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December 11, 2003 - The call of the CatskillsThe Suffolk Times • December 11, 2003 of h e call atsk1*11,1 Times /Review photo by Paul Stoutenburgh Many of these small old dairy farms in the Catskills have been lost in the modern world to big business, yet some are being saved by people who love the character and culture of the area, as is the case with the farm pictured here. MANY OF You arrow the joy of hav- ing grandchildren, as we do, and look forward to spending time with them, as we did last weekend in the Catskills. One of the reasons for going was that our grandson had gotten a new snowboard and was anxious to try it out. There is always the possibil- ity of snow in Focus the mountains, so we gathered ON up all our gear, NATURE food, and, of course, the shiny by Paul new snowboard Stoutenburgh and headed up to our friends' cabin beside a bubbling brook. it s a lour- or five-hour drive depending on the traffic. We left real early in the morning and went right on through. The trip up was unevent- ful, but as soon as we got to the Roscoe Diner we knew we were well into snow country. It's interesting to look back and see how things have evolved in one's short life span. I can remember when, as a kid, we were thrilled to ride an aquaplane behind a speedboat. The aquaplane was more or less a big flat door -like thing that was towed behind a boat and the most you could do was swerve from side to side. But as time went by that became old- fashioned and water skis took over. Thev had their own evo ut�om big wide ones to sleek ones and then to a single ski on which the youth of the day can speed around and jump over waves and do all sorts of acrobatics that were unheard of in my early days. The same evolution of skiing is true in snow. The length and width and material the skis are made of has changed drastically through the years. And now instead of using two skis, our grandson has high hopes of trying out his single board: the popular snowboard. He has acquired all the necessary accessories: the giant boots, wrist protectors, helmet, etc. — all the trappings of modern-day excitement on the slopes. We got up to the cabin and immedi- ately turned the heat up and built a warm fire in the mammoth fireplace that rises up into the high cathedral ceiling. It's made with all the old stones that were removed from the fields. The friend who owns the cabin has told us bits and pieces about life on the dairy farm nearby where he was brought up. It sounded pretty rugged to me, a life I could hardly imagine. He told us how they picked up the stones in the field in the springtime and moved them off to the side out of the way before things started to grow. We know about those stones, for years ago we helped cart them from the sides of the fields up to the cabin, using an old farm tractor and wooden trailer so the mason could use them to build the fireplace. The work on the farm was done first with horses and then with trac- tors, each having its own special evo- lution and experimentation until the right system was created. Our friend told us how the cows were milked, first by hand and then by machines. The milk was put in the milk house, where the cold running brook water flowing beneath it kept the milk cold in cans. From there the milk was taken down the long driveway to the side of the road to be'picked up by a truck and then taken to a center where it was pasteurized and distrib- uted. The labor that went into that wav of life is almost too hard to imag- Well, we got to the Catskills with- out any snow on the ground but with the prediction that there might be snow during the night. Our hopes ran high. I got up several times during the night to check and was sorry to report, "Not even a flake." But at day break flurries started to show up and by 7 o'clock the snow was coming down in earnest. Soon everyone was awake in the cabin. Telephone calls went out to the various ski slopes to see if there was any improvement from the day before. Sure enough, one was found that had manmade snow and now, with the new snow coming down, a real day of snow- boarding was just ahead. The plan was, Barbara and I would stay in the cabin while the two grand- children would go snowboarding with their dad. And so once again the gear was packed up: heavy jackets, gloves, hats and snowboard. With a fond wave, away they went. We wouldn't see them again until late afternoon. So Barbara and I had a day with the snow swirling and blowing around the cabin. The only other life around was a single junco that stopped for a moment and sat in the fresh fallen snow on the porch railing. A cozy fire in the big fireplace made us feel absolutely content with the world. The feeling is hard to describe. -It snowed all day and we were alone until late in the afternoon. I read some of the magazines and books lying around the place telling of the Catskills and its many wonders. Only one car passed the cabin all day, and I think that was a pickup going up in the woods to cut firewood, for up here wood is king for heating. Of course, there are the oil burners, but for many wood is still the fuel. You can tell this by the swirling smoke coming out of the chimneys as you drive along the road and the huge piles of wood on the porches ready to be consumed in the coming winter months. At the cabin the water from the drilled wells has a tinge of salt in it, which makes it okay for dishes, show- ers; bathrooms, etc., but not so pleas- ant for drinking. And so, down the dirt road there is a pipe that comes out of the bank from which spring water flows continually. It's that water that people stop for. We drink it. Jug after jug. Let me tell you, there is nothing quite like that wonderful cold water as it comes out of the moss -cov- ered pipe with its ferns and slab rock all around. It was a weekend that really could- n't have been better. In late afternoon the cabin's owners arrived with their two grandsons. All nine of us sat around the fire and had a scrump- tious meal of London broil from our own beef, Long Island potatoes, cauli- flower, broccoli, salad, pumpkin bread and finished up with two Briermere pies that a friend had sent with us. After supper the kids played board games on the wooden floor of the cabin in front of the lire. We talked with our friends, reminiscing back to over 40 years ago when we first stopped at this place before there was a cabin, when our children were all small and we slept in sleeping bags beside the bubbling brook. In the olden days life on the farm was hard and almost brutal. Today, with modern electricity and machines, it's a different story, but it has its sad side; for the little farms can't compete with the megabusiness of agriculture -and they are dropping by the wayside. Our friend's family farm has been bought by "city folk" and perhaps that's the evolution, like the aqua- plane to the water skis and the snow skis to the snowboard. Maybe that's the way it's going to be. Let's hope these old farms will be bought by people who love them for what they are and will help preserve that unique. Catskill mountain culture.