Traveling to Bali felt entirely safe to me. Aboard a new Singapore Airlines jet 40,000 feet above the Pacific, I felt safe. I felt safe in the airport in Denpasar, the capital, even though security was practically invisible. I felt safe wandering the beach at Jimbaran Bay, alone, after 10 p.m. I felt safe cruising around the tacky tourist town of Kuta, past the nightclubs that terrorists bombed on October 12, 2002, killing 202 people. I felt safe on September 20, the day of Indonesia’s presidential runoff election. I felt safe rafting the Class II–IV Ayung River. I felt safe when offered a ride to my hotel by a Balinese guy at the Putra Bar, in Ubud.

Travel Bali

Seeing Green in Bali: rice paddies cover most of Bali’s interior

Map of Bali

Map of Bali by Evan Hecox

Here’s where I didn’t feel safe: in my Volvo, driving to the airport in Albuquerque, New Mexico, before my journey even started. The source of my anxiety was intellectual, not instinctual. I suddenly remembered that driving an interstate is far more dangerous than flying, which unnerved me. And at the last minute I was questioning why, with a world of other options, I’d chosen to visit a place where terrorists had struck—and could strike again. The State Department persists in recommending that Americans defer nonessential travel to predominantly Muslim Indonesia. Though these warnings are mostly in response to the recurring threat of violence in the rest of the archipelago, and not in Bali—a mainly Hindu enclave that, at least before 2002, was considered out of harm’s way—the fact remains that this island was dragged unwillingly onto the world stage by the nightclub bombings. (Bali was, however, spared from the tsunami that devastated the western end of Indonesia.)

So this is what it means to travel to paradise—when paradise has an asterisk. Bali, that most graceful, gentle, stylish, and spiritual of islands, has climbed back up the lists of top global destinations, yet it can provoke unwelcome fear. The taint lingers even as tourists return—particularly Australians, who favor Bali as an easy getaway, though their country suffered the greatest number of casualties at Kuta Beach.

Among the 1.22 million visitors to the island in the first ten months of 2004—a rebound from the 815,000 who visited in the same period in 2003—was an Aussie family I met on their way to raft the Ayung River. Mom, Dad, and two preteens were back for the first time since 2002, when their annual vacation to Bali nearly coincided with the tragedy. (They departed the island on the day of the attack.) They had hesitated before returning, considering other places—but it’s Bali that they love.

I required about nine seconds to fall under the island’s spell. Its appeal flows not so much from the gorgeous backdrop of cloud-shrouded volcanoes and black and white beaches but from the divinity that infuses every action of the Balinese. These are peace-loving people who have been squashed, throughout history, by the Javanese, the Dutch, and the Japanese—and are now shoehorned into Indonesia, which took control of the archipelago from the Dutch in 1950—while still managing to develop their unique culture.

Gods are everywhere, the Balinese believe, so offerings—small green coconut-leaf trays cradling flower petals, brightly dyed cooked rice, even a cigarette or some coffee—are arrayed everywhere. Many Balinese think rituals like this have helped them heal from the attacks. (On an island where tourism drives as much as two-thirds of the economy, getting on with life is imperative to both business and mental health.) Somehow these charming tableaus contributed to my sense of security, too, and the saturated-with-spirituality culture held out the tantalizing promise of a vacation that would rejuvenate the soul.

I divided my time between two Four Seasons resorts: Jimbaran Bay, on the southeast coast, and Sayan, west of Ubud, the cultural capital. Jimbaran Bay is bigger, beachy, and especially popular among Mexican honeymooners. Sayan, favored by the Japanese, is a postmodern architectural wonder clinging to a hillside above the Ayung River. The resorts were 83 percent occupied in September, compared with 56 percent in September 2003—an especially impressive figure given the entry of luxury competitors like Uma Ubud, a new boutique hotel. At both resorts, days quickly fill up with Indonesian cooking classes, Balinese massage at the spa, and rafting or surfing excursions.

Beyond these pleasures, my trip’s transcendent experience was a karma-cleansing ceremony performed at sunset on the beach at Tanah Lot, one of Bali’s holiest temples, on my last night on the island. I sat cross-legged in my sarong on the dark sand, meditating with Indian Ocean waves in the background. Then a soft-spoken priest dressed in white and gold performed a prayerful ceremony that began with my sipping and spitting out holy water, continued with the application of rice and flower petals to my forehead, and ended with the tying of a white string around my right wrist, signaling my karmic restoration. It was touching and mysterious and strangely empowering.

I didn’t want to leave—a far cry, of course, from not wanting to go in the first place. How did I get so comfortable? Altered perception brought on by instinct, not intellect, perhaps. Since the bombings, the larger hotels have established checkpoints with security guards. It’s an odd sensation to pull up in a Land Cruiser at the Four Seasons and be greeted by exceedingly polite, uniformed men who use mirrors to check the undersides of the vehicle for bombs. I can’t say how foolproof this routine is, but it’s very visible and, if nothing else, fosters a sense of security. And sometimes it’s just about the feeling.

GETTING THERE: Singapore Airlines (800-742-3333, ) flies from Los Angeles to Denpasar, via Singapore, for about $1,400 round-trip; upgrading to business class gets you flat-reclining SpaceBeds on the 18-hour first leg. April through October, the dry season, is the best time to visit. See for general info. WHERE TO STAY: One-bedroom villas start at $575 per night at the Four Seasons Resort Bali at Jimbaran Bay and at Sayan (800-819-5053, , ). Each of Jimbaran’s 147 traditional villas and Sayan’s 42 contemporary villas has its own plunge pool. At both resorts, garden showers and open-air living rooms merge the interiors with the outdoors. WHAT TO DO: Learn to surf, or find the best breaks, with the easygoing guides from Bali Learn to Surf (011-62-361-761869, ), in Kuta. A two-and-a-half-hour class costs $39. Bali ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Tours (011-62-361-721480, ) leads half-day Ayung River raft trips for $66, including lunch. Four Seasons Jimbaran Bay’s cooking school offers a spice tutorial at a lively market, then teaches you to craft a convincing chicken satay ($90, including breakfast and lunch).

The post Hello, Bali appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

From the red-rock vistas of Abiquiu to the dunes of White Sands—with a few shots of tequila mixed in—New Mexico is another world. Try these 12 perfect days in the Land of Enchantment.

Horseback Riding into the Sunset

Cerrillos

Twenty miles south of Santa Fe, where the southern Rockies peter out into desert, the landscape turns iconic. This is Hollywood-western terrain—films like Young Guns and The Hi-Lo Country have been shot in the sandy washes and scrub-covered hills. Appropriately, it’s also the setting for the Broken Saddle Riding Company, a 22-horse operation in the pleasingly forlorn former mining town of Cerrillos. The stables’ low-slung paddocks and metal ranch fence strung with rogue mementos—requisite cow skull, spurs, and old bridles—suit the scene: At the sound of your car, the lanky and laconic Harrold Grantham will amble out of the tilting tack room in his Wranglers, give you a small but genuine smile, get you situated on a drowsy Tennessee walker, and lead you out for an hour (or two or three) in the piñon-and-juniper country of the Cerrillos Hills Historic Park.

Though I’ve ridden with Harrold plenty of times over the years, it seems like we never take the same route twice. There are dozens of trails looping through the hills—past fenced-off turquoise mines and panoramas of five mountain ranges and the high desert. Down in the steep-walled Crooked Hat and Devil’s canyons, your horse will ease into a canter so smooth you’ll find yourself whooping with crazed delight.

After the ride, the movie script sends you 12 miles east to the Galisteo Inn’s 1703 adobe hacienda, in the village of Galisteo. Refurbished in late 2004 with an uncluttered Santa Fe design—plaster walls in saturated shades of turquoise and cream, wide-plank pine floors polished to a high luster, deep windowsills, kiva fireplaces in nearly every room—the inn and its 12 guest rooms exude the perfect blend of style and substance. Out front, a portal is shaded by 100-year-old cottonwoods, and a quiet road winds past art galleries to a narrow bridge over the Galisteo River and the high, open lonesome beyond.

BONUS: At the Mine Shaft Tavern (505-473-0743), a classic shoot-’em-up saloon just south of Cerrillos in the outpost of Madrid (pronounced MAD-rid), order a Bud and a green-chile cheeseburger at what’s rumored to be the longest stand-up bar in the West (40 feet of lodgepole pine). The place is dark, moody, and cheap—definitely the real deal.

DETAILS: Horseback riding at the Broken Saddle (505-424-7774, www.brokensaddle.com) costs $50 for a one-hour outing, or $85 for three hours. Doubles at the Galisteo Inn (866-404-8200, ) start at $99 per night.

High-Art Experience

Lightning Field

Lighten Up: The New Mexico Lightning Field

Four hundred stainless-steel poles, each about 20 feet tall, spread over a mile-by-kilometer expanse of high desert wouldn’t seem to have the makings of a fun-filled getaway. Yet art aficionados come from all over the world to experience The Lightning Field, a land-art installation completed by Walter De Maria in 1977. The sculptor scoured the Southwest looking for the perfect spot to erect this influential contribution to contemporary art. Decide for yourself during an overnight stay at the secluded log cabin that looks out on De Maria’s labor of love.

Lest The Lightning Field become some roadside amusement for the traveling hoi polloi, visitors are required to follow a precise routine—and to make reservations well in advance. Your art adventure begins in Quemado, a wind-scoured west-central town. Here, you and up to five companions (the cabin has three bedrooms) are picked up midafternoon by the caretaker, who drives you 40 minutes to the cabin—dropping you off with enchiladas, breakfast food, and snacks. You’re on your own until he retrieves you the next morning.

While the cabin is comfortable, with hot showers and Wild West furnishings, there are no games, books, or TV; you’re here to experience “the work.” And it doesn’t look like much at first. But then you walk the vast field—looking, feeling, sensing. If you’re lucky, thunderheads sweep in, lightning flashes, and the poles glow pink, orange, and blue. Love it or hate it, you’ll never take in art like this, and that alone is worth the trip.

BONUS: After all that art appreciation, treat yourself to dessert in Pie Town, east of Quemado on Highway 60. The Daily Pie Cafe (505-772-2700) serves 25 varieties. Or stop to ponder some other big objects at the Very Large Array, 27 giant radio dish antennae clustered west of Socorro.

DETAILS: Visit The Lightning Field (), maintained by the Dia Art Foundation, from May to October for $110–$135 per person, with meals.

Whitewater Thrills

The Rio Grande

Rapid Descent: The Rio Grande near Taos

In a climate as dry as New Mexico’s, it seems slightly sinful to spend a day immersed in cool, flowing water. But as you raft the Rio Grande through the 800-foot-deep canyon known as the Taos Box, you’ll be too busy issuing Hail Marys (and yelling “Holy Crap!”) to think about guilt. The 17-mile-long Lower Box, with its Class IV rapids, is home to some of the wildest whitewater along the 1,885-mile river.

The scarcity of water makes trip timing critical. So last May, when I noticed the online river-gauge graph leap from a barely floatable 600 cubic feet per second to more than 1,000, I mustered a six-person crew and headed to the put-in, six miles north of Taos at the John Dunn Bridge. Our first 12 miles were gentle, but the Rio Grande spoke up as we approached Powerline Falls, where the cacophony of water reached a thunder. We parked to have a look at the 14-foot drop—we’d have to drift into a slot guarded by boulders, with no chance of paddles touching water until we hit the pool at the bottom. Then we got back in, cinched up our PFDs, and let the pushy current have its way.

Everyone howled at the tipping point, where the tongue of water carried us over the edge and ricocheted us off rocks on our way down. Nervous laughter led to high-fives as we realized we’d made it through the first of many formidable drops. Then the rapids came in succession: Pinball, Rock Garden, Boat Reamer, Screaming Left, Screaming Right, and, before the take-out at Taos Junction Bridge, the appropriately named Sunset. As the sun drew an inky shadow across the canyon, we stepped back on land, reeling from the adrenaline buzz. We kept the thrill alive by driving across the bridge to the BLM campground and cracking beers.

BONUS: Kick-start a river day with a hearty cup of joe and a breakfast burrito at the Bean (505-758-7711), with locations on both ends of Taos.

DETAILS: Kokopelli Rafting ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (800-879-9035, ) leads Lower Box trips from $95 per person. Camping in the Orilla Verde Recreation Area (505-758-8851, ) costs $7 per vehicle.

Eco-Friendly Escape

Taos

Eco-Sensitive Bliss: The Courtyard at El Monte Sagrado

Morocco is an inferno. At least, that’s how it feels from my cushion next to the fire as the masseuse pretzels my legs into “healing” Thai massage positions. When the contortions are over, I slide my eyelids open, prop my elbows on gold pillows, and look out the window. No camels. No bazaar. Instead, steep peaks meet clear skies, and gnarled cottonwoods tower over a low-slung cluster of adobes with signs that read TEXAS, BALI, and MOROCCO. But instead of North Africa, I’m at El Monte Sagrado resort. No matter—both places have a knack for suspending reality.

El Monte Sagrado, 36 suites and casitas circling a luscious green “sacred circle” east of downtown Taos, is all about suspended reality. Half its mission is to propel the notion of luxury escapism to new heights; the other half is to serve as a model of sustainability. On the luxury side: Merge scrambled eggs with the sublime while breakfasting under a priceless Warhol, a Picasso, and multiple Basquiats, part of owner Tom Worrell’s private collection. Get fully buffed with the spa’s High Altitude Adjustment massage or High Desert body polish. Then, after a couple of hours of hiking and yoga, the rich-with-cinnamon Mexican chocolate cake in the De la Tierra restaurant doesn’t seem like a vice.

On the sustainability side, the resort, finished in July 2003, is a 3-D manual on living right. Worrell built El Monte Sagrado to showcase his other business, Dharma Living Systems, which designs eco-friendly wastewater-treatment systems. So as you listen to the splash and trickle of water running from one goldfish-stocked pond to the next, remember: All the nonpotable water is recycled effluent.

BONUS: For unsustainable culinary debauchery, hit Antonio’s (505-758-9889), a cozy Mexican restaurant on Taos’s south side, for chiles rellenos with walnut-and-brandy cream sauce.

DETAILS: One-bedroom casitas at El Monte Sagrado (800-828-8267, ) start at $345 per night; two-bedroom suites start at $1,495.

Splendid Isolation

The rich colors and textures of the canyons and mesas near the village of Abiquiu are nothing short of perfect. This is Georgia O’Keeffe country—the painter first visited in 1917, and more than two decades later she moved here permanently. One look at Abiquiu’s 70-year-old adobe church—its bell tower and wooden cross towering against a brilliant blue sky—and it’s easy to see why she left New York for these more contemplative environs. I’m tempted to stay here, too.

O’Keeffe had a summer house at Ghost Ranch, 14 miles north of Abiquiu, a 21,000-acre property that is now a Presbyterian retreat center and the gateway to spectacular hiking. I’ve chosen a five-miler that starts in a cottonwood-filled valley but quickly gains altitude. I hike alongside the trail’s hulking namesake: Kitchen Mesa, a 600-foot-high sandstone mass. I negotiate a tricky chimney to the flat mesa top and am rewarded with 360-degree views of Abiquiu Reservoir and the Jemez Mountains.

Later, I ease my pickup down the deeply rutted 13-mile road from Highway 84 in Abiquiu to the Monastery of Christ in the Desert, where Benedictine monks keep beehives. The monastery opens its 16-room guesthouse to visitors, who can stay for silent retreat weekends. When I arrive, a smiling Father Bernard gets up from his rocking chair and encourages me to visit their church. I sit in the sacred space, listening to my breath go from shallow to deep. I wonder if O’Keeffe ever spent time at this peaceful place. Somehow I think she could have.

BONUS: Step inside O’Keeffe’s winter home, a 5,000-square-foot adobe in Abiquiu ($25, reservations required; 505-685-4539).

DETAILS: Ghost Ranch (505-685-4333, ) provides hiking info. Rooms at Christ in the Desert () run $70–$125 per person, with meals.

Smokin’ Road Trip

Highway 4 has a story to tell, a real whopper, and I’m driving through the middle of it—the Valles Caldera, a bowl of grass, forest, and streamlets that’s a dozen miles wide and boxed in by the 11,000-foot Jemez Mountains. The massive crater and the region’s volcanic tuff are the fruits of blasts from a ring of prehistoric volcanoes that were 100 times more destructive than Mount St. Helens’ 1980 eruption.

More than a million years later, here I am on a twisty 58-mile road that leads visitors from the sheer canyons of Bandelier National Monument to the yawning meadows of Valles Caldera National Preserve and on to Jemez Springs, where the earth’s interior, although quiet, is far from cold.

For four centuries, Bandelier’s Frijoles Canyon was home to cliff dwellers who lived in (yes, in) its 400-foot-high bluffs. On the mile-long Main Loop trail, you’ll peek inside caves carved into the chalky rock and reflect on what life was like 500 years before the monument was made accessible by road, in 1935.

After leaving the park, Highway 4 skirts Los Alamos and climbs west through a forest of cinnamon-red ponderosa pine before spilling into the remarkable 89,000-acre Valles Caldera National Preserve. Purchased from private owners in July 2000, the preserve is managed by a trust that plans to make it self-sustaining by 2015. Climb halfway up Cerros del Abrigo, a fir-covered volcanic dome that bulges from the crater, and watch a herd of elk graze in the basin some 800 feet below.

Now you’re ready for the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town of Jemez Springs (whose geothermal hot pools are steamy indications that the mountains remain volatile) and the end of the road: the charmingly cowboy-kitsch Jemez Mountain Inn.

BONUS: Twelve miles south of Jemez Springs, sample Ponderosa Valley Winery’s award-winning 2004 New Mexico Riesling (505-834-7487, ).

DETAILS: Arrive early at Bandelier (505-672-3861, ); reserve online to hike Valles Caldera (877-851-8946, ). Jemez Mountain Inn (888-819-1075, ) doubles run $85–$125.

Secrets of the Ancients

Much of New Mexico’s vivid character seems to come in the middle of nowhere, but nothing in the state feels quite as nowhere as Chaco Canyon. Stretching through the San Juan Basin, about 100 miles northwest of Albuquerque, this lonely valley, a beneficiary of nine inches of rain per year, seems an unlikely place in which to base a major civilization. But a thousand years ago, this nowhere was a bigger somewhere than anywhere in the Southwest.

Between 850 and 1250, the Chacoans, ancestors of the Hopi and of Pueblo peoples like the Zuni, constructed a dozen “great houses”—multistory stone dwellings unlike anything on the continent before them, the largest comprising more than 600 rooms—and scores of smaller structures throughout the canyon and the surrounding mesas. Archaeologists, astronomers, and the metaphysically inclined have yet to get to the bottom of why this spot was chosen, or to explain the buildings’ eerily accurate alignments along paths of celestial importance. So they still come, over bouncy dirt roads (the route from Nageezi, northeast of the park, is easiest—four-wheel drive usually isn’t needed), to tread lightly among these ancient, expertly constructed walls, which have stood for centuries with the help of the dry climate. Six of the major structures can be accessed easily from the main driving loop, but having ventured all the way here, you’ll want to pick up a free permit at the visitor center and hike some of the 20 miles of backcountry trails to overlooks and more remote sites, such as the massive, ninth-century Peñasco Blanco.

Chaco Culture National Historical Park—one of three UNESCO World Heritage Sites in New Mexico, along with Taos Pueblo and Carlsbad Caverns—can be done as a day trip, even with some backcountry exploration, but leaving before dusk to get to a hotel would feel sacrilegious. To get the whole, timeless experience, you’ll want to be here for a day and a night, which means after-dark astronomy lectures and camping under the stars as coyotes yelp on the cliffs above you.

BONUS: In Cuba, about 90 minutes from the park on Highway 550, you’ll find some of the state’s best carne adovada (pork in red-chile sauce) and stuffed sopaipillas. El Bruno’s (505-289-9429) happens to have held the first Guinness World Record for longest burrito—7,856 feet in all, with almost two tons of pinto beans. (No pressure: It’s been eaten.)

DETAILS: The 48-site campground is the only place to stay in or anywhere near the park; claim your spot early, on a weekday if you can. Park admission is $8 per car; camping, $10 per site (505-786-7014, ).

Spins and Spas

I’m crawling up the Chamisa Trail in my mountain bike’s lowest gear—the one affectionately called “granny”—though right now I’m wishing I had a great-granny. Maybe it’s breakfast from Cafe Pasqual’s, a 13-table Water Street institution in Santa Fe, that’s throwing a cog out of my cogset. My choice, selected from 25 menu items during a three-coffee deliberation, was a jack-stuffed chile relleno buried under two eggs over easy, which narrowly edged out the smoked-trout hash.

Both my breakfast spot and my spin are New Mexico classics—the Winsor Trail network, including links like the Chamisa, is a must-ride. You can pedal eight miles on the Winsor, from the village of Tesuque to Santa Fe’s small but cherished ski area, for a net gain of 3,100 feet (or a net loss, if you’re a gravity freak with a car shuttle). My hour-plus climb today brings rewards—a tangent on the Borrego and Bear Wallow trails, a glorious rolling descent—and a question: Do I ride too much?

Considering that my town is home to hundreds of great restaurants, 200 art galleries, 11 museums, an opera, and a rich, four-hundred-plus-year history, not to mention ashrams, teahouses, art barns, and Wiccans, I think a change is in order. So I trade sandy singletrack for basalt and marble, letting a massage therapist at Ten Thousand Waves, Santa Fe’s most serene spa, apply 65 stones to my body. The 130-degree black rocks supply heat, while the cool white marble removes it. This stone sauté is like regression analysis—as in past injuries, not past lives.

The new, fluid me drops back to La Posada de Santa Fe, a cottonwood-canopied downtown hotel with 157 “casita” rooms (Spanish for “don’t pack tons of stuff”), some with a kiva fireplace and a porch. Then it’s off to Canyon Road to catch the Friday-evening gallery openings. The sun is dropping below the somewhat expressionistic Jemez Mountains, the clouds above the Sangre de Cristos are an imperial violet, and I walk through nearly 20 galleries without spotting a single bandanna-festooned coyote howling at the moon.

BONUS: The palette at El Farol (505-983-9912), amid the galleries on Canyon, is 100 percent blue agave. A Hornitos marg or two is best consumed with creative tapas like the crispy avocado (battered and flash-fried).

DETAILS: A 70-minute Japanese hot-stone treatment at Ten Thousand Waves Japanese Health Spa (505-982-9304, ) is $139. Rooms at La Posada de Santa Fe (888-367-7625, ) start at $209. New Mexico Bike ‘n’ Sport (505-820-0809, ) rents demo cross-country bikes, like Specialized Stumpjumpers, for $35–$45 per day.

Fishing on the Fly

San Juan River

In the parched and wind-abraded sandstone desert northeast of Farmington, the San Juan River is not only wet but surprisingly profuse with aquatic life. Well known to fly-rod-waving diehards but obscure to the masses, the four-mile, mostly catch-and-release section below the Navajo Dam is stacked fin to fin with up to 75,000 wild browns and stocked rainbows—some as plump as Oprah’s thigh. The fish attain such super-salmonid size by slurping a never-ending buffet of gnats the way whales devour krill. Best of all, you don’t need a master’s in entomology to hook in.

My girlfriend, Lisa—who’d never fished—and I signed up for a day on the San Juan with John Tavenner, a guide there since 1991. John showed her the basics and tied on her flies. While I tried to coax a wily one to eat a No. 24 dry fly, Lisa landed lunkers as fast as John could dance around netting them.

After spending a sun-baked day under bluebird skies, you’ll need someplace dark to sleep. Very dark. For the erudite troglodyte with a flair for the quirky, there’s Kokopelli’s Cave, a bed-and-breakfast an hour from the river on the outskirts of Farmington. With love, care, and plenty of dynamite, geologist Bruce Black blasted a plush, 1,750-square-foot, one-bedroom cave into a sandstone cliff 200 feet above the La Plata River. The cavern, 172 steps below the clifftop, features a waterfall shower and jetted tub, as well as a kitchen and two balconies for watching the sun set while spinning outrageous fishing yarns.

BONUS: Stop in Aztec for a Bus Driver (hash browns smothered in cheddar cheese and green chile) at the Aztec Restaurant (505-334-9586), about 15 miles east of Farmington at the junction of highway 550 and Main Street.

DETAILS: A full-day float with Tavenner’s Sandstone Anglers (888-339-9789, ) costs $315 for two; Kokopelli’s Cave (505-326-2461, ) rents for $220 per night.

Send Me to Climbing Heaven

El Rito

Midway between Española and no place, really, hides El Rito, little more than a general store, a pint-size restaurant, and a handful of adobes clustered on Highway 554. It took me seven years of living in Santa Fe to discover the village, its gorgeous climbers’ playground, and the serene Rancho de San Juan resort nearby. El Rito’s restaurant, El Farolito, couldn’t look less assuming, yet its rich green chile, studded with hunks of pork and tomato, is a three-time winner of the state’s chile cookoff. (Have it atop the pork tamales: true New Mexico comfort food.)

A meal at El Farolito handily fuels a visit to El Rito’s sport crags, a wonderland of about 60 bolted routes ranging from 5.7 to 5.13c/d, all a four-mile drive north from town on Forest Road 44. The area’s appeal is its conglomerate rock, found in perpendicular, cobbled walls that look like they’ll crumble at your touch—but don’t. Instead, the enormous ocher-, brick-, rust-, and chestnut-colored faces—punctuated with electric-green lichen—provide generous holds. As I blasted up Walt’s Wall Waltz, a 72-foot 5.8 (superfun for a novice), the calls of circling ravens replaced the fading voices of my chatty girlfriends below.

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø takes a turn for the cush at Rancho de San Juan. The main hacienda is flanked by a dozen casitas, each with saltillo-tile floors and handsomely outfitted with reading-friendly rattan chairs, a kiva fireplace, and a jumbo bathroom with a jetted tub and views of the piñon-dotted 225-acre property. Walk to a shrine that an artisan carved out of sandstone, or the top of Black Mesa, which looms above the resort and U.S. 285, ribboning in the distance.

You’re meant to bring an appetite to this Relais & Châteaux property, which attracts diners from Santa Fe and Taos, in addition to hotel guests. The prix fixe dinner is limited only by what’s fresh at the market. One fine meal might include seared king salmon with braised fennel. And then it’s lights out.

BONUS: Authenticity rules at Ojo Caliente Mineral Springs (800-222-9162, www.ojocalientespa.com), an unpretentious spa catering to “cultural creatives” that offers hot iron- and arsenic-rich pools, plus apricot facials, just a hot rock’s throw from El Rito.

DETAILS: El Farolito (505-581-9509) is open every day but Monday. Collect climbing beta at . Doubles at Rancho de San Juan (505-753-6818, ) start at $225; dinner is $55 per person.

Cycling in the High Country

God bless the mining industry. Without man’s lust for wealth, how would anyone have settled the remote southwest corner of New Mexico around Silver City? The mountain town of 10,500 people, nestled at 6,000 feet in the southern foothills of the Pinos Altos Mountains, is closer to Mexico than it is to the nearest U.S. city (El Paso, Texas). And with hundreds of miles of lightly traveled blacktop and a seemingly endless network of high-country trails, it’s one of the country’s best destinations for spring and fall biking.

The quintessential roadie tour is the Gila (pronounced HEE-lah) Inner Loop, a challenging 75-mile ride that crosses the Continental Divide twice and passes a best-of roundup of New Mexico landscapes: striated sandstone cliffs, ponderosa pine forests, streams lined with cottonwoods, and alpine lakes. The route heads north from Silver City on Highway 15, winds through the mountains, and descends into the Mimbres Valley. Sure, there are 3,800 feet of climbing involved, but the visual rewards more than compensate.

Knobby fans will savor the miles of marked singletrack that loop up 7,275-foot Gomez Peak. You can access the network—a spaghetti bowl of technical sections and whoop-de-do downhills—off Little Walnut Road, four miles north of town.

Stay at the Bear Mountain Lodge, an 11-room bed-and-breakfast three miles north of town that’s owned by the Nature Conservancy. The 178-acre converted dude ranch is a bird-watcher’s nirvana. Binoculars and a library of birding books are at your disposal, and every day a naturalist leads hikes or activities. For cyclists, the best parts of Bear Mountain are the jetted bathtubs and Robin Hodges, the cook. My dinner—sirloin tips covered in a light barbecue sauce with a casserole made from cashews, mushrooms, hummus, and rice—may be the state’s best $12 meal.

BONUS: Soak in the hot springs near Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument (505-536-9461, www.nps.gov/gicl), 90 minutes north of Silver City.

DETAILS: Doubles at Bear Mountain Lodge (877-620-2327, ) start at $125. For free biking maps, stop at Gila Hike & Bike (505-388-3222), downtown.

Postcards from Beyond

The sand beneath me glistens almost as brightly as the stars overhead as I summit another 30-foot dune and look out over the rolling, nearly treeless landscape. It’s just as I’ve always imagined life on the moon—and while White Sands National Monument is not the final frontier, hiking here can be an otherworldly experience. White Sands’ 73,600 acres of windswept gypsum dunes, surrounded by the Chihuahuan Desert and, beyond, by the San Andres and Sacramento mountains, are as desolate as nuclear winter—and eerily quiet. The silence is broken only when a jet from nearby Holloman Air Force Base thunders overhead.

You could easily spend a day riding a sled—yes, sledding—down the soft hills, basking in the sun, or wandering the park’s six miles of trails. But White Sands is best at night—especially during a full moon, when the reflective sand helps illuminate the landscape and midnight hikes are bright and Nikon-worthy. The cosmic ambience, coupled with a good bottle of Patrón tequila (no Tang on this trip), makes camping surreal.

For a nearly-as-fantastic encore, head 175 miles southeast to Carlsbad Caverns National Park, a 100-mile-long cave network and UNESCO World Heritage Site. Guided tours into less traveled sections are offered, but I opted for the popular self-guided walk through Carlsbad’s main corridor. The paved, well-lit path descended 100 vertical feet to the Big Room, one of the largest cave rooms in the world. Despite my claustrophobic tendencies, I was relaxed enough to admire the stalagmites, stalactites, and other rock formations, which seemed to evolve with every water droplet that fell sloppily from the 200-foot ceiling.

BONUS: Practice landing the space shuttle (via a high-tech simulator) at the New Mexico Museum of Space History, in Alamogordo, between White Sands and Carlsbad.

DETAILS: Camping at White Sands (505-679-2599, ) is $3 per person per night; register at least an hour before sunset (no advance reservations). Admission to Carlsbad Caverns (505-785-2232, ) is $6 per person.

The post Border Line Amazing appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

COLORADO :: ASPEN & ASPEN HIGHLANDS

FORGET THE FURS AND THE FENDI. Beyond the bling, Aspen is still America’s quintessential ski village, a funky cosmos where World Cup steeps belong to the fearless.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Where else can you sit next to Kurt and Goldie while wolfing lunchtime bratwurst, then follow the sun around Bell Mountain’s bumps for the rest of the afternoon?
NUMBER-ONE RUN: The finest float in Colorado? Atop Aspen Highlands is the 40-degree, 1,500-vertical-foot Highland Bowl. After the hike up, and before the glorious, seemingly endless descent, rest your bones in the summit swing and feast on high-octane views of fourteeners Pyramid Peak and Maroon Bells.
HOT LODGE: Chichi yet cool, luxe yet Lab-friendly, the St. Regis Aspen features s’mores in its cozy après-ski lounge, beds for beloved canines, and a spanking-new 15,000-square-foot spa-complete with a little something called the Confluence, artificial hot springs where more than the waters mingle. (Doubles from $385; 888-454-9005, )
SOUL PATCH: Tucked in the trees on Aspen Mountain are shrines to Elvis, Jerry Garcia, Marilyn Monroe, and, of course, Liberace. But Walsh’s Run, one of the steepest drops on Ajax, is where you’ll find sacred ground: The Raoul Wille shrine, a tiny shack festooned with prayer flags and elk bones, honors a longtime local who died climbing in Nepal.

NEW MEXICO :: TAOS

Taos Ski Resort

A GROOVY CONVERGENCE of Native American culture, ski-hard style, and the freest of spirits, Taos is the black diamond in New Mexico’s high-desert crown, offering steep transcendence (and lots of green chile) in the wild, wild West.
WHY WE LOVE IT: ¡Viva variedad! Park your journeyman Subaru wagon or beat Jeep CJ right next to that limited-edition Mercedes with the Texas plates—they’ll appreciate the contrast. Then look heavenward and feast your begoggled eyes on runs so close to vertical they’ll steal your heart (or sink it, if you’re toting a prohibited snowboard).
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Longhorn, a lengthy and snaky double black, shoots between palisades of tall pines, dropping 1,900 vertical feet to a catwalk that spits you out at the base. Masochists should save it for the end of the day, when the bumps are the size of small igloos.
HOT LODGE: In the heart of town is a grand adobe abode called the Fechin Inn, built beside Russian artist Nicolai Fechin’s former home, a 1927 structure listed in the National Register of Historic Places. The elegant, Jacuzzi-equipped 84-room hotel is just a hop, skip, and a jump from the Adobe Bar, current home of wicked margaritas. (Doubles, $114-$208; 800-746-2761, )
SOUL PATCH: Dog-tired and depleted? Stop off at art-infested Taos Pizza Outback, where the cooks spin tasty sesame-sprinkled crusts, blank canvases just waiting for your own creative topping conglomerations.

WYOMING :: JACKSON HOLE

DUDE, IT’S LIKE MECCA. If you take sliding around on snow seriously, you’ll eventually make a pilgrimage to the Hole. Hardcore types rightfully revere the sick Wyoming vertical, heavy powder showers, and Euro-style open backcountry. Yep, this is the place . . . to pack a shovel, transceiver, probe, and change of underwear.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Rip, rip, rip all you want: The harder and stronger you ride, the more these Tetons throw at you. And once you think you’re the master, listen for the laughter coming from the lines that have yet to see a descent.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: You’ll find the finest fall-line skiing in the country here, so steel yourself for the best run of the bunch: The Hobacks is 3,000 vertical feet of crazy steeps. Enjoy.
HOT LODGE: When legendary ski mountaineer and cinematographer Rob DesLauriers got sick of living out of his van, he built the new Teton Mountain Lodge, a premium slopeside property with rustic Wyoming written all over it. Just don’t let the high-end accommodations and dining fool you; Rob’s still a ski bum at heart. (Doubles, $149-$329; 800-801-6615, )
SOUL PATCH: The Mangy Moose remains Jackson Hole’s must-hit saloon. The bleary-eyed crew from Teton Gravity Research, pros decked out in next year’s wares, and perma-tan instructors call this place home. But don’t fear the locals; just get what they’re having.

UTAH :: PARK CITY

LIKE ST. MORITZ WITH MORMONS, Park City is not only a vast powdery playground; it’s a true ski-in/ski-out town with big-city swank. After you’ve zonked your mortal coil dropping off cornices and carving down chutes, head to town and knock back an espresso: You have to be awake to enjoy the finer things.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Oh, the mountain comes off as harmless at first—what with those rolling hills flush with cruisers—but it drops the hammer a couple lifts in, making for delighted schussers, from expert on down. There’s terrain-park action, and the superior lift service (14 chairs, including four high-speed six-packs) can move more than 27,000 butts an hour.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Not for the timid or the kamikaze, O-zone drops 1,000 feet off the lip of Pinyon Ridge, down a 30- to 40-degree face, before delivering you into forgiving tree trails that lead to a high-speed six heading right back up.
HOT LODGE: Right on chic Main Street is the Treasure Mountain Inn, a locals-owned lodge with a great little café. This eco-minded pad has a range of homey accommodations, from simple studios to decked-out apartments, as well as a Jacuzzi and heated pool beneath the stars. (Studios, $125-$300; 800-344-2460, )
SOUL PATCH: Once a wild silver town, Park City’s gone all civilized. The high-end gastronomic fusion served up at 350 Main will have you double-checking your coordinates—and for boozophobic Utah, the cocktails are mighty sinful.

BRITISH COLUMBIA :: WHISTLER BLACKCOMB

DOUBLY HEINOUS STEEPS mean twice the fun at Whistler Blackcomb, home to the biggest vertical in North America and an astounding variety of snow conditions. Sister peaks, these British Columbia bad girls practically flaunt their grand vert, true glacier skiing, and leg-burner runs up to seven miles long.
WHY WE LOVE IT: By virtue of the vast and varied terrain (larger than Vail and Aspen combined), this resort has always drawn a cosmopolitan crowd. The number of rowdy young immigrants will surely redouble as opening day of the 2010 Winter Olympics approaches. And the village is at only 2,140 feet, so sea-level folk can let loose without fearing hypoxia-empowered hangovers.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: These peaks have long been a favorite stop on the World Cup circuit, thanks in part to the exhilarating 1.5-mile highway known as the Dave Murray Downhill, which rolls off the south shoulder to Whistler’s base.
HOT LODGE: The Fairmont Chateau Whistler is a wonderland of sprawling penthouses and romantic turrets at the foot of Blackcomb Mountain. Luckily, there are more than two dozen bistros and nightclubs nearby to tempt you out of your mountain-view room on the stormier nights. (Doubles, $256-$446; 800-606-8244, )
SOUL PATCH: From the top of Horstman Glacier, traverse under the summit cliffs and cross the ridgeline via Spanky’s Ladder. This brings you to a trove of hidden chutes plunging through a cliff band down to Blackcomb Glacier.

CALIFORNIA :: MAMMOTH

THE SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA VIBE dominates Mammoth, reflecting surf culture at its most authentic. Witness the resort’s massive superpipe and meticulously sculpted terrain parks, home turf of snowboard phenoms like Tara Dakides, Shaun White, and Olympic silver medalist Danny Kass.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Rising high in the eastern Sierra, this hill is surrounded by the Ansel Adams and John Muir wilderness areas, and Yosemite’s just a few valleys north. The volcanic terrain, nice and steep everywhere you look, gets layers of prime frosting from Pacific storms that drop up to four feet of snow at a time. Otherwise, it’s clear blue skies.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: From the summit, drop off the back side and hike to fantastic Hemlock Bowl: Ski left and follow the signs (or locals), then enjoy Mammoth’s deepest shots. Afterwards, hop on Chair 14 and rest up for another hike. Repeat.
HOT LODGE: If cookie-cutter condos don’t do it for you, check out Mammoth Country Inn, a Bavarian-style bed-and-breakfast. The seven rooms feature bedding worthy of royalty, and two have Jacuzzis. Your hosts, the Weinerts, serve up home-style breakfasts, and it’s just a short scamper to the bus. (Doubles, $145-$185; 866-934-2710, )
SOUL PATCH: Geothermal springs with panoramic mountain vistas, anyone? South of town, just east of Highway 395, Hot Creek gloriously blends a f-f-freezing stream and feverish springs. (Stay out of the scalding stuff.) Sadly, panties are mandatory here. But you can drop your drawers at wilder hot spots like Hilltop and Crab Cooker.

COLORADO :: STEAMBOAT

SOMETIMES COLORADO’S I-70 is a bit, well, constipated, so head for secluded Steamboat, some two hours north. We’re talking relentless powder, some of the West’s best tree skiing, and a chill ambience—on the slopes and back at the lodge.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Located in the Park Range—where Pacific-born storms usually hit first in Colorado—Steamboat soaks up heavy snow dumps that often skip peaks to the south and east. And many of the aspens are perfectly spaced, as if a gift from God. From the mountain, take a free shuttle the three miles to tiny, colorful Steamboat Springs, where you’ll find a surprising slew of kick-back bars and upscale eats.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Step into the Closet, a forested roller coaster spilling down the west side of Storm Peak, and shake off the dust. Just make sure you’ve got your turns dialed—and wear a helmet.
HOT LODGE: Across from the gondola, the plush 327-room Steamboat Grand Resort Hotel serves up a deluxe spa, a fitness center with steam bath, an elegant steak-and-chop house, quiet rooms replete with hardwood furniture, and a cavernous stone lobby with, yep, a stream running through it. (Doubles from $159; 877-269-2628, )
SOUL PATCH: On the Grand’s spacious deck, which looks out on 8,239-foot Emerald Mountain, two truly giant Jacuzzis and a heated outdoor pool offer some of the most luxuriant après-ski lounging in the Rockies.

MONTANA :: BIG SKY

Big Sky Ski Resort

LONE MOUNTAIN ERUPTS from the Madison Range like an 11,194-foot catcher’s mitt, nabbing storms swollen with dry Rocky Mountain powder. The utter lack of lines just sweetens the pot. With almost twice as many acres as skiers, Big Sky virtually guarantees instant lift access all day long.
WHY WE LOVE IT: You can dress like a cowboy—unironically—and then snorkel through the fresh, pausing to ogle the remote 10,000-foot summits of the Lee Metcalf Wilderness. Come night, it gets so dark you can see the band of the Milky Way splitting the sky.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Off Lone Mountain’s south face, roar almost 3,000 vertical feet down the ridiculously wide Liberty Bowl and through the Bavarian Forest, where you can bob and weave through spruce and fir.
HOT LODGE: Want quintessential Montana? Rent a log cabin with a hot tub on the deck: The Powder Ridge Cabins have woodstoves, vaulted ceilings, and a lift nearby. (Cabin with three doubles, $525-$772; 800-548-4486, )
SOUL PATCH: See what “big sky” really means: The tram up to the peak offers an eagle’s view of the resort’s most daring lines, plus thousands of square miles of wilderness. Watch a local work the Big Couloir—a 50-by-1,500-foot lick of 48-degree terror—and it won’t be just the views stealing your breath.

UTAH :: ALTA & SNOWBIRD

Snowbird Ski Resort

THESE PEAKS ARE THE ODD COUPLE of mountain resorts—think hardcore Alta dudes and snazzy Snowbird debs—but their souls are united by heavenly powder.
WHY WE LOVE IT: In a word, the white stuff. At Little Cottonwood Canyon, the light-and-dry goods are nonpareil. The evidence? When the Ringling Bros. circus sued Utah for using the slogan “The Greatest Snow on Earth,” the case went all the way to the Supreme Court—and Utah won.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: A long, technical traverse perches you atop Alf’s High Rustler, a 40-degree, 2,000-foot pitch aimed straight at the Alta parking lot. Legend has it that veteran ski-school director Alf Engen once bombed the whole run, with nothing but nipple-deep powder to slow his mad descent.
HOT LODGE: Snowbird’s Iron Blosam threads the ski-lodge needle: It’s got all the perks of a high-end hotel—two-story windows, private decks, full kitchens, and an outdoor hot tub-but it’s steeped in a laid-back atmosphere that reminds you of a family cabin in the mountains. (Doubles, $249-$539; 800-453-3000, )
SOUL PATCH: After Snowbird’s last tram heads down for the day, don’t be afraid to join the contingent of ski-crazy locals who gather at the top of Lone Pine for what is usually a low-key party, then take in the sublime view of the spectacular, canyon-framed sunset.

VERMONT :: STOWE

IT’S THE BARNS AND COVERED BRIDGES draped with snow that tip you off: You’re in classic Vermont. This historic resort hails from the hungry thirties, but you’ll be plenty satisfied. With just 4,000 or so permanent residents, Stowe’s got small-town soul galore, and the mountain tempts with wild, winding expert runs—and a slew of less challenging ones.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Time has made Stowe a giant on the eastern ski scene, with the help of 4,393-foot Mount Mansfield, Vermont’s highest peak. You can’t beat it for nordic action: The Touring Center at Trapp Family Lodge (owned by a member of the singing von Trapp clan, of The Sound of Music fame) features excellent trails. And where would snowboarding be without a certain resident named Jake Burton?
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Test your mettle on the famous Front Four—National, Lift Line, Starr, and Goat—the mountain’s snaking double-black centerpieces. Prepare to be humbled.
HOT LODGE: Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, the sumptuously restored Green Mountain Inn pumps up the luxe with modern accoutrements like gas fireplaces, marble bathrooms, Jacuzzis, and a heated outdoor pool. Forget fatigue with a Swedish deep-tissue massage—or have hot cider and homemade cookies by the blazing fire. (Doubles from $125; 800-253-7302, )
SOUL PATCH: Get a little wacky with the locals during the Stowe Winter Carnival, in late January: Among other fun, there’s off-season volleyball, a snow-golf tournament (costume required, natch), and the chilly Wintermeister triathlon.

COLORADO :: VAIL & BEAVER CREEK

TALK ABOUT HIGH CONTRAST: These resorts may be virtually side by side, but they don’t see eye to eye. Vail is the gold standard for manicured pistes and big bowls, regularly making it one of the country’s most popular destinations, while Beaver Creek is more of a sedate escape with a profusion of secret stashes.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Via the combo of dry snow and friendly terrain, intermediates feel advanced—and experts feel untouchable (if they didn’t already). Roughly half of the resorts’ vast terrain is taken up by the famous Back Bowls, at Vail, and Beaver Creek’s long, challenging Talons, many of which cut through the trees.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: On Vail’s Ledges, the steep bits run 300 feet, then level out and let you regain your wind, then drop another 300, and so on—descending for more than a mile, all the way home. At Beaver Creek, Harrier rolls off the west shoulder of Spruce Saddle, becoming a wide, hilly cruiseway perfectly pitched for GS turns.
HOT LODGE: The Austrian-style Hotel Gasthof Gramshammer has been au courant for 40 years. The 38 rooms are arrayed with knee-deep down comforters and traditional woodwork, game dishes are served up in the cozy Antlers dining room, and high indulgence awaits at the steam room, sauna, and two indoor hot tubs. (Doubles, $195-$245; 800-610-7374, )
SOUL PATCH: Don’t miss the Colorado Ski Museum: Dig the roots of modern snow sports and revisit such luminaries as World War II heroes/powder hounds the Tenth Mountain Division, among others.

CALIFORNIA & NEVADA :: HEAVENLY

CAN YOU SAY GIGANTIC? Good, because that’s what Heavenly is. Plus it can claim some of the most ravishing views of any American ski hill: It rests in the limbo between the supernatural blue of Lake Tahoe and the scorched Nevada desert far below.

WHY WE LOVE IT: Nobody skis off-piste on this mountain! A private wonderland awaits those who venture into the trees or take a little hike, but if you want to stay on track, you’ll find that the sheer immensity (almost 5,000 acres) spreads out the skiers nicely. Besides, the groomers are like boulevards—and just as smooth—so you can really dig your turns here.

NUMBER-ONE RUN: The Milky Way Bowl, a ten-minute hike up the Skyline Trail, has a steady vertical drop and an utter dearth of other souls. Continue down the chutes of Mott Canyon and have a chuckle at the expense of all the schnooks who ever turned their noses up at this peak.

HOT LODGE: Heavenly’s speedy gondola is two minutes from Lake Tahoe’s Embassy Suites Hotel, very cushy digs with a dizzying nine-story atrium, glass roof, flourishing gardens, and 400 two-room suites. (Suites from $200; 877-497-8483, )

SOUL PATCH: The spectacle of Caesars Tahoe is Disneyland for the savvy gambler. A nonstop bacchanal revolves around slot machines, top-notch shows, and the ubiquitous gaming tables—but without that Vegas overkill. When in Rome . . .

ALBERTA :: LAKE LOUISE

JAW-DROPPING vistas of Banff National Park greet the lucky folks up top of Canada’s biggest ski area, and world-class terrain awaits below.
WHY WE LOVE IT: This place splits styles: At the south side’s terrain park, huck junkies can air their grievances with gravity while fans of pure carving hit the quieter north face to ride the bowls.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Take the SUMMIT Platter up 8,765-foot Mount Whitehorn and cruise Brown Shirt, taking in views of the Bow Valley. Or head out from the Larch area, locate Lookout Chute, and disappear into the trees—just make sure you reappear.
HOT LODGE: From the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, gaze out at the glacier-fed namesake lake. To fight off the Canadian chill, try steaming truffle fondue at the hotel’s Walliser Stube; wash that fungus down with some ice wine, made from grapes frozen on the vine. (Doubles, $344; 800-441-1414, www .fairmont.com/lakelouise)
SOUL PATCH: With faraway Victoria Glacier as backdrop, a spin on Lake Louise’s skating rink makes for high entertainment. During January’s ice-carving competition, you can see frozen stars like Winnie the Pooh, then toast marshmallows at the braziers nearby. (Appropriately enough, the silly old bear has been quoted as saying, “Fight fire with marshmallows.”)

COLORADO :: TELLURIDE

A TRUE COWBOY TOWN where down jackets thankfully outnumber mink stoles, Telluride still caters to the glamorous. Spot a hot starlet living it up in one of downtown’s ritzy establishments? Big whoop—unless she was thrashing her guide in the steep and deep earlier.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Due to its remote setting—there’s just one road leading into this southwestern Colorado box canyon-the mountain always gets far fewer folks than it’s designed to handle. So the queues are quick, the runs pretty much empty, and the midmountain bartenders not too busy. NUMBER ONE RUN: As you float, fly, or surf down the three ridgeline miles of See Forever, looking 100 or so miles west toward Utah’s La Sal Mountains, you are permitted, though not really encouraged, to holler corny lines from Titanic, like “I’m on top of the wooorld!”
HOT LODGE: Live it up at Wyndham Peaks Resort & Golden Door Spa: Think king-size beds, homemade cookies on your pillow (if you ask nicely), and the San Juan Mountains out your window. Head to the spa and baby your fried quads by soaking them in the 102-degree mineral pool—perfect prep for a 50-minute Skier Salvation massage. (Doubles from $229; 970-728-6800, )
SOUL PATCH: Melt into an overstuffed leather chair, order a horseradishy bloody mary, and toast tomorrow in Wyndham Peaks’ high-ceilinged great room. That’s good medicine.

MONTANA :: BIG MOUNTAIN

CRAVE A COCKTAIL of wide-open groomers, perfectly spaced trees, and backcountryesque meadows? Look no further than crowdless Big Mountain. And with lots of off-piste powder stashes just waiting, it’s no wonder so many of the snow junkies here sport free heels.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Monster storms transform the mountain’s evergreens into “snow ghosts,” and locals—suited up in polyester straight out of the Carter era—love to rip through this hoary host. And it doesn’t hurt that the skyline’s fraught with the lofty peaks of the Canadian Rockies, Glacier National Park, and the Great Bear Wilderness.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: East of North Bowl, you’ll find hundreds of feet of superb vertical, starting with the Nose, then continuing down two shots known as Performance and the Chin. Don’t look for these last two on the map, though: After hogging all that fluffy stuff, you won’t want to tell anyone, either.
HOT LODGE: The ski-in/ski-out Kandahar lodge, right off the mountain, just screams Montana. Think wooden beams, a river-rock fireplace, and rustic rooms with lofts and a bunch of primo down sleeping gear. (Doubles, $109-$309; 800-862-6094, )
SOUL PATCH: When the lifts shut down, the planks and boards stack up outside the Bierstube, where you’ll find local folks swilling pints of Moose Drool beside Seattle techniks escaping the city for the weekend. Be sure to ask your barkeep for one of the ‘Stube’s mysterious souvenir rings—it’s a surprise—then tip at least 20 percent. But you knew that.

CALIFORNIA :: ALPINE MEADOWS

ALL MOUNTAIN AND NO ATTITUDE, Northern California’s Alpine Meadows is designed to take maximum advantage of the spectacular terrain. Though it’s got that laid-back, down-to-earth vibe the West is known for, it’s certainly no bore; far from it. It simply lacks the attendant aggression of resorts with similarly radical steeps.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Chutes and rock bands line this High Sierra bowl, spilling out into gentle grades—so there’s something here for all skill levels. The hike-to skiing and open-boundary policy (not found at neighboring Squaw Valley) equal acres and acres of untouched snow, and the hill’s south side is enormous, wide-open, and drenched with sunshine in the morning.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Palisades, a classic double black diamond off the Alpine Bowl lift, looks skyscraper-steep once you’re staring down it, but fear not: Since it’s north-facing, the snow’s way silky.
HOT LODGE: From the lifts, it’s just a quick ten minutes to the unbeatable Resort at Squaw Creek, with its 403 fine rooms, four restaurants (ranging from diner fare to haute cuisine), outdoor swimming pool, Jacuzzis, and nearby recreation like dogsledding and sleigh rides. (Doubles, $229-$349; 800-403-4434, )
SOUL PATCH: The northern ridge, beyond Estelle Bowl, may take a quarter of an hour to hike and traverse to, but the sweet silence and enormous cedars you’ll find will make you forget the trip. As will the powder.

UTAH :: THE CANYONS

A DECADE BACK, the resort that would become the Canyons was a pretty shabby, and not too popular, locals hill. Now it’s the biggest, most unabashedly go-go resort in Utah-and, miraculously, it’s crowd-free.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Besides the sharp new base village, it’s got the real goods: Days after other Wasatch resorts are all skied out, you’ll still be finding powder stashes hidden among the—count ’em—eight peaks.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Take the hike up Murdock Peak right off the Super Condor Express Lift, then choose from among seven tempting lines. You’re bound to find your favorite flavor: steep glade, wide-open bowl, or gnarly chute?
HOT LODGE: When NBC’s Katie Couric and Matt Lauer wanted posh digs for their two-week Olympics gig, they picked the deluxe Grand Summit Resort Hotel—for good reason. After a soak in your jetted tub, survey the scene at the heated outdoor pool below, and the rest of Summit County, from the bay windows flanking your fireplace. And, of course, there’s the supreme access: If the gondola were any closer, it would be inside. (Doubles, $279; 888-226-9667, )
SOUL PATCH: Take a snowcat-drawn sleigh to midmountain, cross-country or snowshoe it through the woods, and hit the resort’s secluded Viking Yurt for a delectable five-course Scandinavian feast. Go ahead and carbo-load—afterwards, the snowcat will drag you right back down to base.

OREGON :: MT. BACHELOR

THE U.S. FOREST SERVICE gave top skier Bill Healy, of the Army’s Tenth Mountain Division, permission to put three rope tows up the face of central Oregon’s Bachelor Butte way back in 1958. Since then, his dream come true, now known as Mt. Bachelor, has grown to 71 runs serviced by ten lifts. And for those seeking big air, there are three terrain parks.
WHY WE LOVE IT: With as much as 30 feet of snow piling up annually in the mountains of Deschutes National Forest, Mt. Bachelor is one of the Pacific Northwest’s treasures, and an agreement with the Forest Service has spurned commercial development, preserving its wild side.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Head for the Northwest Express chair and exit, if you dare, to Devil’s Backbone, a mettle-testing black diamond. Though steeper up top, it’s good and bumpy almost all the way down its nefarious spine.
HOT LODGE: The Inn of the Seventh Mountain, between Bend and Mt. Bachelor, is the place to sleep if you want first chair the next morning. The lodge-style decor—wooden beams, fireplaces, leather recliners—just oozes cozy, and with the Cascades so close by, grand views are there for the feasting. (Doubles, $135-$195; 800-452-6810, )
SOUL PATCH: Hit the Lodge, in Bend, for pints of local 20″ Brown Ale and scrumptious buffalo burgers. Then make good and sure you patronize the McMenamins folks—God love ’em—renovators of, among others, the old St. Francis school in downtown Bend, home to a hotel with Turkish baths, a pub restaurant, and a throwback cinema.

IDAHO :: SUN VALLEY

HOLLYWOOD HOTTIES, Olympic skiers, and John Kerry may flock to sexy Sun Valley these days, but America’s first ski resort has been drawing us hoi polloi since ’36. Swaths of immaculate corduroy run for miles here, so pray your legs last. No sweat if they don’t: French chefs and other fanciness await below.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Fantastic snow- making gear, five-star base facilities, and runs so fast and long you can attempt to break the sound barrier—after stuffing your face with beignets, of course.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: Crank the bindings and launch down Warm Springs. After a continuous 3,100-foot vertical loss on a blue groomer, your quads will glow like an Apollo capsule on reentry.
HOT LODGE: Stay in Ketchum, Sun Valley’s neighbor and the epicenter of the après action. The Best Western Kentwood Lodge, situated right in the mix, has an airy stone-and-wood lobby, big rooms, a hot tub, and a pool. (Doubles, $159-$179; 800-805-1001, )
SOUL PATCH: Clomp into Apple’s Bar and Grill, at the base of Greyhawk, and mingle with folks who packed it in after logging 30,000 feet of vert—by lunchtime. Notice all the passes tacked to the wall? You could once trade yours for a pitcher of suds. Talk about priorities.

VERMONT :: KILLINGTON

KILLINGTON’S legendarily long season stretches from October through May (sometimes into June), and with seven mountains, the resort has more acreage than any place in the East. Lately, though, Killington’s known as the town that tried to secede—from Vermont, not the Union—a tribute to residents’ fiery, tax-evading Yankee spirit.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Behold the Beast’s 200 runs—including high-altitude bumps, endless cruisers, terrain parks, and a halfpipe—which keep legions of devotees coming back thirsty.
NUMBER-ONE RUN: You don’t have to be an ace to experience the hair-raisingly steep moguls of Outer Limits, on Bear Mountain—just grab a pint and watch the wipeouts from the deck of Bear Mountain Base Lodge.
HOT LODGE: Nab yourself some comfy slopeside digs: The Killington Grand Resort Hotel is well worth the substantial change you’ll drop. This 200-roomer offers studios and suites—all with kitchens, many with fireplaces—and the views from the outdoor Jacuzzis and pool are unbeatable. (Doubles from $150; 877-458-4637, )
SOUL PATCH: It may have turned 40 last year, but the Wobbly Barn still parties like a teenager. This steakhouse-cum-nightclub has a hoppin’ happy hour, live music, and a serious boogie jones.

MONTANA :: MOONLIGHT BASIN

Moonlight Basin Ski Resort

EVERY GOOD SKI AREA has a split personality—part nurturer, part dominatrix. But no resort behaves more like Jekyll and Hyde than Moonlight Basin, the one-year-old resort 45 miles south of Bozeman that shares a boundary with Big Sky. First it lulls you, then it tries to kill you.

The lull part: Moonlight is a real estate venture, and the kindly blue and black pistes that meander down the north face of 11,194-foot Lone Mountain are tailored to those looking for vacation homes. The new Lone Tree lift will fill out those offerings this winter, adding more than 500 acres of open glades and unintimidating expert runs.

Moonlight’s sadistic side? Just look up: The Headwaters is a forbidding wall striped with nine chutes pinched by bands of sharp shale and scree. Three Forks is the boast-in-the-bar run, a 1,200-foot plummet into Stillwater Bowl that nudges 50 degrees in spots. (Until a lift is built, reaching such lines requires a 25-to-45-minute hike.)

Moonlight Basin can’t yet keep you occupied for a week—the base area’s swanky lodge doesn’t even have a gear shop or ski school—but it’s one more reason to book that trip to Big Sky.

IDAHO :: TAMARACK RESORT

THE VIEWS RECALL TAHOE. And the terrain? Call it Steamboat West. That’s the early line on Tamarack Resort, 90 miles north of Boise, which opens in December. The Tahoe analogy is plain from a 7,700-foot spot on West Mountain’s ridge: Far below, 22-mile-long Lake Cascade glistens in Long Valley. What’s more, the resort sits far enough west to rack up 300 annual inches of snow (100 more than Sun Valley), yet it’s east of Oregon’s high desert, ensuring that the bounty arrives talcum-dry.

Don’t expect Tamarack to max out your Pocket Rockets. The tree skiing in glades of aspen and subalpine fir, and the languorous blue runs that unspool down the mountain’s 2,800 vertical feet, summon Steamboat—diverting, if not exactly heart-stopping. Snowcat skiing will be offered this year on 500 acres to be made lift-accessible in the next few years. It’s all part of a $1.5 billion plan to make Tamarack a year-round resort with some 2,000 chalets, condos, and hotel rooms. (At press time, just 60 chalets and cottages were available.) For the best après-ski, head to the old logging town of McCall, 17 miles north.

:: SKI EMOTIONALLY NAKED!

STUCK IN INTERMEDIATEVILLE and dreaming of a transfer to the friendlier slopes of Advanced City? I sure was, so last winter I gambled on a four-day ski clinic in Utah’s Wasatch Range. I was up for anything that would get me closer to black-diamond bliss.

Ski to Live—launched in 2003 by extreme queen Kristen Ulmer, at Alta and Snowbird resorts—takes a uniquely cerebral, holistic approach to improving performance on the slopes, promising nothing less than self-transformation via a cogent blend of hard carving, refreshing yoga, and an intriguing flavor of Zen known as Big Mind. No $200-an-hour therapist ever promised so much.

The 38-year-old Ulmer, veteran of countless ski flicks and former U.S. Freestyle Ski Team member, is a sensitive but sure coach, possessing an infectious buoyancy of spirit that makes every powder acolyte under her wing believe a camera’s rolling just for them over the next mogul. She says conventional instruction is too heavy on mechanics, virtually ignoring mental outlook: “Understanding yourself translates into your skiing in a big way. It’ll catapult you into a whole new level of learning.” So she does it her way. During my Ski to Live weekend, my 13 fellow pupils and I spent about as much time contemplating life in intensely reflective Big Mind sessions as we did tackling Snowbird runs like the steep straitjacket of Wilbere Bowl.

The first night, we shared our hopes (huck big air!) and fears (hairy chutes, sharks). Next morning, we fell into a pleasant rhythm: wake-up yoga; a fat breakfast; lots and lots of skiing in small groups with Ulmer or another instructor; evening sessions with Genpo Roshi, 60, who heads up Salt Lake City’s Kanzeon Zen Center and developed Big Mind; a to-die-for dinner; then profound slumber at the Lodge at Snowbird.

Under Ulmer’s tutelage, skiers and snowboarders employ mantras, which can improve focus, and learn to execute proper form, like correctly positioning shoulders through turns. (Chanting Charge! in one’s head at each turn actually does have a way of refining performance.) Throwing Roshi in the mix proves to be even more radical: He uses challenging discussions and role-playing exercises intended to help you harmoniously integrate the sometimes conflicting aspects of your personality, thus allowing you to dig out from the solipsistic center of your own little universe. It’s pretty cool.

But my defining moment came not when I face-planted right in front of the video camera (hello, embarrassing playback!) nor when I carved some relatively pretty turns in Mineral Basin; it came in a whiteout, during a three-below-zero cruise along the Cirque Traverse, at nearly 11,000 feet. Suddenly I felt fearless joy-not joyless fear-in anticipation of the double black on deck.

The post We Sing the Slopes Fantastic appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

What’s better than owning a piece of history? Owning a piece of history with 22-karat gold inlay. This December, TREK is offering Lance Armstrong’s gold-trimmed, carbon-fiber LIVESTRONG MADONE SL in a limited production run of 600 bikes. The price includes an autographed poster of the Man riding the original model into Paris this past July. $10,000; 800-313-8735,

Steel

(A) G3’s BONESAW will carve out an avalanche test pit in a jiff—and handily slice up blocks of the white stuff for the neighborhood igloo party. $39; 866-924-9048, (B) Empty your kitchen-gadget drawer into the trash; all you need is the VICTORINOX SWISSTOOL SPIRIT. $70; 800-442-2706, (C) Liberate your wrist: The ORIS ARTELIER POCKET WATCH vanishes discreetly into its leather belt case. $825; 914-347-6747, (D) BAKODA’s HOLY SMOKES snowboard multitool can help you make quick slopeside adjustments to bindings and, um, your attitude. $14; 206-762-2955, (E) Mix up some holiday cheer with OXO’s sleek and modern—yet bargain-priced—COCKTAIL SHAKER. $25; 800-545-4411, (F) No self-respecting gent should venture out into the cold without some liquid warmth. Tote yours in SWAROVSKI’s svelte leather-and-stainless SALUTE 101 flask. $277; 800-426-3089, (G) Is it time to really make an entrance? Crash the party Batman style, swinging from CMI-GEAR’s GRAPPLING HOOK. $104; 800-247-5901, (H) At seven foot five from wheel to wheel, the SHIZZLE, from SHIZZLE BIKES, is a boardwalk Cadillac. $400; 877-744-9953,

Wood

(A) With white ash frames and rawhide webbing, the MICHIGAN TRAPPERS, from IVERSON SNOWSHOE, are about as old-school as pow rackets can get. $140; 906-452-6370, (B) Rule the hills atop the ULTIMATE FLYER, a steerable snow rocket from MOUNTAIN BOY SLEDWORKS. $130; 970-799-2571, (C) The VIPER, from BENDING BRANCHES, offers canoeists a blade of basswood and willow with a double-bent shaft. $150; 866-755-3405,

(D) Rule the pipe and the park on the RIDE KINK—a minimalist twin-tip snowboard crafted to be ultraresponsive. $360; 800-757-5806, (E) Up the stakes in your snowball war with the hand-whittled JACK SPADE SLINGSHOT, sure to be the undoing of your opponents. $50; 212-625-1820, (F) You’d have to drop trou to draw attention away from your retro BOGNER bamboo CARVING SKIS; matching poles with leather baskets round out this sixties-movie-star setup. $3,000; 303-913-1981,

Leather

2004 Holiday Gift Guide

(A) ANDREW MARC’s lambskin BAROMETER jacket is sharp and smart. The Schoeller lining regulates your temperature, soft-shell style. $775; 888-424-6272, (B) The VAJA I-VOLUTION IVOD REMIXED is simply the most stylish case you can buy for your iPod 4G Remixed, and it’s offered in 66 color combos. $70–$145; (C) Don’t let the retro-futuristic aesthetic trip you up: OVO’s BI-ATCH is one high-performance ski-and-board helmet, with removable ear inserts and adjustable pads. $100; 877-686-8725, (D) Call NIKE ACG’s AIR ROACH ROCK an approach shoe incognito. The sartorial design cloaks an air-suspension midsole and sticky-rubber outsole. $80; 800-806-6453, (E) Built with brass hardware and durable Vachetta Italian leather, the COLE HAAN SQUARE DUFFEL carry-on restores dignity to 21st-century travel. $595; 800-201-8001, (F) ANON’s FIGMENT pimps up an already super-bomber goggle with leather trim. $70–$100; 800-881-3138,

Plastic

2004 Holiday Gift Guide

(A) PATAGONIA’s ultrawarm CLASSIC RETRO CARDIGAN is made mostly from reincarnated soda bottles. $169; 800-638-6464, (B) Hard plastic on the sides of the TUSA TRI-EX FINS gives divers Aquaman power. $89; 562-498-3708, (C) A BROKE DOWN MELODY, from surf-DVD makers Moonshine Conspiracy, offers action from Kelly Slater. $30; 805-648-6633, (D) FOX’s 911 KNEE/SHIN GUARDS will help keep your tibias intact during those dicey mountain-bike descents. $60; 888-772-2242, (E) Juggling seven things in the dark? Throw a beam on each with GERBER’s LED INFERNO FLEXI-LIGHT. $57; 800-950-6161, (F) The GARMONT ADRENALIN AT boot is stiff on the blacks yet forgiving on climbs. $629; 800-943-4453, (G) Take to the creeks in the WAVESPORT ZG, an advanced boat offering plenty of bounce. $999; 800-311-7245,

Titanium

2004 Holiday Gift Guide

(A) Brew a great mug of joe with SNOW PEAK’s FRENCH CAFÉ PRESS. $50; 503-697-3330, (B) “No, I’m sorry, you can’t borrow my pen. It’s a MARLEN 20TH ANNIVERSARY HTF, handcrafted from fiberglass, titanium, and gold.” $975; 866-726-8736, (C) The metal inside MARKER’s TITANIUM 13.0 PISTON CONTROL TURBO SKI BINDING keeps these click-ins light. $425; 800-453-3862, (D) DUTCHGUARD’s TITANIUM CROWBAR is one cool wrecking tool. $60; 800-821-5157, (E) TAG HEUER’s hinge-free REFLEX sunglasses are Riviera-ready. $230–$285; 800-345-3733, (F) Both the frame and spools of L.H. DESIGN’s SILVER SHADOW TITANIUM REEL are machined from a single piece of titanium bar stock. $1,800; 866-223-8300, (G) Blast ’em straight and true down the fairway with CALLAWAY’s BIG BERTAH II 415 DRIVER, an update of a club first issued in 1991. $500; 800-588-9836,

Wool

2004 Holiday Gift Guide

(A) The extended tail on REI’s new NORDIC TRAIL WOOLY sweater helps keep your backside toastier. $89; 800-426-4840, (B) Even your digits deserve merino: Sheathe them with IBEX GLOVE LINERS before hitting the slopes. $25; 800-773-9647, (C) It wicks! It warms! PATAGONIA’s AXUWOOL CREW heats the skin with merino and faces down the elements with Capilene. $80; 800-638-6464, (D) New Zealand’s alpine ungulates contribute their very best fuzz for the urban-cool ICEBREAKER ROCK ZIP. $119; 866-363-7466, (E) Go loud and proud in WOOLRICH’s red-and-black-plaid MALONE PANTS. $99; 800-966-5372, (F) The wool-blend TONIC, from Hood River–based ski-lid newcomer PISTIL DESIGNS, packs lively hues and a microfleece liner. $22; 541-387-3306, (G) L.L. BEAN’s COMMANDO SWEATER has ruled the ice-fishing scene for 30 years—and will doubtless dominate winter for decades to come. $49; 800-441-5713,

Silicon

(A) With rubberized corners and shockproof innards, GOVIDEO’s OFF-ROAD DVD player can handle even Texas-scale turbulence. $250; 800-736-7679, (B) OAKLEY’s THUMP elegantly tucks a 256MB digital music player—holding about four hours’ worth of tunes—into a pair of sport-ready shades. $495; 800-431-1439, (C) BUSHNELL’s NIGHTHAWK takes the clunk factor out of night-vision gear with 14 infrared diodes coupled with a swiveling LCD view screen. $200; 800-423-3537,

(D) MOTOROLA’s globe-roaming RAZR V3 cell phone offers the slender profile of a credit card, plus a nickel-plated, chemically etched keypad. $350; 866-289-6686, (E) The OLYMPUS STYLUS VERVE is the iMac of digicams—choose red, orange, blue, silver, titanium, or basic black. $350; 888-553-4448, (F) Uplink to Elvis—or just his dedicated satellite-radio station—with the XACT XTR1 STREAM JOCKEY receiver. Requires $50 docking station and antenna. $100; 866-466-9228, (G) The all-in-one PDA comes of age in the HEWLETT-PACKARD IPAQ POCKET PC H6315, which combines digital camera, cell phone, and Web browser—then drops it all neatly in your shirt pocket. $600; 888-999-4747, (H) Get your fix on the grid in seconds via GARMIN’s ETREX LEGEND C, a handheld, high-res, full-color GPS genie. $375; 800-800-1020,

Carbon

2004 Holiday Gift Guide

(A) Grab AT’s XCEPTION SL 25.6-ounce touring paddle and churn water fatigue-free for days. $400; 877-766-4757, (B) Keep your head in the game—and off the rocks—with the SWEET ROOSTER, a carbon-fiber-reinforced whitewater lid. $260; (C) DB brings us the SURREAL skis, boards that sandwich carbon fiber and Kevlar. $880; (D) Tour up and tear down with a pair of adjustable CARBON FIBER FLICKLOCK POLES from BLACK DIAMOND. $90; 801-278-5552, (E) Taunt the peloton with CARNAC’s gorgeous M5 CARBON roadie shoes, which weave microfiber and carbon and weigh ten measly ounces apiece. $360; 800-654-8052, (F) NRS CREEK GLOVES will save your knuckles and give Krazy Glue grip. $75; 800-635-5202,

The post The New Right Stuff appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

ON HIM » (1) WHITE SIERRA’s polyester SAMOA shirt ($35) brings quick-drying washability and easy style to your vacation destination, be it Chamonix or Joshua Tree. Zip-off pants? Bah. The sleuth-tech (2) DRY JEANS ($99) from VAUDE say “urban casual”—only you’ll know that their technical CoolMax-and-cotton blend is wicking away sweat. No need to walk barefoot through airport security when you’re shod in (3) TEVA’s SELIGMAN sandals ($60). A waterproof leather upper meets a rubber outsole—sans metal buckles. (4) BLURR’s new carry-on AGENT BAG ($85) expands to 2,500 cubic inches to hold crucial duty-free items. The (5) VICTORINOX MT. ROSA single-strap carryall ($50) is great for guidebook and sunglasses. ON HER » Steamy climes demand (6) IBEX’s CRUZ SPORT TOP ($52), a silky merino-wool-and-Lycra number with a shelf bra. Team it with (7) ISIS’s TERRA SHORTS ($63), constructed of stretchy woven nylon, with their own webbed belt. Mary Janes meet the trail in (8) TIMBERLAND’s PACIFIC GROVE ATHLETITUDE shoes ($70), strappy nubuck babies with dirt-worthy outsoles. Bring your sun salutations on the road with the (9) ATHLETA STUDIO SLING ($79), a bag that’ll tote a (10) PRANA YOGA MAT ($34) wherever your quest may take you.


ON HER » Ward off alpine or A/C chill with (11) KAVU’s stretch-woven cotton-and-nylon PIXEE PULLOVER ($79), an anorak with a roomy kangaroo pocket for snacks or cold hands. Pair it with (12) PRANA’s cotton RAW EDGE TEE ($28); the fringed V-neck lends a certain fetching allure to the wearer. Secure your vitals—without looking totally dweeby—in (13) PACSAFE’s GOSAFE bag ($30). The 1,200-denier nylon sack, big enough for passport, cash, and cell phone, has a slash-proof front panel and a wire-reinforced shoulder strap. Skirts go in the must-pack category for the freedom they offer on the trail or in town; the (14) HORNY TOAD cotton-and-nylon BIG EASY SKIRT ($47) is the knee-length answer for comfortable ambling. TEVA upgrades the slip-on summer standby with stripes, suede, and a cushy EVA midsole on the beach-to-city (15) SHORE flip-flops ($45). ON HIM » “Ommm” your way through any travel crisis in (16) PRANA’s XANADU STRETCH shirt ($55); it’s made of a hefty, pebble-textured polyester, with some built-in give. Take your fashion cues from climbers, whose sartorial influence is spreading far beyond the grungy tents at Yosemite’s Camp 4. Despite the name, (17) ROYAL ROBBIN’s SLUB CANVAS BOULDERING SHORTS ($40) work equally well on a barstool or on the rocks—they’ve got a nine-inch inseam and commodious yet unobtrusive back pockets. The new (18) TIMBUK2 DUFFEL (medium, $80), from the masters of the messenger bag, swaddles 2,900 cubic inches of stuff in rugged ballistic nylon bedecked with stylish stripes. Though the old-school design of the (19) ASICS LENNOX sneaks ($65) debuted in 1981, they’re still hip, travel-worthy companions.

The post Travel Style appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

To zero in on the most idyllic resorts this side of paradise, we dispatched a crack squad of writers to the Caribbean. They came back with a hit list of places where creature comforts and adventure are not mutually exclusive. Now it’s your turn.

By Katie Arnold

By Janine Sieja

By Randy Wayne White

By Hampton Sides

By Bonnie Tsui

By Grant Davis

By Sally Schumaier

By Mike Grudowski

By Karen Karbo

By Lisa Anne Auerbach

PLUS:
Swimming in Mosquito Bay, sailing the Grenadines, climbing 10,000-foot Pico Duarte, and five other don’t-miss dream outings.

Laluna

A minimalist’s idea of maximum bliss

Caribbean Resort, Grenada

Caribe, anyone? Laluna’s mod seaside lounge overlooking Portici Bay.

ON OUR THIRD MORNING IN GRENADA, we roasted the Chicken. Then we did what any sensible traveler in the Caribbean would do: We beelined it back to Laluna, a sublime refuge tucked into a hidden bay on the island’s southwest coast, and made straight for the sea. We were ridiculously filthy, splattered with mud from a three-hour mountain-bike ride with Chicken—a wiry, calf-strong Grenadian guide who’s such a fanatic cyclist, he’d already pedaled 25 miles before breakfast. (No wonder we beat him up the hills.) Salty but clean, we retired to the private plunge pool on our cottage’s wide wooden deck, taking in the uninterrupted view of Portici Bay. Time to debate the next move: Grab a book and sprawl across the teak settee on the veranda, wander down to the open-air lounge for a cold Caribe and a game of backgammon, loll poolside on a chaise, or have a massage? There’s only one house rule at this tiny, tony anti-resort: Make yourself at home. After three days, we felt so at home, we thought we were home—that is, if home were a stylish, thatch-roofed cabana notched into a hillside above an empty crescent of Caribbean beach. In our dreams.

The Good Life // Designed in 2001 by Gabriella Giuntoli, the Italian architect for Giorgio Armani’s villa on an island off Sicily, Laluna has a pared-down, natural aesthetic: Indonesian teak-chic meets spare Italian elegance. All 16 one- and two-bedroom concrete cottages—painted in cheerful shades of pumpkin, lapis, teal, and plum—are well-appointed but unfussy: Balinese four-poster beds draped with sheer muslin panels, earth-colored floors covered with sea-grass rugs, open-air bathrooms with mod metal fixtures. The same soothing mix of wood, cane, cotton, and thatch prevails in the resort’s beachfront courtyard. On one end is the breezy restaurant, where Italian chef Benedetto La Fiura cooks up Carib-Continental dishes like callaloo soup (an island specialty made from dasheen, a tuber with spinachlike leaves, and nutmeg) and mushroom risotto. On the other is the open-air lounge, with a fully stocked bar and comfy Indonesian daybeds with plump throw pillows, and low tables that double as footrests. Between the two is pure R&R: a sleek square pool with a perfect curve of beach beyond.

Jaw Dropper // Swinging the cottage’s mahogany-and-glass doors wide open at night and being lulled to sleep by the wind in the bougainvillea and the gentle rolling of waves below.

Sports on-Site // There’s no set agenda at Laluna, but there’s plenty to do. Guests with sailing experience can take out one of two Hobie Cats, as well as single and double sea kayaks, for the easy cruise to Morne Rouge Bay, the next cove over. There’s a small stash of snorkeling equipment available (keep an eye out for yellow-and-black-striped sergeant majors near the rocky points at either end of the beach) and Specialized mountain bikes for tooling around.

Beyond the Sand // Fight the urge to cocoon at Laluna and head inland and upward to Grand Étang Forest Reserve, a 3,800-acre tract of rainforest at 2,350 feet, along the island’s jungly spine. We spent a day in the charming company of 64-year-old Telfor Bedeau, known to all as the father of Grenada hiking. He led us on a four-hour ramble around Lake Grand ƒtang, a rogue crater left over from the island’s volcanic past, and along an overgrown tunnel of a trail to a series of five waterfalls (popularly, if erroneously, dubbed the Seven Sisters) and up a hidden path to a bonus cascade called Honeymoon Falls (half-day hikes, $20 per person; 473-442-6200). At A&E Tours, Chicken guides half-day, full-day, and multi-day mountain-bike rides along the coast or through the reserve (our three-hour pedal from the harbor capital of St. George’s over the serpentine, near-vertical Grenville Vale Road cost $25 per person, including bike rental; 473-435-1444, ).

The Fine Print // American Eagle (800-433-7300; ) flies the two and a half hours to Grenada daily from San Juan, Puerto Rico (round-trip from Chicago, about $785); Air Jamaica (800-523-5585; ) flies nonstop from New York’s JFK four days a week (about $400). From December 20 to April 13, rates at Laluna (473-439-0001, ) start at $530 per night, double occupancy, including water activities and bikes (the price drops to $290 in summer). A modified meal plan (breakfast and dinner) is $65 per person per day. Henry’s Safari Tours can take care of your on-island transportation and guiding needs (473-444-5313, ).

The Hermitage

Frangipani breezes, volcano view

THE SOUNDTRACK TO NEVIS, a volcanic bit of emerald-green pointing skyward in the West Indies, lacks a badass steel-drum reggae riff. Nevis, blessedly, is not that Caribbean. Its rhythms require closer attention: nocturnal, chirping bell frogs and murmuring trade winds that rustle the coconut palms and spread the sweetness of frangipani across 50 square miles of overgrown hills and dignified former sugarcane plantations. The most charming of these mansions, the Hermitage, is perched 800 feet above sea level on the southern flanks of dormant-for-now 3,232-foot Nevis Peak. The 15 gingerbread cottages and 340-year-old British colonial lodge are embellished with pastel-shuttered windows and four-poster canopy beds. Despite this dollhouse decor, you won’t feel embarrassed to take your lunch of grilled-flying-fish salad on the veranda after a muddy five-hour hike up the volcano. Just hose yourself off in the front yard first. The Good Life // Amiable American transplants Richard and Maureen Lupinacci bought the Hermitage 33 years ago. Its Great House, reputed to be the oldest wooden building in the Caribbean, is where guests dine by candlelight or sidle over to the bar for rum punch at cocktail hour. (The free-flowing mixture of dark Cavalier rum, syrup, lemon juice, and a dash of cinnamon is part of why the refined Hermitage vibe never crosses over into stuffiness.) Most of the cottages are restored originals—whitewashed, light-filled retreats furnished with regional antiques. All have hammock-equipped balconies for horizontal views of Nevis Peak and the white clouds that usually shroud its summit. The three-acre grounds are dotted with citrus, mango, and cashew trees, and have two pools and a tennis court.

Jaw Dropper // Roam trails crisscrossing the Gingerland District on one of the lodge’s 16 thoroughbreds, or charge up Saddle Hill to an old lookout used by British admiral Horatio Nelson in the 1780s.

Sports on-Site // Explore the terraced gardens of lilies, ginger, and hibiscus or take the ten-minute shuttle to four-mile Pinney’s Beach, the loveliest of Nevis’s sandy stretches. Just a quarter-mile from the inn is the trailhead for the mile-long climb to the summit of Nevis Peak (contact Top to Bottom; $35 per person; 869-469-9080).

Beyond the Sand // A wild donkey—an odd trail obstacle—brayed his displeasure as I pedaled the sea-grape-lined singletrack of Tower Hill. Windsurf ‘n’ Mountain Bike Nevis (869-469-9682, , ) offers half-day rides from $40, including use of a Trek front-suspension bike. At Oualie Beach, on the island’s northwestern coast, let marine biologist Barbara Whitman introduce you to four-eyed butterfly fish, goat fish, flame coral, and pink sea anemones. Under the Sea (869-469-1291, ) charges $40 for a three-hour snorkel, including gear.

The Fine Print // American Airlines (800-433-7300, ) is the only major U.S. carrier serving Nevis. The daily flight from San Juan, Puerto Rico, takes an hour and 15 minutes (round-trip airfare from New York City costs about $725; from Denver, about $980). From December 15 to April 15, rates at the Hermitage (800-682-4025, ) start at $325 for a double, including a full breakfast (low-season rates from $170).

Anse Chastanet

This is jungle luxe

Caribbean Resort, St. Lucia

Petit Piton looms as Anse Chastanet’s yacht heads out for a day at sea.

Caribbean Resort, St. Lucia

Walls optional: a hillside villa at Anse Chastanet

MY FIRST DAWN on St. Lucia, a big teardrop of an island wedged between Martinique and St. Vincent in the Lesser Antilles, was disappointing. I’d flown in on the dark of the moon and arrived at Anse Chastanet, a 600-acre resort perched on the rugged southwestern shore, too late to see anything but a macrodome of stars. The next morning, I awoke to warblers singing in the cedars and the scent of begonia shifting in the trade wind. My villa-size room, I realized, barely had walls. Wait, it gets worse. Below was a bay so clear, the coral shimmered like a field of wildflowers. Twin peaks spired out of the forest. The rockier one, 2,461-foot Petit Piton, was unavoidably phallic. Gros Piton, at 2,619 feet, was more rounded and feminine. I looked from the Pitons to the beach, then at my empty bed. What a blunder! Here I was in the most achingly romantic setting in all my years … and I was alone.

The Good Life // I didn’t feel weepy for long. The resort has a five-star list of activities to match the cuisine (spiced-carrot-and-coconut soup, grilled dorado, mango trifle), an attentive 250-person staff (serving no more than 100 guests), and pleasantly esoteric options at the Kai Belté spa. (Try a wosh cho hot-stone massage.) Trou au Diable, a thatch-roofed bistro, sits on a half-mile of secluded beach, while the Piton Restaurant is set among the 49 villas up the hill. My Hillside Deluxe room, with its louvered doors and green heartwood furniture, was like a tree house built by Swiss castaways. Very rich Swiss castaways. But considering the absence of phones or TVs, they didn’t seem to mind being stranded on St. Lucia.

Jaw Dropper // Tucking into a plate of locally raised lamb and fresh snapper cooked under the stars by chef Jon Bentham on an antique cane-sugar pot the size of a kettledrum.

Sports on-Site // Anse Chastanet is famous for spectacular diving; there’s a Platinum/PADI Scuba and Water Sports Center, and boats ferry you out to several world-class dive sites along the Pinnacles reef. But I chose to explore a lesser-known offering: 12 miles of mountain-bike trails winding through the ruins of a 19th-century French sugarcane-and-cocoa plantation next door. Full disclosure: I expected crappy equipment but a fun ride. What I got was a first-class trail system partially designed by NORBA phenom Tinker Juarez and my choice of 50 Cannondale F800s, all fitted with hydraulic shocks and brakes. The ride, over rolling jungle paths, was excellent—I broke a sweat but still had time to stop and pick wild avocados, bananas, and guavas.

Beyond the Sand // Ever bagged a Piton? Me neither. The climbs are notoriously steep and muddy, but if you’re game, the front desk recommends a guide named Meneau Herman ($50 a person for the day). For the rest of us, there are ample opportunities to explore St. Lucia via horse or sea kayak. On my last day, I hit the water with Xavier Vernantius, the head kayak guide. Born on St. Lucia, Xavier, 33, knew all the secret caves to explore. As we paddled around a rocky outcropping called Fairyland, the view of the Pitons in the distance left me speechless. “I grew up here, and I still find them beautiful,” Xavier said.

The Fine Print // US Airways (800-622-1015, ) flies to St. Lucia from New York City for about $700, from Chicago for $760. From December 20 to April 7, a double at Anse Chastanet (758-459-7000, ) costs $455 per night, including breakfast and dinner ($220 per night in the off-season, not including meals). The spa and scuba diving are extra.

Tiamo Resorts

Check your Blackberry at the door and get way, way offline

THE MOST IMPRESSIVE thing about Tiamo is how unimpressive it is. Even as my sea taxi pulled up to the unassuming scallop of beach on the southern half of Andros, I still couldn’t see the resort that was right in front of me. Once ashore, I had to wade through thickets of sea grapes and gumbo-limbo trees to find the central lodge—an unpretentious wooden structure with screened porches and a corrugated metal roof. Was this the place? The sleepy Brazilian jazz seeping out the front door said yes. Hacked out of the Bahamian bush and opened in 2001 by Mike and Petagay Hartman, Tiamo is a fascinating—and so far successful—experiment to test whether assiduous eco-consciousness can coexist with rustic luxury. The ethos here is part Gilligan’s Island, part Buckminster Fuller. With only 11 open-air bungalows, powered by the sun and outfitted with compost toilets, everything is small-scale, low-impact, phosphate-free, and relentlessly off the grid. Accessible only by boat or seaplane, the resort sits on 12 acres of pristine beach along an inland waterway, surrounded by 125 acres of preserved wilderness. There are no air conditioners, no TVs, none of the whirs and bleeps of the digital age. Nope, at Tiamo, messages are delivered strictly by iguanagram. The Good Life // By day, watch a heron or one of the resident iguanas trundle by your screened porch. At night, the hemp curtains billow in the breeze. The bright-green-and-yellow louvered shutters, exposed copper pipes, and bare-metal faucet levers are sleekly utilitarian. My solar-heated beach-rock shower looked out on a mighty specimen of local cactus known as—I kid you not—the Bahamian dildo. The lodge has the same casual vibe. Browse for dog-eared paperbacks and board games in the library; dine on sesame seared tuna and mahi-mahi with mango beurre blanc at the large communal table; or simply fritter the evening away at the rattan bar, clutching a mind-warming Petagay Punch as a local “rake-and-scrape” band sings you back to bed.




Jaw Dropper // A spectacular network of “blue holes” riddle the limestone bedrock all over southern Andros. Kayak out to the Crack, a fabulously deep gash in the seafloor where two temperature zones collide in a thermocline, and snorkel or dive the nutrient-rich broth alongside hosts of wrasse, lobster, sea cucumbers, and freakishly large angelfish.

Sports on-Site // Tiamo is not a destination for hyperactive folks who expect a brisk regimen of “activities.” Basically, Mike shows up at breakfast and says, “What do you want to do today?” Choose between swimming, bonefishing, kayaking, snorkeling, scuba diving, bushwhacking, or my new favorite sport, extreme hammocking. Hikes (led by Shona Paterson, the on-staff marine biologist) are free, as are snorkel trips to the blue holes. There’s a modest fleet of trimarans and sea kayaks at the ready. But the most elaborate activity is … horseshoes. Somehow, that says it all.

Beyond the Sand // Andros boasts some of the finest bonefishing in the world, and Mike can easily hook you up with a guide ($350 per boat for a full day; each boat holds two anglers). Ask for Captain Jolly Boy, a corpulent former bar owner turned Baptist preacher who stalks “the gray ghost” with all the biblical fervor of Ahab. “I feel you, Mr. Bones!” Jolly Boy whispers as he poles the flats. For divers, the Andros Barrier Reef, one of the world’s largest contiguous reefs, lies less than a mile offshore; its sheer wall, home to thousands of species of fish, drops nearly 6,000 feet into the Tongue of the Ocean. Scuba excursions motor out daily, but you must be PADI-certified ($100 for a one-tank dive, $145 for two tanks).

The Fine Print // Delta (800-241-4141, ) and American Airlines (800-433-7300, ) fly to Nassau from L.A. and New York for $600 or less. From there, make the 20-minute hop with Western Air (242-377-2222, ) to Andros; flights are about $100 round-trip. The bungalows at Tiamo (242-357-2489, ) cost $275 per person, double occupancy ($360 per person, single occupancy) year-round; rates include everything but your bar tab, bonefishing, and scuba diving. The resort is closed August 1 through September 30.

Punta Caracol Acqua Lodge

The lullaby of lapping waves

Caribbean Resort, Isla Colon, Panama

The H20 cure: cabanas on stilts at Punta Caracol

TRANQUILO IS THE OPERATIVE WORD at Punta Caracol, located just off the serenely beautiful island of Isla Colón, an hour’s flight by puddle jumper from Panama City and a 15-minute boat ride from the small town of Bocas del Toro. Sheltered by the surrounding archipelago and, about three miles away, mainland Panama, the resort’s six two-story thatch-roofed cabanas are suspended over the water on wooden stilts, spiraling out from a long central walkway to face Almirante Bay. Each solar-powered duplex has its own private terrace and deck, and the sound of lapping water lulls you to sleep. This vision of calm luxury perched at the edge of the world is just what founder and Barcelona native José-Luís Bordas had in mind when he designed Punta Caracol in 1997 as his final project for business school. At dusk on my first evening, I’d already showered and dressed for dinner, yet I couldn’t help heeding the call of bath-temperature, cerulean water. In record time, I changed back into my swimsuit and threw myself—with a war whoop—off the back deck. It’s the kind of place where glittering-green tropical fish jump up to meet you in rapid-fire succession and bioluminescent plankton are the only lights shimmering offshore after sunset. Every detail of the resort, from hand-woven hanging textiles to fresh papaya and pineapple-covered panqueques at breakfast, is well executed by Bordas’s competent local staff. At the end of my four-day idyll, I could tell him honestly, “Es mi idea del paraíso, también.” The Good Life // Each bungalow has native-hardwood floors and French doors that open to the bay, as well as wooden lounge chairs and woven floor mats. Bathrooms are lined with clay tiles with a lime-green-and-plátano-yellow trim—brightly Caribbean without being gaudy. Upstairs, the open-air bedroom has a canopied king-size bed with natural-cotton drapes that double as mosquito nets, but you won’t need them; the cool breezes off the water at night are enough to blow pesky insects away. As for eats, you won’t find fresher seafood: The open-air restaurant-cum-lounge—also on stilts over the water— gets regular deliveries from local fishermen cruising by with just-caught lobster and red snapper, weighed with a portable scale brought out from behind the bar. A must-have: grilled lobster with tomatoes stuffed with rice, fish, and vegetables. (Chase it down with a warm, sweet pineapple slice glazed with caramelized sugar.)

Jaw Dropper // While you’re dining alfresco on flame-grilled shrimp, you can watch dolphins, pelicans, and parrot fish trolling for dinner on the reef below.

Sports on-Site // Swim, snorkel, or paddle in clear, calm Caribbean water along a mile of coral-reef coastline; there’s no beach at Punta Caracol, but your cabana’s private dock is just as enticing. It’s an easy paddle inland, via cayuco (traditional wooden canoe), to Isla Colón’s mangrove swamps—home to howler and white-face monkeys and the unbelievably slow-moving two-toed sloth, or oso perezoso (“lazy bear”).

Beyond the Sand // Pilar Bordas, the miracle-working sister of José-Luís, can arrange outdoor activities on demand: surfing at Bluff Beach, on the far side of Isla Colón; mountain-biking across the center of the island; scuba-diving with queen angelfish near San Cr’stobal Island, four miles away (two-tank dives with Starfleet Scuba, $50; 011-507-757-9630, ). Hire a guide for the 40-minute boat ride to Bastimentos Island National Marine Park, where you can hike through sugarcane to Red Frog Beach ($30 per person).

The Fine Print // American Airlines (800-433-7300, ) flies direct from Miami to Panama City for about $300 round-trip. From there, Aeroperlas (011-507-315-7500, ) has two flights daily to Bocas del Toro for $116 round-trip. The Centers for Disease Control recommends a yellow-fever vaccination and the antimalarial drug chloroquine for travel to the Bocos del Toro region. Double-occupancy rates at Punta Caracol in high season (December 16 to May 15) start at $265, including breakfast, dinner, airport transfers, and use of cayucos and snorkel equipment (from $215, off-season; 011-507-612-1088, ).

Bitter End Yacht Club

Fat sails in the sunset

Caribbean Resort, Virgin Gorda, BVI

Even type A’s need some downtime: the Bitter End

Caribbean Resort, Virgin Gorda, BVI

The North Pier deck at Virgin Gorda’s Bitter End Yacht Club

THE BITTER END, ON THE REMOTE NORTHEASTERN TIP of Virgin Gorda, is a sprawling community of people with one thing on their minds: boating. In addition to the club’s 78 rooms, freshwater swimming pool, and teakwood Clubhouse restaurant, there’s a marina with charter-boat service, a dive shop, a market, a pub, and 70 boat moorings. All the action takes place offshore, specifically in the protected waters of three-square-mile North Sound, with the club’s flotilla of 100-plus vessels, ranging from sea kayaks and windsurfers to Hobie Cats and 30-foot oceangoing yachts. This is no mellow-rum-drinks-on-your-private-beach kind of resort: It’s a playground for Type A’s in topsiders.

The Good Life // The best rooms are the 48 cottages set on a steep hillside, with wraparound decks and views of Eustacia Reef (30 air-conditioned suites climb the sunset side of the hill). Meals (think surf-and-turf) are served under the blue canopies of the Clubhouse.

Jaw Dropper // The staff at the BEYC remembers everyone. It had been two years since my last visit, yet when I walked to breakfast, watersports staffers greeted me by my first name.

Sports on-Site // Thanks to warm water and 15- to 20-knot winds, North Sound is the perfect place to hone your tacks and jibes. Private sailing lessons for beginners cost $25 per hour, and advanced sailing sessions run $50 per class. Use of all the small boats is included in your stay, as are snorkeling trips to nearby reefs. Two-tank dives cost $85, all equipment except wetsuit included, and deep-sea fishing for blue marlin runs $275 a day.

Beyond the Sand // The 30-minute hike to the top of 1,359-foot Gorda Peak offers a commanding view of the entire Virgin Islands region. Don’t miss a trip to the famous Baths, a jumbled collection of giant boulders and knee-deep tide pools.

The Fine Print // Round-trip airfare on American Airlines (800-433-7300, ) from New York to Tortola’s Beef Island Airport is $525. From January 5 to April 30, the five-night Admiral’s Package at the BEYC ($2,925 to $3,850; 800-872-2392, ) includes three meals a day for two (low season, $2,150 to $2,625). The annual Pro-Am Regatta ($2,940) takes place the first week of November.

Maroma Resort & Spa

A mystical hideaway on the Mayan Riviera

Caribbean Resort, Yucatan, Mexico

Your palapa or mine? Get a massage or just toll in the sun on Playa Maroma.

EVER SINCE ARCHITECT José Luis Moreno followed a machete-beaten path through 200 acres of tropical jungle, in 1976, to build this exclusive beachfront resort, Maroma has been deliberately hard to find—tucked off an unmarked gravel road, 20 miles south of Cancún. On my first evening, I followed the flickering lights of a thousand candles along a maze of stone walkways, wandering through gardens of orchids and palm trees until I found myself on a narrow crescent of fine white sand: a heavenly border between jungle and sea.

The Good Life // Designed simply, the 64 rooms in ten low-lying, white-stucco buildings are an elegant mix of saltillo tile, handwoven rugs and bedspreads, mahogany beams, and bamboo shutters. Dine on fresh grilled snapper at the cavernous El Sol restaurant or on the beach-view terrace. Jaw Dropper // The world’s second-longest barrier reef, which runs 450 miles from Cancún to Honduras and teems with coral and fish, is just 200 yards offshore.

Sports on-Site // At the beach kiosk, set up snorkeling and reef-diving trips, sea-kayaking excursions, and day sailing on a 27-foot catamaran ($15 to $120 per person). On land, mountain-bike through 250 acres of protected jungle. Spa offerings include a two-hour Maya steam bath and cleansing ceremony ($90), yoga classes, and nine types of massage ($50 to $120).

Beyond the Sand // The Yucatán is cratered with more than 700 cenotes—limestone sinkholes that offer otherworldly snorkeling, diving, and rappelling opportunities. The resort can arrange a trip 40 miles south to Dos Ojos cenote for $90.

The Fine Print // Continental Airlines (800-523-3273, ) flies from Houston to Cancún for $400 round-trip; American Airlines (800-433-7300, ) flies nonstop from New York for about $700. Double-occupancy rates at Maroma (866-454-9351, ) start at $400 in high season (November 14 to December 18 and January 4 to May 15) and $340 in low season.

Caneel Bay

The true-blue classic

WITHOUT A DOUBT, ST. JOHN’S alluring natural charms get star billing at Caneel Bay. Frigate birds, as angular as pterodactyls, soar over no fewer than seven stunningly pristine on-site strands, from vest-pocket hideaways like Paradise Beach, which you can have all to yourself, to Caneel Beach, shaded by coconut palms and sea grapes and sprawled out in front of the resort’s main lobby. Some 170 manicured acres are cordoned off from the rest of the island—and the rest of the world, it seems—by a trio of 800-foot-high forested ridges. Philanthropist and conservationist Laurance Rockefeller founded Caneel Bay in the fifties, and the place still feels like a summer camp for blue bloods. There’s no shortage of diversions—day trips to the British Virgins, guided shoreline hikes, couples yoga at the resort’s Self Centre. But most of the clientele seem to be seeking stillness and seclusion rather than pampering. Rooms contain no phones, TVs, radios, or even alarm clocks. Management, for its part, tries mightily to preserve an old-money sense of decorum: Collars for gents, please, even on the tennis courts, and evening resort wear for ladies. Expect to see plenty of newlyweds, espadrille-shod martini sippers, and the occasional jackass: Wild donkeys sometimes roam past just in time for cocktails.

The Good Life // Architecture keeps a low profile here. Low-slung rows of 166 guest rooms—done up in dark wood, Indonesian wicker, and botanical prints—are scattered around the property in clusters of a dozen or so and linked by winding footpaths. As a rule, the food in the four dining rooms is tasty if not particularly innovative; standouts include the steaks, aged and tender, the breakfast buffet served on an open-air terrace overlooking Caneel Beach, and the 265-bottle wine list at the Turtle Bay Estate House.

Jaw Dropper // Request one of 20 rooms along Scott Beach. After you’ve spent hours snorkeling with hubcap-size hawksbill turtles, your private deck offers a front-row seat for virtuoso sunsets that give way to the lights of St. Thomas, four miles across the sound.

Sports on-Site // Aside from the 11 tennis courts, built into a terraced hillside, a compact fitness center, and a small pool near the courts, most action takes place on the coral formations a hundred yards from the waterline. Use of snorkel gear—plus a generous selection of sailboards, kayaks, and small sailboats—is complimentary.

Beyond the Sand // Two-thirds of St. John’s 20 square miles fall within Virgin Islands National Park. Sample them by renting a jeep (from $65 a day at Sun-n-Sand Car Rentals, available at Caneel Bay from 9 to 10 a.m. daily) and heading for the Reef Bay Trail, at 2.4 miles the longest of the park’s 20 hikes. Other options include half- and full-day sails to some of St. John’s excellent anchorages, and sea-kayak excursions to offshore cays ($60 to $70 per person through Caneel Bay).

The Fine Print // Most major U.S. airlines fly direct to St. Thomas from various East Coast cities (about $550 round-trip from New York); Caneel Bay guests go by ferry to the resort. From December 17 to March 15, rates at Caneel Bay (340-776-6111, ) start at $450, double occupancy ($300 in low season).

Turtle Inn

The Godfather’s eco-resort

I SIT AT THE DESK OF TURTLE INN’S VILLA ONE, staring through wooden shutters at the Caribbean, hoping for some Maya magic. Turtle Inn is owned by Francis Ford Coppola, and he was here, on the southern coast of Belize, working at this very desk, only a few weeks ago. I’m a huge fan of Mr. Francis (as he’s called by the people who work here). I love the Godfather trilogy, but what I really love is Villa One’s outdoor garden shower, designed by the auteur himself, surrounded by a high wall built by Maya stonemasons and illuminated with Balinese lanterns. I also love the Italian-for-the-tropics cuisine—white pizza topped with garlic and arugula grown from Sicilian seeds in Turtle Inn’s garden, soup made from local lobster—served in the snazzy open-air restaurant. A few nights at the inn, I thought, and maybe I’d absorb some of the creative mojo.

The Good Life // The 18 bungalows, all steps from the beach, are built in the style of traditional Balinese thatched huts, with large screened decks, ample living spaces, and ornate carved doors imported from Bali. The lovely Belizean wait staff (one soft-spoken boy responds to requests with “Don’t worry; I gotcha”) wear white linen shirts and sarongs. Marie Sharp’s Belizean Heat Habanero Pepper Sauce is on every table, the perfect addition to the spaghetti carbonara. All proof that here at the Turtle Inn, the weird fusion of Balinese- Belizean-Coppola culture actually works. Jaw Dropper // The inn is located near the end of Placencia Peninsula—a 16-mile noodle of land with the Placencia Lagoon on one side and the sea on the other. At the Turtle Inn dive shop, on the lagoon, an American crocodile named Jeff has taken up residency near the boat dock. He’s not housebroken, but he’ll pose for pictures.

Sports on-Site // The thatch-roofed bar is about 20 yards from every bungalow, on the ocean’s edge, which allows for a pleasant daily routine: Snorkel a bit, collapse on your chaise, order Turtle Juice (a house specialty made with coconut rum), kayak a mile or so up to Rum Point and back, collapse on your chaise, snorkel, Turtle Juice, rinse, repeat. Some of Belize’s finest beaches—narrow, sandy, palm-fringed—grace the peninsula. When you feel in need of an outing, beach-cruiser bikes are available for riding into the tiny Creole village of Placencia, a mile down the road. Or, from the inn’s dive shop, head out to Belize’s barrier reef—prime location for diving or saltwater fly-fishing. The rub is that it’s an hourlong speedboat ride on sometimes choppy waters. But once out there, it’s not unusual to see spotted rays or even nurse sharks cruising along a 2,000-foot wall, or for anglers to hook bonefish, tarpon, or snook.

Beyond the Sand // Turtle Inn is a great base for venturing into the jungle. The front desk can arrange day trips to Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary (the world’s first jaguar reserve) and a number of large Maya ruins. Monkey River is 45 minutes to the south by boat, through mangrove estuaries that are home to manatees. While cruising upriver, you’ll encounter tiger herons, gargantuan butterflies, six-foot iguanas, and howler monkeys.

The Fine Print // American Airlines (800-433-7300, ) flies to Belize City for about $500 round-trip from both Miami and Dallas. From there, it’s a 35-minute flight on Maya Island Air ($140 round-trip; 800-225-6732, ) to the Placencia airstrip. From January 4 to April 30 (excluding the week of Easter), seafront cottages at Turtle Inn (800-746-3743, ) are $300 per night, double occupancy, including Continental breakfast and use of bikes and sea kayaks (from $200 per night in low season).

Jake’s

How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?

Caribbean Resort, Jamaica

You can almost see the Pelican Bar from here: a cottage at Jake’s

“IF WE DON’T ENCOURAGE GUESTS to leave the property, they wouldn’t,” says owner Jason Henzell. He ought to know. Ten years ago, Henzell, 34, and his mother, Sally, opened a small restaurant on six acres overlooking Calabash Bay and named it after a local parrot. A small guest house followed, and each year, as the Henzells’ gospel of sophisticated laziness spreads beyond the fishing village of Treasure Beach (pop. 600), on Jamaica’s southwestern shore, more rooms are added. Which only makes it easier to give in to inertia. Lounging under the acacia trees next to the tiled saltwater pool, a pair of still-pale English thirty-somethings allow that they’ve been devouring books from the well-stocked library for four days. They reel with shock when my boyfriend and I start naming off the places we’ve been (Great Pedro Bluff! Black River fruit market!) and the things we’ve seen (dolphins! crocodiles!) and eaten (grilled conch! jerk crab!) in just two days. Soon, they wobble off on mountain bikes, determined to find out what they’ve been missing.

The Good Life // From modest wooden cabins with funky mosaic bathtubs to bright adobe bungalows topped with open-air rooftop chill zones, the 15 cottages at Jake’s are a mélange of Moroccan style and iconoclastic tiling—all sans TVs or phones but avec CD players. (The bar has a stellar music collection for your listening pleasure.) Lucky us, our pink palace came with a wooden porch overlooking the surf and an outdoor shower with claw-foot tub, plus swanky Aveda potions. There are two chow houses: Jake’s, the poolside bistro, where the coffee’s delivered fresh daily by a woman who roasts it over a wood fire; and Jack Sprat’s, a beachfront joint where Fabulous (yep, that’s his name) serves up jerk crab and coconut ice cream, and a DJ spins dance-hall reggae into the wee hours.

Jaw Dropper // A pilgrimage to Shirley Genus’s wooden zareba—basically a hut with a sauna—is required. Strip down next to a steaming terra-cotta pot filled with a healing soup of organically grown lemongrass and other herbs, then sweat like the dickens. Afterward, let Shirley hit all the pressure points ($30 for steam bath, $60 for massage; book through Jake’s).

Sports on-Site // Sea-kayak or snorkel through the rocky maze that hugs the beach. (Kayaks are free; snorkel gear can be rented at the bar for $10 a day.) Or hire a local to take you out fishing for snapper, jack, kingfish, and grouper; trips can be arranged at the front desk ($35 an hour per person).

Beyond the Sand // One day, on our way to ogle crocodiles along the Black River, 16 miles northwest, our boat chugged past the Pelican Bar, a tiny shack on a lick of sand. Our captain shouted out a lunch order to Floyd, the owner, and on the way back we parked, waded ashore, and dug into $6 plates of steamed fish, grilled onions, doughy white bread, and bottles of Red Stripe ($35 per person for Black River boat tours; book through Jake’s).

The Fine Print // Air Jamaica (800-523-5585; ) flies round-trip to Montego Bay from New York for about $600, from L.A. for $800. From December 19 to April 20, a double-occupancy room at Jake’s (877-526-2428, ) costs $95 to $395, meals not included ($75 to $325 in low season).

The Essential Eight

Had enough paradise? Add some intensity to your Caribbean life list.

Kayak the Exuma Cays Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park, in the Bahamas, spans 176 square miles of reeftop emerald water that laps the marine caves and white-sand beaches of hundreds of undeveloped limestone islands. Shallow, calm seas are perfect for paddling, snorkeling, and swimming. Do all three on a nine-day trip with Ecosummer Expeditions. ($1,695; 800-465-8884, )

Climb Pico Duarte More travelers each year are tackling the Caribbean’s tallest peak. At 10,414 feet, the rocky summit of Pico Duarte rises up from the tropical lowlands of Armando Bermudez National Park, along the Dominican Republic’s Cordillera Central. Iguana Mama runs a three-day, 29-mile mule trek to the top. ($450; 800-849-4720, )

Hike to Boiling Lake Deep in the heart of Dominica, hot magma warms the rocks and pushes volcanic gas through vents to keep one of the world’s largest boiling lakes at an eerie, gray simmer. Getting there requires a muddy three-hour rainforest slog on seldom-signed paths. Reserve a guide through Ken’s Hinterland ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Tours. ($40; 767-448-4850, ) Swim in Mosquito Bay Every night, a bright concentration of bioluminescent organisms lights up Mosquito Bay, on the south side of Vieques, just east of Puerto Rico. Paddle 15 minutes from shore with Blue Caribe Kayaks, then jump overboard for a glow-in-the-dark swim. ($23; 787-741-2522, )

Sail the Grenadines The unspoiled Grenadines—30 small islands, 24 of them uninhabited, from St. Vincent to Union Island—have long been favorite waters of the yachting elite. Now you can sail them without chartering an entire boat: Reserve one of five cabins aboard Setanta Travel’s 56-foot luxury catamarans for a seven-day cruise. ($3,990 per week per cabin, double occupancy; 784-528-6022, )

Dive the Bloody Bay Wall Just off Little Cayman’s north shore, the seafloor takes a half-mile-deep plunge along Bloody Bay Wall, where you’re sure to spy huge eagle rays and hawksbill turtles. Paradise Divers offers two-tank boat dives. ($80; 877-322-9626, )

Kitesurf Aruba Plan a pilgrimage to Aruba’s arid eastern shore, where 80-degree water and consistent winds make Boca Grandi the ultimate surf zone for seasoned kiters. Vela’s Dare2Fly offers a three-day introductory course in calmer waters ($350; 800-223-5443, ).

Fish the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve In the protected white-sand flats on the south side of 90-square-mile Ascensi—n Bay, in the Yucatán, bonefish run wild. Sign on for a week of guided fishing, eating, and lodging at the funky, thatched cabanas of Cuzan Bonefish Flats. ($1,999 per person, double occupancy; 011-52-983-83-403-58, )

The post License to Chill appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

Bellota, Arizona
The best adventure lodges are those where you show up a stranger and leave as family. So it is at Bellota Ranch, a homey, horsey oasis in the wild chaparral country above Tucson, where the small staff (ranch manager, wrangler, and a cook) takes the saying “make yourself comfortable” to pleasing extremes.

Room & Board: Surrounded by 60,000 acres of working cattle land and wedged between the Santa Catalina and Rincon mountains, Bellota manages to be sprawling and intimate. The 1930s hacienda, plastered in white stucco, surrounds a sunny courtyard. The eight guest rooms have cozy ranch touches like brick floors, patchwork quilts, Mexican-tiled bathrooms, and kiva fireplaces. Guests and staff eat together in the country kitchen, and no one ever goes hungry with stick-to-your-ribs cowboy fare like buffalo burgers; between meals, you’re urged to graze from the bottomless jar of chocolate-chip cookies.

Out the Back Door: With its surefooted quarter horses and vast Coronado National Forest acreage, Bellota has a stellar riding program. Kean Brown, the laconic, perpetually sunburned wrangler, leads morning and afternoon range rides. Once you’ve demonstrated that you can control your horse, you’re free to find your own way into the creosote- and sage-studded hills. There’s a handful of mountain bikes for spinning out your horse legs along miles of empty roads, and the 790-mile-long Arizona Trail traverses the property, but—in laid-back Bellota fashion—the only mandatory post-ride activity is soaking in the outdoor hot tub.

India

SAGA ECO CAMP
Chilika Lake, India
Established in 2002, the Saga Eco Camp is still so new that even most locals don’t know where it is. That’s what happens when you build your tiny beach resort among a handful of fishing families on a tropical island in India’s largest lagoon—425-square-mile Chilika Lake, tucked beneath the 1,500-foot Eastern Ghats hills of Orissa and draining into the Bay of Bengal.

Room & Board: Lodging matches the Robinson Crusoe vibe, as guests stay in 11 spacious and breezy wall tents (with finished floors and flush toilets) that sleep four, scattered among palms and cashew trees. In an open-air, thatch-roofed dining hall, chef Raju serves up fresh seafood dishes, including crab masala and local prawns, as well as island-grown organic veggies. Purists may complain about the diesel generator, which runs for three hours each evening, but hey, it keeps the beer cold.

Out the Back Door: Take a motorboat 20 minutes to the mainland town of Barakul and rent a sea kayak from Orissa Tourism’s Water Sports Complex ($5 an hour) to explore Nalaban Island, a bird sanctuary. Paddle alongside rare Irrawaddy dolphins while keeping an eye out for Siberian cranes. Or head for the narrow spit of land that divides the lagoon from the ocean, park your kayak, then hike a half-mile through the jungle, until you arrive at an empty white-sand beach that stretches a dozen miles in both directions. What next? Bodysurf endless breakers, then lie in the sand and play dead.

Tennessee

CHARIT CREEK LODGE
Jamestown, Tennessee
A true wilderness retreat takes pride in what it doesn’t have. At Charit Creek Lodge, there’s no electricity (kerosene lanterns are everywhere), no phones (the only thing ringing at mealtime is the dinner bell), and most notably, no traffic (access is by foot, bike, or horseback).

Room & Board: This cluster of two log cabins and a rustic main lodge is set in a gorge at the convergence of two creeks and is surrounded by the 125,000-acre Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area. Each of the buildings began as part of a 19th- or early 20th-century homestead. In the main lodge, built around an 1819 hunting cabin, two dorm-style rooms sleep up to 12 each in double-size bunks. The cabins, which also sleep 12 each, have screened porches with rockers and share a separate bath house. Classic country meals—baked beef with gravy, chicken and dumplings, biscuits and grits for breakfast—are served family style.

Out the Back Door: Charit Creek Hiking Trail, the most direct of four hiking paths to the lodge, is a 0.8-mile descent that takes you from a Fork Ridge Road parking lot to the base of a bluff, past a waterfall (in wet weather), and across a wooden bridge. Once you’re at the lodge, the day-hike opportunities include 130 miles of trails lined with mountain laurel and wildflowers. Hike four miles to access 80 miles of the Big South Fork River for fly-fishing. (Bring your own gear; the catch is bass and trout.) Or tackle the river’s Class III-IV whitewater on a full-day raft trip through the 11-mile Gorge section with Sheltowee Trace Outfitters.

Tanzania

LAKE MANYARA TREE LODGE
Lake Manyara, Tanzania
By the time you arrive at Tanzania’s Lake Manyara Tree Lodge, in Lake Manyara National Park, jostling in a truck for two hours after the 40-minute flight west from Arusha, you’re likely to have encountered elephants, Cape buffalo, and the legendary climbing lions that ascend umbrella acacias to escape rapacious tsetse flies. So when lodge manager Frances Majambele announces visitor rule number one—”No one walks alone after dark without an askari,” an armed guard—you’ll pay attention. Hyenas frequent camp almost every night, and elephants, leopards, and lions are common—but then again, that’s why you’re here.

Room & Board: Ten cottages on stilts sit at eye level with resident giraffes, safely above the toothy riffraff. Cradled in the boughs of old-growth mahogany trees, these very private wood-and-thatch cottages—each with a canopied bed and bleached hardwood furnishings—have private treetop showers with views of the lake, the tropical forest, and the 1,500-foot cliffs of the Great Rift Valley escarpment. Hit the viewing deck for the lodge specialty, a frozen gin and tonic, before sampling exotic dishes like wildebeest marinated in local red wine and plantains baked in a tandoor.

Out the Back Door: Both at dawn and in late afternoon, guests jump into an open-top Toyota Land Cruiser and head for the acacia woodlands and Maji Moto Hot Springs on 125-square-mile Lake Manyara’s western shore. You’re on the lookout for elephants, leopards, lions, and buffalo, but the show-stealers are the immense flocks of flamingos that paint the water and sky pink.

California

BOONVILLE HOTEL
Boonville, California
Drive two hours north of San Francisco, past Napa and Sonoma, and you’ll encounter Boonville, a former logging town in the Anderson Valley founded in the 1850s. The region’s rolling hills and redwood forests blend with orchards and vineyards, home to a mix of country folk and well-heeled sophisticates. Funky Boonville, a town of less than a thousand, and the instantly likable Boonville Hotel are decidedly low-key counterpoints to the stuffier wine country down south.

Room & Board: Once a roadhouse, the 139-year-old, two-story, salmon-colored hotel still beckons passersby with its spacious verandas, wooden rockers, and inviting hammocks. Everything about this place exudes comfort, from the ten rooms (including a studio and a bungalow) with downy duvets and Shaker-style furnishings to the homespun restaurant serving local pinot noir and rib-eye steak with polenta. Alongside the airy dining room and bar, the yard overflows with roses, sunflowers, and a cook’s garden of berries, herbs, and rhubarb.

Out the Back Door: Grab a kayak and a guide in the coastal town of Elk, 16 miles away, and follow a five-mile out-and-back route: Paddle beneath Wharf Rock arch, heading north past coves, caves, and a bird and seal rookery, and riding open-ocean swells on the way back to Greenwood State Beach. Closer to Boonville, hike two miles through virgin redwood groves in Hendy Woods State Park and swim in the Navarro River where it flows beneath a white wooden bridge just outside the park.

Malta

COMINO HOTEL AND BUNGALOWS
Comino Island, Malta
The minute you step off the ferry from the northwestern edge of Malta and onto Comino Island, you’ll feel that shipwrecked sense of isolation. This craggy, two-square-mile member of the Maltese archipelago might be home to four farmers and a lodge, the Comino Hotel and Bungalows, but the sea reigns here. A swirl of turquoise and sapphire Mediterranean wraps around the island, luring you back offshore to explore the coastline’s hidden caves.

Room & Board: The 95-room limestone hotel features an expansive terrace, a seaside pool, and two small sandy beaches. The 45 bungalows, each with a balcony overlooking the sea and some large enough to sleep five people, are perched atop an adjacent bay just beyond the hotel, with their own pool and restaurant. The menu changes daily and includes fish—like baked acciola (a Mediterranean version of amberjack) and the steak-like grilled dentici—as well as Maltese rabbit stew.

Out the Back Door: Scuba-dive in the underwater caves of Santa Maria Bay or check out the coral reef off Cominotto, an even smaller neighboring island, with certified instructors from the hotel’s PADI Dive Center. Sea-kayak less than a mile to Rabbit’s Nest, a protected bay with 100-foot limestone cliffs; a secret staircase set into the cliffs takes you to a 17th-century watchtower constructed by the Knights of St. John to monitor seafaring invaders.

U.S. Virgin Islands

MOUNT VICTORY CAMP
St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands
Brand-new Mount Victory Camp presents guests with a pleasant Caribbean quandary: what to do first? Just beyond your tent flap are the mountains and valleys of St. Croix’s wild northwest corner, crisscrossed with hiking and biking trails and garnished with mango trees. A 20-minute walk away is a sugary white-sand beach, with a coral reef a few flipper kicks offshore and calypso beach bars for post-swim.

Room & Board: Co-owner Bruce Wilson, a transplanted New Englander who’s lived on the island for 40 years, has turned this onetime Danish estate into a 15-acre back-to-the-earth outpost, complete with chickens, horses, and 300 fruit trees. The three platform tents and two bungalows are positioned for ocean and hillside views and built of hurricane-felled teak and mahogany. Each has a kitchenette, and guests share a central pavilion for lounging and a bathhouse with hot running water. Swigs of Mount Victory’s infamous Mama Juana herbal rum tonic, purported to improve health, come with the deal.

Out the Back Door: Hop aboard the 42-foot glass-bottom Renegade, run by Big Beard’s ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Tours (340-773-4482, ), for a sailing excursion to Buck Island Reef National Monument, where you’ll snorkel through underwater grottoes. Or kayak the craggy north shore with Virgin Kayak Tours (340-778-0071) launching in the very bay where Christopher Columbus moored his ships more than 500 years ago.

Utah

BOULDER MOUNTAIN LODGE
Boulder, Utah
If public lands were appraised like prime real estate, you wouldn’t find a swankier address than Boulder Mountain Lodge’s. It neighbors the vast 1.9-million-acre Grand Staircase- Escalante National Monument, and Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion national parks are practically down the street, with Glen Canyon and Lake Powell as nearby attractions. You won’t encounter an adventure base camp that better hews to the rule of location, location, location.

Room & Board: Frolic in the ocher-and-ecru desert like a Monkey Wrench Gangster by day and retire to sweet comforts like sleigh beds topped with hefty down comforters in the 20 guest rooms by night. The lodge’s three wood-and-stucco metal-roofed buildings adjoin a bird sanctuary in a grassy oasis along Utah 12, the most remote thoroughfare in the continental United States. (The town of Boulder, population 180, was still receiving mail by mule train in 1941, the last spot in America to do so.) Mealtimes are savored at the lodge’s Zagat-endorsed Hell’s Backbone Grill, with clever offerings like Southwestern-French chocolate-chile cream pots for dessert.

Out the Back Door: Hike to Calf Creek Falls, a 126-foot waterfall that blasts into a perfect swimming hole (the trailhead for the five-mile round-trip is a 20-minute drive from the lodge). The cliff-hugging trail follows a clear stream full of brook trout and passes Fremont Indian pictographs wallpapered onto red sandstone. Road riders, however, will prefer the vigorous climb up the eastern shoulder of 11,124-foot Boulder Mountain or the 31-mile paved portion of the Burr Trail, a rolling, mind-bending route leading south from the lodge’s doorstep to Capitol Reef National Park.

Ontario

Killarney Lodge

Cabin Fever: Grab your paddle and go!

KILLARNEY LODGE
Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario
Killarney Lodge sits beside the Lake of Two Rivers on the quiet southern edge of Algonquin Provincial Park, prime timber-wolf territory. You’re more likely to see a moose than to spot a single tail hair from the elusive carnivore. But if you’re struck with the impulse, you wouldn’t be the first guest to paddle out onto the lake and bay at the moon.

Room & Board: Prime spots to idle include the vicinity of the woodstove in the guest lounge of the lodge, which was built in 1985 of dark-stained logs and trimmed in red to mimic the surrounding 1930s cabins spread around a 12-acre peninsula that juts out into the three-mile-long lake. The 30 pine-paneled cabins each have one or two bedrooms with lakefront decks and a private bathroom. The lodge’s menu changes every day, but you can always count on a fish option—like the pan-fried pickerel, an Ontario staple—at dinner.

Out the Back Door: Each cabin comes with a 15-foot Kevlar canoe, which you can paddle two-thirds of a mile across the Lake of Two Rivers and portage a thousand yards to the seldom-paddled Provoking Lake, accessible only on foot. Serious paddlers with plenty of training can attempt a one-day circuit that covers 25 of the park’s 930 miles of canoe routes. There are also two mountain-bike trails near the lodge, an easy six-miler and a more technical 16-mile ride.

Top 10 Hideaways

Tu Tu’ Tun Lodge, OR

Gold Beach, Oregon
Tu Tu’ Tun Lodge
The Tu Tu’ Tun Lodge (pronounced too-TOOT-in) borrows its name from the Tututui, a band of Indians on the Lower Rogue whose name means “people by the water.” It’s a fitting title for this elegant Rogue River hideaway, seven miles inland from southern Oregon’s craggy coast on a grassy knoll just above the river.
ROOM & BOARD: Each evening, a school bell summons guests to gather around the giant river-rock fireplace in the main lodge and nibble on hors d’oeuvres such as shrimp kebabs and home-smoked salmon and cheeses. What follows is a four-course, apple-and-mesquite-grilled feast—including chinook salmon and bread baskets brimming with hot lemon-cranberry popovers—prepared by longtime chef Margaret Pohl. The 16 guest rooms and two suites come with river views and beds piled with pillows.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: The Rogue River, famous for its fly-fishing, sees consistent runs of Chinook and steelhead salmon. Local guides take guests upriver to the Wild and Scenic section that’s accessible by permit only. You can also borrow one of the lodge’s six sea kayaks to paddle the river among otters and beavers, or explore the rugged, mostly undeveloped coastline that stretches about 20 miles in either direction from the town of Gold Beach.

Argentina

CABAÑAS ANDINA
San Martín de los Andes, Argentina
Cabañas Andina sits in the heavily forested mountains above the hip Patagonia ski town of San Martín de los Andes, in the lake country—and piscine paradise—800 miles southwest of Buenos Aires. A skilled angler with a little luck could cast from his bed and hook a brown trout in the Quilquihue River, which flows just yards from the cabins and dining hall.

Room & Board: Guests stay in one of 17 simple, roomy log cabins set among groves of cypress and beech overlooking Lake Lolog. The stylish red-brick main lodge provides plenty of lounging space, and the kitchen cranks out an elaborate offering of smoked venison, lamb barbecue, and a free-flowing array of Argentine wines.

Out the Back Door: Once you’ve fished the home waters of Lake Lolog from the lodge’s boat and waded into the Quilquihue, your guide will take you on day trips to fish the nearby Malleo and Chimehuin rivers, famous for trout. Or go trekking in neighboring Parque Nacional Lanín, which encompasses the spine of the towering 12,000-foot Andes along Argentina’s border with Chile. Day hikes in the park around Lake Huechulafquen will take you past 150-foot-tall monkey puzzle trees and lead to lookouts from the shoulder of Volcán Lanín, a 12,389-foot, snow-capped cone that dominates the Andean skyline.

The post The Perfect 10: ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Lodges We Love appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

I am dancing with Freddie Mercury at a nightclub in Christchurch, New Zealand. The king of Queen tosses a toothy grin my way and sways his hips to the beat of a circa-1984 pop tune. Nearby, Madonna is bumping and grinding while a guy in disturbingly persuasive drag is flaunting crimson lips. I have to wonder, how did my concept of a solo bike tour around New Zealand’s South Island culminate in this, a costume disco bash with 50 Kiwis I’d never met?

Kiwi Twilight: Sunset on the South Island

Let’s not try to answer that one right away. Luckily, I wasn’t looking for predictable endings when I decided, almost spontaneously, to spend six weeks in January and February tooling around the South Island on a bike, alone. I’d never cycle toured; I’d never visited the Southern Hemisphere; I’d never camped solo; and I’d never played bike mechanic.
Soon I was lurking on a cycle-touring listserv and hanging out at my local bike shop, absorbing as much as I could. I beefed up on New Zealand via guidebooks (especially Cycling New Zealand, Lonely Planet’s first biking book) and dreamed about the solitude and challenge of going it alone.

Cycle touring, I discovered, is not to be confused with mountain biking or road riding, two sports at which I’m fairly proficient. Touring’s twin objectives are to travel light and maintain as much creature comfort as possible…while seeing the world. Although a touring bike is optimal, I took my three-year-old Gary Fisher mountain bike—for economy and to allow me to go off-road. I had a rack mounted to hold rear panniers, added a handlebar bag, and bought semislick tires and a multitool for repairs. In addition to bike gear, I picked the lightest single-person tent and cookstove I could find and a bomber rainjacket and pants, which turned out to be a godsend on the notoriously wet west coast. The nuances of fabric, metallurgy, and other logistics were so pleasantly absorbing that I didn’t have an attack of nerves until I was buckled into my seat at the back of a jet leaving Los Angeles for Christchurch. “What was I thinking?” I wondered. “Six weeks?”

My inclination to ultra-organize did battle with the desire to keep this trip as free-form as possible. The result: I charted a rough itinerary that would take me clockwise around the South Island. I guessed wildly at how much distance I could cover in a day or a week and randomly plotted time for rest and off-bike activities I might discover along the way. I figured I could make it up as I went, and I was right. Ultimately, I rode 1,253 miles in 26 riding days, an average of 48 miles a day.

Pushing off southeast from Christchurch, the South Island’s largest city, I discovered that New Zealand is just about perfect for cycle touring. Roads are smooth and untrafficked. Towns are generally small but frequent: no getting stranded between services. And the rock-your-world vistas—alpine splendor, temperate rainforest, wild beaches, and glacial lakes—mean no boring moments in the saddle.

I expected the scenery; I didn’t anticipate the social opportunities. Want to feel like a rock star? Go solo riding. On my first night camping, a group of four Kiwi couples invited me for cocktails at their campsite. Soon they were urging me to stay with them later in the trip. The adventures came fast and furious, especially after I connected with Rhonda Mayo, a mountain-bike guide from Crested Butte, Colorado. We banded together for eight days to face rain, soggy clothing, and ravenous insects while heading west and north from Wanaka to Greymouth.

Though I stayed in a mix of national parks, campgrounds, and hostels, I found myself gravitating toward places with the most people. There was no reason to avoid them after spending all day grinding out mile after solitary mile.
Each morning that I awoke in my tent and still thought, “Today would be a great day for a ride!” I felt blessed. But I relished my days off the bike, too. I learned to sea kayak on a two-day guided trip in Fiordland National Park, the country’s largest and wettest park at 4,725 square miles and 24 feet of rainfall per year. On the second morning, my group (three Germans, three Dutch, a Brit, our Kiwi guide, and I) spent an hour amid a pod of dolphins whose transfixing ballet rendered us speechless—in any language.

Some days I did absolutely nothing. In Wanaka, known along with Queenstown for its slavish devotion to adrenaline sports, my rest day included nothing more ambitious than a massage and catching Wonder Boys in a funky theater filled with La-Z-Boy recliners.

But the bike was always the central experience. Before my trip I’d barely practiced riding with the 45-odd pounds of gear I would be carrying. I rationalized that there was little point in straining myself in advance. Sure enough, I was tormented for the first week. Then fitness took over. Of course, the exertion required near-constant calories. Someone watching me eat a typically oversize meal politely inquired whether I might be hosting a tapeworm. Ice cream? I sampled it—a lot. (My favorite brand employs this slogan: “Often licked, never beaten.”) With a very hospitable exchange rate, I spent, on average, about US$20 each day, which covered camping fees and food.

My culinary pursuits included a blissful day riding around the Marlborough region, known for its sunshine and sauvignon blancs. After several stops to sample “summer in a bottle”—the nickname for a light and fruity varietal endemic to this austral Napa—I wove along the shoulder, hoping I wouldn’t get arrested for Pedaling Under the Influence.

The decision to visit wineries was, like most, ad hoc, and it revealed what I now consider a guiding philosophy: Life is best enjoyed when not planned more than two days in advance. One day I found myself ditching my bike and borrowing a pack for two and a half days of hut-to-hut tramping on the north coast in Abel Tasman National Park.

It was in Abel Tasman that I stumbled upon three dodgy boys—typically friendly New Zealanders on a kayak-camping trip involving 17 cases of beer. They invited me to a birthday party two weeks later back in Christchurch. Since my plans were flexible, I didn’t have to pass up the chance to cut a rug with Mr. Mercury.

More than anything, I’ll savor the pleasure of achieving a physical goal (not to mention my resulting rock-hard thighs). My toughest riding day was up to Arthur’s Pass, a gap in the spine of the Southern Alps between Greymouth and Christchurch that required 3,000 feet of climbing. The rewards at the top were an encounter with a cheeky kea, the world’s only alpine parrot, and a warm feeling of self-satisfaction. The bird goes down on my life list. Matter of fact, so does the ride.

At five-foot-six and 115 pounds, I’m not exactly a powerhouse. So I worried that I wouldn’t be able to manage all my gear. To compensate, I carefully whittled down my selections, then later regretted leaving some things that weigh next to nothing, like dental floss, at home. More important, I didn’t bring enough warm layers for the alleged summer in the Southern Hemisphere. I compensated by buying a made-in-New-Zealand Icebreaker merino wool V-neck and T-shirt, two items that became my favorite possessions. But then again, I was pretty tight with all my gear by the end of the ride.

Cycling clothing: Three pairs of loose-fitting Zoic and Pearl Izumi biking shorts, three Sugoi and Patagonia short- and long-sleeve tops, three pairs of SmartWool socks, one pair of tights.
Cycling gear: Gary Fisher helmet, Trek gloves, one pair of scratched but well-loved Oakley tortoiseshell riding sunglasses.

Outerwear: Ultralight Arc-Teryx stormproof jacket and pants, my very best friends in the rain.

Layers: Marmot microfleece vest, Icebreaker V-neck and T-shirt.

Bike clothing: REI zip-off nylon pants, Moonstone polyester T-shirt and Patagonia running shorts (which doubled as pajamas), synthetic hat and gloves.

Shoes: One pair each Shimano cycling shoes and Adidas running shoes. (ok, ok…after four weeks I broke down and bought a pair of leather sandals, too.)

Other clothing: J. Crew swimsuit, three pairs of Patagonia underwear, two Sugoi bras.

Camping gear: Sub-three-pound Mountain Hardwear one-person tent (roomy enough to sit up and write in), Moonstone three-season down sleeping bag, Therm-a-Rest, MSR WhisperLite Internationale stove, cookware, Petzl headlamp.

For the bike: Jandd panniers and trash bags to line them, pump, water bottles, CamelBak, Topeak multitool, chain lube and rag, Kryptonite lock, Cat Eye cycling computer, repair kit for punctures and such, bungee cords (for tying down gear, not jumping).

And don’t forget: ATM card, passport, first-aid kit, journal, Woolite (for laundry), Ivory (for self), personal hygiene items, camp towel, bug dope, BuckTool, off-bike sunglasses, reading glasses, camera, film, well-worn New Zealand Automobile Association map, and four books, including Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, which I read and gave away.

WEEK 1
Christchurch-Invercargill
221 miles in five riding days
Longest riding day: 51 miles, Oxford to Methven
Notes: Began with a prep day in Christchurch—put my bike together and gathered supplies. Reminded myself constantly to ride on the left side of the road. Still warming to the idea of cycle touring, I hopped a train from Dunedin to Invercargill.
Highlight: My first toe-dabbling in the South Pacific, at Caroline Bay at Timaru.
Lowlight: Challenged 30 mph headwinds near Invercargill and gave up.

WEEK 2
Invercargill-Cromwell
224 miles in five riding days
Longest riding day: 57 miles, Clifden to Te Anau
Notes: Left the flatlands and started climbing. The trip started taking on rhythm and form.
Highlight: Kayaked and camped in Doubtful Sound at Fiordland National Park with a guided group from Fiordland Wilderness Experiences, based in Te Anau (two-day trip costs US$105; 011-64-3-249-7700; ).
Lowlight: Crowds of adrenaline junkies in Queenstown after two days of solitary backroad riding.
WEEK 3
Cromwell-Fox Glacier
215 miles in five riding days
Longest riding day: 58 miles, Makarora to Ship Creek, featuring 1,820-foot Haast Pass, an easy climb.
Notes: Haast—the gateway to days of downpour.
Highlight: Learned to ice climb at Fox Glacier. I went with Alpine Guides (one-day trip costs US$60; 011-64-3-751-0825; ).
Lowlight: Rain. Biting insects. Lots of both.

WEEK 4
Fox Glacier-Separation Point (Abel Tasman National Park)
177 miles in five riding days
Longest riding day: 65 miles, Greymouth to Arthur’s Pass
Notes: Two shuttles this week: Fox Glacier to Hokitika; Westport to Motueka
Highlight: Tramped along the hilly Coastal Track in Abel Tasman National Park (011-64-3-528-9117; ).
Lowlight: A sleepless night in a hut full of snorers.

WEEK 5
Separation Point-Picton
200 miles in four riding days
Longest riding day: 60 miles, St. Arnaud to Renwick
Notes: Finally, consistently good riding weather, with temperatures in the low eighties—and sun!
Highlight: Checked into the Trafalgar Lodge (doubles, US$22-$34 per night; 011-64-3-548-3980), a bed-and-breakfast in Nelson, where I basked in the luxury of my own room—complete with a TV.
Lowlight: Watched rabbit roadkill in progress.

WEEK 6
Picton-Christchurch
145 miles in three riding days
Longest riding day: 50 miles, Kaikoura to Cheviot.
Notes: Took a train from Picton to Kaikoura. Rode in the big chainring all the way to Christchurch.
Highlight: Took an albatross-viewing excursion in Kaikoura (Ocean Wings, trip costs US$24; 011-64-3-319-6777; ). Seeing the birds up close was worth getting seasick in the small 14-person pontoon boat.
Lowlight: Found myself accidentally biking a busy highway back to Christchurch.

The post New Zealand on a Whim and a Pannier appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.