the mountains are calling

My post is a day late (sorry, angry mob) but I have a good reason: yesterday, my lovely mother and I went to Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, NY. Earlier this year, my mom had expressed an interest in the spa there, so, as a pre-emptive thank you for watching my hog while I was away, I got her a gift card. She hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, so we decided to book appointments and head up to the mountains together.


the ‘gunks

Around lunchtime, we made the trip via back roads and passed Angry Orchard, corn fields, and, our favorite, a group of dairy cows very excited to be outside (think: an adorable, moo-ing stampede). The drive was an easy one, about an hour and sans any real traffic. Regardless, it was the first trip for both of us. Mohonk Mountain House isn’t on my radar as a broke millennial, but my mom was in a gracious mood.

The resort has been around since the 1870s, and I’ve always thought of it as a lake house for tourists (since my family had our own lake house). The crowd was not my speed, as it was primarily families with small children. In case I haven’t mentioned it on here, I hate kids (except Stefan, my nephew that I’m convinced understands me on a spiritual level). Thankfully, my mom and I had lunch at the bar away from the kiddies. After that, we walked the lakeside trail around the (you guessed it) lake, and took some obligatory photos and kept our eyes peeled for any furry creatures.

left: cava rosada, right: shawangunk sangria

When the time came to head for the spa, we had to look at the map to find it. The resort is, to use a technical term, ginormous. The spa was cute and came with all of the usual amenities like slippers and robes and assorted toiletries in the bathroom. The effect, unfortunately, was somewhat marred by how busy it was. Groups of women, around my age, booked appointments together on the rainy Saturday and did not seem to care for the “quiet, please” rule of the estate.

Still, it’s entirely understandable that the spa would be busy on a rainy Saturday in July. The best part, I’d say, was that when our massages were finished the outdoor hot tub was empty. In addition to the rain, a fog had rolled in and created a spooky ambience for a soak in the empty mineral pool.

All in all, it was a good day (I got a massage, hello).


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