Why book?
Staying at Urban Cowboy Lodge is like the Platonic ideal of hanging out with your friends in your parents’ basement—if your parents’ basement were stocked with expertly mixed drinks and a canteen full of s’more kits and rolling papers, that is. Prepare to cut the cord and just chill out in the company of other adults masquerading as big kids for a couple of days.
Set the scene:
It’s not difficult to find Urban Cowboy Lodge—the hotel is just one turn off of Route 28, home to the much-loved Phoenicia Diner—but it’s hardly in the middle of everything. Up here in the Catskills, you’re lucky if you can catch a flicker of data on most roads. But the property’s remove is part of its allure: set back on a high hill, and spread across 68 acres of prime mountain land, making your way up the driveway feels decidedly like you’ve opted out of society, at least for a weekend. The hotel itself is staffed by a small but merry cadre of Lost Boys whose endearing mix of irreverence and can-doism gives the hotel its cool, devil-may-care personality. They’re glad you’re here—and they want you to chill the eff out.
The guests are, if not a reflection of those attitudes, an extension of them: Likely ranging from their early ‘30s to their early ‘50s, with mysteriously well-paying jobs in the creative sphere, they seem like they were airlifted directly out of Brooklyn for the weekend. They’ve left the kids at home—or they’re child-free altogether—and they want a higher-end experience, one with well-crafted cocktails and excellent food, without the traditional stuffiness or pomp of a regular high-end hotel. You’re gonna see a lot of them, dudes and chicks alike, in beanies, and they may or may not be wearing socks with their Birkenstocks; step into their circle of conversation and you’ll hear about the dark room they’ve set up in the basement of their Park Slope townhouse, and maybe the latest spate of Indie films or obscure Albanian director whose work they’ve recently been into. They’re a little bit much, but they’re sure fun to play a rousing game of Connect Four with.
The backstory:
This is Urban Cowboy’s third outpost, after ones in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and Nashville, Tennessee. (Founders Lyon Porter and Jersey Banks are also behind Nashville’s Dive Motel, which has more of a Swinging Sixties vibe.) It almost feels strange—when you don’t consider its name, that is—that this property represents the first time the brand has branched out into the country, given that Urban Cowboy’s vintage-tchotchke and bold, Native American-inspired prints aesthetic feels so natural to this rough-and-tumble mountain setting. But the conceit, coupled with an expert but low-key approach to service, works beautifully.
The rooms:
Imagine if your cool uncle—the one you bragged about to all your friends in high school—fled his Williamsburg loft for the Catskills one weekend, and came back with a bad antler habit. That’s more or less the vibe here: rootsy and bold, with cool country flair that never manages to exceed the kitsch limit. To wit: the bar is built around an actual tree, and generous leather couches and chairs with brightly patterned cushions spill out in the Parlor, the Lodge’s main common space, some parked around a stone fireplace. The Den, a subterranean hangout just down the stairs, feels like the Platonic ideal of hanging out in your parents’ basement, with plenty of seating and a pool and backgammon table to play around on.
Rooms, too, are a mystifyingly symbiotic riot of color and texture. Shrouded in stamped wallpaper patterns made by artist Clint Van Gemert, they’re filled with antique tchotchkes, from old wooden skis to vintage maps; Pendleton blankets; and copper-lined clawfoot tubs. They’re rounded out with a bevvy of products, many local, by the bedside and in the minibar, like Phoenicia Honey Co.’s Lavender Calendula salve and Catskill Provisions’ chocolate honey truffles. All that said, accommodations (and the general experience) aren’t exactly family- or child-friendly. This is really a spot to escape for the weekend with your boo, or a couple of close friends who just want to veg out and drink and enjoy the scenery.
Food and drink:
You’ll never get bored of the drink program, which is fortunate when you’re all the way out here in the woods: there are local brews, like West Kill’s Kaaterskill IPA (the illustrated tallboy is almost too pretty to toss); an eclectic and well-curated wine program that’s heavy on France and Italy; and cocktails-for-two that you can have delivered to your room and sip from your copper tub (the martini kit for two and the thermos of hot toddies are prime picks for that plan).
The spa:
There isn’t quite a spa, but the Lodge does have a pod-like Estonian sauna stationed out front that promises to be a good time when it opens for use. (It’s finished, but due to the pandemic, the hotel has decided to keep it closed for now.)
The neighborhood/area:
There’s not all that much around here in terms of “neighborhood;” you’re in the belly of the Catskills, and again, you’re lucky if your cell signal doesn’t cut out for more than 20 minutes. It’s generally pretty sleepy, but if you want to leave the hotel for an afternoon, you can drive down the road to Route 28, one of the main drags around here, and head south to the Phoenicia Diner, which attracts a similar Catskills-by-way-of-Brooklyn clientele; keep heading east, and you’ll hit Woodstock, perhaps the holy grail of groovy mountain towns.) To the north, you’ll find small but decently developed towns like Andes, Delhi, Margaretville, and Roxbury, where there’s an assortment of decent food and shopping, and even a cider house and boutique wine shops.
The service:
Urban Cowboy has managed to do something I’ve never experienced elsewhere: provide top-marks service that doesn’t seem to try too hard (or try at all, for that matter). Staff are tuned-in and attentive, knowledgeable and efficient, without dispensing any of the sirs and ma’ams and stilted affections of fancier places. The hotel is staffed by a crew of quasi-ageless Brooklyn transplants who know about having a good time and want you to have one, too. They might be dressed unironically in overalls and spinning records in the Parlor on a Friday night, or leading a YakTrax-enabled hike across part of the hotel’s 68 vast acres come Sunday morning. Maybe they’re bringing you breakfast in bed on a Saturday and cracking jokes about the coffee—that is to say, putting you at ease without crossing the invisible line from guest to friend. But their ultimate goal is to make you feel comfortable and cared for, and they succeed at that and then some.
Anything left to mention?
Hand to heart, I wouldn’t change a single thing about my experience. It sounds weird, but drink the proverbial kool-aid: chat with a stranger; get excited about board games; sit on the porch and give yourself a chance to get lost in your thoughts. There’s so much to enjoy when you manage to peel your eyes away from your phone, and decide to give in to a good time.
37 Alpine Rd, Big Indian, New York 12410
United States
https://www.urbancowboy.com/catskills/
(845) 254-5026