Category Archives: Catskills

Shoveling Poop and Liking It

March 12, 2013

My husband was sweating through his T-shirt on a snowy Saturday morning in December, pitchfork in hand, goats milling about, and Diane the Mule looking at him like this city slicker desk jockey had truly lost his way. The barn was smelling better, but there was still a lot more to clean out, maybe another hour’s worth of work ahead.

“This is my penance for being such a carnivore,” he said smiling and wiping his brow.

We were volunteering that morning at Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary in Willow, New York, a pastoral village outside of Hippie Central, Woodstock, New York, home to the infamous 1969 concert, for those of you who weren’t born yet (I wasn’t either, for the record.) Six months before shoveling goat and duck poop, I read The New York Times travel section review of the farm sanctuary right about when my daughter was asking if we could hang out on a farm because, you know, the suburban animals that make our community feel like a scene from Snow White, all the deer, squirrels, wild parakeets and Sheila the raccoon, had lost their novelty. I figured we would go upstate, have a nice weekend, and drive home feeling awesome about ourselves for volunteering on a farm. Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary exceeded our expectations. We found ourselves humbled by its mission, its dedication, and its beauty. Whatever your personal politics on food, agriculture, and the right to willfully consume pink sludge, the farm’s message and the farm itself are worth a stop-and-think, or a stop-and-visit. A visit may result in questions or changes about your own consumption habits because this farm and its owner, cancer survivor and animal rights activist Jenny Brown, inspire.

Our December visit proved to be so much fun and so rewarding that we went back again in February (more snow, more shoveling of poop) and signed up again for another visit in April to celebrate our daughter’s birthday and enjoy the farm and spring’s gentle touch, when tulips and daffodils add some color to land. For the non-outdoorsy type, explaining why shoveling poop and helping animals can be rewarding may seem difficult, but what Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary does very, very effectively is get you out of your head. What do I mean by that? You’re outside, doing a very linear task with tangible outcomes (sometimes unheard of in the office realm) and you have pigs, turkeys, mules, goats, chickens, ducks, cows, dogs, cats and sheep all very curious in who you are and what you’re doing. You’re not fretting or stressing or on an iPhone or Blackberry or wondering what you should be working on, avoiding, wearing, saying or not saying, or where you should be going or not-going. You just are. The farm is a Zen meditation in its way. Meanwhile, you’re the center of attention to the dozens of rescued animals that cross your path while you’re busy getting all Zen-like. They have no clue whether you crave steak or Daiya (vegan) cheese, whether you were ever mean to an animal when you were a kid or whether you dress your cat up in baby clothes (we’re guilty of putting funny hats on our cat). Many of these animals were abused or scheduled for slaughter, and yet they willfully approach you because it is an innate reaction to want to connect with other living things. I held Beatrice the Turkey and cuddled with a rooster whose name I didn’t catch. Anna bonded with goats and painted a portrait of Bertha the Pig. We were filthy and happy…all of us.

At the farm, cats enjoy the right of way as does anyone pushing a wheelbarrow full of clean or dirty hay…

For New Yorkers looking for an easy weekend getaway, the farm is less than two hours by car. You can opt for rooms with a shared bathroom (with an awesome clawfoot bathtub) or get the two-bedroom suite with a private bathroom, which we do because I feel too old to share toilets with anyone anymore. Sorry, call me selfish. A vegan breakfast, usually consisting of granola, fruit and toast, is served for all guests. Those staying overnight have access to a full kitchen, so bring your own groceries and whip up some pasta and curl up with a bottle of wine on a cold night. Also bring some bananas–the goats love them!

The farm has a vegan-only food policy so cooking on the premises means no animal products or byproducts allowed. When we arrived in February, we were greeted with a plate of vegan chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven (I should’ve asked for the recipe). New York City comedian Jamie Kilstein recently visited Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary and stayed at the guest house. He dons the farm’s signature souvenir T-shirt in a recent United magazine profile if you’re looking for motivation to eat more kale or buy a souvenir.

After shoveling poop (and showering), head into downtown Woodstock for art, books, shopping, great restaurants, and earthy-hippie-coolness, like the painted electric guitars along the main road, reminiscent of the historical concert. Not to burst bubbles, but the actual concert took place 40 miles away from Woodstock in a farming community called Bethel because turnout was so huge, concert organizers needed more open space to accommodate. Nevertheless, Woodstock keeps the spirit of the 1960s alive. After connecting with farm animals, enjoy a vegetarian lunch at Garden Cafe on the Green or shop for Tibetan goods or buy some locally painted art or eat a cupcake called the Janis Joplin. Because in Woodstock, it’s all good.

Art is appreciated everywhere. There are sculptures, mosaics, and paintings (including one by my daughter) on the farm. Art abounds in downtown Woodstock too.

A wall inside a restaurant bathroom…

Handpainted electric guitars line the streets, ready for any air-guitar solo.

Once you finish your chores, head into town. There’s great window shopping if you’re on a budget, as we always are.

Winter Break

February 23, 2012

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Spring holds its breath in the Shawangunk Mountains. It’s been one of the mildest winters in years–terrible for skiing–great for hiking. Nature looks confused; buds bloom next to anemic patches of snow while a pond layered with both ice and melting puddles sleepily weighs its options. We traveled to Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, New York, thinking this would be the winter we would introduce Anna to skiing. Sixty degree temperatures quickly scrapped that plan and instead we enjoyed a restful 26 hours at a place we can’t wait to visit again.

The Shawangunks lie at the foot of the Catskills, which lie at the foot of the Adirondacks. Pretty by East Coast standards, these blue mountains roll for miles like a gentle lake; nothing juts into the sky or looms over the land like the mountains out west. I had never even heard of the Shawangunks until this past week despite living only about 80 miles south of them and Mohonk Mountain House. Francisco Goldman and I have never met, but I have him to thank for introducing me to this area; it was mentioned in his 2011 novel “Say Her Name,” a beautiful, sad story about a marriage that ended abruptly because of a rogue wave off the coast of Mexico. Mohonk Mountain House was a place he and his wife had frequented. Now, it can be ours.

We only spent one night there; Mohonk Mountain House is not a budget hotel. Ranked by CondeNast Traveler with a placement on its 2011 Gold List, and praised by Organic Spa magazine, and Travel & Leisure, this Victorian castle on a rock attracts those who seek a certain kind of outdoor tranquility. Rustic without rust. The outdoors as ones with disposable income imagine it to be. The “House” is about five or six cavernous mansions linked together; the Alfred Smiley family recognized they had a good thing and kept adding on. Floors undulate like water as you move from section to section. Yet despite the large maze that is Mohonk, the rooms feel cozy and intimate. Fires crackle in stone hearths everywhere; velvet sofas sit patiently in every corner of every hallway; potted amaryllises on windowsills plead with the sun for more. There are no televisions in the hotel rooms; just fireplaces and balconies overlooking a partially frozen pond. Don’t worry. You won’t miss the remote. There are 2,200 acres of bucolic beauty outside, and inside, if you’re not snuggling up in front of your fireplace reminiscing about your amazing day, you’ve done something wrong.

During our first day, we skated, hiked, then swam. On our second day, we mixed it up more by swimming, skating and then hiking. Access to all the facilities are included in the price, however, we missed out on complimentary snow tubing and cross country skiing because of the lack of snowfall, and the horses were on their winter break, too, so no horse back riding. Next time. The price also includes a robust buffet of breakfasts, lunches and dinners in a large dining room overlooking the Shawangunks. There is also afternoon tea and cookies in the Lake Lounge held promptly at 4 pm. Get there on time or early if you want to enjoy your tea and cookie from the comforts of another velvet couch facing another fireplace. We came back physically tired and emotionally rested. No doubt the changes in the seasons unearth Mohonk’s secrets. We’re looking forward to a summer time jaunt so we can experience the private lakeside beach and watch the fish. The gardens are said to be stunning. During our stay there, everything was brown and the only real color was the way the sky shifted across the Shawangunks. On the ground, bare branches were caught up in knots, as if twisted in thought about what to do next. Kids wore mittens and snowsuits but complained about being too warm. Was it winter? Was it spring? No one seem to know for sure that late February day.

Green Peace

August 4, 2010

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Two hours north of New York City sits the Catskills Mountains, a region reminding us that the Colonial Dutch and wild cats once roamed there. We repeated a July weekend we spent in Windham last summer–we obviously liked it so much that we decided to not change a thing except add a hike to the itinerary. When we visit, we always stay at Hotel Vienna, a very simple, low key hotel with a nice breakfast that’s included in the rate and a kicking indoor swimming pool and hot tub enclosed in glass. We’re going back in February to introduce skiing to Anna and me to snowboarding, and I can’t wait to watch the crisp white snow fall while gliding across a sparkling blue pool. We don’t do the classic “Dirty Dancing” type of Catskills vacation. We go into the misty mountains to hide, and we emerge 48 hours later in a far better mood. While in hiding, I strongly recommend dining at Bistro Brie and Bordeaux also in Windham. Great wine selection and a real French chef behind the stove who knows what he’s doing.

And of course no matter where you travel, always travel in style.

Head to the Hills!

September 25, 2006

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Two months ago, we made the drive from New York City up to the Catskill Mountains for a family wedding and were shocked to discover that such green tranquility was only a two-hour drive away. Keeping afloat as the grind grinds makes one oblivious to the fact that there is a world beyond the greater metropolitan New York web. Weeks after the wedding, I plotted our escape into the mountains, or I should say so-called mountains. They’re quite pretty, but after living in the shadow of Mount Rainier for three years, I have a hard time calling the Catskills “mountains.” Nevertheless, I booked a weekend at the Winter Clove Inn so that Team Martinez-Woznicki could mark the arrival of fall with a trip to the pastoral town of Round Top.

We did the things you do when you go to the country. We walked outside (which is very different than walking outside, say, in Fort Lee, New Jersey). We bought a homemade apple pie. We admired obese pumpkins. We saw Autumn poking its head out from behind Summer with the occasional red leaf among all the green ones. And we ate a lot of meat and potatoes. The weekend also included a sojourn to Hunter Mountain for a fall microbrew and wine tasting festival. Naturally, we took our two-year-old daughter along, and were pleased to see that other young parents who simply wanted to enjoy an afternoon of sampling microbrews and wine had also brought along small children.

To balance the trip, we took Anna to a local game farm, or zoo, or zoo farm, or a place where they keep penned up animals. Mike and I found this particular game-zoo-farm place depressing. The animals were penned up in very small enclosed areas that didn’t resemble anything like a natural habitat (unless rhinos are roaming the parking lots of Africa…I don’t know) and it was a dreary scene to watch fat, obnoxious kids with their fat, obnoxious parents pelt these animals with the animal food crackers sold at nearby stands. Anna got to feed some sheep and talk to some giraffes, but within less than an hour, her parents were ready to leave.

Depressing game-zoo-farms aside, the trip was a chance to unplug, figuratively and literally. There was no TV or phone in our room, forcing the family to engage on levels not tested since the last time we had a power failure during a summer thunderstorm. But we did engage. And we got in touch with Nature a bit (and plenty of annoying black flies). Would we do it again? In a New York minute.