. Along the way I had to navigate a swaying aerial bridge strung between two rock pinnacles and waddle along a ledge the width of a candy bar. 

But now I’m relaxing, a little dusty from my self-guided trip through one of the resort’s famed rock “scrambles.” I got up early this morning, struck out along a path that climbs up from the lake, and followed markers into a rock garden. There, I channeled my inner gecko as I crawled through overhangs, ducked through narrow passages, shimmied up steep wooden ladders and worked my way through a narrow passage called the Lemon Squeeze. 

The dirt? It’ll come off. The weekend will stick in my mind for a long time.