[itinerary | lodging] Severance is an Apple TV psychological sci-fi thriller that imagines a company who can surgically “sever” the employee’s mind into two selves: one for work, one for home. The self for home is you, the one reading this. Because the self for work has access to nothing outside their four walls — no newspapers, no Internet, no phones, no friends other than the severed selves of their co-workers. They don’t sleep, because the moment they leave the floor, they immediately re-enter it, having no memory of the other 16 hours of the day and feeling (they hope) well rested. Meanwhile, the self for home has no memories of being at work.

Talk about your work-life balance!

The Catskills

It’s time to escape to the Catskills. If you can’t fully disconnect your home-mind from your work-mind, at least take a vacation. Many of the locations in Severance were filmed in and around the Catskills, making it a perfect chance to capture some TV magic—or blog inspiration. Pack for a long drive with plenty of snacks, fruit, and milk in a cooler. There will be lots of stops along the way.

^{Dunraven Day Use Area the East Branch Delaware River — deeper into the Catskills}

The Catskills begin where the branches of the Delaware River converge, each fed by separate artificial reservoirs supplying New York City’s drinking water—the Cannonsville and Pepacton Reservoirs. The drive after leaving New York’s “Quick Way,” now called Route 17, is as breathtaking as it is treacherous, thanks to the hairpin turns formed by the reservoirs’ star-shaped layout. The Dunraven Day Use Area offers a convenient green space for a quick break—or a diaper change if you’re traveling with a toddler.

Phoenicia Diner a.k.a. Pip’s

The hero of Severance is Mark S, portrayed skillfully by Adam Scott. His first meal at Pip’s — filmed at the Phoenicia Diner — is paid for by his company as an apology for a work-related injury. It’s here that he meets his work self’s best friend, Petey, who has re-integrated both selves back into a single paradox of a mind. In Season 2, Mark goes to Pip’s to speak with his sister after she’s become aware of Mark’s work self trying to communicate to his home self. Something dangerous is looming at Lumon Industries. That, or your stomach is rumbling.

^{Phoenicia Diner, or “Pip’s” if you follow the ways of Kier}

Like Pip’s, the Phoenicia Diner feels like your own secret retreat, tucked away in the mountains where you can relax, reflect, and plot your next move. Its distinctive white box letters spelling “DINER” stand out against the stunning backdrop of vast forest and open sky. Outside, there’s a cozy patio with a satellite bar, but stepping inside offers a more personal and immersive experience. Luckily, a window booth has just become available.

^{Scenes from within the Phoenicia Diner in Phoenicia, NY}

The moment you slide into the booth, the diner hums around you—forks clinking against plates, bursts of laughter from the counter, and the sizzle of something glorious on the griddle. It’s noisy, yes, but it’s the kind of noise that feels alive. The kind that makes you lean in closer to your friends, talk a little louder, and feel like you’re part of something communal and comforting. The waitstaff move with practiced chaos, balancing mugs of coffee and plates stacked with golden pancakes that smell like browned butter and vanilla — a callback to home and to your Lakeville Diner day. It’s the kind of place where time stretches and bends, where breakfast and beer are perfectly acceptable companions.

You order a round of local brews—something crisp and citrusy to cut through the richness of the pancakes, which arrive with two plump sausage links and fresh berries. The pancakes are legendary here, and rightly so: fluffy, slightly tangy from buttermilk, with edges that crisp just enough to hold their own against syrup. But the real surprise is the Catskills Po’boy, a regional riff on the classic sandwich. Instead of fried shrimp, it’s packed with cornmeal-crusted, fried trout, layered with shredded lettuce, tomato, and a tangy remoulade on a toasted hoagie roll. It’s bold, a little messy, and completely unforgettable—like the mountains themselves, rugged and full of character.

^{Amazing pancakes with fruit and sausage; fresh trout sandwich; a couple of beers}

As you settle in, your eyes wander to the wallpaper—a riot of mid-century caricatures that feel plucked from a Norman Rockwell fever dream. Log cabins, hammocks, and swimming holes dot the scene, each vignette a playful nod to mountain vacation lore. It’s kitschy, sure, but it’s also oddly moving—like a scrapbook of summers past, rendered in faded reds and greens. The wallpaper wraps the space in nostalgia, making the diner feel less like a restaurant and more like a memory you didn’t know you had.

^{Wallpaper for New York’s wilds}

Stepping back into the crisp mountain air, the diner’s door squeaks shut behind you, marking the moment like a punctuation mark. The road beckons again—winding through pine-shadowed switchbacks and sun-dappled valleys, past roadside antique shops and trailheads with names like Devil’s Path and Peekamoose. The Catskills feel like they’re still whispering to you, even as you descend toward Kingston, where river views and brick-lined streets await. There’s a quiet thrill in the transition—from the rustic charm of Phoenicia to the artsy pulse of Kingston—and the diner, with its trout sandwiches and Rockwell wallpaper, becomes part of the story you’ll tell later. A perfect interlude between forest and city, pancakes and poetry.

ENG’S a.k.a ZUFU

Kingston, NY sits like a well-worn bookmark between mountain trails and river tides—a place where the Catskills give way to the Hudson, and history mingles with reinvention. Once the first capital of New York State, Kingston now thrives as a creative hub, its cobblestone streets and waterfront promenades echoing with stories of trade, revolution, and artistic revival. The Hudson River isn’t just a scenic backdrop here—it’s a lifeline, shaping the town’s identity through centuries of shipbuilding, commerce, and cultural exchange. As you roll into town, the shift is palpable: from pine-scented solitude to gallery storefronts, indie bookstores, and the low hum of possibility.

^{Welcome to Kingston NY}

The main reason for your trip to Kingston is to make a pilgrimage to ENG’S, famously known as ZUFU in Season 2 of Severance. The scene unfolds in a steamy, dimly lit Chinese restaurant, where Mark S attempts to enjoy a succulent meal, only to be interrupted by Helena Eagan, his employer (though he doesn’t yet know it). Does a romance between work selves transcend the severed floor to the outside world? Okay, so maybe it’s not Love Story, but it’s definitely romantic. In your outside world, ENG’S is sadly closed when you arrive. Still, it’s an achievement unlocked just the same.

^{Watch out for the daughters of Kier while dining at ENG’S in Kingston}

With ENG’S crossed off the list—if only spiritually—you drift back into the Kingston streets, letting the cinematic haze of Severance give way to the real-life texture of the town. Just a few blocks downhill, the city opens up to the Hudson River, where old brick warehouses now house galleries, cafés, and kayak rentals. The shore feels like a threshold: industrial bones softened by water and sky, where tugboats chug past murals and the breeze carries hints of salt and diesel. It’s a place to pause and recalibrate, to watch the light shift across the river and imagine what stories have passed through this port town—from colonial trade routes to indie film shoots. The riverfront isn’t just scenic—it’s the pulse of Kingston, steady and expansive. Case in point is Kingston Point Beach.

Kingston Point Beach

Kingston Point Beach on a summer afternoon is a full-spectrum celebration of sound, sun, and community. Kids splash in the shallows while volleyballs thud in the sand, and the scent of charcoal and sunscreen drifts through the air. Under the main pavilion, a large family reunion is in full swing—coolers stacked, paper plates flying, and a chorus of voices belting out Billy Joel classics from a portable turntable. Across the parking lot, a gleaming lowrider pulses with mariachi music, its chrome catching the light as a group of Chicanos dance, laugh, and pass around horchata in plastic cups. The beach itself is modest, but the energy is expansive—every corner alive with its own rhythm.

^{River beach life at Kingston Point Beach}

Beyond the sand, walking paths wind through tall grasses and wildflowers, leading to quiet overlooks and shaded benches where the river stretches wide and slow. Paddleboarders drift past as cyclists cruise by, and the Catskills linger in the distance like a painted backdrop. Kingston Point isn’t just a place to cool off—it’s a living mosaic of the town’s spirit, where leisure, culture, and memory converge under the open sky.

Leaving the riverfront behind, you cruise through Kingston’s Rondout district, where old shipyards and repurposed warehouses give way to quiet marinas, boutique shops, and artisan restaurants. The road hugs the water for a stretch, offering glimpses of sailboats bobbing in the current and the distant curve of the Catskills rising like a promise. Then, with a turn inland, the scenery shifts—brick and river fade into forest and rock. You climb through winding backroads, past roadside fruit stands and mossy stone walls, until the trees thicken and the air cools. Minnewaska State Park emerges like a secret—high above the valley, with its cliffside trails and glassy lakes. It’s here, in this rugged expanse, that Severance staged its surreal Season 2 Outdoor Retreat and Team Building Occurrence (ORTBO) episode: a corporate bonding exercise wrapped in mystery and theremin music. The landscape feels both cinematic and grounding, as if the show’s eerie tension still lingers in the rustle of leaves and the echo of distant footsteps.

Stony Kill Falls

^{Minnewaska State Park’s Stony Kill Falls trailhead and wooded trail}

Stony Kill Falls trail winds through a hushed corridor of pine and stone, where the air feels cooler, heavier—almost reverent. It’s not the dramatic Rainbow Falls, famously misrepresented by Mr. Milchick in Severance’s ORTBO episode as “the tallest waterfall in the world,” a corporate fiction meant to awe the work selves. That scene, filmed just a few ridges away in Minnewaska State Park, leaned on spectacle. But here at Stony Kill, the mood is quieter, more intimate—the trail begins unassumingly, skirting rusted gates and utility roads, then narrows into a moss-lined passage that absorbs all sound. The stillness doesn’t isolate; it envelops, offering a spiritual quiet that feels earned, like the woods are letting you in on something they rarely share. And if the Legend of Zelda games have taught you anything, there’s always a secret behind the waterfall. But rather than a curtain of gushing water masking the treasure within, a thin thread tumbles down the rock face, revealing the striated cliff behind it like a secret exposed. The dry season has taken its toll.

^{Stony Kill Falls in Wawarsing, NY}

You realize, with a mix of disappointment and reluctant amusement, that Stony Kill Falls wasn’t the Severance ORTBO waterfall after all. No Rainbow Falls. No corporate bonding exercise staged against cinematic mist. Just a dry cliff and a quiet trail. Still, there’s something satisfying about having seen it with your own eyes—unfiltered, unsevered, and fully present. No Milchick, no scripted awe, just you, your travel companions, and the woods. With daylight slipping away, there’s no time to double back. You soldier on toward your final stop, winding out of Minnewaska on roads that barely qualify as paved, each blind curve a gamble, each stretch of forest a reminder of how far you are from anything resembling civilization. The Catskills blur past in shadow and light, and Route 28 eventually reappears like a familiar chorus, guiding you toward the final destination on your itinerary…

There’s a Bear in the Woods

…If I can just make it there in one piece, you think, coming to an abrupt stop. A small black bear ambles across the road and slips under the guardrail, likely in search of its mother. You can only hope she’s at least three counties away. A Jeep Cherokee Latitude is no match for an angry mama bear—or nervous travel companions.

^{Close encounters of the furred kind}

Peekamoose

The forest thins as you descend from Minnewaska’s rugged trails, the last light filtering through the canopy like a slow farewell. Gravel roads give way to cracked pavement, then finally to the winding ribbon of Route 28, where civilization reappears in fragments—an old gas station, a roadside farm stand, a faded motel sign blinking half-heartedly. You follow the curve of the Esopus Creek, its waters glinting beside you, until the warm glow of Peekamoose Restaurant appears like a beacon in Big Indian. Tucked into the trees but unmistakably refined, it feels like the Catskills’ answer to a mountain lodge crossed with a Brooklyn bistro—wood-paneled, candlelit, and quietly buzzing with locals and weekenders alike.

^{I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Rocky}

A polygon-style moose bust greets you at the entrance, its hollow black eyes sending a shiver down your spine. What mountain terrors might Peekamoose hold—will Jack Nicholson burst in with an axe? Joking aside, the cozy, wooden interiors of Peekamoose are far more welcoming than the Overlook Hotel, embodying a timeless mountain outpost charm. A chandelier crafted from a petrified tree trunk resembling antlers hangs over the dining room, while moose antlers mounted on a mosaic wall keep watch over the diners.

^{Optics and design at Peekamoose Restaurant in Big Indian, NY}

The host guides you to a table in the middle of all the action. You’re still buzzing from the adrenaline of your roadside bear encounter—close enough to see its teeth, far enough to keep your family intact. You order an old fashioned, the kind that arrives in a heavy glass with a juicy cherry on top. The first sip hits your tongue like a slow burn—smoky, sweet, and grounding. Then comes the Bolognese: rich, creamy, and clinging to wide ribbons of house-made pasta. It’s comfort food with depth, the sauce slow-cooked and layered, tasting of tomato, wine, and something earthy you can’t quite name. Each bite feels earned, like a reward for surviving the woods and the winding roads and whatever else the Catskills decide to throw at you. It’s enough of a push to get you on the long road back to Western New York.

^{Bolognese and an Old Fashioned at Peekamoose}

The You You Are

Through Mark S’s journey, Severance teaches viewers that over all the battles you fight, the hardest is the battle you fight with yourself. The choices you make, the people to whom you attach, the different paths you take: when you try to “have it all,” you inevitably begin to compartmentalize different parts of your personality. What if one self begins taking on a will of its own? Do you hide it deep below the severed floor, like a secret locked behind a waterfall? Or do you let it roam free, like a bear in pursuit of its mother? The answer lies somewhere deep in the Catskills — or on the finale of Severance.

Cue “Windmills of Your Mind” as sung by Mel Tormé.

^{Mark walks away from ZUFU in Severance Season 2, Episode 6 (Apple TV, 2025)}

This was a long one! Consider staying overnight in the Catskills, but in the meantime click below for lodging options around the Finger Lakes.