On December 19, 2000, roughly 24 hours before opening day at British Columbia’s Fernie Alpine Resort, life operator Ryan Radchenko skied off-limits on his lunch break, triggering an avalanche that carried him 450 feet before burying him alive.

February 2002 cover

Keno graced the cover of our February 2002 issue.

A patroller who witnessed the slide put out a radio call to summon Keno, snow-safety supervisor Robin Sigger’s five-year-old SAR-trained Labrador/Border collie mix, who was whisked from the base area by snowmobile.

Siggers, who was already on the mountain, took a lift to the scene and began assisting with the search. “I was well aware of the statistics,” he says. “I was praying Keno would arrive soon.”

There are more than 2,000 trained SAR dogs in North America, and they often prove invaluable during desperate, time-limited searches. At Fernie, despite ten rescuers frantically thrusting eight-foot probes into the debris pile, they’d turned up nothing by the time Keno arrived 18 minutes later. The dog immediately bolted 30 feet below the probe line and emerged with a leather glove in his teeth.

“He’s trained to dig like crazy when he funds a person,” says Siggers. “About a foot below the surface, he uncovered Ryan’s hand.”

The rescuers pulled Radchenko out, semiconscious but unhurt—the first live avalanche find by a rescue dog in Canada. Keno, though, had an insider’s odds: The previous summer, Radchenko did carpentry work with Siggers at Fernie, telling Keno repeatedly, “Hey, you’d better get a good sniff in case you have to find me someday.”

The post SAR-Trained Dog Saves Avy Victim 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.

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I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand it when I drop some cash on a high-tech item only to find, many wears later, that not only have the performance properties (i.e., waterproofing, breathability, moisture wicking) started to wear out but the darn thing stinks. And even with numerous washes using regular detergent, the body odor stays imbedded in the fibers, tenaciously staying put and keeping good friends at bay.

Penguin Sport Wash

Penguin Sport Wash

So, tired of being chosen last on the Ultimate team, I decided to give my grubby gear a bath in Penguin’s biodegradable, residue-free Sport-Wash, which the company claims will keep gear at peak performance by cleaning while “restoring breathability, moisture wicking and factory applied waterproofing.” Since the bottle claimed it would work on wool, silk, nylon, microfibers, polyester, cotton, and all synthetics, I decided to test it on my beloved three-year-old Patagonia pullover microfleece, a polyester tee that I favor running trails in, and my Sierra Designs Gore-Tex zip-up windbreaker. As I poured a cupful of Sport-Wash into my front loader, I said a little prayer to the gooey gods that my techy fabrics wouldn’t come out looking like them.
Even though this is not a detergent (hence, no phosphates) and doesn’t contain bleach, fabric softener, or scent, the darn stuff actually froths up. I was amazed. As I pulled the clothing out of the machine, I noticed my outdoor apparel felt clean to the touch—none of that tacky residue feel I was expecting. (And let me tell you, that’s a bonus, since residues can reduce the effectiveness of high-tech materials and trap odors). And then for the test—I slowly raised the armpit of my microfleece to my nose, and you know what? It smelled like… nothing! Years worth of hard-earned sweat was washed out in one cycle. And the fleece had returned to its soft, pliable self, not the nubby pullover it was when I had tossed it into the machine. And then I ran my windbreaker under the tap, and, again, voila! The water beaded right off the sleeve. The factory applied waterproofing (DWR) had been restored as promised. And the baby-blue jacket had this just-bought sheen to it.
Now for my next heavily stained load—clothes from my Memorial Day camping trip to the Chama River, in northern New Mexico. This time, I’ve got one very soiled polyester skirt and a smoke-coated Isis down jacket, which I forgot to pull from my backpack and is now compressed to the size of a grapefruit. But I have faith. Penguin claims this magical wash even cleans grass stains and gives downy jackets new lift. I mean, what will this Sport-Wash do next? Wash my sins away? 18 fluid oz (18 wash loads), $10; 800-523-2844,

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EXERCISE ZEALOTS, spa lovers, organic-food junkies, and luxury seekers: Welcome home. Canyon Ranch, the Tucson, Arizona–based wellness resort known for seducing people into optimal health, is now spinning its popular get-fit vacation philosophy into the first-ever ür-healthy-living residential complex aimed at boomers with bling. Opening next spring in Miami Beach, Florida, Canyon Ranch Living will be the oceanfront health club you never have to leave—nor will you want to. The six-acre property will include 467 condominiums decked out with picture windows and private balconies off the ultraluxe nature-inspired rooms. “Our guests kept saying they loved their Canyon Ranch vacation but that when they went home, they wanted the same access to wellness,” says Kevin Kelly, Canyon Ranch Living’s CEO. Say no more. Wellness devotees can pick up a 720- to 3,000-square-foot CRL condo for $450,000 to $3 million. Of course, the price includes access to a 60,000-square-foot rooftop fitness center tricked out with a two-and-a-half-story climbing wall, private workout rooms, a spa, and the latest European whirlpools and other “wet-room” technology. When not working out or getting a spa treatment, residents and their guests can chill on 750 feet of white-sand beach frontage and refuel at CRL’s café, which serves up fresh, chemical-free seafood, meats, and vegetables, dished out in perfectly balanced portions. Just visiting to check out property? Crash at CRL’s David Rockwell–designed hotel. 888-987-9876,

Fast Food Goes Fresh: Chipotle Mexican Grill

STEVE ELLIS IS ON A MISSION. He’s determined to feed you vegetarian-fed, antibiotic-free chicken, real lime juice, organic pinto beans, unprocessed pork, and other sustainable and whole foods. And he wants those ingredients to be as all-natural as possible. If you’re picturing a back-alley boho café in Berkeley, try again. Ells is the visionary behind, and CEO of, Chipotle Mexican Grill, arguably the first fast-food franchise to make fresh and natural a priority and still turn a profit. Inspired by taquerias he frequented in San Francisco’s Mission District while a chef at the famed restaurant Stars, Ells—who graduated from the Culinary Institute of America, in Hyde Park, New York—created Chipotle’s business model around the idea of wrapping nutritious meals in a tortilla and selling them cheap and quick. (A typical burrito is ready in less than one minute and sets you back about $6.) His original 20-seat shop, on East Evans Avenue, in Denver, has mushroomed into an 11,000-person, $480 million company with more than 400 restaurants in 22 states—and two new ones opening each week. Chipotle’s has been so successful, in fact, that it was purchased by McDonald’s seven years ago. While some might think that’s dealing with the devil when it comes to fresh fare, Ells assures that it isn’t. “Not once has McDonald’s asked us to buy cheaper ingredients,” says Ells. “As long as we’re successful, we’ll have full autonomy.”

Sugar Busting Is Back

IF 2004’s AXIS OF DIETARY EVIL rotated around bread, well, hold on to your bacon, dear consumer, because the packaged-foods industry is about to pull a bait-and-switch down at your local Piggly Wiggly. In the coming months, watch for the omnipresent low carb labels to quietly recede from store shelves as that fad finally, blessedly collapses under a mountain of celery sticks. In its place, expect the makers of everything from cereals to juice to pancake syrup to hit sedentary Americans with a new fast-fix stamp: low sugar. Wait, is this 1981? With that year’s FDA approval of aspartame, the whole country went on a sugar-free high that lasted until the fat-gram-counting craze of the nineties. But things will be different this time around, according to Bob Goldin, vice president of the Chicago-based food-biz consultancy Technomic. “There’s a new concern about the staggering amount of sugar we’re consuming, which has continued to escalate over the past 20 years,” he says. Low-carb mania has evolved to identify sugar—a carb—as the real devil in the details. Its alarming abundance, hidden in everything from soda to teriyaki sauce, has prompted a slew of new products that either cut that sugar content way down or swap it for a lower-impact substitute, like Splenda. Mind the sugar intake, but remember: Exercise works wonders, too.

Queen of Celeb Cuisine: Akasha Richmond

Akasha Richmond

Serving Tinseltown since 1980: Chef Akasha Richmond

WHEN A FAD SEIZES the American imagination, chances are it was born in Hollywood. And if eating well is now a national habit, give props to Akasha Richmond, healthy-food chef to the stars. When the native of Hollywood, Florida, landed on the West Coast in the early eighties, the glitterati were just adding words like cholesterol and organic to their lexicon. Richmond, working at the now defunct Golden Temple, in L.A., started serving up soy-based main courses and sugar-free desserts that convinced the Tinseltown vanguard that vegetarian food could be savory. When she left the restaurant in 1984, diners wept in their tempeh, but they soon clamored for her private service. She went on to become a personal chef to Carrie Fisher, Barbra Streisand, and others, and penned her first book, The Art of Tofu, in 1997. The beautiful people still line up for what Richmond modestly calls her “clean, organic, artisan, sustainable, and authentic” dishes, which rely on simple, fresh ingredients like organic ginger-honey syrup from a friend’s farm in Costa Rica and the best olive oil from Tuscany. The result: such wonders as crispy shiitake pot stickers and Billy Bob Thornton’s favorite, carrot cake made with spelt flour. One of Richmond’s latest creations was an African-style high tea for a benefit hosted by Pierce Brosnan. It was equal parts brilliant execution and kitchen confidential—which, along with her cooking, is what gives her staying power in this fickle city. “I don’t gossip to Star Magazine about my clients,” Richmond says. “Hollywood is too small a town.”

Al Fresco Extreme

Jim Denevan

Jim Denevan and assistant events coordinator Natalie Mock

Channing Daughters Winery

The evening’s selections, from Channing Daughters Winery

“WE WANT TO RATE our dinners like whitewater,” says Santa Cruz, California–based Jim Denevan, perhaps the nation’s leading extreme-dining impresario. “Class I, Class II, Class III.” No, this isn’t about snacking on spiders at the Explorers Club. Picture wild boar pit-roasted on a mountaintop or freshly caught salmon savored in a remote sea cave by candlelight. Or, in a dinner planned this spring for Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, a multicourse, ultra-gourmet, white-tablecloth “intertidal dinner” staged on tidal flats in the brief window before Puget Sound floods the party. Lifelong surfer Denevan, 43, is the executive chef of Santa Cruz’s Gabriella Café. He is also the culinary brains and six-foot-four brawn behind Outstanding in the Field, a series of outdoor dinners now in its sixth year. Pairing fine wine and cuisine with rustic environs is not in itself novel: Rafting outfits, for example, routinely pamper clients with prime rib. But Denevan—with help from celebrity chefs like Dan Barber, of New York’s Blue Hill restaurant (see “,”), and Paul Kahan, of Chicago’s Blackbird—is proving that al fresco dining can be high adventure in its own right. To that end, a hundred guests recently forked over $130 each to follow Denevan on an intentionally confusing hike in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Once they were good and lost, Denevan led them to a well-laid table at the top-secret wild-mushroom site of local forager David Chambers. There, beneath the oaks and Monterey pines, Denevan served porcinis and chanterelles with local wild venison, wild sorrel greens brought out by the first rain, and mussels gathered by hand then poached in water first used to boil wild thistles. “So many restaurant menus try to tell a story these days,” he says. “They try to conjure the whole sensuous experience of a farm or where the beef was raised or where the fish was caught. We bring that story to life, so you can live it while you eat it.”

Slow Mojo: Organic Ingredients

Eat your broccoli: Demand for organic products is expected to surpass $30 billion by 2007.

IT’S 7:45 ON A CLOUDLESS SATURDAY morning in downtown San Francisco. Chef Chris Cosentino is swerving his Toyota Matrix through tight corners to get to the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market before his favorite vendor runs out of organic radicchio. He forgot to advance-order it. “What the hell are you doing, you friggin’ shavin’ monkey?!” he hollers to a car idling in front of his targeted parking spot. He careens into another space, runs his hand through his spiked half-chocolate, half-vanilla hair, bounds out of the car, and grabs a Peet’s triple espresso before sprinting for the veggie stands.


At first glance, Cosentino seems an unlikely—nay, alarming—ambassador of Slow Food, an 80,000-member international nonprofit with 800 chapters in 52 countries. When he’s not cooking, the 32-year-old head chef at Incanto, a critically hailed Italian eatery in the city’s Noe Valley area, races mountain bikes—he won the overall solo in the 2002 24 Hours of Tahoe. His sponsors include Clif Bar and Red Bull. Is this a guy who does anything slowly?


That question points to one of the big misconceptions about the not so slowly burgeoning Slow Food organization, whose American branch, Slow Food USA, was launched in New York in March 2000, just months before Eric Schlosser published his best-selling Fast Food Nation, and has already grown to 12,000 members. Before I met Cosentino, I had heard only a little about the group. I knew they had a rather precious little logo of a snail. I knew they promoted esoteric artisanal foods and traditional modes of food production: Save the shagbark hickory nut!—that sort of thing. I pictured a bunch of tweedy, goblet-tinking foodies arguing the fine points of lactobacillus use in the preparation of Bulgarian buttermilk.


While this image is not entirely wrong, slow food is actually a lot more fun—and a lot more radical. The movement was born in Italy 18 years ago, when journalist Carlo Petrini organized a group of locals armed with bowls of penne to protest the opening of a McDonald’s near Rome’s ancient Spanish Steps. The charismatic Petrini unleashed brilliant diatribes against the 20th century’s loss of small farms, of healthy eating, and—more viscerally—of taste itself, as staggering numbers of foods went extinct. The movement, he wrote in the Slow Food Manifesto, would be an antidote to “Fast Life, which disrupts our habits, pervades the privacy of our homes and forces us to eat Fast Foods…. Fast Life has changed our way of being and threatens our environment and our landscapes. So Slow Food is now the only truly progressive answer.”


This turning of the tables has been an easy sell on the other side of the Atlantic, where culinary traditions are deeply ingrained and where Petrini, still president of the international group, is one of the 30 most influential people on the Continent, according to a recent Time article. But what works on the Mediterranean doesn’t always translate here. Siesta? Nada. We’re the country that invented the TV dinner and the drive-through. We crave Hot Pockets and call ketchup a vegetable. Most of us don’t know a fusilli from a fusillade. Let’s face it: If we can’t do slow food, er, quickly, the movement has as much chance of survival as the Galápagos snail.


Which is why it’s heartening, as well as appetizing, to watch Cosentino fly through the market. There’s no radicchio to be found, and he’s pissed. But then his sous-chef, Tracy McGillis, rings in on the polyphonic video cell phone and says she found some. Slow food, it turns out, isn’t about returning to the 19th century; it’s about thoughtfully participating in a marketplace for eccentric products, with the goal of getting people to consume them. Because if there’s one thing Americans are good at, it’s consuming.


“Slow Food is about two words: conviviality and sustainability,” says San Francisco chapter co-leader Carmen Tedesco, 54. To serve its “eco-gastronomic” mission, the organization essentially parties its way to enlightenment. Local chapters throw buyer-seller shindigs to introduce members to worthy crops and breeds and the eco-conscious farmers who raise them. The result: Those farmers stay in business, and the whole industry tilts a bit closer toward practices like organic production and more diverse cultivation.


By encouraging people to eat rare “heirloom” species, Slow Food keeps those species in domestication. Last year, the organization arranged 5,000 advance orders of rare and delicious Narragansett turkeys for Thanksgiving; the profits went to struggling farms, and the bird’s breeding population was doubled. Slow Food also aims to reconnect the masses to the food chain with initiatives like public-school gardening projects. “We’re not about gluttony and elitism,” says Erika Lesser, 30, the Brooklyn-based executive director of Slow Food USA. “We want people to have a viable alternative to industrial agriculture. We want to change the way people think about food.”


Given the explosion in farmers’ markets and a projected consumer demand for organic products that’s expected to surpass $30 billion by 2007, it’s a movement whose time has come.


Cosentino stops to chat up Clifford Hamada, of Hamada Farms. “When will you have Buddha’s hand citron?” he asks. (“It’s really ugly,” he says of the bitter-lemon-type fruit. “Looks like an octopus. I candy it or shave the fruit on a mandoline and sprinkle it raw on salads.”) This third-generation farmer, says Cosentino, sells dozens of kinds of peaches—dozens! Cosentino dashes off to check out some Braeburn apples, which he will use in a rutabaga-and-pasta dish.


“I seek out this food because it’s the best food,” says Cosentino, whose Incanto is a slow-foodie’s wet dream of hand-cranked pastas, house-cured salumi and mortadella, and a dazzling array of obscure Italian wines with impossibly long names. “But I also love these guys. It’s about relationships.”


Walking around the spectacular outdoor market, overlooking the Bay at the Embarcadero, I’m all over it. The conviviality! The healthfulness! The idealism! But then I remember that most of this pretty stuff has to be cooked, or at least prepared with some modicum of slicing, dicing, drizzling, and tossing. Can Americans actually be talked into putting aside those handy boxes and bags of processed foods?


“Look, you don’t have to do it all the time,” says Cosentino. “When I’m racing, I eat any old shit. But people can’t be afraid to cook. It’s easy—pick up fresh organic tomatoes, toss them with an incredible cheese, and put it on your pasta. Or buy a Crock-Pot, throw in some meat and fresh carrots in the morning, come home from work, and—boom!—it’s done.”

Mix Master: The Bosch Blender

Bosch blender

This is the mod whirl: Bosch’s badass blender

Call it the Boxster of blenders. The F.A. Porsche Designer Series, from German power-tool company Bosch, speedily purees the firmest frozen bananas, strawberries, and whatever you love in your smoothies. (Try our antioxidant-, protein-, and calcium-packed suggestions below, courtesy of sports nutritionist Monique Ryan.) Best of all, there’s beauty to this beast: The modernist-inspired brushed-aluminum housing keeps up kitchen appearances alongside your All-Clad saucepans and Viking range. $200; 866-442-6724,

The Saved-by-Chocolate Postworkout Smoothie
4 tablespoons sweetened cocoa » 12 ounces low-fat soy milk » 1/2 cup raspberries » 1 cup vanilla or chocolate yogurt

The Sunrise Smoothie
1 banana » 1 mango » 1/2 cup orange juice » 1 cup low-fat plain yogurt » one cup crushed ice

Low-Glycemic Berries and Cream
1/2 cup blueberries » 1/2 cup strawberries » 12 ounces skim milk » 1/2 cup vanilla yogurt » 1 tablespoon honey » 2 teaspoons flaxseed oil

Grow Your Own

food guide

“Wait, can’t we talk about this?” A Stone Barns chicken on its way to the broiler

DAN BARBER WANTS TO KNOW what the pork he’s eating for dinner ate before his pork, you know… became dinner. And he thinks you should know, too. So last May, the 35-year-old chef, whose Blue Hill restaurant, in Greenwich Village, brings seasonal, unique food to the city, took his fresh-‘n’-local food philosophy one step further: He reversed the farm-to-restaurant cycle altogether. Blue Hill at Stone Barns, a cozy, Provençal-style eatery at the center of the 80-acre Stone Barns Food and Agricultural Complex, in Pocantico Hills, New York, serves dishes like chicken roulade with red ace beets and Crescent duck with a stew of Napoli carrots to well-heeled locals and urbanites who, judging by the monthlong wait for a dinner reservation, are happy to make the 30-mile trip from Manhattan for a good meal and a lesson in sustainable agriculture. At least half of the food Barber serves is grown on the premises: The Stone Barns team, backed by a $30 million investment from community-farming advocate David Rockefeller, raises fruits, vegetables, herbs, and a coterie of free-roaming livestock. (The Berkshire pigs root and snort around in the woods the way their wild ancestors did in Europe.) When diners are finished, meal scraps are toted to compost piles, where the cycle of life begins again under the pitchfork of head farmer Jack Algiere. “I feed Jack and Jack feeds me,” says Barber, who hopes people will leave his restaurant not just full but enlightened. “Stone Barns provides an opportunity to discuss issues like the power of food choice, and to draw people’s attention to the land around them. Our goal is to provide a consciousness of how decisions you make buying food have an effect on the world you live in.”

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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.

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Crossing the world’s biggest country by train, plane, reindeer, and foot, ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø‘s adventure scout uncovers a wilderness of opportunity


Untapped Frontiers:



Untapped Frontiers:



Untapped Frontiers:

The Russian Revolution

Crossing the world’s biggest country iby train, plane, reindeer, and foot, ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø‘s adventure scout uncovers a wilderness of opportunity

VLADIMIR MIKHAILOVICH SHIPOV was pumped. For the past seven hours, the Chelyabinsk lawyer and climber had led me up slopes of shifting rock to the 5,577-foot summit of Medved Gora (“Bear Mountain”), in Siberia’s Barguzin Mountains. About 4,000 feet below, Frolikha Lake sported water so clear, I could read the contours of its bathymetry. Beyond was the unnamed pass we’d crossed, pack reindeer carrying the rafts we’d paddle down the Frolikha River to Lake Baikal, the world’s deepest inland sea.


Now, on this hot August evening, Vlad bounded across the ridge to give me a hearty Soviet backslap. He put a match to an ancient smoke flare, which he’d brought to signal our success to friends below, and held it aloft. With his bare chest, camo cutoffs, and Lawrence of Arabia headgear, he looked like a parody of Lady Liberty. I was staring mesmerized at the erratic pfft coming from the brown-paper cylinder when—bang!—a deafening flash of smoke-filled light erupted. Vlad stood staring down at his charred palm.


That’s Russia for you: One minute you’re on top of the world; the next, you’re on fire. Was this country really ready for Western adventurers, I wondered as I bandaged Vlad’s hand. And were we ready for it?


Nearly twice the size of the United States, with just over half the population and eleven time zones of wilderness, Russia has emerged as one of the world’s few remaining adventure frontiers. Before the dissolution of the Soviet Union, in 1991, only a few very lucky outsiders had sampled mad Siberian whitewater or climbed in the Altay Mountains, and all of them had returned with stories of no-limits adventure and bighearted hosts. When the Iron Curtain fell, Westerners rushed in, starting an adventure renaissance that, like everything else in this fledgling capitalist state, has emerged in fits and starts.


To assess the current state of play, my wife, Rosy, and I spent three months crossing Russia, from the mountains of the Caucasus to the volcanoes of Kamchatka. We traveled by plane, train, car, raft, reindeer, and foot, often for days on end. We slept in lodges, tents, and apartments, and our new friends even sent the kids to Grandma’s to make room.


On the following pages are our picks for Russia’s top ten adventure hot spots. What we discovered is a vast playground waiting for those who don’t mind a fair dose of chaos with their wide-open tundra. Russia, gloriously, is not for the faint of heart. In Kamchatka, our guides were first-class. In the Altays, they got lost—and then hypothermic. Food was fresh-caught salmon one night, three tins of sardines for 17 trekkers the next. But our pre-trip worries—ethnic violence, the mafia, political unrest—evaporated as Russia unfolded a heady mix of warm hospitality, a nonstop adrenaline drip, and the odd vodka binge. Best of all, I discovered something I’d enjoyed as a boy in the Rockies but had thought was lost forever: miles and miles of untrammeled country.


That’s not to say miles of untrammeled, pristine country. The Cold War may have kept Russia a blank spot on the Western map, but Soviet demands for resources left little time for something so frivolous as the environment, and no traveler can fail to miss the signs: On the Kola Peninsula, a nickel-processing plant emits clouds of sulfur dioxide. In Siberia, industrial waste flows into Lake Baikal. Ironically, Westerners, and our adventure-tourism dollars, are now among the best hopes for preserving wilderness in a country we’d threatened to annihilate for decades. How the world turns.

Untapped Frontiers

Karelia, the Kola Peninsula, and the Caucasus

*1| KARELIA*
THIS WILDERNESS, reaching 500 miles north from St. Petersburg to the Arctic Circle, is a Tolkienesque land of ancient birch forests dotted with 60,000 lakes—including Ladoga and Onega, Europe’s largest. Thanks to post-Soviet urban migration, it’s also filled with ghost villages—porches leading to nonexistent houses, bushes heavy with fruit, and a silence punctuated only by whining mosquitoes. Into this netherworld has come an adventure revolution led by paddlers, mountain bikers, and Russian climbers, who work the granite outcrops 180 feet above Yastrebinoe Lake. Kayakers boat the Class II-III Shuya or the Class V Vuoksi, site of last August’s inaugural inflatable-doll race. Contestants praised the dolls to the newspaper Pravda for being “nice to touch,” “floating wonderfully,” and “not wanting to get married.”
Frontier Factor (1-5): 1—You’ll face bloodthirsty insects—or rejection from a doll.
Getting There—Train service runs from St. Petersburg to Petrozavodsk, a welcoming city on Onega Lake ($75 for a second-class sleeper; six hours). Outfitters can arrange four-wheel-drive transportation to the village of Priozersk, three hours north of St. Petersburg.
Outfitters—Contact St. Petersburg-based outfitter Top Sport Travel (alexey@tst.spb.ru, ); or try Geographic Bureau (gb@geographicbureau.com, ) for 14-day bike trips for $1,265.

*2| KOLA PENINSULA*
ALTHOUGH EACH SUMMER a trickle of Russian alpinists, hikers, and fishermen roam the 320-mile-long Kola Peninsula, east of Finland between the White and Barents seas, this traditional home of Sami reindeer herders has been open to foreigners only since the early nineties. Yet to be discovered is a labyrinth of mountain-bike-ready four-wheel-drive tracks (left by post-World War II geological expeditions) and virgin 2,000-foot bowls in copter- or skins-accessed backcountry. Prefer the lifts? The freestyle-skiing mecca of Kirovsk offers long, inexpensive runs. Wherever you are, beware rugged conditions: Inspecting two memorial plaques bolted to rocks in the Kola’s compact Khibiny Mountains, our guide announced, “This one is for four skiers, killed when the slope below us avalanched. And this one, he froze in a storm—right here!”
Frontier Factor: 2—It’s not hard to get to the Kola, but the sheer number of memorials is testimony to its Arctic storms.
Getting There—Murmansk, the Kola’s largest city, is a six-hour flight from Moscow, or three from St. Petersburg ($100; Pulkovo Aviation, eng.pulkovo.ru). From there, catch a train to the former mining town and gulag site of Apatity ($7; three to five hours), then bus 12 more miles to Kirovsk.
Outfitters—Top Sport Travel () offers ten-day cross-country ski trips for $790. Geographic Bureau () runs a 15-day Khibiny trek for $985.

*3| CAUCASUS*
STRETCHING FROM the Black Sea to the Caspian Sea, on Russia’s southern border, the Caucasus Mountains are the Alps on steroids: 730 miles of glaciated peaks, among them 18,510-foot Mount Elbrus, Europe’s highest point. In recent years, terrorism in Chechnya has cast a pall over Russia’s favorite adventure destination, but it hasn’t stanched the flow of visitors, who chill in the cozy ski village of Terskol, the base for Elbrus climbs, or head to the Bezengi Wall, a 7.5-mile-long massif spiked with three 16,000-foot summits. In the western Caucasus, Dombay is your base for skiing and climbing. Postadventure, unwind like the czars did, soaking in hot springs in the resort towns of Kislovodsk and Pyatigorsk.
Frontier Factor: 4—The range straddles the boundaries of Chechnya, Ossetia, and Dagestan—all areas plagued by ethnic unrest. Although Russian travelers point out the isolated nature of the violence, the U.S. State Department warns against travel to the Caucasus, Chechnya, and its border areas. Stick to the resorts, and travel with caution.
Getting There—From Moscow, there are regular flights ($100; Aeroflot, ), trains ($55 for a second-class sleeper; 30 hours), and buses ($50) to Mineralnye Vody, the region’s northern gateway. Then it’s a six-hour bus trip to Dombay, or three to Terskol.
Outfitters—Many Russian outfitters offer trips to the Caucasus. For mountaineering and trekking, try Top Sport Travel (). Pilgrim Tours (elbrus@pilgrim-tours.com, ) is also a good bet.

Untapped Frontiers

The Subarctic Urals, Putorana Plateau, and the Altay Mountains

*4| SUBARTIC URALS*
THE ANCIENT URAL MOUNTAINS barely poke their summits above the taiga, Siberia’s vast conifer forest. Not so the subarctic Urals, where taiga turns to tundra and glaciers have carved towering walls on magnificent peaks. Russian cross-country skiers have explored the region for 30 years, but it’s been largely missed by alpinists. Until now: At 6,214 feet, Mount Narodnaya is the region’s highest mountain, but the slightly lower Sablinsky Range and nearby peaks offer mouthwatering technical routes like Mount Sablya’s nearly 3,000-foot northeast wall. Most climbs involve a two-day approach from the village of Aranets through trackless taiga pocked with boot-sucking bogs; more flush travelers can fly in by helicopter and raft rivers like the Kos’yu and Manaraga back to civilization. In winter, mountaineers can ski in, but storms and sub-zero temps make this one for the experienced adventurer.
Frontier Factor: 4—Frostbite or mosquito bites? Pick your season.
Getting There—From Moscow, take a two-day train ride to the industrial city of Pechora ($34), then hydrofoil 62 miles up the Pechora River to Aranets, or charter a helicopter from Pechora to Narodnaya. Heads up, however: Throughout remote Russia, charters range from $1,000 to $3,000 an hour. Unless you’re a hardened adventurer, join a group—or be prepared to carry your supplies and find a family to put you up.
Outfitters—Moscow-based Tour Centre Strannik runs a 17-day mountaineering-and-paddling trip (from $450; str@vmail.ru).

*5| PUTORANA PLATEAU*
LACED WITH 5,000-FOOT-DEEP canyons and 300-foot waterfalls, northern Siberia’s Putorana Plateau is one of the least explored regions on earth: five million acres of taiga populated by brown bear, reindeer, Yenisey bighorn sheep—and one person per 13 square miles. Although indigenous settlements border the plateau, few hunters or fishermen venture into the interior, where taimen and grayling await your hook. You’ll need a helicopter lift to the plateau in summer, when boggy tundra makes hiking impossible. In winter, frozen rivers allow snowmobile access—if you’re ready for temps of 60 below. Your best bet: Go in the summer, with an outfitter who can fly in rafts and provisions, and descend the world-class Kureyka River.
Frontier Factor: 5—The Putorana is tough on both wallet and body. Helicopters are expensive, and you’ll be hoofing it on broken scree and rafting rivers few have descended.
Getting There—Although Norilsk, the logical gateway (and home to a pollution-belching nickel plant), has been closed to foreigners for two years for “strategic” reasons, Russian operators can arrange through-permits. Fly from Moscow to Norilsk ($200; Siberia Airlines, ) or Krasnoyarsk ($153; Kras Air, ), a secret nuclear-weapons hub in Soviet days. Most expeditions helicopter in from Igarka, on the Yenisey River.
Outfitters—Team Gorky (adv@teamgorky.ru, ), based in the city of Nizhny Novgorod, runs fishing and rafting trips in July and August, starting at $2,850 a person. Moscow-based Ecological Travels Centre () offers ten-day fishing tours starting at $1,980. Both include helicopter transfers.

*6| ALTAY MOUNTAINS*
THE ALTAYS—the jagged 1,200-mile-long range that straddles Siberia, Mongolia, China, and Kazakhstan—are a mecca to whitewater paddlers and New Age seekers, the latter being drawn to 15,157-foot Mount Belukha, or White Mountain, in search of the legendary kingdom of Shambala. Since Communist times, however, Altay adventurers have had their own ways of getting closer to God, climbing Belukha’s sheer north face or riding a bublik—basically two giant rubber doughnuts joined by a tree limb—down killer rapids. Fortunately, our rafting-and-hiking journey, led by St. Petersburg-based Lenalp Tours, began on a gentle 12-mile stretch of the Katun River. Never mind that on day five, a misty rainstorm left us stranded on a pass with our stymied leaders: scruffy, non-English-speaking Vlad, and Anya, a university student. Or that on day eight, Anya led us down the wrong valley. The payoff for patience was waking up near Ak-Kem Lake to find Mount Belukha reflected in its waters.
Frontier Factor: 3—The established treks around Belukha are moderate. The north face, however, is Siberia’s Mont Blanc.
Getting There—From Moscow, take a four-hour flight ($165; Siberia Airlines, ) or a 48-hour train trip ($70) to Barnaul, a lively university town. From there, it’s a 13-hour drive to the trekking-and-rafting hub of Tyungur; outfitters provide minivan transportation.
Outfitters—Foreigners, mostly European, make up only a fraction of the tourists here, so few outfitters are set up to handle Westerners. One is Barnaul-based Sputnik Altai (), which offers eight-day horse-packing tours for $1,700, as well as trekking, rafting, and climbing tours.

Untapped Frontiers

Lake Baikal, the Sayan Mountains, Kamchatka, and the Commander and Kuril Islands

*7| LAKE BAIKAL*
NEARLY 400 MILES LONG, 5,700 feet deep, and holding one-fifth of the freshwater on earth, Lake Baikal has long been a favorite stop on the Trans-Siberian Railway. The southern end is by far the most accessible: Irkutsk, a cosmopolitan city of more than half a million, is 45 miles from the lake, where outfitters run hiking, sea-kayaking, or cycling trips up the southwest coast to Olkhon Island’s mountain-bike-perfect grasslands and sheltered (but frigid) diving waters. In winter, the resort town of Baikalsk, at the lake’s southern end, offers 1,800 vertical feet of lift-served runs—popular with big shots like President Vladimir Putin—as well as backcountry chutes overlooking the lake. Northern Lake Baikal is a different story: One of the most remote areas in Siberia, it is a free-for-all of trekking, biking, climbing, and skiing. It’s an adventure scene in its infancy, as we found on our reindeer-packing and rafting trip into the Barguzin Mountains, a place that sees few Western visitors.
Frontier Factor: 2 (southern end), 4 (northern end)—Fickle weather, unreliable transportation, and a dearth of guides make northern adventures much sketchier.
Getting There—It’s a 75-hour train trip to Irkutsk from Moscow, and 72 from Vladivostok, so fly in from Moscow ($300; Siberia Airlines, english.s7.ru). Fly to Severobaikalsk from Irkutsk, or take the train ($44; 35 hours from Irkutsk or six days from Moscow). In summer, a hydrofoil makes the 11-hour trip across the lake from Irkutsk ($35-$60; ).
Outfitters—In southern Lake Baikal, contact BaikalComplex (baikal@online.ru, ) or Sputnik Baikal (). Rashit Yahin, of BAMTours ($30 per day per guide; rashit.yahin@usa.net), operates in northern Lake Baikal.

*8| SAYAN MOUNTAINS*
RISING NEARLY 12,000 FEET, the snowy Sayans fold like a crumpled blanket from the southern end of Lake Baikal northwest along the Mongolian border. Once nicknamed “Little Tibet” as much for their topography as for their Buddhist temples, the Sayans are home to the cattle-herding Buryat, who still summer in yurts and—as you’ll see if you join a horse trek through Buryatia—are demons in the saddle. For climbing, head to the Tunka Valley, 95 miles southwest of Irkutsk, where multipitch granite walls can be reached via a one-day hike from Arshan, a 150-year-old resort town with mineral springs. Russians have also put up 5.12 routes on 7,429-foot Svezdny Pik, 300 air miles to the west. Paddlers will find Class IV whitewater on the Oka and Kyzyl-Khem rivers, while trekkers can explore the Shumak, or Valley of One Hundred Springs, a five-day loop from the village of Nylova Pustyn.
Frontier Factor: 3—As rough as these mountains get, there are lots of warm springs to soothe aching muscles. Roads from Irkutsk makes the Sayan region fairly accessible.
Getting There—Irkutsk is served by flights from a host of Russian cities ($300 from Moscow, an eight-hour flight) or by train from Moscow (75 hours, and only slightly cheaper). From Irkutsk, catch a bus to Ashran ($12; four hours) or Orlik ($15; eight hours).
Outfitters—Irkutsk adventurer Youry Nemirovsky, of BaikalComplex (baikal@online.ru, ), runs 12-day horse treks through Buryatia ($840) and rafting trips on the Oka River. Omsk, Siberia-based K2 ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (mnt@k2.omsknet.ru, ) offers an 11-day rafting trip on the Oka for $830.

*9| KAMCHATKA*
WITHIN MISSLE RANGE of North America, the Kamchatka Peninsula and its 200 volcanoes were closed until 1991. International mountaineers formed the first wave of tourists, followed quickly by the Western hook-and-bullet crowd in search of salmon and Kamchatkan brown bear. Even so, foreign visitors are still rare, rising from 7,465 in 2001 to about 8,000 last year. Hard to believe if you’ve ever sampled its fresh salmon caviar and snappy cedar-nut-flavored vodka. Fishing for salmon and arctic char on the Bystraya River is a must, but for a real treat, fly to the isolated Zhuponova, on the east coast. Guides are recommended in Kamchatka, due to hazards like closed military zones, bears, falling rocks, and—as we found on the crater rim of 8,990-foot Avachinsky volcano—paper-thin crust covering scalding mud.
Frontier Factor: 3—ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø can be as tame as a climb up Mount Hood or as rough as a survival hike through the Yukon. We saw little sign of the Kamchatka of the nineties, reportedly a hotbed of mafia corruption; indeed, the region’s hub, Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, or PK, seemed one of Russia’s safest cities.
Getting There—Anchorage-based Magadan Airlines makes the four-hour flight to PK weekly ($1,300 round-trip; 907-248-2994, magadanair@alaskalife.net). Thrice-daily flights from Moscow take nine hours ($450; Transaero, ); from Vladivostok, it’s a three-hour flight ($270 round-trip; Vladivostok Airlines, ).
Outfitters—Kamchatka’s outfitters offer English-speaking guides and better meals and accommodations than elsewhere in Russia. For trekking and rafting, try Kamchatintour (irene@kamchatintour.ru, ); for fishing, Vulkan Tours (kulykov@mail.iku.ru, ); and for mountaineering, The Climb (climbkam@hotmail.ru, ).

*10| COMMANDER & KURIL ISLANDS*
SOME OF RUSSIA’S WILDEST regions are those most accessible from America’s West Coast. The Commander Islands, 120 miles east of Kamchatka, are the farthest extension of the Aleutian archipelago, some 1,800 miles southwest of Anchorage. Scuba divers make exploratory dives alongside sea otters and sea lions. In the volcanic Kuril Islands, between Kamchatka and Japan, travelers hike up 9,000-foot volcanoes, sea-kayak with gray whales, and dive in crystal-clear lagoons. All of this is served up amid eerie reminders of a history as volatile as the landscape: encampments long abandoned by the indigenous Ainu, villages wiped out by tsunamis, and a secret Soviet submarine base on Simushir Island—built in 1972 and abandoned in 1991—entered via a tiny channel into a volcanic caldera.
Frontier Factor: 3—You’ll likely be on an outfitter’s ship, so no matter how wild your day, you’ll return to a cold beer and a warm bunk.
Getting There—A nine-hour flight from Moscow ($450; Transaero, ) takes you to PK. From Alaska, Magadan Airlines ($1,300 round-trip; 907-248-2994, magadanair@alaskalife.net) flies to PK weekly. Independent travelers can try catching an unreliable ferry to the Kurils, either from PK to the northern island of Paramushir or from Hokkaido to the southern island of Kunashir. Outfitters are your ticket to the Commanders.
Outfitters—Local operator Sergey Frolov (206-784-8701, ) offers sea-kayaking and diving trips on the 120-foot Tyfun, a former rescue ship, and Kamchatintour () offers similar expeditions.

Going It Alone: A User’s Guide

The best advice? Read up, arm yourself with patience, and never, ever try to match your hosts’ vodka intake.

PRE-TRIP PLANNING First, get your head around Russia’s size. International Travel Maps & Books ($11; 604-879-3621, ) sells the best overall map, while Omni Resources Map Catalog ($50; 800-742-2677, ) has excellent topo maps. Next, gauge your tolerance for bureaucracy. Type A’s should sign on with a Western outfitter. Otherwise, get Lonely Planet: Russia and Belarus (Lonely Planet, $30), which outlines the elaborate visa procedures, and Frith Maier’s Trekking in Russia and Central Asia (The Mountaineers Books, $17). The Russian National Tourist Office () can also help with trip planning. When contacting Russia, e-mail is the best method.
LANGUAGE Unless you go with a Western outfitter, the barrier is high. Learn the Cyrillic alphabet and consider a two-week language course. The Center of Russian Language and Culture () offers classes at St. Petersburg State University for $90 a week.
SAFETY Areas like the Caucasus are volatile: Check the U.S. State Department’s Web site, .

GETTING THERE Russia’s Aeroflot () offers round-trip fares starting at $520 from New York to Moscow.
GETTING AROUND RUSSIA The St. Petersburg-based Dialog (dialog@ligovsky.sp.ru) and Moscow-based Primorsky AirAgency () book internal flights on Siberia Airlines (), Pulkovo Aviation (), and Aeroflot, as well as train tickets on the reliable national rail system. Bouncy rides are typical on the cheaper buses. (For info, go to .)
CHOOSING AN OUTFITTER You can save big on trips catering to Russians, but standards vary. Ask plenty of questions. For example: Will the guides speak English?
GEARING UP Most equipment, including the Russian brand Red Fox, is available in major cities, but for sports like diving and mountaineering, BYOG is the safest policy.
BOOKING IT Anna Reid’s journey through Siberia, The Shaman’s Coat (Walker & Co., $13); Ben Kozel’s Yenisey River adventure, Five Months in a Leaky Boat (Pan Macmillan, $30); and Mark Jenkins’s Off the Map: Bicycling Across Siberia (Morrow, $13).

Going With the Pros: Outfitted Trips

Screaming nyet! at the hassles of independent travel? Let a Western operator take the reins. Here are some of the best ways to go (comfortably) wild

1. SKIING AND SNOWBOARDING MOUNT ELBRUS Climb to the top of Europe’s highest peak, 18,510-foot Mount Elbrus, then ski back down, James Bond style, on this 15-day expedition. ($3,975 per person, June 12-26; Mountain Madness, 800-328-5925, )

2. BACKPACKING KAMCHATKA Spend nine days trekking amid the snowcapped, steam-belching Klyuchevskaya volcanoes. You’ll cross pine-and-birch woodland, tundra, and lava fields before ascending 9,453-foot Bezymianny. (From $3,095 per person, July 19-31; KE ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Travel, 800-497-9675, )

3. RAFTING THE KATUN RIVER Since 1989, Steve Currey has guided clients on southern Siberia’s Class II-IV Katun. This rafting expedition (120 miles in 11 days) starts deep in the Altay Mountains and ends at the resort village of Chemal; you’ll fly-fish for taimen and soak in riverside saunas along the way. ($3,995 per person, August 20-September 1; Steve Currey’s Expedition Company, 800-968-1711, )

4. REINDEER HERDING IN THE FAR EAST In this 21-day excursionary trek throughout the Republic of Yakutia, you’ll swap campfire tales with Evenki nomads, helicopter into remote villages, and get your fill of reindeer stew. (From $6,995 per person, June 10-30; Geographic Expeditions, 800-777-8183, )

5. TRANS-SIBERIAN EXPLORER Cross the country from St. Petersburg to Vladivostok in 27 days—sailing on Lake Baikal, hiking in northern Siberia, and buzzing Kamchatka by helicopter. (From $9,795 per person, July 11-August 6; Wilderness Travel, 800-368-2794, )

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ROUTE: Havre to Libby, Montana

ROADS: U.S. 2
MILES: 354

In Montana, saying you’ve been up on the Hi-Line is secret code for aimless wandering. This stretch of U.S. 2 parallels (and shares its nickname with) the Great Northern Railway, which was strung just south of the Canadian border in 1887. Montana’s portion of U.S. 2 seems to be afflicted with the highway equivalent of multiple-personality disorder: Traveling west from Havre, you run straight as a wire through vast stretches of farmland until the prairie breaks into sagebrush-covered foothills and the Rocky Mountains begin jutting up from the horizon as if the earth were teething. After cutting across the center of the Blackfeet Indian Reservation, you wind through escalator-like foothills, crossing the Continental Divide at Marias Pass, 5,215 feet above sea level. When you begin the descent, with Glacier National Park to the north and the Great Bear Wilderness Area to the south, you’re surrounded by one of the biggest chunks of contiguous wilderness in the lower 48.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Fly-Fishing Mission Lake: Take a shot at huge rainbows on this 750-acre glacially carved lake on the Blackfeet Reservation (off the south side of U.S. 2, just before you hit Browning). The fish strike on dries and streamers from early spring till fall. Though no state license is required, you’ll need a tribal fishing license (single day, $20; three days, $30). Visit Cut Bank Creek Outfitters, in Browning, for licenses, guides, and fishing intel. (406-338-5567)
Hiking in Glacier National Park: East of Essex, park at the Walton Ranger Station and hit the Scalplock Mountain Lookout Trail, which switchbacks through thick forests of fir and pine, climbing 3,079 feet in 4.7 miles to the fire lookout. From the summit you can see 9,000-foot glaciated peaks and fingers of conifer forest reaching into alpine tundra.
Rafting the Middle Fork of the Flathead River: Glacier Raft Company, in West Glacier, offers half-day ($40) and full-day ($65) runs on the river’s Class II-III rapids. Or horseback in and raft out on a five-day guided trip into the Great Bear Wilderness ($1,500). (800-235-6781, )

**TOP DIGS
The 37-room Izaak Walton Inn, in Essex, was constructed in 1939 to house railroad workers. It’s a Hi-Line classic, stuffed with memorabilia like photographs of train collisions and avalanche disasters. (Doubles start at $108; 406-888-5700, )

**BEST EATS
For the real taste of the Hi-Line, bite into some Montana rib eye at the Sports Club, a local ranchers’ hangout right on U.S. 2 in Shelby. (406-434-9214)

**DON’T MISS
The best time to hit the Hi-Line is the second week of July, during North American Indian Days on the Blackfeet Reservation, with native dancing, drumming, and, if you’re really lucky, a demolition derby. (406-338-7521)

**ON THE STEREO
The lonesome pedal-steel symphonies of Japancakes sound just right east of the mountains; across the Great Divide, try Johnny Cash’s latest collection, Love, God, Murder.

North Carolina

The Outer Limits

ROUTE: Cedar Island to Corolla, North Carolina
ROADS: North Carolina 12
MILES: 130

Driving North Carolina’s Outer Banks takes you off the pavement so many times, you almost forget it’s there. With the ferries and four-wheel beach access along these barrier islands, the road seems to come and go as often as the tides. When your tires hit the sand-dusted two-lane on the narrow spit of Ocracoke Island (after a two-and-a-half-hour ferry ride from Cedar Island), you’ll find yourself surrounded by 409 square miles of sand and crashing sea. To the east, the Atlantic surf breaks against 70 miles of nationally protected seashore. To the west, the indigo-blue waters of Pamlico Sound lap grassy marshes thick with egrets and blue herons. You’ll pass through Hatteras and Buxton on Hatteras Island, where cedar-shake-shingled cottages sit on stilts above the dunes, pastel surf shops keep their doors propped open for the droves of summer “dingbatters,” and local fishermen in one-dock marinas work off boats with names like Sweet Caroline. Out here, the road is an afterthought to the beach: Expect to get plenty of sand on the floor mats.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Scuba Diving Diamond Shoals: Some 1,500 vessels have sunk off the Outer Banks. Dive cargo and tanker ships like the Australia and the Northeastern at Diamond Shoals, ten miles of shallow, shifting sandbars off Cape Hatteras. DiveHatteras, in Hatteras, offers charters and equipment rental. (703-818-1850, )
Surfing at Cape Hatteras National Seashore: Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, near Buxton, is a surfing legend known as the Wave Magnet. Annual competitions are held at this left break, where the north and south swells can stir up waves of ten feet and higher. For longboard rentals, check out Windsurfing Hatteras, in Avon, about five miles north of the lighthouse. ($15 per day; 252-995-5000, )
Windsurfing Pamlico Sound: Throw your board out at Canadian Hole, famous for its steady winds, shallow waters, and throngs of pro Canadian windsurfers (go figure). Four miles north of Buxton, look for a small parking lot on the left side of the road—you’ll see license plates from as far away as California and Ontario. Rent a rig at Windsurfing Hatteras, which also offers kiteboarding lessons ($45 per day).
Hang Gliding at Jockey’s Ridge State Park: A 420-acre sandbox with the tallest dune in the East, this park near Kill Devil Hills is the perfect launching and landing pad. A three-hour lesson with Kitty Hawk Kites is $85; tandem flights at 2,000 feet go for $125. (800-334-4777, )

**TOP DIGS
The Sanderling Resort, three miles north of Duck, offers 88 guest rooms plus suites and villas overlooking the Atlantic, as well as a spa and fitness facility. At the 3,400-acre Audubon Sanctuary next door, you can hike or bike the five-mile trail along Currituck Sound, and the resort’s eco-center organizes kayak tours to spy the area’s 21 species of waterfowl. (Doubles start at $240; 800-701-4111, )

**BEST EATS
Check out the Blue Point Bar and Grill, a swank diner on Currituck Sound, in Duck; hit the deck and order the oyster stew with fresh dill and smoked bacon. (252-261-8090)

**DON’T MISS
Join the pack of humans that gathers weekly to howl with the 100 or so red wolves at Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge, a 15-minute detour west off North Carolina 12. With only 255 of the captive and wild animals remaining in the U.S., the howling is part of the Red Wolf Recovery Project’s efforts to teach visitors about habitat protection. (252-473-1131, )

**ON THE STEREO
They don’t call them the Outer Banks for nothing. Try the Raveonettes’ Whip It On (to get your big-wave courage up), Band of Bees’ Sunshine Hit Me (for après-surf barbecues), and Yo La Tengo’s Summer Sun (for the sunsets, of course).

Kentucky

Big Holler

ROUTE: Manchester to Breaks Interstate Park, Kentucky
ROADS: Daniel Boone Parkway, Kentucky 118, U.S. 421, U.S. 119, Kentucky 805, Kentucky 197, Kentucky 80
MILES: 175

This is not the Kentucky of white fences, manicured horse farms, and mint-julep parties. This is the Kentucky of Daniel Boone, Appalachia, and the 3,000-foot Cumberland Mountains, a serrated plateau of sheer ridgelines and deep valleys. The friendly folks you meet will immediately peg you as a “furriner,” and any attempt at blending in will be futile at best. Just relax and enjoy the sinuous stretches of narrow two-lane as they wind alongside lowland streams running through what you might be tempted to call gullies or ravines but Kentucky locals fondly dub “hollers.” After a few days, you’ll know why the local “mountaineers” wouldn’t dream of trading places with you, city boy.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Mountain Biking the Redbird Crest Trail: This 52-mile loop traverses the Daniel Boone National Forest west of Hyden. Strenuous climbs open onto ridgetop vistas, and multiple trailheads let you tackle smaller sections, but watch out for the ATVs and motorbikes that share the doubletrack trails. (Redbird Ranger District Office, (606-598-2192, )
Hiking Bad Branch State Nature Preserve: Ten miles southeast of Whitesburg, off U.S. 119, the 7.4-mile High Rocks loop takes you through mixed hemlock and hardwood forest and past the cooling spray of 60-foot Bad Branch Falls as you make your way to the summit of 3,273-foot Pine Mountain. (502-573-2886, )
Paddling Breaks Interstate Park: The Russell Fork River runs through The Breaks, a 1,600-foot-deep, five-mile-long gorge—the largest canyon east of the Mississippi. Come October, when water is released from Virginia’s Flannagan Dam, Class IV-V rapids form in the gorge, and playboaters descend en masse. (Breaks Interstate Park, 800-982-5122, ).



**TOP DIGS
Home to high ceilings and classically furnished guest rooms, the brick Benham School House Inn was built by Wisconsin Steel in 1926 as a school for coal miners’ children. (Doubles, $70; 800-231-0627, )

**BEST EATS
Feast family style at the Wendover Big House, a 1925 log cabin four miles south of Hyden where it’s five bucks for all-you-can-eat vittles—biscuits, ‘kraut and wieners, corn bread, cole slaw, and sweet tea. (606-672-2317, )

**DON’T MISS
At Pikeville’s Hatfield-McCoy Festival (June 12-15), featuring Appalachia’s famous feuding families, you’ll find everything from world-class quilts to unmatched banjo picking and clogging. For details, contact Pikeville Tourism (800-844-7453) or .

**ON THE STEREO
Tune in to “the Voice of the Hillbilly Nation,” Whitesburg’s WMMT 88.7 FM, for homegrown bluegrass.

Vermont

Like Maple Syrup

ROUTE: Wilmington to Stowe, Vermont
ROADS: Vermont 100
MILES: 145

Slow it down—way down. Vermont’s Route 100 runs the length of this verdant state, through cow-speckled pastures and gently rounded mountains, but we recommend the most New Englandy section—starting in the south, in sleepy Wilmington, and ending in oh-so-quaint Stowe. As you wind through the West River Valley, Gothic Revival homes line up like decorated soldiers along pretty town greens, and locals patiently wait 25 minutes for their poached egg and corned beef hash at Cindy’s Restaurant & Bakery, in North Wardsboro. In Black River, the next valley north, the hamlets of Ludlow and Plymouth Union make you question your caffeine addiction, and a ruddy-faced farmer on his John Deere tractor drives down Granville’s main street, oblivious to the string of cars behind him. Farther north, in the Mad River Valley, the land opens up to dairy farms and blue sky, and old beaters weighed down by kayaks turn off to catch Mad River waves. Our advice: Just downshift and enjoy the ride.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Mountain Biking Mount Snow: The 1,700-vertical-foot rise at Mount Snow Ski Resort, eight miles north of West Dover on the eastern edge of Green Mountain National Forest, dishes out some of the most technical terrain in the Northeast. Forty-eight miles of intermediate and advanced singletrack, logging roads, and ski trails crisscross the resort. Call the Mountain Bike & Hike Center for rental rates (802-464-4040).
Swimming at Warren Falls: One mile south of Warren, look for a large dirt pullout on the west side of the road. Before you even break a sweat on the short path that starts on the right, you’ll hear the roar of the Mad River. Smooth sandstone ledges around the 25-foot waterfall are perfect launchpads for cannonballing into deep, clear pools.
Hiking Camel’s Hump: Set aside a whole day to do this popular 6.8-mile round-trip hike above timberline to the 4,083-foot summit. On the way down, soak your feet in icy brooks and snack on late-summer blueberries. The trailhead is 8.7 miles west of Vermont 100 in Duxbury. For more information, contact the Green Mountain Club (802-244-7037, ).
Fly-Fishing the Winooski River: Local anglers swear there’s “wicked-good” fishing in the Green Mountain State. To guarantee a fish fry of 15- to 18-inch trophy trout, tie on an elk hair caddis and cast a two-mile stretch that starts at the Winooski Street Bridge, in Waterbury, and ends upstream at the Route 2 Bridge. Call the Fly Rod Shop, in Stowe, to get the skinny (800-535-9763, ).

**TOP DIGS
The remote 12-room Blueberry Hill Inn, about 20 minutes west of Vermont 100 on Vermont 73 near Goshen, is surrounded by the 20,000-acre Moosalamoo region of the Green Mountain National Forest. Wind down with a lavender salt bath, chef Tim’s pan-seared free-range chicken in porcini mushroom sauce, and a hike on 50 miles of trails. (Doubles, $250-$320, including breakfast and dinner; 800-448-0707, )

**BEST EATS
What was the town funeral parlor 100 years ago is now an airy eatery with an old-fashioned soda fountain. Get your sugar fix with a frothy maple milk shake, made with sugar maker Jay McIntyre’s Fancy Grade Vermont pure maple syrup, at the Rochester Café. (802-767-4302)

**DON’T MISS
Soar above the Mad River Valley in a two-seat glider or learn how to pilot one solo with Sugarbush Soaring, in Warren. (802-496-2290, )

**ON THE STEREO
Mellow out with A Picture of Nectar, from those inveterate noodlers, Phish, who got their start playing at Nectar’s in Burlington.

Wisconsin/Minnesota

Ya, Shore, You Betcha

ROUTE: Bayfield, Wisconsin, to Grand Portage, Minnesota
ROADS: Wisconsin 13, U.S. 53, North Shore Drive, Minnesota 61
MILES: 236

There’s no place like home away from home—probably the reason Norwegians, Swedes, and Finns flocked to the Lake Superior shoreline back in the 1800s. Just like in the old country, granite crags jut out of icy blue water, daisies line the roads, and tall pines sway in the cool breeze. Plus, there’s plenty of herring to catch and pickle. A drive along this section of Lake Superior skirts a web of trails for hiking or reaching kayak and canoe put-ins, and there’s no end to the Scandinavian kitsch: In Duluth, you’ll pass a replica of Leif Eriksson’s Viking ship, and in Grand Marais, near the Canadian border, Sven and Ole’s Pizza serves the Vild Vun (topped with wild rice). For the drive’s “wow” moment, hike to Shovel Point in Tettegouche State Park—big-water views and dense forests are the real stars along this shoreline.



**ADVENTURE STOPS
Sea Kayaking the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore: Paddle four miles off Little Sand Bay, west of Bayfield, to Sand Island, where you can pitch your tent at the full-service campsite near the East Bay dock and explore sandstone sea caves one mile east. Trek & Trail, in Bayfield, offers kayak and equipment rentals, outfitted trips, and sea-kayaking clinics. (800-354-8735, )
Sampling the Superior Hiking Trail: Trek part of the woodsy 226-mile trail that runs from Two Harbors north to Canada. Start in Temperance River State Park, just southwest of Lutsen. Primitive campsites dot the trail, and an inn-to-inn shuttle service is also available. Contact Boundary Country Trekking (800-322-8327, ).
Mountain Biking at Lutsen Mountains: The 1,088-vertical-foot rise at Lutsen Mountains ski resort, 90 miles north of Duluth in the Sawtooth Range, is the closest you’ll come to mountains in the Midwest. Downhillers can ride chairlifts to the top of Moose and Mystery mountains, then bomb down 35 miles of rocky singletrack. A $27 pass gives you all-day access to the trails and unlimited rides on the Alpine Slide. Call the Lutsen Mountains bike shop (218-663-7281, ) for info.

**TOP DIGS
It’s Dirty Dancing meets Ingmar Bergman. The grand old Lutsen Resort has been a stronghold on the North Shore since the 1880s. The 31-room lodge sits right on Lake Superior and is all Scandinavian, with hand-hewn beams, massive stone fireplaces, and guest rooms of high-gloss knotty pine. (Doubles, $99-$139; 800-258-8736, )

**BEST EATS
The rehabbed seventies-diner exterior of the New Scenic Café, eight miles northeast of Duluth, may lack the clapboard charm of a Maine lobster shack, but don’t let it scare you off. The remodeled wood interior, graced with local artwork and Great Lake views, is all about ambience and the apricot- and ginger-roasted chicken is divine. (218-525-6274, )

**DON’T MISS
Two miles north of Two Harbors, on Minnesota 61, you’ll find Betty’s Pies, home to some of the most decadent five-layer-chocolate, coconut-cream, and bumbleberry pies you’ll ever eat. (218-834-3367, )

**ON THE STEREO
Anything ABBA—they sing like the Swedish Chef, and their songs are sunnier than Minnesota boy Bob Dylan’s.

Moab, Utah, to Telluride, Colorado

Outlaw Territory

ROUTE: Moab, Utah, to Telluride, Colorado
ROADS: U.S. 191, Utah 211, Utah 46, Colorado 90, Colorado 145
MILES: 132

Sage grows thick in the ruddy valleys beyond the shoulders of these roads—a good thing, since athletic travelers tend to work up quite a sweat en route. I like to cut a small stalk of sage, place it on my dashboard, and hope the herbal aroma chases away the backcountry musk, compliments of my five-days-without-a-wash bike shorts. Then my senses can get back to marveling at this drive’s harmonic blend of desert and mountains. The road rises from Moab’s red-rock canyons, skirts Utah’s La Sal Mountains, drops into Colorado’s dry Paradox Valley, crosses the Dolores River, and follows the San Miguel River up to Telluride, in a steep bowl of the San Juan Mountains. As the ubiquitous squiggly-line signs along the road indicate, straightaways are scarce, but revelatory panoramas (and promising trailheads) seem to hide around every corner. No doubt this is some of our nation’s finest western scenery, beloved by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and all who escape to the Four Corners to behave like unwashed outlaws.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Climbing Indian Creek Canyon: Instead of turning east on Utah 46, stay south on U.S. 191, then head southwest on Utah 211 to get to Indian Creek (a 40-mile detour) for excellent sandstone climbing on spires and canyon walls ranging in difficulty from 5.8 to 5.13. The 5.10 Supercrack is a desert classic. Contact Moab Desert ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (435-260-2404, ).
Rafting the San Miguel River: Put in at Specie Creek, four miles northwest of Placerville on Colorado 145, and float Class II-III rapids nine and a half miles through a narrow, pi-on-studded canyon to Beaver Creek, a half-day run. Rainy summers can keep the river runnable till September, but the rafting is best before mid-July. Contact Telluride ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø ($65; 800-831-6230, ).
Mountain Biking in Telluride: Since Moab’s summer heat can be intense, save your knobbies for Telluride. Rides here range from mellow converted-railroad grades to a World Cup downhill course. Start with the Mill Creek Trail, a singletrack-intensive loop that takes you from the San Miguel River to steep, winding hillside traverses, all in only 6.4 miles. Back Country Biking rents full-suspension bikes and runs guided tours (970-728-0861).

**TOP DIGS
At the undeveloped Oowah Campground, which hovers at 8,800 feet in Utah’s La Sal Mountains, you’ll find views of the 12,000-foot summits and the fattest aspen trees you’ll ever hug. Hike up the Deep Creek Trail to Burro Pass to watch the sun set behind the Henry Mountains, the last range to be mapped in the lower 48. For more info, contact Manti-La Sal National Forest, Moab Ranger District (435-259-7155, ).

**BEST EATS
Named after Norwood’s signature mountain, the Lone Cone Restaurant & Saloon follows the unwritten law that eateries named after geologic features shall serve big portions of prime rib and a fine apple pie. (970-327-4286)

**DON’T MISS
At the Bedrock Store, an outpost for travelers in Colorado’s lonely Paradox Valley since 1876, admire the decorative barrels of antlers and stock up on a slab or two of honey-glazed beef jerky. (970-859-7395)

**ON THE STEREO
Long-haul landscapes require otherworldly sounds: Go with the Flaming Lips’ stellar Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots and the spaghetti-western strains of Calexico.

Mississippi

Miss. You

ROUTE: Tupelo to Natchez, Mississippi
ROADS: The Natchez Trace Parkway
MILES: 262

Bisecting the land that brought you fatback and collard greens is one of the only unclogged arteries left in the heart of Dixie, the Natchez Trace Parkway. A leisurely roll south along its sunlight-dappled tarmac constructed on and beside an ancient Native American trading route once used by conquistadores, French trappers, and pioneers will take you through wildflower meadows and a winding colonnade of redbud, dogwood, and magnolia trees. Because the National Park Service maintains the Trace for its historic value, not a single traffic light or convenience store will mar your drive through Mississippi-style wilderness (though there is a lone gas station at the halfway point). A telling mix of sharecropper homesteads and fading antebellum decadence surrounds the Trace, but out here in the fragrant forest, it’s just you, a silky-smooth road, and wailin’ blues on the stereo.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Fishing Davis Lake: Remember to pack the rods—your first stop is a quiet fishing (and swimming) hole in Tombigbee National Forest, teeming with catfish, four miles west of the Trace, at mile marker 244. (662-285-3264, )
Hiking in Tombigbee National Forest: The Witch Dance trailhead, near mile marker 233, leads to a hilly six-mile loop over loamy soil in a spooky loblolly pine forest.
Biking from Clinton: The highest point in Mississippi is 800 feet, and it’s nowhere near here, which makes cycling the Trace a high-speed pursuit. Take a break from driving and ride about 30 miles south from Clinton to the Rocky Springs rest stop, at mile marker 55.
Canoeing the Pearl River: The lazy Pearl is ideal for a late-afternoon float. Slip your canoe in at the River Bend rest stop, at mile marker 122, and explore this bald cypress swamp where you can quack at the wood ducks and pick your fill of wild blackberries. BYO canoe.



**TOP DIGS
Sip iced tea on the breezy veranda of Oak Square Bed and Breakfast, in quiet Port Gibson, an 11-room Greek Revival mansion surrounded by 200-year-old oak trees. (Doubles start at $105; 800-729-0240)

**BEST EATS
Deep in the sticks, six miles east of the Trace in Montpelier, you’ll find AJ’s Bar & Grill, an old juke joint that serves up cold suds, hot music, and the best barbecued-pork sammies on the Trace. (662-492-0101)

**DON’T MISS
In Natchez, numb your road-weary bum at the Old South Winery by sampling sweet wines made from the local muscadine berry. Grab a bottle, walk west to the bluffs overlooking the mighty Mississippi, and raise a toast to Old Man River. (601-445-9924, )

**ON THE STEREO
Nothing but old Mississippi bluesmen: Asie Payton, Junior Kimbrough, R.L. Burnside, Robert Johnson, and T-Model Ford. If that gets too old, slide Dusty Springfield’s Dusty in Memphis into the CD player and get misty.

California

Going Cali

ROUTE: Gaviota State Park to Piedras Blancas, California
ROADS: California 1, U.S. 101
MILES: 120

Elsewhere on the Pacific Coast Highway, weekenders in minivans are fighting off nausea at every famous curve, traffic is crawling beside a string of crumbling cliffside mansions, and a busload of tourists has pulled off the road, point-and-shoots at the ready. Not here. On this forgotten, slightly inland stretch of California 1, a couple hours north of Los Angeles, you’ll zip north unhindered over a roller coaster of green hills. What this road lacks in vertiginous sea cliffs, it makes up for with a huge dose of the original California fantasy: eucalyptus-fringed ranches, enormous blue skies, and no-name vineyards. And it parallels a blissfully undeveloped stretch of coastline where a trip to the beach means a tiny detour down a seldom-traveled side road that’s managed to evade the last few centuries of progress.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Hiking in Gaviota State Park: The 6.4-mile Gaviota Peak Trail takes you to a 2,450-foot hilltop with views of the Pacific, the Channel Islands, and the road you’re about to embark on. On the way down, stop at the hot springs (well, warm springs) half a mile from the trailhead. Call the Channel Coast District Ranger Station for more information. (805-968-1033)
Surfing at Jalama Beach: Fourteen miles west of Lompoc lies the farthest point on the California coastline from any highway, Jalama Beach Park, where a summertime south swell delivers head-high beach and point breaks. Windsurfers take over when the standard 15- to 25-mile-per-hour breeze kicks up in the afternoon. Anglers surfcasting for rock cod can buy bait and tackle in the Jalama Beach Store, home of the deliciously sloppy Jalama Burger. (805-736-6316)
Wildlife Viewing at Piedras Blancas: At the Piedras Blancas elephant seal colony, on the coast north of San Simeon, dozens of stout-snouted, refrigerator-size pinnipeds loaf on the sand. Contact Friends of the Elephant Seal to learn more. (805-924-1628, )

**TOP DIGS
Every room at the Sycamore Mineral Springs Resort, in Avila Beach, comes with its own spring-fed outdoor hot tub. A paved bike path out the front door runs three miles west along a sycamore-shaded creek to a calm bay, where you can rent sit-on-top kayaks ($13-$18 per hour; Central Coast Kayaks, 805-773-3500, ). Paddle over a submarine kelp forest, home to extremely social—and harmless—harbor seals. (Doubles start at $153; 800-234-5831, )

**BEST EATS
An anomaly in the one-road, fish-‘n’-chips town of Cayucos, Hoppe’s Garden Bistro has a gourmet California menu that could hold its own in any metropolis. In the 1875 dining room or the English garden, nibble on lemon-cured halibut and mussel ceviche. (805-995-1006)

**DON’T MISS
After 28 years of villain-booing, hero-cheering, and heartfelt honky-tonking, the Great American Melodrama & Vaudeville, in Oceano, is still turning out six weekly performances. (Tickets, $13.50-$16.50; 805-489-2499, )

**ON THE STEREO
Mix two parts Best of Burt Bacharach with a shot of Dick Dale. Top off with the High Llamas, and The Long Goodbye, the latest from the Essex Green. Stir.

Nevada

The Loneliest Road

ROUTE: Baker to Lake Tahoe, Nevada
ROADS: U.S. 50
MILES: 412

“Highway 50 is all mine,” I tell myself, flooring the accelerator. “I own this road.” There’s no one around to prove me wrong. Venturing out into its great desolation like an explorer searching for a new route west, I’m adrift in the ephemera of a heavy road trip: Maps and spent coffee cups are piled around me as I trace the old Pony Express Trail across the Great Basin toward the Sierra Nevada. The unbroken sky and the rolling flux of mountain range and alluvial plain have a way of reworking one’s perspective. Out here, the world dissipates like a mirage on the hot tarmac, leaving only the open highway and the promise of discovery. “Yeah,” my 89-year-old great-uncle harumphed when I told him where I was going, “if you like tumbleweed.” I love tumbleweed—but that’s not the point. On U.S. 50, travelers can’t help but bear witness to their own passing. Like many others before me, I leave a pair of shoes dangling in a lone tree by the side of the road, my name spelled out in rocks on the pale earth nearby. These strange roadside shrines present an existential dilemma: Am I driving this road or is it driving me? Either way, this highway changes you.

**ADVENTURE STOPS
Hiking in Great Basin National Park: Stretch your legs in this 77,082-acre park just outside of Baker. The 2.8-mile round-trip hike on the Bristlecone Trail takes you to an ancient grove of the 4,000-year-old pines for which the trail is named. A mile farther, you can step onto Nevada’s only glacier, on 13,065-foot Wheeler Peak. (775-234-7331, )
Mountain Biking Austin Singletrack: The Pony Express traversed this area in 1860, and the ideal mail carrier was an “expert rider willing to risk death daily.” The same can be said for pedaling the 11.5-mile Cahill Canyon Run, a rocky single- and doubletrack loop outside of Austin that cuts through stands of juniper and aspen groves in the 11,000-foot Toiyabe Range. Pick up a trail guide at the Tyrannosaurus-Rix bike shop, in Austin (775-964-1212, ).
Sea Kayaking Lake Tahoe: U.S. 50 takes you to the edge of this huge 1,685-foot-deep lake, but why stop there? Rent a sea kayak at Kayak Tahoe, in South Lake Tahoe, California, and paddle the startlingly clear waters of Emerald Bay. (530-544-2011, )



**TOP DIGS
Pull over at the Bob Scott Campground, six miles east of Austin in the Toiyabe Range. Surrounded by piñon pines, this free campground with running water and flush toilets is a favorite way station for mountain bikers, who come to ride the steep ascents and technical downhills of the 8.5-mile Bob Scott Slide Trail. (775-964-2671)

**BEST EATS
In the old silver-mining boomtown of Eureka, grab a double bacon cheeseburger at DJ’s Diner, a fifties-style drive-in with booths, pool tables, and a jukebox. (775-237-5356)

**DON’T MISS
The Burning Man Festival, August 25-September 1, is a makeshift city of art installations and creative mayhem where 25,000 revelers congregate to burn “the Man” a 50-foot wooden effigy 77 miles north of Fallon, in the scorched Black Rock Desert. (415-863-5263, )

**ON THE STEREO
Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief for the head-stretching spaces; Neil Young’s Tonight’s the Night for when it gets really dark.

The post Montana appeared first on ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Online.

CRANK BROTHER’S TRIPLE TITANIUM EGG BEATER PEDALS
($400; 949-464-9916, ) feature four-sided entry, for no-brainer, no-look clip-ins, and a mud-shedding design that works even in the deepest peanut butter.

Though it features no crotch cutouts or gel padding, the FI’ZI:K ALIANTE ($150; 800-223-3207, ) is one of the most comfortable saddles around. The key is a bi-directional carbon-fiber-and-Kevlar shell, which creates a flexible center for a soft ride.

If the shoes fit, they must be CARNAC’s QUARTZ CYCLING CLEATS ($259; 800-654-8052, ), the first and only off-the-shelf cycling kicks available with a narrow, medium, or wide footprint. Ventilated neoprene-and-leather uppers and four carbon-fiber-reinforced straps hold them snug for happy hammering.

Wear CRAFT’s PRO SLEEVELESS CREW skintight baselayer ($28; 781-631-9544, ) under a jersey to stay, believe it or not, cooler on climbs—and, of course, warmer on the way down.

SYNTACE’s SCREW-ON MOTO GRIPZ ($20; 800-796-8223, ) stay put thanks to a screw-tight locking collar that keeps the ergonomically shaped grips from twisting loose at the worst possible time.

SIXSIXONE’s RAJI MOUNTAIN BIKE GLOVES ($25; 661-257-2756, ) put a premium on comfort and control rather than jouster’s-mitt protection. The padless palm’s smaller grip diameter translates into less forearm fatigue on long descents.

Cabin Fever

Beachwear for the seasonally affected

LEFT: Save your eyes with the 100 percent UV protection of CHOPPER sunglasses by SMITH SPORT OPTICS ($60; 800-635-4401, ).

A polyester polo that repels mosquitos? That’s right, EX OFFICIO’s BUGAWAY CRICKET shirt ($54; 800-833-0831) gives skeeters the heebie-jeebies.

The gusseted nylon FIJI boardshorts by PRANA ($49; 800-557-7262, ) won’t make you Kelly Slater, but they still feel nice.

Chart a course for sunnier weather with help from TIMEX’s HELIX compass/watch ($80; 800-448-4639, ), or at least figure out where you are right now.

BANSHEE V shoes by ADIDAS ($80; 800-289-2724, ) combine the support of a running shoe with the airy freedom of a sandal.

RIGHT: Morph from lowly turista to a supertourist with a silk CAMP SHIRT by Tommy Bahama ($95; 800-647-8688, ).

If the swanky yet tough INFANTRY watch from SWISS ARMY BY VICTORINOX ($195; 800-243-4057, ) is any indication of the sort of gear their troops wear, sign us up.

Leave the jeans at home and instead pack PRANA’s TITAN cotton-and-nylon travel pants ($58; 800-557-7262, ). Unlike denim, they’ll last longer than you.

Thankfully, ROOTS sandals by BITE FOOTWEAR ($40; 800-248-3465, ) don’t make that “snap-snap” sound heard from flip-flops. A nice feature when sneaking up on the wildlife.

Toyland

Who says tricks are for kids?

Paul Turner, inventor of the RockShox fork, took three years to perfect the aluminum MAVERICK ML7 full-suspension mountain bike ($2,695, frame only; $5,000 as pictured; 303-415-0370, ). The result is a rear-shock design that delivers the Holy Grail of bikedom: four plush inches of all-mountain travel meshed with supersnappy cross-country performance.

Pull that mountain bike out of the basement, pop off its wheels and drivetrain, and swap in the skis and foot pegs of WINTER X-BIKE’s SKI-MX conversion kit ($300; 866-766-2453, ). Voilà: your own ski bike! With more than 45 U.S. resorts now permitting ski bikes on their slopes, the opportunity to launch big air on a rig over a crash-landing pad of snow, not hard earth, is too tempting to ignore.

Yes, the TRIKKE.8 ($299; 877-487-4553, ) looks like a poor man’s answer to the Segway, ‘cept it’s way more fun. To move forward, lean into a turn and rock the steering column, using an S-motion. The resulting fluid ride feels surprisingly like skiing—down asphalt. The collapsible, 19-pound Trikke.8 rolls smooth and fast on polyurethane wheels and uses dual independent rear brakes, crucial for stopping at that inevitable intersection at the bottom of the hill.

Behold WILDERNESS SYSTEMS’ TEMPEST 170 kayak ($2,699; 800-311-7245, ), the first fully tricked-out touring boat that maneuvers in high seas like an America’s Cup rig. Its streamlined hull will float up to 310 pounds of man and gear, and it’s the first sea kayak to feature an infinitely adjustable seat (goodbye, leg cramps!) for a custom fit that locks in the thighs to help execute aggressive lean turns while surfing through a rocky break.

PREMIER SNOWSKATES’ founder, Andy Wolf, has taken his original, five-year-old design for a snow skateboard and produced the first-ever convertible snowdeck, the 2-4-1 BI-DECK SAFARI ($180; 800-305-4138, ). Its mini-ski attaches to the bottom of the board for a better edge hold while carving down groomers. Remove it and the Safari becomes a stable deck for sticking rail slides in the parking lot.

Get Me Outta Here

Winter fitness gear to aid your escape from the treadmill

A snug, attached hood and sleek, flat stitching make SUGOI’s MIDZERO SPEED SKIN ($80; 800-432-1335, ) feel painted onto your body, and that’s the point.

To prevent overheating, IBEX’s BREAKAWAY JACKET ($178; 800-773-9647, ) marries a Schoeller-and-wool blend over the chest (to keep wind and snow at bay) to a velvety-soft Merino wool back panel to prevent overheating.

Be seen, not hurt: PEARL IZUMI’s FLASH TIGHTS ($80; 800-328-8488, ) insulate you from 20 to 50 degrees, while reflective patches provide 360 degrees of please-don’t-hit-me visibility.

Add some motivational minutiae to the training log with SUUNTO’s new X6HR WRIST-TOP COMPUTER ($429; 800-543-9124, ). Features include rate of ascent/descent, altitude, compass bearings, barometric pressure, and heart-rate monitor.

Essentially a soft shell for your head, CLOUDVEIL’s FOUR SHADOW BEANIE ($35; 888-763-5969, ) maintains your noggin’s temperature level.

Much of your body heat escapes through your hands, so cover ’em up with MANZELLA’s WINDSTOPPER 3-SEASON GLOVE ($30; 800-645-6837, ).

Designed for downhill sports, SMARTWOOL’s mid-calf-length SNOW RIDER SOCKS ($17; 800-550-9665, ) also work as excellent lightweight winter-running or snowshoeing socks.

We found MONTRAIL’s EXCELERACE XCR SPEED HIKERS ($120; 800-647-0224, ) ideal for aggressive hoofing through winter crud. They keep slush from seeping inside, yet still let out the sweat.

With ULTIMATE DIRECTION’s PROFILE I.C.E. HYDRATION PACK ($50; 800-426-7229, ), there’s no excuse for yellow snow. The pack’s fully insulated 64-ounce bladder, hose, and bite valve keep fluids flowing to 20 degrees.

Pocket Power

Portables for your eyes and ears

With a water-resistant shell and shockproof playback, the NIKE PSA[128 MAX MP3 player ($200; 800-806-6453, ) is ready for hard knocks. Strap the 128 MB unit to your arm and secure the cord anywhere on your clothing by placing tiny magnets inside and outside the fabric. Then press play and revel in enough memory to hold the new Beck, the new Sigur Róte’s, and an oldie—say, Pink Floyd’s Meddle.

Don’t ask why automaker VOLVO is selling a portable FM RADIO ($56; ); just enjoy. The stylish alloy-encased transceiver uses a solar panel to make a simple idea—a slim, credit-card-size radio with earphones—even simpler: No batteries required.

SONY’s MZ-S1 MD PLAYER ($180; 877-865-7669, ) is a strong argument for minidisc over MP3. This Walkman has a skip-proof, water-resistant design, and connects to a PC through a speedy USB port—a CD’s worth of music takes two minutes or less to download. One $3 disc holds 80 minutes of crystal-clear tunes. And the single AA battery goes for 54 hours, way longer than you’ll last doing laps in Central Park.

There’s no need to drop a bundle on a navigation system. GARMIN has packed its basic GPS handheld with advanced features and, shockingly, knocked $60 off the price. Yup, the GPS 72 ($171; 800-800-1020, ) pulls in the same 12 satellites as $400 models do. With sensitivity to just under ten feet, 22°4’17″N, 159°46’67″W will be a sandy beach paradise, not a tent site out in the pounding surf.

The Winter Coat

Techno-marvels from the next wave of outerwear

FROM LEFT: Although the polyurethane-coated HELLY HANSON STORM JACKET ($120; 800-435-5901, ) can shut out a nor’easter, don’t mistake it for the stifling rain slicker of yore. The Storm’s coating feels like silk, not plastic, and the fuzzy feel inside says “soft shell”—not “crackly nylon windbreaker.”

The LIBERTY RIDGE ($240; 800-426-4840, ), REI’s latest breathable-waterproof gambit, uses a proprietary fabric, Diaplex, to turn up the ventilation when alpine pursuits get sweaty. As you grunt through the backcountry with the temperature above freezing, pores in the so-called phase-change fabric dilate to vent steam. Stop moving, or simply amble about outside on a zero-degree day, and the threads seal up to keep body warmth contained.

For those who worship at the altar of minimalist simplicity, consider that just three seams hold together the BURTON AK 3L CONTINUUM FUSE snowboard jacket ($400; 800-881-3138, ). Graciously, the designers didn’t throw function out the window: Two pockets, pit zips, and a generous powder skirt remain.

Thanks to a polyester fabric that looks like a landscape of pea-size egg cartons, the snug-fitting midlayer NIKE SPHERE ACG THERMAL JACKET ($115; 800-344-6453, ) stays toasty warm. The textured pods are shaped to retain Nike’s signature substance, air—more commonly known as your body’s heat—making this stylish layer an effective 21st-century replacement for tired, ubiquitous fleece.

It’s a Water-ful World

Surf dogs and river rats, rejoice

The first-ever virtually stitchless wet suit, O’NEILL’s PSYCHO ($329; 831-475-7500, ) means fewer holes for cold water to sneak in.

Stop wasting time. The AT3 ZEN fiberglass-and-nylon paddle ($259; 877-766-4757) uses an ergonomically correct shaft to maximize your stroke efficiency for eddy-hopping or trick-sticking.

Surf’s up. Are you? Let the RIP CURL ATS METHOD ($100; 800-842-2875, ) tide watch help. Its no-brainer, GameBoy-like graphics make it easy to keep an eye on the ebb and flow.

All you need to start river boarding—essentially bodyboarding down whitewater—is a RIPBOARD ($385; 303-904-8367, ) and serious chutzpah.

Protect your piggies on your next river trip with TEVA’s AVATOR booties ($85; 800-367-8382, ). It beats sloshing around in hiking boots or skimpy sandals.

CHURCHILL MAKAPUU FINS ($40; 888-942-6650, ) instantly supercharge your kick so you can actually enjoy bodysurfing, river boarding, and swimming with fishies.

Photo Finish

What synergy! Cameras to take pictures, books with pictures.

Elves and ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø‘s interns love the CANON ELPH Z3 ($260; 800-652-2666, ). The APS film format and 2x zoom lens give them just enough flexibility to take quick shots of the senior staffers engaged in holiday buffoonery.

Combine high-quality 7x binoculars with a .80-mega- pixel camera and you get PENTAX’s DIGIBINO DB 100 ($350; 800-877-0155, ), the best thing around for both watching and photographing that partridge in a pear tree.

With a top shutter speed of 1/4,000 second, a three-frames-per-second film drive, supersensitive light metering, and fast autofocus, the petite MINOLTA MAXXUM 5 ($677 with 28-80 mm lens; 800-808-4888) will take you from beginner to pro—however long that may take.

Say goodbye to film. Encased in tough alloy, the NIKON COOLPIX 5700 ($1,200; 800-645-6689, ) fits the hand beautifully. The camera’s Nikkor lens with 8x optical zoom can handle big-game telephoto shots or big-family wide-angle pics with 5.0 megapixels of digital convenience.

The OLYMPUS D-380 ($199; 888-553-4448, ) comes with 2.0 megapixels of image quality and a beautiful price tag. But don’t be misled: This digital camera is no shoddy closeout. Its 5x digital zoom and terrific image-editing software can help you turn a ski-resort kicker into a backcountry cliff. —Douglas Gantenbein

For a guaranteed case of career envy, consider the résumé of Wilfred Thesiger. The legendary British explorer and writer spent much of his life documenting the world’s farthest reaches, from Arabia’s Empty Quarter to the glaciers of the Hindu Kush. Now he delivers a feast of photography in his ninth book, A VANISHED WORLD ($35, W. W. Norton), a collection of striking black-and-white portraits of people and landscapes from a lifetime of adventure. —Katie Arnold

“To say we humans are obsessed with the sea is an understatement. We feel the tug of the medium’s amniotic power. . . nagging as a dream,” novelist Yann Queffelec writes in his introduction to THE SEA ($55, Abrams). Inspired by that elemental draw, and by the sorry condition of the world’s oceans, French marine photographer Philip Plisson’s 400 color photographs—moody images of ink-blue breakwaters and violet sunsets—dramatically chronicle the sea’s powerful emotional undertow. —Christian Nardi

Doing for trout what David Sibley did for birds in 2000’s best-selling The Sibley Guide to Birds, the definitive new TROUT AND SALMON OF NORTH AMERICA ($40, The Free Press) brings together the exquisite colored-pencil drawings of acclaimed fish illustrator Joseph Tomelleri and the knowledge of conservation expert Robert Behnke. This book should keep your favorite fisherman happily occupied until spring.
—C. N.

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THE SOUTHERN Ocean has long been the sailor’s obsession. Its first true promoter, 18th-century explorer Captain James Cook, could hardly fail to be inspired by its wrath. Through the years the tempestuous body of water became infamous for treating mercilessly the ships and men who dared venture into it, a place associated more with survival than sport. In the 1960s, the first proposals to race sailboats through this nether region of marauding weather bombs and tumbling liquid mountains were derided by many as invitations to a mass drowning. Yet today the Southern Ocean is racing’s most hallowed passage, luring sailors with the promise of wild surfing runs, dramatic seascapes, and uncommon isolation. “It’s just the best sailing you can do anywhere on the planet,” says Paul Cayard, an America’s Cup sailor and inshore racer who got his first taste of the stormy seas during the 1997­1998 Whitbread Round the World Race. “Doing a complete round-the-world race with all the Southern Ocean parts is the ultimate test of seamanship.”


Modern navigation and weather-forecasting technology, along with lightning-quick boat designs, have tempered the raw fear of sailors, who still max out the adrenaline. So it should come as no surprise that the watery proving ground south of the 40th parallel is currently in the midst of the greatest sustained racing assault in history.
It began last November as 24 Vendée Globe racers set out to solo from France nonstop around the world in high-powered 50- to 60-foot monohulls; 19 would go on to slug it out over the more than 7,800 miles of heaving water between the Cape of Good Hope and the treacherous sentinel of Cape Horn. On the eve of the new year, six fully crewed maxi-catamarans of The Race left Barcelona to lap up their wakes at mind-boggling speeds that topped out at more than 45 miles per hour. And this September, seven or more monohulls of the Volvo Ocean Race (née Whitbread) will depart Southampton, England,to trace roughly the same route. “In 1968 we did not know it was possible,” says Britain’s Sir Robin Knox-Johnston, who in that year became the first sailor ever to circumnavigate via the Southern Ocean without stopping for assistance (it took him 313 days). “Nowadays the pressure is from very close competition,” says Knox-Johnston. “The sailors these days are the sharp end of a team, like a racing-car driver.”


Unfortunately, sailors on the sharp end still die. In the 1996­1997 Vendée Globe, Canadian Gerry Roufs was swallowed by the seas on the approach to Cape Horn, while three of his rivals were lucky to escape overturned boats with their lives. So far this year the only casualties have been shattered records. On February 10, Vendée Globe winner Michel Desjoyeaux, a 35-year-old French sailor, triumphed over the largest and most competitive Vendée fleet in four runnings with a circumnavigation that took just 93 days, 4 hours, and beat the previous monohull record by almost two weeks. Just one day later, Britain’s Ellen MacArthur, a 25-year-oldwunderkind sailing her first Vendée, posted the second-fastest time in history. Then, on March 3, Club Med, a 110-foot catamaran co-skippered by Kiwi Grant Dalton (with six round-the-world races to his credit) won the inaugural edition of The Race in just 62 days, seven hours, almost nine days faster than any previous nonstop circumnavigation.


Speed, in fact, has become a legitimate Southern Ocean danger. American skipper Cam Lewis, a notorious hard-charger, got religion 19 days into The Race when his maxi-cat Team ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø speared a wave at around 30 knots. The impact smacked the big boat to a sudden stop, inflicting severe neck and back injuries on two crewmen (uninjured co-navigator Larry Rosenfeld later compared the experience to a bus crash). The Team ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø crew made repairs in Cape Town and eventually completed the circumnavigation–20 days, 12 hours behind Club Med. Yves Parlier, a 40-year-old Vendée Globe competitor, received a similar lesson in prudent seamanship, but countered with the sort of heroic gesture that the Southern Ocean seems to inspire. Pushing too hard while trying to retake the lead from Desjoyeaux, Parlier’s mast crumpled to the deck when a squall hit his Aquitaine Innovations off Australia. At the time, Parlier had 7,000 miles of Southern Ocean in front of him, and 14,500 miles to the finish in France. Instead of withdrawing, Parlier coolly jury-rigged a 60-foot mast and sailed on, fishing and eating seaweed to ward off starvation during a circumnavigation that eventually kept him at sea more than 126 days. “What Yves has done is bigger than the race,” said Philippe Jeantot, founder of the Vendée. “For me he has reached back to the original spirit of the race, which was adventure.” 

Nowhere Fast

Competitive indoor rowing gains a curious cult following

“WHERE’S maintenance?” a frantic volunteer yells over the jetlike whirr of 100 athletes zipping back and forth on stationary rowing ergometers inside Boston’s Reggie Lewis Athletic Center.”I’ve got piles of puke on 43 and 67!”


Victory here at the World Indoor Rowing Championships is a digital affair; each of the winners pulls hard enough to advance his or her computer-icon boat the equivalent of 2,000 meters and across a TV-screen finish line. Yet competitors pay for their virtual boat speed in decidedly human terms, with lactic-acid burn, carbon lungs, and yes, vomit, soaked up as necessary with cat litter carried about in ten-quart buckets labeled “Barf Control.”
Curiously, many here row only indoors. They may never know the creak of a straining oar, the sound of water dripping off a blade as it glides back for the next stroke, or the sweet swing of a crew in synch, but this new breed of erg-centric oarsmen and -women is nevertheless swelling the ranks of this Boston event, and more than 40 indoor regattas nationwide. In 1982, just 60 athletes, mostly Bostonians, participated in what was then called the C.R.A.S.H.-B Sprints. This February’s showdown pulled in 1,800 rowers, from nations as far afield as Turkey. Similar events will take place next winter in Portugal, Taiwan, and Sweden.


All of this spells a corporate fairy tale for Morrisville, Vermont­based Concept2, builders of the infernal machines. The firm reports double-digit sales growth for 20 of its 25 years in business. Yet even devotees scratch their heads over the sport’s inexplicable appeal. The championships “started out as a joke,” says Concept2 indoor race coordinator Robert Brody. “Now there are people who train for this all year round.” With evident sarcasm, he adds, “C’mon, get a life!” 

View from the Summit: Blurry

Alpinists laud the convenience of laser vision correction, but is there a price to pay?

MYOPIC MOUNTAINEERS itching to ditch their contact lenses or prescription goggles for laser vision correction might want to wait before emptying their piggy banks. A study in the March edition of the journal Ophthalmology suggests prolonged exposure to lack of oxygen at high altitudes may cause temporary blurring of distance vision for LASIK patients who are “involved in high altitude activities for extended periods, such as mountain climbers [and] skiers.” Researchers, who strapped airtight goggles onto 20 formerly nearsighted subjects and simulated sea level in one eye and drained the oxygen from the other, noted a gradual swelling in the hypoxic eyes that resulted in a mild distortion of distance vision.


Mark Nelson, one of the study’s coauthors, ballparks the shift from 20/20 vision to 20/80 at its worst. Even so, Geoff Tabin, an ophthalmologist who completed the Seven Summits in 1990, believes the benefits of the popular procedure (see “The Fit List”) still outweigh the risks of iced-up contacts or foggy goggles. Rich Emmett, a Louisville, Kentucky, attorney who went under the beam in April 2000, agrees. While summiting Denali last June, he experienced a visual near-whiteout, although his sight soon recovered. “Sure, it’s a trade-off,” says Emmett, “But to be able to see the vistas from the top of Denali—I wouldn’t trade that for nothin’.”  

Knobby Fires

Is there a link between a spate of Phoenix arson attacks and mountain bikers’ passion for local singletrack?

HIGH ABOVE downtown Phoenix, Doug Thompson and Brian Perkins are out thrashing some Sunday-afternoon singletrack. The two riders fling their mountain bikes over the crest of a ridge, skirt a bend littered with gravel—and stop dead up against an orange fence plastered with signs that threaten, “Do Not Enter,” “Private Land,” and “No Trespassing.”


It’s frustrating. Open to the public just a few weeks earlier, this spur of Trail 100 is now completely off-limits. But what Thompson and Perkins find truly galling lies just beyond the barrier that separates the Phoenix Mountains Preserve from the tendrils of the surrounding city. The hillside here has been bulldozed back to make room for the foundation of a luxury home. Next to this, an empty lot awaits another high-end hacienda. And behind that is a third site, a nearly complete mansion studded with extravagant features—including a “garage mahal,” real-estate parlance for a carport that holds five vehicles—intended to seduce the cash-flush newcomers who helped make Phoenix the nation’s second-fastest-growing city in the 1990s.
Not that Thompson and Perkins are in any position to cry foul. Both are very profitably piggybacking on the city’s rapid expansion—Thompson, 41, designs fiber-optic networks for a large telecommunications company, while Perkins is a successful architectural designer. “I don’t want to be a hypocrite,” says Perkins, 35, all too aware of the irony of his own resentment. “But we never even got to ride this trail. That really sucks.”


APPARENTLY, others agree. Last December, someone set fire to a house being built on the site, burning it to the ground. It was the eighth in a string of 11 arson attacks in Phoenix and neighboring Scottsdale since January 1998, all of which targeted luxury homes under construction adjacent to recreational wilderness. Despite an $88,000 bounty for information, partly posted by area homeowners, an investigative task force—run by at least six government agencies including the FBI—has failed to generate a single arrest. But on January 25, local reporter James Hibberd produced an extraordinary scoop for the New Times, the city’s weekly alternative paper, when a man who claimed responsibility for the fires allowed Hibberd to interview him in a public park.


The source declined to give his name, but described himself as a management professional working in downtown Phoenix. He established his legitimacy by describing two notes that he had left behind at fire sites—letters that the investigators had not made public. He said he belongs to a four-person group called the Coalition to Save the Preserves, and he explained that he and his cohorts had scouted out construction sites during mountain-biking excursions and then returned in the middle of the night to set them on fire. Why? “Because they’re encroaching on hiking and biking trails,” he told Hibberd, adding, “They’re an obnoxious reminder that there is no growth plan.”


On this latter point, the arsonist may have drawn approving nods from groups currently fighting a losing grassroots battle against the explosion of subdivisions, parking lots, and golf courses that have gobbled up the Sonoran Desert around Phoenix at the rate of an acre an hour for the past decade. Last June, a coalition of environmental organizations—including the Sierra Club—filed a citizens’ ballot initiative that would have set up boundaries around cities all over the state, beyond which development could not occur—a scheme inspired by a highly successful growth-control plan already in place in Portland, Oregon. When polls indicated that 68 percent of the public supported the proposal, an alliance of developers, builders’ groups, and pro-growth city and state politicians launched a media campaign to convince voters that this “Sierra Club Secret Initiative” would rob Phoenix of 200,000 jobs and “ruin Arizona’s economy.” On November 7, the measure was defeated.


Meanwhile, the New Times story created a firestorm of its own, enraging law enforcement groups, which cut off all media interviews and unsuccessfully pursued court-ordered access to Hibberd’s notes. The FBI is not likely to ease up anytime soon—the Bureau badly needs a success story. In the past year, ecoterrorists have destroyed bioengineered crops in Oregon, while the radical Earth Liberation Front launched still unsolved arson attacks against sprawl in Indiana, Colorado, and New York. But if the stated motives of the CSP are genuine, the Phoenix firebugs may have launched something altogether new: America’s first wave of recreational ecoterrorism—felony acts in the name of protecting trails.


AS THIS article went to press, the playgrounds in and around Phoenix were quiet. No homes had been burned since January, no arrests had been made, and the trail networks in the preserve remained under round-the-clock police surveillance by helicopters and plainclothes cops. Amid the jittery stalemate, more than two dozen Phoenix bikers approached by ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø on the trails in March denounced the arsonists’ tactics as misguided, but expressed sympathy with the frustrations that provoked these crimes. And yet, in voicing such views, some cyclists unwittingly revealed that they are as dependent upon development as anyone else.


“Developers are destroying the most beautiful parts of the desert,” says Josh Maule, 22, who’s out for a ride with several friends. “I hope they all burn in hell!”


“Dude,” interrupts Josh’s friend, Scott Keller, 20. “Isn’t your dad. . . a developer?”


“No way!” replies Josh. “Well, I mean, he sort of is. He’s working on his first million-dollar project right now. He does custom homes—but he isn’t putting up, like, 50 houses a day in the desert.”


Josh’s defense gets lost amid roars of laughter. The riders pick up their bikes, click into their pedals, and barnstorm up the trail.  

Uncivil Disobedience

A brief history of environmentally motivated monkeywrenching

Early- to mid-1970s Arizona’s “Eco-Raiders,” Minnesota’s “Bolt Weevils,” and Chicago’s lone saboteur “The Fox” vandalize corporate and industrial sites, give birth to modern ecotage.


1975 Edward Abbey’s The Monkey Wrench Gang romanticizes ecoterrorism.
1980 Earth First! founded. Dave Foreman and four fellow eco-radicals inaugurate a decadelong campaign of civil disobedience and monkeywrenching.


1985 Ecodefense!, Foreman’s how-to manual, offers tips on tree spiking, power-line slicing.


1987 Cloverdale, California: The spike hits the saw. A 23-year-old mill worker is hospitalized with facial wounds when his blade shatters upon hitting a 60-penny nail embedded in a redwood.


1989 FBI arrests Foreman for Arizona ecotage. Charges are eventually dropped.


October 1996 Detroit, Oregon: Earth Liberation Front debuts, torching Forest Service truck. ELF allies with animal-rights group Animal Liberation Front soon after.


October 1998 Vail, Colorado: Predawn arson attack on Vail ski resort turns $12 million lodge to charcoal. ELF claims responsibility.


December 1999 Monmouth, Oregon: $1 million fire in Boise Cascade office claimed by ELF.


December 1999 Lansing, Michigan: ELF widens purview to include genetic engineering, torches office in MSU agriculture building.


January 2000 Bloomington, Indiana: ELF burns house under construction. Mandate widens to target sprawl.


Nov.­Dec. 2000 ELF roasts houses in Niwot, Colorado, and Long Island, New York.


February 2001 Visalia, California: ELF claims arson of cotton gin to protest genetically altered cotton.  

Loot

ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Essentials, To Go

The new Volo, designed by the Italian scuba maestros at Mares, is the Maserati of diving fins. The flipper’s pivoting blades and channeled deck were designed to allow you to kick more efficiently than with traditional fins, which means you use less energy while ripping past your flailing friends. A slider catch lets you adjust strap tension with one finger, plus they’re more stylish than a pair of Bruno Maglis. $200 (booties required);

Guide: Leishmaniasis, African trypanosomiasis—the world is full of nasty bugs. But The Rough Guide to Travel Health—a thorough country-by-country compendium of parasitic, viral, and bacterial beasties—may help you fend them off. $8;
CD-ROM: It took two summers of fieldwork to create The Colorado Trail, iGage’s new CD-ROM atlas of the famed 487-mile route from Denver to Durango. Over 100 high-resolution maps–featuring 466,000 GPS-plotted trail points–make this the most accurate rendering of the CT ever. $40;
Gear: With nine hours of halogen light and a 12-hour backup LED, Black Diamond’s new 8.5-ounce Spaceshot headlamp could save your bacon should your easy day hike unexpectedly morph into a pitch-black overnighter. $60;

Video: You, too, can nail a wheelie drop. Or at least you can pull a graceful endo trying, having first studied West Coast Style-Mountain Biking, the first vid from Vancouver’s West Coast School of Mountain Biking. Watch, rewind, repeat. $17;

Guide: Surprisingly, over two-thirds of Japan is mountainous terrain, and Lonely Planet’s Hiking in Japan will help get you out there into the (hopefully) Pokémon-free zone. Choose from 70 day hikes and backpacking trips in the island nation’s unspoiled backcountry—including climbs in the Chubu region’s South Alps. $20;

CD: (not pictured) Get in the mood for your next exotic destination with Putumayo World Music’s latest compilation, Gardens of Eden. This musical tribute to the last pristine places on earth includes upbeat selections from Papua New Guinea, Madagascar, Tibet, and other Shangri-las. $16;

Dot.gone

Tracking the short, sad life of online outdoor retailers

THIS WAS THE dream: The Web would be the ultimate gear shop. It seemed like a good idea two years ago, when a glut of investment cash encouraged entrepreneurs to launch scores of Web-based “e-tailers”–such as Gear.com, Altrec.com, and PlanetOutdoors.com. Many of these businesses spent heavily on advertising only to find their URLs forgotten by would-be customers overwhelmed with choices and longing to actually see, feel, and try on the goods they would trust with their very lives.

As dotcom losses mounted, investor confidence finally began to falter, and last fall the money evaporated like a Serengeti watering hole. It wasn't just swag sites, either. Webcaster Quokka.com called it quits at press time in mid-April, canning all but a handful of its remaining 220 staff. As the company reportedly prepared a bankruptcy filing, Nasdaq suspended trading of its stock (from a one-time high of $19, shares had dipped to 23 cents). Survivors remain, but the damage has been fast and furious. Below, a partial list of casualties, and an outlook for those still clicking along.
Gear.com
Launched: October 1998
Brands sold: Helly Hansen, Dynastar, Asolo, Dunlop, Wilson
Life span: 25 months

June 2000 Gear.com dumps 20 people.

July 2000 Gear.com announces it has raised $12 million from venture capitalists, and says it will spend the dough to expand its product offerings to more than 250,000 items.

Septeber 2000 The firm unloads another 22 people, slicing its original staff in half.

November 2000 Web wholesaler Overstock.com purchases Gear.com's $14 million inventory and folds it into its sporting-goods department. Gear.com employees receive a one-month bonus if they stay at Overstock through Christmas season.

PlanetOutdoors.com
Launched: August 1999
Brands sold: Patagonia, Black Diamond, The North Face
Life span: 12 months

June 2000 Company launches spinoff Womenoutdoors.com site. Weeks later, it cans 22 of 100 staffers.

MVP.com
Launched: January 2000
Brands sold: Adidas, New Balance, Shimano, Oakley
Life span: 12 months

December 1999 MVP.com seals a ten-year, $120 million marketing deal with SportsLine, allowing MVP to link to SportsLine's Web pages.
January 2000 MVP.com kicks off a $50 million marketing plan starring football legend John Elway and pros Michael Jordan and Wayne Gretzky.
August 2000 MVP.com buys PlanetOutdoors.com for undisclosed sum.
November 2000 MVP.com misses a $5 million payment owed to SportsLine. SportsLine dumps MVP.
December 2000 MVP.com cuts its staff in half, slashing 79 jobs.
January 2001 MVP.com unloads its domain names and customer database to SportsLine and turfs 36 staffers.

Fogdog.com
Launched: November 1998
Brands sold: Callaway, Nike, Columbia, Converse, K-Swiss
Life span: 25 months

May 2000 FogDog chairman Brett Allsop resigns. The firm cites “market conditions.”
July 2000 FogDog president Tim Joyce resigns his reported $280,000-per-year position, citing personal reasons.
July 2000 The stock sinks below a dollar.
October 2000 The company reports losses of $8.5 million on revenues of $5.9 million. Stock sinks to 23 cents. Fogdog dismisses 20 staffers.
December 2000 FogDog cries uncle and sells itself to Globalsports.com—which operates Web sites for sports retailers—for $38.4 million. Almost all of FogDog.com's 140 employees get sacked, save 25 engineers.

Altrec.com
Launched: March 1999
Brands sold: Nike, Marmot, The North Face, Patagonia, Mountainsmith
Life span: 27 months and counting

April 2000 Atlanta-based Cox Interactive Media sells Greatoutdoors.com to Altrec.com for $10.5 million. The deal doubles Altrec.com's traffic.
June 2000 Altrec.com teams with National Geographic to create Ontheamericantrail.com, a site offering virtual tours of the nation's most famous trails.
June 2000 Altrec.com inks agreement with Virtuoso.com, a network of 258 travel agencies.
October 2000 Gomez, a Web-site ratings firm, calls Altrec.com the number-one outdoor-enthusiast site on the Net.
November 2000 After six months on the job, Altrec president John Wyatt resigns–following 16 employees dismissed since September.
January 2001 As one of the last gear sites left standing, Altrec expects to be in the black by year-end. Development VP Shannon Stowell: “We're really pleased with how the market has shaken out.” No kidding.  

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