Why the Catskills?
A Gathering Of Personal Thoughts & Contributions from Others
By John Kavaller: Realtor and NYS Licensed Agent
CatskillCountryRealEstate.Com
Imagine
By Sean McGuinness
Growing up in the ‘70s as a young person, I found it difficult to understand world conflicts, over-population, crime and the like. I especially could not understand how our society could continue to pollute Lake Erie, a beautiful body of fresh water that I grew up on. My Irish immigrant parents taught me to be respectful and take care of each other. It was a confusing world, but one day I was moved by the philosophy in a new song I just heard. I thought of how it could apply to my life and how I could contribute to a better future.
The song is by John Lennon. “Imagine all the people/Sharing all the world.” This one word, “imagine,” has guided my innate optimism and can-do attitude throughout my life. Imagine a young, confused Irish kid from a large family in Buffalo becoming one of only 300 or so park superintendents in America.
So here I am in a world of two states, five counties, 15 townships and many partners known as the Upper Delaware, where I am told people lived as one. They took care of this beautiful, pastoral valley with its pure water and abundant rich resources where there was no need for greed or hunger.
So let’s imagine how the National Park Service (NPS) can contribute to keep us all in this beautiful valley living as one. First of all, NPS must accept the non-traditional park model that was implemented here. When the park was established, everyone came together over blood, sweat and tears to mold a partnership plan where private property is respected while the values of a pristine river corridor is preserved for current and future generations, especially for the kids.
NPS must work closely with community leaders implementing a plan that will benefit all. We must together address each challenge, big or small, by keeping in mind our value of a sense of place that contributed to creating the Upper Delaware as a national Wild and Scenic River. NPS and locals must also accept the political reality of living in a watershed producing abundant pure water to so many millions of fellow Americans. We must strive to keep decisions affecting our river and corridor local by demonstrating good land stewardship backed by science-based information.
Imagine we are all working as one. Now I can imagine what could happen: The Upper Delaware Council is making tough, good decisions and backed by the majority. We all accept that energy development is important to the nation and, done correctly, will provide many with an enhanced quality of life.
River communities are beautiful, fun and have a vibrant economy based on our unspoiled natural resources. Visitors are coming to relax, float, fish, spot bald eagles, paint or hear music. Park rangers are respected for taking care of us while we play and for educating us about our valley and rich cultural history. In turn, all park employees are respectful and understanding of the mission.
River homes are hidden. Townships have sustainable land use practices that are enforced. New York and Pennsylvania have reasonable regulations in place to uphold the river management plan. Flooding is prevented. The night skies are rich with stars, the days are quiet, people are having fun and the river continues its free flow into the future, a playground where kids can be delighted, not confused, by the way we have taken care of it.
You may say that I am a dreamer, but I am not the only one. I hope that some day you’ll join me. And the Upper Delaware will be as one.
Sean McGuinness is Superintendent of the Upper Delaware Scenic and Recreational River, a unit of the National Park System and one of the first designated wild and scenic rivers by Congress in 1968. McGuinness has been a park ranger for 33 years working in Wyoming, Alaska, Mississippi, Oregon, California, and DC.
BY SCOTT WOODS, editor-Jeffersonville Journal 2010-2011 Issue
You leave the city behind.
The stressed out, hustle bustle, number crunching, Ikea shopping crowds. The first thing you notice is at some pointon Route 17 (Future 86) you have a desire to roll down the windows and let your hundred dollar haircut be tussled by the fresh air. Country air. The euphoric scents of lilacs and apple blossoms and cow manure says you have arrived.
It’s true, you are not in a tropical paradise but rather among these magical mountains that are truly unique. The former haunt of Rip Van Winkle, there’s an irony to this land. You curse the cold, the rain, the never ending crop of rocks that sprouts in your garden each spring. The pipes freeze, the power fails and you swear on a stack of Sullivan County phone books that you are going to “sell this damn place!” but then...
you are lulled to sleep by peep frogs and hoot owls and the rumble of an approaching summer storm. You sleep well because you worked all day building that deck and because the night is dark, truly dark, like night is supposed to be. The only lights are the sparkles of a thousand million fireflies in the meadow below and billion trillion stars in the foreverness above. In the morning you are gently awakened by more song birds than any ornithologist could identify in a lifetime of bird watching.
Remember that weekend you won a medal in the Callicoon Canoe Regatta for “Fastest Couple With An Infant In A Rented Canoe Without A Paddle”? What about the time you strolled into Echo Letterpress and marveled as the offset printer churned out beautiful stationary, as it has for over one hundred years? You met new friends who were staying at The North Branch Inn. They were delighted by Victoria’s wacky charm and perfect aesthetic taste. Her doggies are so small and so big.
The children discover that milk from a cow is warm, not refrigerated and apples on trees don’t have stickers. The sudden intrusion of a live bat whirling around the lamp in their bedroom may make them scream and squeal but it isn’t a horrible vampire to be feared and loathed, indeed, it’s a wonderful Catskill moment that will never be forgotten.
Eventually you must return to the hustle bustle. You try to explain to the number crunchers that the scratches on your arms are from picking blackberries and “We saw a bear! And...!”
They don’t care.
You had to be there.
And you will be.
Again.
Next weekend.
2 Jeffersonville Journal • 2010-2011
Still Green--Still Great
Sullivan County is a Feeling...
Sullivan County is a Feeling... It's the Delaware River... It's Eagles Soaring... It's the smell of new mown hay. Our Catskills invigorate and relax folks like you and me.
Sullivan County is a Feeling... It's 1969 and Woodstock in Bethel, NY... It's small river towns and pine trees...It's Jeffersonville in Summer. Our Catskills speak and we listen.
Sullivan County is a Feeling... It's an escape from a Daunting Metro Area...A skinny dip in the neighbor's pond with your one and only...It's 90 minutes from overworked and tired to "Let's light the barbecue and ice the beer."
Sullivan County is a Feeling... It's ski slopes and toboggan runs your kids will never, ever forget--you didn't forget did you? It's privacy...It's Art and Music and Pottery and Antiques.. It's "I am so glad we're here honey."
And-- Sullivan County is a Feeling that each one of us defines individually. The Catskill Mountains of Sullivan County are Still Green--Still Great. If Fresh Air-Green Grass-Cows and Horses Out to Pasture ring true for you... If having your own place here excites and delights you----------YOU NEED TO BE HERE BECAUSE Sullivan County is a Feeling YOU NEVER WANT TO LOSE!
Sullivan County NY real estate is as varied as the multi hued autumn leaves. It's part of a wide geographic fabric including five other New York counties: Otsego, Delaware, Schoharie, Greene, and Ulster -see Catskill Mountains for more information on geography.
You won’t find skyscrapers or congested highways here in the Catskills of Sullivan County, NY. That is not exactly true. Come summer time, a mass exodus pushes out of the Metropolitan confines of the Greater New York Area. Folks explode out of the City on Friday. And dutifully return to city and suburban life on Sunday evenings.
We locals often like to complain about the traffic along Route 17. Actually, Route 17, so well known as that highway ribbon to the Borscht Belt, will soon have a reincarnation as Interstate 86. It will be wider, sleeker, and carry traffic up our mountains more efficiently.
But- we do not have skyscrapers or oily fumes. You won’t find any traffic going up the Beechwoods Road. You will find tubes and canoes at Skinner’s Falls. Eagles skim close to the Delaware River waters in these parts. Pigeons are interesting birds to watch on a Central Park bench; eagles are majestic and predatory—much like the Catskills themselves.
Flowing water—nothing can replace that feel of fresh and natural water cascading over your back. The Upper Delaware Corridor beckons. Here in our hills, you find exactly what you came for. Our lakes pull at your memory pushing you to fight though the weekend traffic to get back to your garden.
How many un-named and unknown secret hide aways have you found? Probably plenty, just not the kind you really want to swim or hike in. We are country and define what country life is all about.
Come on up. Take a look around. Find Your Sweet Spot—We’ll help if you want us to.
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First you must know where they are: So, just WHERE ARE THE CATSKILLS?
So-- you think you know where the Catskills are? Rather than debate, follow the brief tour here. This geographical area has many names. The borscht belt, the mountains, the Catskills, Catskill region, the Blue Mountains, Kaatskil Mountains, and various other monikers.
For example, Catskill, NY--where do you think it's located? Take a look here. Surprised? click here you're going to google a map for the Catskill Park. Same region? Not exactly. There are about 60 miles to cover between the town of Catskill, NY and the Catskill Park region of NYS.
The Catskills Region includes these six counties. Otsego, Delaware, Sullivan, Schoharie, Greene, and Ulster). No wonder confusion reigns. Each county claims the Catskills title legitimately. The Catskills are a geographical formation that includes counties, townships, hamlets, villages, cities, non-incorporated municipalities, incorporated municipalities, and other distinct regional names.
A good example of Catskill Confusion rests with the Town of Woodstock, NY Town of Woodstock. 1969 brought almost ½ million folks together for the rock n roll show of the century. Woodstock 1969 did not take place in Woodstock, NY. The extravaganza that August was located at Max Yasgur’s dairy farm in Bethel NY-Woodstock Rock n Roll Festival.
If you have interest in the Sullivan County, NY region of the Catskills, click here. We’ll be able to help you with buying of selling real estate and answer any questions you have.
Ready for a change?
If green, natural beauty, clean air and water, serenity and community are among your priorities, you've arrived at the right place. Our listings provide the perfect venue to translate your wishes into a solid residence in the countryside.
Nestled within our mountain tops and valleys lays a world found nowhere else but in the Catskill Mountains. Our abundant streams and lakes create a natural wonderland filled with delight and inspiration.
The Upper Delaware River Corridor refreshes the spirit, challenges the body, and sweetens the summer heat. Imagine yourself stepping out of your door into this vibrant space where hummng birds feed, your pets roam freely, and breakfast is waiting on your own deck overlooking the water.
Possible activities include Bethel Woods, home of the original Woodstock Festival, offering an eclectic mix of entertainment year round-The Delaware Arts Alliance presenting award winning artisans and their creations-The Delaware Valley Opera, home to summer stock opera on par with the best. The Forestburgh Playhouse features top notch shows with rave reviews. For the "Art Movie", the Callicoon Theatre fits the bill.
We are a year round playground offering golf, tennis, hiking, skiing, boating, biking, bird watching, fishing, hunting, and snowmobiling. Coming to your country home, only an hour and a half away from Downtown Manhattan, brings clarity to the reasons why you make a living in metro central but "live" in the country.
If you are ready to make Sullivan County your home away from home, give us the opportunity to help. If something sparks your interest, call or Email for additional information. These listings are always changing, so bookmark the page and check back often.
So You Want A Place in The Catskills?
Really? There’s a lot to think about. For instance:
Do you really want about 100 miles and take a swim before dinner?
Are your children ready for the fresh air, cool breeze, and sunshine?
Will Mom and Dad fit into the double bed at the farmhouse?
Do you really feel like taking a 3 or 4-day weekend to relax and enjoy life?
Great band playing Bethel Woods, should we buy tickets?
Should we do some horseback riding or maybe tube at Skinner’s Falls?
Sure there is a lot to think about. But why wouldn’t you want to come on up to the mountains? It’s just around the corner. You can be up in the same time it takes to creep down Madison Avenue or the LIE (Long Island Expressway).
Making Sullivan County your second home choice makes good sense—especially in today’s market. Super properties featuring views, water, and pastures are available at very advantageous price points.
Low interest rates and excellent inventory have created the perfect storm. So you want a place in the Catskills? Sure you do! Welcome Home.
Water, water everywhere . . .
What is it about water? What internal human instinct instills the love of that life giving substance? The draw to water is visceral. Like the warm smell of a 3-week-old puppy, water comforts the human soul.
Our human urge to get on the water, look over the water, ride the water, fly over water, bathe in water, drink in the water, devour the water, relax in water, hold our babies in water, swim in water, make love in water, seems to speak of our ancestry and kinship with life.
We mark our own birth with the breaking water--that nine month ride in water, so gloriously harmonized, connecting the unborn and yet to be, with mother, the source. I suppose the water worship is justifiably poignant for those of us wise enough, well heeled enough to live by, or on the water.
Translating the transcendental water front property into business is not so esoteric. Here in the Catskills, we thrive on natural waterfronts of a diverse nature.
The Rio (pronounced rye-o), Toronto, Neversink, Pepacton Reservoirs, the Delaware and Mongaup rivers, Swinging Bridge, Tennanah, White, Kauneonga Lakes, and so much more, provide ample opportunity for those heeding the inner call to the water front.
Water front real estate, be it by salty sea or fresh water estuary commands a premium. The collection of qualities surrounding water front properties is mysterious yet completely understood by that inner personal compass. No exact definition can be rendered. It is a personal relationship.
The streams, rivulets, ephemerals of spring flow here. Your spirit reaches out to be renewed, refreshed, and re-vitalized. I’ll be here waiting at the water’s edge. Welcome home.
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From: Breathing is Political-Blogger Liz Bucar
February 17, 2010
Filed under: Uncategorized — lizbucar @ 9:50 pm
I grew up playing baseball, growing veggies with my grandmother and riding horses in Madison, Ohio. It’s a small village in the northeast corner of the state that sits five miles from the shores of Lake Erie. When I was in school, the Cuyahoga River caught fire regularly and “Help me! I’m dying,” was scrawled in graffiti letters on the side of a Lake Erie pier. Anyone who lived along its banks already knew the lake was in jeopardy. The miles of fish carcasses strewn along the shore were clue enough.
Today, I live in a lovely, well-worn home overlooking the banks of the Delaware River in the Hamlet of Callicoon, NY. Whether I drink my morning coffee on my front porch or at a bedroom window, the gleam of the river is the first thing I see each day.
I’ve stood on the bridge that connects Pennslvania to New York and watched vacation trailers float beneath me in a torrent of brown flood. I’ve watched ice floes pile and pile so high that I’ve never doubted our tenancy rests in Nature’s hands.
But for more than the River, I came home to Callicoon for the people and early morning walks down Main Street.
This morning’s first stop was The Delaware Valley Free Library, built in 1913. As I approached the door with my ever-late book returns, Bernie, a friend from “the PA side,” poked his head out saying, “Got a minute? We have to talk.” His dark hair hangs well below his stocking cap and his salt and pepper beard remind me of my old hippie days. He’s wandered through the Far East and Buddhist Temples and now, he works as hard as anyone I know to preserve and protect the river and its hamlets. He wants to be sure we’re ready for this Saturday’s forum on Gas Drilling and Public Health that we’re helping to coordinate. It will be held in Callicoon’s Delaware Youth Center this coming Saturday.
At the back of the Library is a public room with murder mysteries and computers where locals chat as often as they read. As we finalize our last minute plans for the forum, the owner of Callicoon Van & Taxi Service wanders in with a big “Mornin’, all!” and settles at one of the internet terminals. A half hour or so later, as I pay my fines and check out a selection of Martha Grimes and Louise Penny mysteries, an elder whose head almost reaches my shoulder breathes toward my ear, “Oooo. Martha Grimes!” “Yup,” I nod. “Richard Jury’s my one true love,” and the conversation’s off and running until I remember I’ve got three more stops at least. She pats the cover of a book I’ve just returned. “The winter’s too long these days,” she sighs, “and I need all the books I can get.”
Headed toward The I.O.U., my favorite store in the universe, I remember I need stamps. Yes, stamps. I send birthday cards that carry fingerprints and smudged ink because anyone who’s struggled down a birth canal deserves more than misty electrons floating in an ethernet pipeline.
The main lobby of the post office is closed. Bud, a long-time resident who migrated up from NYC decades ago, shakes his head at me from the driver’s seat of his truck. “And it’ll stay closed for a full 90 minutes,” he says.
“Well wouldn’t Mae Poley and Wilda Priebe have called that heaven in the old days,” I say. (Mae and Wilda were North Branch’s post mistresses when I first moved to The Delaware River Basin. They’d taken over from their mother when she retired and Mae, her husband Earl and their daughter Amy still live in the old building that houses the PO. When I was a young single mom with a baby to raise, the sisters made sure I had plenty of house cleaning and dairy farm jobs to feed the little bugger. Neither of them ever closed the post office for more than half an hour and even then, we all knew where to find them. More than once, Mae fed me lunch at her kitchen table. She thought it’d keep me quiet till she was ready to re-open the window. I still remember the day Wilda admitted she knew fewer and fewer of the “new folks” who were buying the old, empty houses in North Branch. The Poleys, Priebes and so many others are woven into my life here in The Basin. I’ve cared for their loved ones in the Callicoon Hospital, rattled rafters with them at Democratic Party meetings and cheered all our kids from Tee Ball to graduation.
“I like your ‘Drilling Isn’t Safe’ button,” Bud says and I invite him to the forum on Saturday. For an hour, we catch up on all the people we know in common and where they are.
“Ya’ know Barbara and George Hahn?” I ask. “Sure!” he says. “We were in school together.” Barbara was an RN who flew over the original Woodstock Festival in a medical helicopter with Abby Hoffman. Her husband, George, had the Jeffersonville Veterinary for decades. They spent a whole afternoon giving me the skinny on my Jeff postcards. Although, truth be told, their memories weren’t always…synchronized, George’s family hearkened back to the days when our first settlers spent their first winters hunkered down in caves till their houses could be built. (The old Hahn farmstead was where Apple Pond Farm is today in Callicoon Center.) Barbara and George moved to Connecticut this winter to be nearer their kids. “They lit my days,” I say, missing them all over again.
Bud says his daughter was laid off when the Neversink Public School closed its reading program to save money. “Can’t pass a math test if ya’ can’t read,” he mutters.
My heart was set on a stop at the I.O.U. but I still needed a few things at Peck’s and as ever, the morning was nearly gone.
Peck’s is more than just a village grocery. For years, Art and Beth Peck worked day and night growing their first Narrowsburg store till it became another and another and another. Just as Beth’s energy fed the Narrowsburg Library, the local arts alliance and theater and a small news sheet that eventually became The River Reporter, when they retired, the Pecks ensured their employees were vested in the small chain’s future. But that’s not why Peck’s is more than a grocery. As my friend Marci says, “If I’ve got things to do at home, I don’t dare go to Peck’s.” Even if you make it down the aisles at a run, there’s the check out where neighbors share the news of the day. Among others, this morning, I ran into Fred Stabbert, III, publisher of The Democrat, Callicoon’s hometown newspaper. He was in college when I first worked for the paper that was handed down from his grandfather to his father and not so long ago, to him. Anyone who moves to Sullivan County should make it a point to read The Democrat’s “Down The Decades” page. It’s a wonderful compendium of more than 100 years of Sullivan County history — from the “white knights who protected our women” in thankfully bygone days to our more modern times. Those pages, in concert with Quinlan’s History of Sullivan County are a must-read if you’re interested in where we’ve been.
Most days, I feel a terrible urgency about painting a picture the outside world will see and cherish as much as I do. Our River valley’s wealth and health depend on each of us. We are a generous people. We care for each other — for our elders who return home alone after a hospitalization because their children have left in search of better jobs; for our young people who are learning the old arts from teachers like Bobbie Allees over at the Sullivan West Central School in Lake Huntington.
Our memories are long, stretching back to the days when our early families lived in caves above Callicoon Center and North Branch. Much of our strength derives from our open arms; arms that have welcomed organic sustainable agriculture to replace the old dairies. Fiber artists, novelists, poets and even Hollywood actors have made The Basin their home. And just this winter, our valley sent two of our sons to The Sundance Film Festival where Zac Stuart-Pontier won critical acclaim as an editor for “Catfish” and Josh Fox’s “Gasland” brought home Sundance’s Special Jury Prize for Documentaries.
Like Appalachia, Texas, Ohio and countless others before us, our valley faces a threat from outside.
But with each new year, our farmers, artists, teachers, librarians, nurses – old-timers and newcomers – carve a new historic tablet.
Please come to the Delaware Community Center February 20th at 4:00 PM. Learn what gas drilling may mean to the future of our valley.
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(Postscript to yesterday’s article. Bread bakers who read yesterday’s article will be unsurprised to learn that my pumpernickel loaves were reluctant to rise. The yeast knows when the baker’s spoiling for a fight. I suspect anger makes the air too heavy.)
Contact us for more information if you want to follow-up on anything you've found. We'll be happy to help.
John Kavaller, Realtor®
Catskill Sales Associates
Equal Housing Opportunity. This material is based on information which we consider reliable, but because it has been supplied by third parties, we cannot represent that it is accurate or complete and should not be relied on as such. This offering is subject to errors, omissions, change of price or withdrawal without notice.
