The Biltmore Hotel, a jewel in the desert, is as surprisingly beautiful and rich in history as the Sonoran Desert it was built on. When you pull up to the hotel you’ll be smitten by the refined Charles MacArthur architecture and the attention to every detail. MacArthur was schooled by Frank Lloyd Wright whose spirit is felt everywhere.
The airport is a 20-minute drive to the hotel. The best weather is November – April 1.
This is a perfect property for corporate conferences, with 500+ sleeping rooms, numerous meeting rooms, several event lawns, two large ballrooms, and three smaller banquet rooms. Off-site activities are plentiful, like nearby Wrigley Mansion, Hope Native American Caves, shopping in town, and must see – Frank Lloyd Wright’s 1937 winter home and school for interns, ‘Taliesin West’, now a National Landmark.
Stepping out of bright sunshine into the softer lobby lighting or conference corridors is cool and soothing. Hotel interiors are rich and natural in wood, stone, and gold finishes. See the exquisite wall mural in the Gold Room off the lobby. Make sure you peek inside the Aztec room and imagine the prohibition Hollywood parties that raged back in the day.
The Lobby Bar is the hub of social mingling and meeting, they have a wonderful cocktail menu, try their famous Tequila Sunrise the hotel originated. My favorite is the Lavender Lemon Martini.
Newly renovated sleeping rooms are quite lovely with large spa bathrooms and very comfortable beds. Room rates range depending on season from $275 and up.
Surrounding gardens are colorful and floral beds highlight gorgeous stone masonry that adorns every building. Blooming citrus trees release an intoxicating fragrance. Sitting by the great lawn I saw my first humming birds sipping nectar. The dry air aroma of mountain clay mixed with sweet floral notes from all the gardens is a calming balm. The grounds are well cared for.
The food is very good and changes with the seasons. A bit pricey, but it is a resort. Excellent Spa services and staff on site, and of course the Golf Course is stunning. Swimming pools both large and small tucked into gardens sparkle. In summer months, misters abound. In winter months, fire pots crackle for cozy outdoor gatherings under the stars.
The Biltmore is a perfect property for corporate conferences, with 500+ sleeping rooms, numerous meeting rooms, several event lawns, two large ballrooms, three smaller banquet rooms. Off-site activities are plentiful, like nearby Wrigley Mansion, Hope Native American Caves, shopping in town, and must see – Frank Lloyd Wright’s 1937 winter home and school for interns, ‘Taliesin West’, now a National Landmark.
Biltmore Staff are courteous and polite with fast set up department. The property and rooms are clean and well maintained. Tip- Don’t walk barefoot on lawns, scorpions are native to AZ.
Timing is everything when planning a conference in San Antonio! The JW Marriott San Antonio in Hill Country is a wonderful property to visit and host a meeting in March-April to see the gorgeous blue bonnets that stretch for miles along roadsides, hills and valleys. It’s truly a sight to cherish and capture with a camera. Or, go in October and witness the extraordinary flight path of thousands of Monarch Butterflies migrating toward Mexico for the winter.
The Airport is a 25-minute drive to the hotel.
The hotel property is a resort, but feels casual and comfortable with modern rustic interiors, and very clean, and sprawling outdoor lawns, pools, flower beds, and a golf course. The spa is very good with a large range of treatments to choose from.
Sleeping rooms are spacious and clean with excellent mattresses. Ask for rooms with a patio that face the back of the hotel lawns, to feel the breeze off the hills. Rates start at $250 and up.
Hotel food is delicious, and of course they grill like masters with incredible cuts of beef covered in awesome hot sauces. Breakfast was my favorite in Cibolo Moon with homemade jams, honey butters, eggs any style, thick bacon, and a large buffet of breakfast favorites. The hotel has their own chef gardens behind the Sunday House and Breakout rooms. For fine dining make a reservation at 18 Oaks, pricey… but excellent. Try some of their local Texas wines… not bad al all.
Off-site attractions include ranches, rodeos, and trips into town for River Walk is terrific with great shopping and restaurants. It’s a 20 minute drive into town, avoid rush hour!
The property is active with conferences and events based on the numerous ballrooms and breakout meeting rooms. Book far in advance, best rates are over summer. big freight dock for loading in large sets. Be mindful of heat June – September.
All the staff are professional and courteous. Always best to document notes and agendas if planning a conference.
From The New Yorker:
There’s no place like an island, and a barrier island especially, for seasonal migrants. That’s certainly true of Fire Island. The thirty-two-mile-long sandbar off Long Island may be best known for little red wagons, houses on stilts, and gay beach parties, but it is also beloved by lepidopterists. Every September and October, the island’s dunes become a way station for tens of thousands of monarch butterflies, who stop there on their three-thousand-mile journey from Canada to a mountaintop in Michoacán, near Mexico City, where they go to reproduce and die.
Ellen Federico, who is known to locals as “the butterfly lady,” grew up across the water, in West Islip. She works as an event planner in Manhattan, but she spends her free time in a clapboard cottage that her father floated over to Fire Island on a barge in the seventies. The house, where she vacationed as a girl with her parents and her seven siblings, is one of the oldest in the beach community of Lonelyville. Federico, who is fifty-nine, is the island’s most authoritative witness to the gradual decline in the butterflies’ numbers.
“When I was small, the monarchs would swarm down the beach,” she said, one recent afternoon. She sat on her deck, surrounded by pots of milkweed, which the monarchs love. “You could run beneath them with a net and pull in a dozen. Not anymore.” Across America, falling monarch populations are usually blamed on climate change and on the use of herbicides that have eliminated the weeds they feed on. Federico likes to give milkweed seeds to her neighbors.
She inherited her love for monarchs from her father, who was known as Captain Bob. “He made his living from the sea—not just fishing but working charters, chumming for bait,” she said. “You know in ‘Funny Girl,’ when Barbra Streisand sings ‘Don’t Rain on My Parade’ on that tugboat? My dad was piloting one of the camera boats.” Captain Bob was fascinated by navigation. “He used to sit here when the monarchs flew over and say, ‘Look at that. Aeronautical perfection.’ ”
Federico has befriended monarch experts around the world, and she likes to explain how the monarchs fly by gliding on warm air (“as far as a hundred miles a day!”) and navigate by the angle of the sun. She gently pulled a big monarch from a mesh cage with her hands. “These ones, the royal monarchs, we also call ‘4Gs.’ They’re the fourth generation—the three generations before this, they live just four to six weeks, like most butterflies. But these 4Gs live up to nine months—long enough to fly to Mexico to mate before sending their babies back north.”
Seven years ago, Federico launched an effort to tag and count the butterflies on Fire Island. Each fall, her squad of child volunteers stalks the island and affixes weightless stickers to monarchs’ wings. The stickers allow her to track the butterflies all the way to Michoacán.
“This one’s a boy,” a ten-year-old named Cora Reynolds explained, as she held out a monarch she’d netted on a buddleia bush. “You have to be careful, when you put the sticker on his wing, not to cover the pheromone spots.” She pointed to two black dots. “Or else he won’t get a girlfriend.” Reynolds applied the sticker and wrote down its number on a clipboard.
Federico treasures a 2016 photograph of Barack Obama signing an agreement with the leaders of Canada and Mexico to protect the monarchs’ migration. In February, she travelled to Michoacán, to see where her butterflies end up. She rode a mule up into the El Rosario biosphere reserve, with a guide and a bodyguard armed against drug cartels. “It was the most magical day of my life,” she said, holding up a photograph and pointing to clouds of orange ringing high fir trees and to a sign, in the foreground, instructing visitors to maintain silence and to remain for a maximum of fifteen minutes. “I stayed for three hours,” she said. She was distressed to learn about a surge in illegal logging there. “Do you know why they’re cutting down the Oyamel firs my monarchs love?” she asked. “To plant more avocados for us fat-ass Americans to buy at Whole Foods.”
As Federico talked, several monarchs flitted about her garden. “This year’s been interesting, with these hurricanes in the Atlantic,” she said. “It’s been such a warm fall—they’re definitely heading south late. But the monarchs are flying. They know you can’t wall the wind.” ♦
This article appears in other versions of the October 9, 2017, issue, with the headline “Monarchs.”
Joshua Jelly-Schapiro is the author of “Island People: The Caribbean and the World,” and the co-editor of “Nonstop Metropolis: A New York City Atlas.”
I recently read a Forbes list of the ten most stressful jobs and was not surprised to see Event Coordinator noted as #5 behind Police Officer, Airline Pilot, Firefighter, and Military Personnel. As a thirty-year event planner and ‘code red junkie’ this winter I moaned to myself, “I need a time out.” Right about the time Trump was threatening travel bans and swearing to build the wall. True to my nature, I picked Mexico City. I wanted to see where all those migrating Monarch Butterflies retreat to over winter?
I figured if these tiny creatures weighing less than a paperclip can fly 3000 miles from Canada through the States and over the Mexican border without a GPS or passport illegally for centuries, and to the same place… I should find out why? Six hours later I checked into a hotel in Mexico City and the next morning at 7am I was on my way into the Michoacan Mountains. Four hours later in El Rosario a mule-horse was humbly transporting me deep into the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary at an altitude of 12000 feet.
In sneakers still embedded with NYC grime, I quietly entered a cathedral of towering pine trees layered in ‘millions’ of orange, black and white Monarchs, wings closed at rest. A fragrance of pine, cedar and wild violets surrounded me. All I could do was smile as the sun stroked the trees and butterflies fluttered on cue off branches taking a wing stretch. A cool fire of color under a cobalt sky (silent Wow-wee!) There is NO talking in the sanctuary, I was grouped with a dozen older citizen scientists sitting on tree stumps taking it all in very casually. I wanted to burst with excitement in New Yorker volume, but I contained myself. However, true to my nature I whispered to a scholarly gentleman, “Excuse me sir, do you know why the Monarchs come here?” He looked up into the trees knowingly and shared, “To rest, sip nectar, mate, and fly.”
Somebody slap me, shouldn’t we all? Next time you need a time out… do it. Take flight!