Rhinebeck,Woodstockand beyond
Perhaps no other town in the valley has done a better job of preserving its antique architecture than the jewel of Northern Dutchess: Rhinebeck. (Sorry, Tivoli and Red Hook, you are both charming in your ways, but no Rhinebeck.) Leave the car in one of the village-provided lots — the one upMarket Streetby the doughboy statue usually has space — and have yourself a pleasant perambulation. Route 9, known locally asMontgomery Street, is a main drag intersected by the other main drag,Market Street. Between them, there is a lot to explore. Numerous culinary offerings abound, ranging from the this-is-what-going-out-to-eat-was-like-when-Ike-was-president approach of Foster’s Coach House to this-is-what-going-out-to-eat-is-like-now-that-Obama-is-president Terrapin. (The latter offers some outdoor seating, as does whatever the Starr Cantina is called these days. Route 9 will never be mistaken for the Champs- Élysées, but it’s pleasant to sit outside on a nice day and watch the traffic as it goes by.) Rhinebeck is blessed with copious sidewalks, tree-lined quiet streets and, of course, the oldest inn in America. It also sports the region’s leading place to see a non-Hollywood movie and toney, upscale shops in a nearly Manhattan-level density. While the strong, unmistakable presence of second-homers can give natives a definite feeling of being colonized, ducking inside A.L. Stickle’s store onMarket Streetbrings one back to the Great Age of the Five and Dime. Someone could write an interesting “stunt memoir” on what it would be like to try to meet all of a person’s material needs purchasing only stuff from Stickle’s. Other favorite spots are the smoke shop on the corner of Livingston and East Market and Bread Alone further up Market.
All places are unique in their own way, and while unique is not a word that should be modified,Woodstockis somehow more unique. While many places that are known as Bohemian once started out as establishment as any other, Woodstock has a long and storied tradition of nurturing the non-conformist which stretches back long before its name was appropriated for a rock concert. This aura is palpable; whileWoodstockat times can seem a touch touristy or contrived, if one suspends one’s disbelief and relaxes, one can feel the decades of art, peace and music coursing through the place. Give tension and cynicism the day off and smile back at the smiling people you pass by — the Woodstock generation didn’t succeed in its bid to change the world, but walking up and down the streets, browsing in the shops and perusing the offerings of the vendors, perhaps taking in a waft of incense on the breeze or a hint of patchouli from one of the kids keeping it real on the village green, one can apprehend, if only for a brief moment, what the world would have been like if everybody had come together and loved one another and it somehow stuck. Contrary to popular belief, you really don’t need a ton of money to enjoy Woodstock. Yes, you can spend as much as you bring at the numerous galleries and gift stores filled with exotica from most favored (by hippies) nations, or drop serious cashish at any number of restaurants, like Oriole 9 or Joshua’s, which will serve you a meal you’ll think well worth the cost. But Taco Juan’s and the Catskill Mountain Pizza Company offer fine low-cost eating options, the latter being a good place if you have kids in your party, and it doesn’t cost a dime to soak in the good vibes.
If the generation which madeWoodstocka household world on a global scale was about anything, it was about going further. So, further out and up Route 28 we head, past Shokan, the reservoirs, Olive in all its configurations, past Boiceville (west of which there is no law, as Neil Grant used to say) and Mount Tremper, until you find Phoenicia.
