The Catskills were not always a weekend escape from New York City. In the early nineteenth century, they were the wild backdrop for American landscape painting, and the painters of the Hudson River School, led by Thomas Cole, came here to capture the cliffs, clouds and waterfalls. Kaaterskill Falls, a two-tier cascade of about 260 feet near the top of the clove, was one of their favourite subjects, and it is among the tallest falls in the state. The area also gave Washington Irving his Rip Van Winkle, the man who slept for twenty years on a mountain, and local lore insists that the legend is rooted in these hills.
The road through Kaaterskill Clove, Route 23A, climbs steeply from Palenville, with tight bends and a narrow, shaded corridor between rock walls. It is a classic piece of eastern American mountain riding, with moderate traffic and a few sharp hairpins where trucks are restricted. The surface can be rough, with frost heave and patches, and it can be wet and slick in shade. Water runs down the rocks after rain, and in winter ice can stay on the road long after it has cleared elsewhere.
At the top, the road opens onto the high country, with farms, small inns and views across the valley. Above the clove once stood the Catskill Mountain House, a grand hotel opened in 1824, which hosted travellers who came to see the sunrise from the escarpment. It was demolished in 1963, but the site is now part of a park with views over the Hudson valley and, on clear days, to the Berkshires and the Green Mountains.
Fuel is not on the mountain road. Hudson, a town of about six thousand people on the river, is the nearest large settlement, and smaller villages such as Palenville and Cairo have limited services. Plan to fill up before you start. Food and coffee are available in Tannersville and Hunter, a short ride up the road, where small cafés and delis serve walkers and skiers.
Autumn is the best season, when the maple and beech leaves turn red and gold, but it is also the busiest, so weekends can be crowded. Early morning on a weekday gives you the road to yourself, with mist in the clove and the sound of water over stone.