(Catskills Ghost stories are an age-old tradition. If it rains, we’ll gather ’round an electronic campfire, or at least a nice candle in the pub. Meanwhile, read on!)
The crisp Autumn Catskills nights are perfect for ghost stories.
Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky; but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of grey vapours about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory...
In that same village and in one of these very houses (which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived, many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle.
-Washington Irving
We’ll build you a lovely bonfire and we’ll hang out ’round it, telling stories in the lovely October night.
Bring stories of your own! And we’ll bring some of ours!
Grab your favorite, second-favorite, and fourth and fifth favorite drinks and spend the evening beguiling yourself with Halloween tales!
You will want to bring a jacket (or cloak, or cape) – those Catskills nights get chilly.