Rocking Chair Shadows After Breakfast

While downstairs, guests of Mohonk Mountain House enjoy breakfast on the porch, the upstairs porch/balcony is a quiet place to take in the morning.

Rocking Chair Shadows After Breakfast


Mohonk, Year 152

This visit to Mohonk Mountain House, in its 152th year of operation, comes six years after my last stay. In the time since, I’ve upgraded my kit (and my skills) and put both to use to get this stacked-exposure (i.e. “fake long exposure”) view of the hotel’s face on Labor Day weekend.

Mohonk Year 152

Skytop and the Hotel

Mohonk’s Skytop appears as a small castle atop the hills near the hotel, but its reality is a bit more mundane: it was constructed as a watchtower for forest fires in the early twentieth century. Though no longer in use, it adds an extra hint of magic to the whole setting. The hotel (off to the left) sits on the water, and the tower touches the sky.

Skytop and the Hotel

No More Canoes

There are many ways to define the seasons, with varying degrees of usefulness. (Solstices and equinoxes seem to have only the thinnest connection with the weather.) Perhaps the most valuable differentiation between times of the year is when one can reasonably be out on the water: “Spring” is that first moment when an afternoon in a canoe doesn’t sound miserable.

No More Canoes

Hotel Services

Even the grandest of hotels have infrastructure that supports the guest experience. For a grand old hotel like Mohonk Mountain House, that infrastructure is charming enough to be interesting in its own right.

Hotel Services I

Those early-twentieth-century structures—boilers and exhaust stacks and hand-painted signs noting the protocols for refilling the massive fuel oil tanks.

Hotel Services II

Mohonk Reflections (I, II, and III)

Mid-March shift from my most photographically productive time on the West Coast (amazing sunsets, end of the rainy season, etc.) to my least in the East (dirty snow, still-bare trees, sandy roads). I’ve been trying to find more beauty in the pre- and post-winter “stick seasons,” examining the shapes revealed when leaves and snow can’t hide branches. Though I’m not yet convinced to do anything more than grudgingly accept its necessity, but it led to some pretty dramatic reflections at Mohonk Mountain House.

Mohonk Reflections I

Mohonk Reflections II

Mohonk Reflections III