In early March the Shawangunk ridge was covered in snow. Brisk winds had drifted it along the trails making it necessary for snow shoes and skis to be brought out. Further up state the night before they had snowfall pushing seven feet deep, so the nine inches we had to contend with was just enough to enhance the beauty but not a real inconvenience by comparison. The roads were clear however, and the snow fields in the 11,000 acres of state park that surrounds the hotel were virginal in their untouched purity

The hotel straggled along the ridge, an eclectic mixture of stone and wooden structures, balconies with rocking chairs propped seat downward against the balcony rail. Outside the doorway to reception where a queue of cars waited to disgorge their passengers there were luggage trolleys full of logs waiting to be taken into the hotel. Valet parking was the order of the day as the staff drove between snow banks to find clear spots to put the cars. The air was crystal clean and clear, with views northward over the valley to the Catskills across snow covered farmland and woods. Against the outside of the building reared scaffolding, testament to the continuous program of improvement the Smiley family, owners since the mid-19th Century, are committed to. During my stay it was part of the bedroom stock being refurbished, with rooms being rebuilt to a different plan, marvelously keeping the original fireplaces and plaster work – but I am getting ahead of myself.

The first impression was of an hotel bursting with people. Rarely have I seen so busy a reception and concierge area. In front of reception were two lounges with roaring log fires and beyond that another room with an even larger log fire leading through to Mohonk Lake beyond, a lake covered in snow and, I was told, frozen with a good eight inches of ice . In scenes of organized chaos guests were checking in or out, organizing snow shoes for trekking the trails, racking their skis on the balcony after cross-country skiing, all like one of those rather jolly Hollywood movies from the 1930’s.

The interior of the public areas is all timber, not the refined joinery of an English country house but rather strong masculine carving and paneling in now rare American Chestnut, glowing beautifully in the firelight. Stone fireplaces the size of a man with crackling logs and footsteps on timber floors contributed to the homely clatter of people moving through the spaces, their children chattering about the tracks of chipmunks marking the snow or the porcupines to be seen in the woods. Amidst all the busyness were quiet corners where people were relaxing in front of the fires, some reading books from the hotel library, others just staring entranced into the flames. It was what was missing that was a delight. There was only one TV set, in the largest public room showing children’s cartoons, but there were no others (not even in the bedrooms), no muzak or other manufactured noise, just the sound of people enjoying themselves.