We recently fled to Red Hook for a long weekend. No, not that Red Hook in Brooklyn with the Fairway Market, lobster restaurant and somewhat made-up maritime bars. Rather, the small town a two hour drive up the Hudson River and into the woods of the Hudson Valley and Catskills region.

Because we can’t manage to pull off a normal spring break on a beach like everyone else, we tend to run in other less-populated directions. This trip it meant we had snowy paths of the just-waking-to-spring woods practically to ourselves – an incredible contrast to our daily life. And with over 60 parks protected and maintained by the Scenic Hudson conservancy group, you could easily fill the days following birdsong and the trickle of ice-melt streams in a maze of pines. We tracked critters, poked at the lip of the still-frozen Hudson and even passed a few stoic saints (the path is part of a Dominican Sisters retreat center) as we crunched through the snow at the Falling Waters Preserve.

We spent Saturday morning sampling pickled green tomatoes, stinky cheese and jams at the Hudson Valley Farmers Market at Grieg Farm. Later, we stopped off of Route 9 and met Michael and Callie, the couple (along with their chickens, pigs, cows and sheep) behind the bounty of gorgeous steaks, chops, sausages and just-collected eggs for sale at Sawkill Farm. A little daydreamy window shopping is always in order wherever we wander, and for that we spent time running our hands along the expertly planed tables and trying out chairs Goldilocks-style at Sawkille, a beautiful furniture and goods store in Rhinebeck.

Not entirely removed from civilization though, we did venture into Rhinebeck and snacked on crispy wood oven-fired pizzas and a towering salad of shredded greens at Market St. In Red Hook, we were welcomed as regulars by the fine folks at Mercato. Warm reception aside (a woman from the kitchen picked Soren up and took him over to the chef for a special treat) the house made pastas – in particular, the toothsome tagilatelle bolognese – were the true reason to stick around.

Friends tipped us off to a simple, tastefully decorated two-bedroom rental house. Large windows maximized the views of the deep woods where we’d catch deer loping early in the morning. As an added bonus, it also had what Todd considers to be cherry on top of any vacation rental: a hot tub. Who needs the beach, anyway?

We are chronic weekend escape house renters. Here are a few other finds a pleasant drive from the city:

Overlook Nook Plenty of bedrooms, an inviting living room, a killer record collection, a sprawling garden and a pleasant blue stone pond.

Floating Farmhouse We were lucky enough to spend a glorious long weekend at this sublime space with some of the loveliest people we know (and a black bear, too!).

Woodstock Cottage We tucked away in this little cottage one snowy January weekend. It’s compact and cozy, but it was just right for a last minute off-season escape.

I haven’t pitched a tent, lit a camp stove or burrowed deep into the secure cocoon of a sleeping bag as owls called out to no one in particular, in far too long. Nine years to be exact. The last camping trip I mapped out was to the Apostle Islands, but that was also the same summer that my dad died, and I cancelled the trip. So when my friend Jane threw together a last minute mid-week camping excursion, I couldn’t refuse.

And I’m so grateful that I was able to juggle schedules and move work and childcare days around to get out to Woodland Valley Campground in Phoenicia, New York, tucked into the Catskills at the foot of Slide Mountain.

The tidy campground established by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the early 1930s, was practically empty on this Wednesday in October, and we had our pick of sites. Signed off on all the bear disclaimers and bundles of firewood purchased, we pitched our domestic domes on the bend of a gentle stream that slipped over a shallow, rocky river bed. And attended to very important matters, like setting the beer to cool in the stream. Nice work, Sue.

We strolled, leaves crunching underfoot, to the trailhead which led to substantial ascents to the ridge line, but we only had enough daylight for a healthy scramble part of the way up. This was a power camping round, but we did it all: Jiffy Pop on the fire, a gourmet feast of rich black beans and Alaskan salmon (thank you Iliama Fish Co.) and s’mores roasted over the fire pit. There was strong French press coffee in the morning and the newest trick in the outdoorsy book: heating lavender-scented face wipes in a pot of bowling water to freshen (and warm up) in the morning. My idea of a spa retreat. It was nourishing on every level, and I can’t wait to return in the spring…