The room was uncluttered, considering how small it was, but everything in it was striking and eccentric: the faded rugs, the pictures on the walls, a wool blanket woven in bright colors flung over the back of the sofa, collections of stones and twisted weathered deadwood from the moors.

NEWYORKER: She��s the One

Named Blanket Bay (after the blankets used by sheep shearers here in the 19th century to keep wool dry), the resort is the type of luxe but rough-hewn lodge one might expect to find in the Adirondacks or at Lake Tahoe.

FORBES: "We Weren't Hut People"