Art, Wine, and Wealth Along America’s Most Historic Waterway

By David Baum with photos by Susie Baum

I’m standing on a grassy knoll beneath a Persian palace, and for a moment I feel like I’ve been transported to another world. The views from this historic site – the former home of landscape artist Frederick Edwin Church – look more like a stretch of the Rhine River in Western Germany than Upstate New York. Stretching to the horizon in both directions, the Hudson River has an ethereal glow reminiscent of one of Church’s paintings. To the west the contours of the Catskill Mountains are discernible through the August haze. Behind me lies the architectural masterpiece that Church built in 1870, having carefully selected the site for its exceptional vistas, many of which he later painted. 

“Church’s artwork is characterized by a calmness and sense of hope,” the tour guide tells us. That’s precisely how I feel at this moment, two days into a four-day road trip in the Hudson Valley.  

During previous visits to New York my wife and I had never left Manhattan. This time, having just tucked our daughter into a dormitory for her freshman year at NYU, we decided we were ready to try something new: an indulgent country ramble, with stops at bed & breakfasts in the towns of Hudson and Cold Spring. The Olana tour is quickly becoming one of the highlights. Church traveled extensively throughout South America, Europe, and the Middle East, where he became entranced with Moorish architecture, we learn as we enter the ornate three-story house, which looks more like a Greenwich Village opium den than the home of a genteel Victorian family, replete with exotic tapestries and other furnishings collected from their travels. Dozens of paintings by Church and other artists line the walls.

The Hudson Valley is famous not only for the artistic heritage of the Hudson River School, but also for its authors (Washington Irving), politicians (Franklin D. Roosevelt), and captains of industry (John D. Rockefeller, William Vanderbilt, Ogden Mills), whose palatial homes epitomize the fabulous wealth and unbridled aspirations of the Industrial Age.

Visiting these majestic country manors was partly our motivation as we motored up Highway 9 on day one of our journey. Our first stop was the Vanderbilt mansion in Hyde Park, a 54-room Greco Roman structure perched amid 670 acres of riverfront property. Wandering through the estate’s wooded grounds, it was hard to imagine that this was the smallest of Vanderbilt’s four country mansions. We continued north to Rhinebeck, a delightful town that boasts the oldest inn in America, the Beckman Arms. George Washington is said to have dined here, and the dark-wooded tavern looks much the same today as it did when he visited more than 200 years ago.

There is no shortage of cultural landmarks in this region, but after two days of museums we were ready to enjoy one of the Valley’s other great pleasures: wine. As the oldest winemaking region in the U.S., the Hudson River Valley has about three-dozen wineries, many of which offer tours and tastings.

Hudson River wines are different from the ones my wife and I commonly drink from California. French-American grape varieties such as Seyval Blanc and Baco Noir take naturally to this temperate climate, along with delicate European grapes such as Chardonnay and Cabernet Franc. In good years these varietals thrive, but unpredictable summer weather affects the quality from year to year.

“We would just as soon forget 2011,” explained the wine steward at Benmarl Winery, recalling the torrential rain from Hurricane Irene during that summer’s crucial ripening period.

Our favorite wine during our three-day sojourn was a 2010 Cabernet Franc from Millbrook Vineyards, which we enjoyed over dinner at the Riverview Restaurant in Cold Spring. Often used as a blending grape, Cabernet Frank is lighter than Cabernet Sauvignon, its robust Bordeaux cousin, but with a similar finesse and peppery perfume. We also liked Millbrook’s 2009 Proprietor’s Special Reserve Chardonnay and a 2010 Reserve Chardonnay from Benmarl. These taut white whines are characterized by a higher acidity and leaner style than the California chardonnays we are used to, but they are wonderful food wines with plenty of subtlety.

The standout on Benmarl’s tasting list was a 2009 Zinfandel with “notes of fig, plum and cocoa,” according to the tasting notes. As I attempted to detect these elusive aromas, I realized that the long, warm finish of this big red wine was wholly out of character with the others we had been sampling. The pourer explained the wine’s pedigree: the fruit was grown in the Sierra Foothills of California and subjected to a three-day continental journey before being crushed locally. This extra ripening period raised the sugar levels, giving the wine a 16 percent alcohol level once fermented dry.

I begged for another pour and took my glass outside to savor the splendid view.

The next day we decided to head inland towards the Catskill Mountains. We stopped to browse through shops and galleries in the fabled town of Woodstock (the 1969 music festival actually took place about 40 miles from here), and then made our way south to the Mohonk Preserve, a nature lover’s paradise with unique rock formations and miles of hiking trails. Along the way we passed grand Victorian homes, stately old barns and, finally, rolling vineyards, as the mountains of Mohonk gave way to the farms and wineries of Ulster County.

Crossing back over the river near Newburgh, we stopped in the town of Beacon, a riverfront community that has recently enjoyed a renaissance for its lively arts and antiques scene. Along with Hudson and Cold Spring, Beacon is one of the best spots for antique shopping. Unfortunately, we did more window-shopping than actual shopping due to the timing of our visit, since many stores are closed during the early days of the week.

On our final day we headed south along the east side of the river. A stop to tour Philipsburg Manor took us back more than three centuries. This remarkably preserved farming, milling, and trading center was established by a wealthy Anglo-Dutch merchant in 1693. During its hay day his family owned 52,000 acres here, along with nearly two-dozen enslaved Africans, who were indentured to operate the complex.

“Twenty-three slaves lived in this small area,” a tour guide told us as we walked through the cramped first-floor quarters of the 300-year-old manor house. I tried to imagine the living conditions in this squat, airless room, making a mental note to remind my daughter of the comparative luxury of her triple dorm room back on campus.

One of the most memorable stops of our entire journey was St. Philip’s Church, which we stumbled upon by accident as passed through Garrison. Designed by Richard Upjohn, a 19^th Century architect who is famous for Gothic Revival churches—including Trinity Church in Lower Manhattan—this lovely stone building commands a grassy knoll surrounded by hundreds of ancient tombstones. George Washington and Benedict Arnold have a place in this church’s history, I later learned, and Upjohn himself is buried in the churchyard.

I didn’t see that particular grave as I wandered pensively among the faded burial markers, but many others caught my eye, such as a the final resting place of Abraham Kerns Arnold, born March 27, 1837, the same birthday as my daughter. According to his tombstone, Arnold won a Congressional Medal of Honor for his valiant command of the 22nd U.S. Cavalry during the Civil War. I was also struck by a triptych of matching gravestones, faded to almost white and leaning with the hill. I couldn’t make out the writing on the front side of the stones, but the back sides were each adorned with a single word: Mother, Father, Sister.

Picturesque graveyards such as this one are not uncommon in the northeast. But as a west-coast native, these hallowed plots always captivate me with their faded graves and tantalizing bits of history. Lost in my thoughts during our final drive to Newark Airport, I felt dwarfed by the immense weight of time, the unwavering sweep of years connecting all souls—rich and poor, free and enslaved, cursed and blessed. What might lie ahead for our daughter as she attempts to make a home here, so far from everything our family has known? What lives will she touch, what stories will unfold as she finds her place in this new world?

Alas, such thoughts quickly subsided with the busy airport hustle—returning the car, finding our gate, and settling in for the long flight home. As the jet rose out of Newark, I couldn’t help craning my neck for a final view of the majestic river that has played such an important role in our nation’s history—and, undoubtedly, will soon establish itself in our family history as well.

– David Baum is a freelance writer based in Santa Barbara who frequently writes about travel, wine and lifestyle issues.

The Foxen Canyon Wine Trail beckons day-trippers wishing to sip Rhone varietals, sample local delicacies, and savor a quintessential country experience.

By David Baum with photos by Susie Baum

It’s just past noon on a glorious October day as we motor north on Foxen Canyon Road. The route stretches ahead like a warm promise as the country estates surrounding Los Olivos are quickly replaced by high meadows, majestic oaks and well-tended vineyards. We’re here to slow down a pace—to explore the back roads, tune in to the distant screech of the red-tailed hawks, and savor the subtle aromas of a few fine syrahs.

The Foxen Canyon Wine Trail is the locus of some of Santa Barbara County’s best wines, from the hot-blooded Rhone varietals that dominate the warm inland areas (syrah, grenache, and viognier gaining the greatest renown) to the palate-cleansing Burgundians, especially pinot noir and chardonnay, that grace the northern regions closer to the coast. Sauvignon blanc, negrette, sylvaner, sangiovese, and cabernet franc also thrive in this diverse appellation. While day-trippers in other parts of the country seek deciduous forests to experience Autumn’s changing hues, here the seasonal transition is most evident in the vineyards, as the lush emerald leaves of summer gradually fade into a magnificent spectrum of auburn and rust, yellow and gold.

Provisions for the Trail

Most wineries have picnic facilities, and there are some superb places to pick up gourmet provisions before you start up the Trail. If you are traveling from Santa Barbara via highway 154, consider a stop at Los Olivos Grocery to purchase deli sandwiches and a variety of complimentary delicacies. Proprietor Zaher Darghaliz purchased the “Valley Store” last year and has continued the tradition of offering gourmet and specialty foods. His wine department favors local varieties from Santa Barbara County, an amazing cheese department, gourmet coffee, and a tantalizing variety of hot and cold specialty sandwiches. A bakery, espresso bar, and gelato counter round out the culinary offerings.

Panino, located near the flagpole in Los Olivos, is another good choice for freshly prepared sandwiches. For lighter fare try the Panino Caprese—layers of buffalo mozzarella, sliced tomato and fresh basil, drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar and organic greens. If you prefer a salad, try the Curried Chicken—tossed with apple, sun-dried cranberries, pine nuts, and honey mustard over a bed of greens, accented by balsamic vinaigrette.

There are numerous places to taste wine in Los Olivos if you are eager set the mood for the day. But watch out—there are so many choices you may never make it out of town! A local favorite is Stolpman Vineyards, housed in a historic building on Alamo Pintado Avenue, right across the street from Panino. Place your sandwich order and stroll over to try the hand-crafted, organic wines. If you are coming from the north, consider a stop in Los Alamos to pick up lunch at Café Quackenbush or Foxen Farms.

At the north end of the trail, a wonderful spot for a leisurely outdoor picnic is Rancho Sisquoc Winery, a historic ranch with a timeless ambiance. There are picnic tables on a shady terrace. Other tables are scattered among mature fruit trees on a sunny lawn. If you are starting at the south end of the Trail, consider a lunch stop at Fess Parker Winery, where you can dine in the shade of mature Valley Oak trees flanked by native stone walls and colorful climbing rose vines. Be advised that wineries are generally licensed to only serve their own wines on the premises, so start with a tasting and then select a bottle to enjoy with your meal.

Down to Business

Seasoned wine tasters suggest visiting just two or three wineries on an afternoon jaunt. Today our focus is Foxen Winery & Vineyard, founded by Bill Wathen and Dick Doré at the historic Rancho Tinaquaic Vineyard. The winery is named in memory of William Benjamin Foxen, an English sea captain and Dick’s great-great grandfather, who came to Santa Barbara in the early 1800s. Captain Foxen adopted the distinctive anchor as his ranch cattle brand, which later became a trademark of the winery.

“Good wine is made in the vineyard,” Wathen tells us during a tour of Foxen’s new solar powered wine-making facility. “By striving to produce perfect fruit we can take a minimalist approach to winemaking.”

This classic balance is evident in just about every Foxen wine. One of the standouts on this warm afternoon is the 2009 Chardonnay from Bien Nacido Vineyard. “For the last four or five years we have been ‘unstylizing’ this wine – letting it be what it is so the true character of the fruit comes through,” Wathen says. Secondary fermentation is discouraged in this tight, well structured food wine, which is fondly known as “the lemon drop” to reflect its natural acidity—only slightly mellowed by an eight-month stint in new French oak barrels. Another perennial favorite is Foxen’s 2009 Pinot Noir from the coveted Sea Smoke Vineyard. A portion of each vintage is fermented in new oak barrels, removed when dry, and then placed in new oak barrels for another 16 months or so. “It’s almost like 200 percent oak,” Wathen says. 

Meeting the winemakers is one of the joys of touring the boutique wineries in this historic area. Many of them are on hand to answer questions.

“Younger wines are more forward—they taste more fruity initially,” explains Felipe Hernandez, part owner of Koehler Winery, who also manages five prominent vineyards in the Foxen Canyon area and makes wine under his own label, Feliz Noche. “Older wines don’t jump at you—they linger,” he adds. “There is much more subtlety in the finish.”

That’s essential knowledge for novice wine tasters, who tend to favor young, acidic, fruit-forward wines during a casual tasting, then are disappointed when they drink the same wine with a meal. We took the advice of Eric Mohseni at Zaca Mesa Winery, who recommended the Zaca Mesa 2008 Estate Grown chardonnay to accompany our picnic, which included a splendid assortment of Kalamata and Sicilian olives, Brie de Meaux cheese, marcona almonds, Genoa salami, and a Tuscan Treasure sandwich, all from Los Olivos Grocery.

We came to the Foxen Canyon Wine Trail for total immersion, a quintessential country experience. We weren’t disappointed. While autumn is a lovely time to visit, every season offers unique delights, from the wildflowers of spring to the golden hills of summer to the clear, piercing days of winter, when snow often caps the mountain peaks.

So what are you waiting for?

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photo credits: Susie Baum

“The religion of one age is the literary entertainment of the next.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

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I have always relished philosophical discussions about the nature of God and I have spent a lifetime pondering human conceptions of the divine. If we have a special place in the universe, or are endowed with a unique purpose by a creator, then our ability to reason is one of the things that sets us apart. What good are our beliefs if they can’t stand up to scrutiny? Knowledge and discernment come from having the courage to question our convictions. I say, submit your religious beliefs to the fire of scrutiny. Burn away what is merely convention and the ultimate truth will emerge as polished gold. I have striven to raise my children with this same level of honesty, courage and sensitivity.

I’ve changed a lot since high school, when I ardently embraced Christianity as a born-again acolyte. One of my former Young Life leaders recently asked me about my current faith and ideas about God. I get that question periodically from old friends so I thought it was time to provide a thoughtful answer.

While I am an innately spiritual individual, I am not afraid to admit that many bad concepts pervade our religious traditions, or to acknowledge the inconsistencies and, in some cases, outright atrocities in our holy books. Not only our scientific knowledge, but also our political, social and moral sensibilities have evolved considerably since these books were written. In addition, most modern religions are burdened by centuries of dogma that detract from the core insight and guidance of their founders. While they uphold fundamental virtues and have led many people to do good deeds, in some cases they have become more of a hindrance than an aid to attaining true spiritual insight.

Thus for many years my spiritual quest has involved un-learning as much as learning: stripping away centuries of ideas and traditions to uncover the bare essence of divinity, the nuggets of truth that motivated enlightened individuals to share their experiences in the first place. Rituals, sacraments, liturgies, hymns and volumes of ecclesiastical literature were all designed to help us find the way, but in most cases their meaning has been lost or diluted by convention.

When it comes to Christianity, I am most interested in the authentic words and spiritual teachings of Jesus. Unfortunately, he didn’t write down his sermons, delivered in Aramaic, or if he did they weren’t preserved. The Gospels were written decades after his death, in Greek, and by that time the early church had it’s own interpretation and evangelical agenda—from St. Paul’s zealous attempts to guide the early church to the pervasive institutions of the present day. If you read the Gospels with some discernment, however, you can still detect the genuine message and spirit of what Jesus stood for.

Look closely and without preconceptions and you will see that Jesus’ views are in harmony with the supreme teachings of all the great religions, from the Upanishads to the Tao to the Buddhist sutras to the words of the Zen and Sufi masters.

When Jesus spoke about the Kingdom of God, I don’t think he was referring to some future heavenly state or foreseeing an apocalyptic vision. He was talking about a state of being, a way of living in harmony with the way things are, right now. Jesus also put the scriptures in perspective. He cast aside the ancient precepts of the Torah and the tedious legal jargon of ancient Judaism. He put a more loving, tolerant face on the provincial Yahweh of the Old Testament. And he taught us not to equate spirituality with dogma, or belief in a set of doctrines.

It is clear to me through much study that the mystical traditions of the world converge upon a common reality that transcends words and thoughts. Spiritual experience is a natural propensity of the human mind, but we need not believe anything on insufficient evidence to actualize it. It resides within us and is accessible to everyone. Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and the door shall be opened to you.

Clearly Jesus was aware of this fundamental truth. And while some Christian sects and denominations have buried it, others have helped it to flower, such as the Christian mystics of the Middle Ages and some modern theologians like Master Eckhart and Richard Rohr. Introspection and meditation lead us to this fundamental awareness. We apprehend God’s presence by looking within, quieting the mind and becoming one with the groundless source of being.

All of our ideas about God and the nature of existence ultimately arise from the mind. To me this simple truth is at the heart of spirituality. And while we can argue endlessly about whether one religion is better than another, the fact is that some religious traditions acquaint us with this central truth better than others. There are pearls of wisdom in the Bible, to be sure, but when it comes to meditation and direct spiritual insight, the teachings of Buddha, Shankara, Nagarjuna, Lao Tzu and many others far surpass anything we find in the Judeo Christian canon. Jesus echoed their wisdom with his emphasis on personal transformation and his insistence that God can be found in the still, small voice inside of us. That’s why he talked about the natural spirituality of children, saying that to know God you must become like a child. Children naturally embody the divine here and now.

We feel God’s presence in proportion to our openness, and (for me anyway), most of the rituals and sacraments of the modern church stand in the way of that simple truth. The luminous, the compassionate, the treasure buried in the field, the pearl of great price—these allegories point to the overwhelming presence of a God who is here all the time, right beneath our feet. We don’t need to earn this state of being. It is already ours and, if anything, most of us lose it as we grow up. As Jesus said, children don’t need to “enter” the Kingdom of God. They are already in it.

This self-evident truth is often clouded by the unreasonable demands of modern religions and their elaborate systems of belief, some of which are clearly untenable. How can we believe in a rational God who demands us to hold irrational tenets? Must we posit a supernatural world? Isn’t it enough to believe that Jesus was a man who transformed himself and left great examples and teachings? Must we also believe that he was the Son of God, born of a virgin, and destined to return to earth in clouds of glory? Must we accept the abhorrent concept of Original Sin and the exclusionary idea that only certain individuals are saved? Such dogma takes what is good and pure in Christianity – the example of Jesus – and places it forever out of reach. Becoming like Jesus becomes impossible.

I don’t think Life can be reduced to its material constituents or that consciousness can be explained as a series of chemical reactions. However, we can’t ever really know the ultimate nature of reality due to one inescapable fact: read, ponder, and argue as we may, any statement about absolute truth only reflects our puny human conceptions. All of our noblest ideas are bounded by what we can see, measure, and understand. One of these conceptions that we must overcome is the illusion of “self” which encourages a duality between us and everything else and prevents us from contemplating the nature of consciousness, from which all of our ideas about God arise.

I’ve strayed towards Eastern philosophy because it offers clear guidelines about the nature of the mind and the path to spiritual fulfillment through simple meditation and contemplation. The teachings of the Buddha don’t require a leap of faith or acceptance of inscrutable doctrine or belief in the unknown. They simply point the way to a rational exploration of the nature of consciousness—an exploration, I might add, that is in accord with current thinking in psychology, neuroscience, and our honest perceptions of the world around us. They describe the nature of consciousness and the relationship between mind and body in a way that can be validated by direct experience.

For me, prayer doesn’t involve beseeching the attention of an external deity. It is a personal transformation guided by liberation from the illusion of self. It begins not with sin, but with serenity. We are naturally in a state of grace and we can all apprehend this clear state of awareness, uncluttered by dogma, transcending thought. Meditation not only acquaints us with the groundless source of being. It is also a very practical method of cultivating awareness and refining our attention.  

My simple faith in the God of popular Christianity, which characterized my high school and early college years, has expanded and blossomed. I passed through a dark and nihilistic phase in my twenties but I have arrived on the other side with a meaningful and honest worldview—and a fulfilling spiritual life as well. Abandoning “religion” was step one. Understanding “faith” was step two: not a virtue, but a misguided attempt to justify nonsensical arguments. Faith runs counter to honest intellectual inquiry because it requires no justification and allows no argument. In what other area of human discourse do we permit such nonsense?

My spiritual life is a continuum. And while there have been plenty of reversals and a few outright denials along the way, I can trace an unbroken path to the present. Today I’m agnostic, if pushed, with little need for faith and a low tolerance for nonsense. The kid from Young Life camp is still here and I don’t try to negate any of the experiences that have made me who I am. Most of all, I am untroubled in my soul. I find beauty in simple things and I feel God as a part of me, every day. As the great American poet Wallace Stevens said:

The bird which sings in the palm sings a human song. It wakes me to a world which is enough.

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Bibliography

While I did not want to interrupt the flow of this narrative with citations and footnotes, influential sources include the following:

Stephen Mitchell, The Gospel According to Jesus

Sam Harris, The End of Faith

Matthiew Ricard, The Monk and the Philosopher

Lao Tzu, The Tao Te Ching

Wallace Stevens, Collected Poems

Alan Wallace, Mediations of a Buddhist Skeptic

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: The Transcendentalist

Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth

William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience

Nagarjuna, Seventy Verses on Emptiness

The New American Standard Bible

“The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.”

– Rumi

For Suzanne Marie:

One August 9 many years ago, you strolled off of a sandy beach and into my life. Who would have thought that the playful summer romance that began that day on Coronado Island would bloom into such a marvelous, enduring relationship?

Beautiful, courageous, passionate, nurturing—you have been my hope and my salvation, my goddess from on high and my girl next door. You swept me off my feet and caught me when I fell. You taught me what it means to be me.

If Coronado is a place where dreams come true, then (as Rumi would say) I must have been dreaming of you. After many years in this uncertain world you remain the only person I have ever truly loved. I am happiest when you are in my arms.