BEST ASHRAM
Sri Aurobindo/Auroville, Pondicherry
Throw a mango anywhere in India—the birthplace of yoga—and you’ll hit an ashram. Officially designated as a place for spiritual striving, these retreat centers range from spare mountain meditation chambers to urban yoga Disneylands. There’s no better representation of ashram life, however, than Auroville, a humming township near the former French colony of Pondicherry, in tropical Tamil Nadu. Spread out along the warm Bay of Bengal, the eight-square-mile town is being built by followers of the famous guru Sri Aurobindo and his French partner, a woman known as “the Mother.” The Aurovillians have constructed an internationally populated utopia of organic farms, holistic hospitals, arts-and-crafts centers, and hatha yoga instruction.

Ease into your tour of all things Auroville with sunrise “integral” yoga—more meditative than stretching—at the original Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry. Catch a hearty ayurvedic meal of rice idlis, coconut chutney, and banana-flower sambar at the Solar Kitchen (run partly by solar energy) and get the best yoga instruction in the state at the Quiet Healing Centre. Finally, try a session on the “sound bed”: an oversize, Indian-style guitar that you lie inside while it’s played—like an iPod for your soul. DETAILS: Accommodations, $35–$50;

Best Pilgrimage

Varanasi

At Manikarnika Ghat, I became so mesmerized watching the fires devouring the human bodies that I was startled when a vagabond approached: “Sir, 150 dead are cremated here every day, and they become enlightened.” Barefoot workers were preparing the pyres, sprinkling incense on the dead, setting them alight. “Sir, you like charas?” he asked, meaning hashish.

Apparently Lord Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction, is an avid marijuana user, so hashish is widely tolerated in India. But I was in town for more temporal allures: to witness some of the millions of pilgrims who pour annually into this 3,000-year-old city. Hindus come to cleanse themselves of sin in the sacred Ganges River. Better still is the prospect of dying in the river, for the City of Light is doubly holy as the only place on the planet where all five elements converge: water, wind, sky, earth, and the “eternal fire” that has been kept lit for 2,000 years. According to Hindu beliefs, passing away in these waters leads to liberation from the cycle of reincarnation.

After dinner on the rooftop restaurant at Palace on the Ganges, a hotel outside the old town, I returned to the fray mid-evening. The pilgrims—women in peacock-colored saris, sadhus in steel chastity belts, the old and the sick yearning for death—cut a timeless scene among the riverfront assembly. Mantras blared from temple loudspeakers, and the streets were choked by homeless pilgrims, aggressive touts, morose cows, and cycle rickshaws. Elsewhere I would have felt overwhelmed by the clamor. But here I was unwittingly infused with the city’s energy of exultation—part of the reason, no doubt, that a trip to India feels incomplete without a visit to Varanasi. DETAILS: Doubles at Palace on the Ganges from $70; 011-91-542-2315050

Best Bike Tour

Leh to Manali, Ladakh

Ladak

Ladak

I mountain-bike for the downhill, which is why I was thrilled when I heard about riding in the Himalayas: 20-plus-mile descents. So I headed for India’s northwestern state of Ladakh, home to some of the most remote bike touring—and biggest downhills—in the world.

At 11,500 feet, the town of Leh—where I met up with a dozen other cyclists on a tour with Aspen-based outfitter KE ºÚÁϳԹÏÍø Travel—sits over 1,300 feet above the highest incorporated town in the United States (Leadville, Colorado). In three weeks, we would cross 480 miles and four high-mountain passes, including two above 17,000 feet, in a traverse to the border town of Manali. First up was the Khardung La, the highest motorable pass in the world. We pedaled our way up the switchbacks and eventually came to a greasy sign: HIGHEST ROAD IN THE WORLD, HT. 18,380ft.—YOU CAN HAVE DIALOGUE WITH GOD. The only dialogue I was having was internal: What were you thinking? I was enduring altitude headaches, nausea, and total fatigue. But that all seemed trivial compared with the scenery. We spun from wide-open desert to high-alpine vistas with receding glaciers and rocky moraines. We passed fantastically eroded mud-and-rock sculptures and cycled along vibrant turquoise rivers. At one point, we zipped through 22 hairpin turns on tight switchbacks, descending more than 10,000 feet—all before lunch!

On our final day, atop a pass overlooking the Kulu Valley in Himachal Pradesh, we ate cheese sandwiches and boiled potatoes with the Karakoram at our feet. Then one last thrill: We mounted our bikes and flew back down to Manali, a final zinging descent of more than 20 miles. DETAILS: Trips cost $2,795, departing in July; 800-497-9675,

Best Icon

Taj Mahal, Agra

I wanted to skip the Taj Mahal—India, with its bustling chaos of people, animals, cultures, and foods, is one enormous, living monument, so why bother with an overcrowded building? On the insistent urging of some fellow travelers, however, my partner, Jen, and I changed our itinerary and veered for Agra.

Passing through the pink sandstone entry gates, all our misgivings evaporated: Cliché or not, the Taj Mahal must be seen. Every admiring accolade you’ve read about the Taj—the perfect symmetry of the structure; the way the marble glows rose at dawn and saffron at sunset; the semiprecious-stone inlay fitted so tightly that the seams are imperceptible—it’s all true. Equally inspiring is the story behind the structure: Shah Jahan, crowned king of the Mughals in 1628, at the height of the empire, built the Taj as a final resting place and monument for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, at her deathbed behest. And since the Taj got a face-lift in 2002—with the removal of decades-old stains and grime—it is as sparkly and impressive as ever.

Jen and I had to wait to take it all in. The moment we stepped onto the Taj’s marble platform, a young Indian family approached and asked to take our photo—with them in the picture. Slightly uneasy, we agreed. After a moment, another family approached, then another, until a queue of enthusiastic Indians had formed. A guide later explained that, among some rural Indians, bringing home glossies of themselves with their “Western friends” gives them village bragging rights. One uninhibited group placed Jen and me amid the clan of 16, holding the baby, naturally; seconds before the flash went off, a hand appeared from behind me and pinched my smiling cheek. To this day, I keep a copy of the photo, a souvenir nearly as memorable as the Taj itself.

Best Safari

Kaziranga National Park, Assam

Kaziranga National Park

Kaziranga National Park Rhino

My sweetheart and I had been chasing curves on National Highway 37, in the remote northeastern state of Assam, for five hours when we spotted the first elephant-crossing sign on the edge of Kaziranga National Park. As if on cue, our driver swerved to an overlook, revealing a herd of Indian elephants feasting on a 12-foot-tall stand of elephant grass. It was an auspicious first encounter with the famed megafauna of Kaziranga.

Located on the banks of the Brahmaputra River, the swampy 106,000-acre Kaziranga National Park is home not only to wild tuskers but also to globally threatened species like the majestic Bengal tiger and the Indian one-horned rhino. There is no better place on earth to see the myopic, armor-skinned, minivan-size beasts Marco Polo allegedly mistook for unicorns. In fact, the preserve’s 1,650 rhinos represent two-thirds of the species’s global population.

Touring the park by jeep, not only did we encounter rhinos and elephant herds; we crossed paths with water buffalo and even monitor lizards. On day two of our tour, an outwardly docile ten-foot-long tiger emerged and lay insouciantly on the road. That evening, we relived our sightings over cocktails at a rustic eco-lodge near the park boundary, Wild Grass Resort, which hosted Monty Python alum and world traveler Michael Palin during his research for the 2004 BBC series Himalaya. Owner Manju Barua, an outspoken conservationist, has banned TV at the lodge. But with each day unfolding like an episode of Wild Kingdom, you won’t miss it. DETAILS: Doubles from $60; 011-91-3776-2662085,

Best Trek

Darma Valley, Uttaranchal

Uttaranchal mountains

Uttaranchal mountains

Given the civil war festering in nearby Nepal, and the tourists crowding India’s trekking routes in Ladakh and Sikkim as a result, I opted for a trip in the little-known Darma Valley. Sitting above 10,000 feet, and bounded by Nepalese peaks to the east and the Tibetan Plateau to the north, the valley is one of the subcontinent’s last unexplored trekking alternatives.

It’s also India’s equivalent to Idaho—and home to a population of pastoral mountain people. For centuries, the families of the Darma Valley have made a summer migration from the remote river town of Dharchula to their slate-roofed Himalayan valley homes, where they herd sheep and farm potatoes, buckwheat, and other grains. When the work is done, the villagers make sacrifices to the gods, play music, and toss back rice wine and a tangy wheat beer. We timed our trip to coincide with the festivities.

After the 250-mile bus ride from Delhi, we faced a lung-busting 30 miles of hiking beneath the needle-sharp peaks of the Panchachuli Range, all five over 20,000 feet, to the turnaround at Panchachuli Glacier. From there, we could either double back down the valley or continue over snowy passes: An eastern circuit flanks the holy 22,028-foot peak of Kailas, while the western valleys edge past 25,645-foot Nanda Devi, where British climbing stars Eric Shipton and Bill Tilman staked their claim to fame in 1934. Ill prepared for glacier travel, we turned back at the Stone Age village of Sipu, at 11,280 feet one of the highest Darma settlements, content to tap the local brew. DETAILS: Book May–June or September–November; KMVN outfitter can arrange a seven-day trip for $81; 011-91-5942-236356,

Best Palace Hotel

Fort Tiracol, Goa

The classic 18th-century grand palaces of Rajasthan get all the glory, but a newer noteworthy alternative is Goa’s historic Fort Tiracol, on the Arabian Sea, where Santa Fe styling meets South Indian hospitality. Set on the headlands where the Tiracol River meets the sea, the 16th-century former Portuguese fort was stylishly revamped in 2002 by Hari Ajwani, a Bombay-bred heritage hotelier, and his wife, German stylist Claudia Derian. Built around a small courtyard, the property has seven airy rooms with rustic wood and wrought-iron furnishings, while the vast poured-concrete bathrooms offer possibly the most luxurious toileting experience on the subcontinent. To wit, picture windows overlook the ocean, while the bathrooms themselves are as large as bedrooms in many modern hotels across India.

The property is a good base for exploring the party-hearty beaches of northern Goa. But if you’re sick of rubbing elbows with the hordes of sunbathers, Tiracol also has its very own secluded option: On Querim Beach, a private white-sand cove ringed by palm trees, my travel companion Christina and I had only sea turtles for company. But Goa isn’t all about chilling. Rent a scooter and explore the winding roads of Maharashtra or head to Arambol and try paragliding off the bluffs. Don’t miss the madhouse flea market each Wednesday at Anjuna, which draws merchants selling silk, crafts, and silver jewelry.

After a trip to the market, Christina and I returned to the upstairs lounge at Fort Tiracol, where we snacked on spicy grilled seafood and basked like royalty before another spectacular Arabian Sea sunset. Tiracol hasn’t yet garnered the notoriety of the palaces of the north—and good thing. DETAILS: Doubles from $140, including full board; best season is October–May; 011-91-2236-227631, nilaya@sancharnet.in

Best Hill Station

Darjeeling, West Bengal

Buddhist prayer flags snap in the breeze, while jagged Himalayan peaks play hide-and-seek in the cloudy distance. It’s my second day in Darjeeling, a quintessential South Asian hill station. The colonial British and their Indian counterparts once escaped the scorching summer temps on the plains by heading for this most famous of summer capitals. These days, travelers find respite in these cool hills.

Like generations of explorers, I’ve come to bag a few nearby peaks. First stop is the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, once presided over by the late Everest pioneer Tenzing Norgay, which offers outdoor courses (and has a museum stuffed with alpinism memorabilia). Hoping to follow in Norgay’s bootsteps, I I book a multiday trek and set off into the nearby hills.

Even for those without high-altitude designs, Darjeeling is a worthwhile stopover. The town has a flavor as distinct as the tea grown on its outskirts, seasoned not just by Raj-era architecture, bakeries, and antique shops but also by a heady dose of Himalayan cultures—Nepal, Bhutan, and Sikkim are all next door. In town, the Hotel Windamere, a 19th-century Heritage Hotel overlooking Chowrasta Square, provides local color and great views. DETAILS: Doubles from $145, with full board; 011-91-354-2254041, .

Best River

Brahmaputra, Arunachal Pradesh

River Boat

River Boat

In 2002, Vaibhav Kala, owner of Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs, hatched an audacious plan to offer the first-ever commercial expedition down the 110-mile upper stretch of the Brahmaputra, which flows from Tibet through Arunachal Pradesh, in far northeastern India. Locally known as the Siang, the Class IV+ Brahmaputra rivals the Grand Canyon when it comes to whitewater, with the added attraction of exotic tribes that rarely see outsiders. Today, with other companies looking to follow Aquaterra’s lead, the Brahmaputra float is on the verge of becoming India’s splashiest big-water adventure.

Reaching the put-in remains a challenge unto itself, requiring a 50-mile upstream motorboat transfer from Dibrugarh, followed by a two-day jeep ride into the jungle of Arunachal Pradesh from neighboring Assam. Up next are seven days of wilderness paddling, with the verdant scenery punctuated by huge Class III–IV+ rapids on a scale more reminiscent of The Perfect Storm than The River Wild. DETAILS: For now, Aquaterra offers the only set departures on the Brahmaputra; November 24–December 8; kayaking from $3,100, rafting from $3,600; 011-91-11-29212641,

Best Festival

Pushkar Camel Fair, Rajasthan

You haven’t lived until you’ve communed with camels, which is why you can’t miss the Pushkar Camel Fair, a mind-blowingly biblical convergence of camels, camel traders, mystics, and musicians, all camped out in Rajasthan’s Thar Desert. For centuries, during the month of Kartik (the eighth lunar month of the Hindu calendar, falling roughly around October and November on the Gregorian calendar), Rajasthan’s camel herders have trekked to the town of Pushkar in time for the full moon. This year’s fair (November 2–5) will bring about 200,000 people and 50,000 camels to the desert bash.

At the fair you’ll find a sea of khaki-brown sand dunes pitched with dung-colored tents and entire families camped out: Hindu men in turbans, Rajasthani tribal women in color-drenched skirts and saris, kids hawking everything from camel bells to camel-cart rides. You’ll also find camels—and lots of them: babies with spindly legs and big, goofy heads; teenage camels; worn-out camels; camels standing; camels sleeping; camels adorned with braids, tassels, and tattoos. You can ride camels, watch camel races, or witness the business of camel trading up close. (Want to take home a new pet? A three-year-old camel goes for around 25,000 rupees—or $567.)

Stay at the Royal Camp, upscale tented lodging pioneered by the Maharaja of Jodhpur in the 1990s, just a few dunes from the festivities. Each safari-style, canvas tent has twin beds with crisp white linens, a front porch with teak chairs, a private bath, and buckets of hot bathwater delivered to your door. DETAILS: Doubles from $250, including meals; 011-91-291-2571991,

BONUS: Best Escape from India

Bangaram Island Resort, Lakshadweep Islands

Lakshadweep Islands

Lakshadweep Islands

The battering madness of India’s cultural mosh pit can exhaust even the most seasoned traveler, which is why many Indians advise leaving the mainland to truly appreciate its charms. There’s no better place to get this critical break—without passing through customs—than the isolated, talcum-beached coral atoll of Bangaram, one of 26 tiny coconut-palm islands that make up the Lakshadweep archipelago, in the Arabian Sea.

Of the three islands open to tourists, Bangaram Island Resort—which owns the entirety of the island—boasts the least development, with only 34 teak-and-tile bungalows spread tastefully throughout the island’s 128 acres. After you’ve settled into a private hut, stumble a few feet across the snowy beach to fin through crystal waters. The sea life is so accommodating that the resort asks divers to refrain from riding the massive sea turtles and manta rays that lounge around the house reef.

For more adventurous fauna, house dive masters will take you to deeper reaches, including a sheer limestone chasm known as the Grand Canyon. Deeper still, fishermen will find wahoo and sailfish that are the stuff of Hemingway lore. Or pass on it all and spend an afternoon in a silent hammock for that much-needed perspective on India. DETAILS: Bungalows, $290–$350 all- inclusive; 011-91-484-2668221,

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ONE OF The nation’s tiniest national parks—a diminutive 35,500 acres, smaller than any Ted Turner ranch—Acadia National Park ranks second only to Cuyahoga Valley National Park for the dubious distinction of most tourists per square foot: 81.7 annually. However, adventure in Acadia isn’t an oxymoron. The park’s humpbacked Porcupine Islands are one of the most coveted paddling spots on the planet: Hop in your sea kayak and lose the crowds (most of them, at least).

Acadia at dawn

The Porcupines are a collection of four small islands in Frenchman Bay, off the larger Mount Desert Island, where much of Acadia proper is located. While Frenchman Bay can be calmer than the water in most bathtubs, there is lobster-boat traffic to contend with, and the weather here, even in summer, can change at the drop of a spray skirt. When it does, the winds pick up suddenly and the tides get muscular; there’s no choice but to find the quickest route possible back to port. These are reasons why a guide is a wise investment, especially for first-timers to Acadia. We threw in with David Legere, a gregarious and thickly accented Maine-iac who owns Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs. The outfit’s dock is right in downtown Bar Harbor, the little town on Mount Desert Island that is most convenient to the Porcupines.
You can easily see all four islands in one day. Burnt Porcupine and Bald Porcupine islands have the most dramatic features—steep ledges, pounding surf, bristling stands of thick spruce and fir. Getting to Burnt Porcupine, 1.25 miles offshore, involves an exposed open-water crossing with potential for extra-choppy seas and strong winds.
Acadia is silly with birds—273 species in all—and from the sound of it, most happily hang out on Long Porcupine. Look for peregrines, ospreys, blue herons, and guillemots. Sheep Porcupine Island hosts an active bald eagle nest—you may spot young eaglets poking out in early summer. In the water, keep an eye peeled for harbor seals and harbor porpoises.
No camping is allowed on the Porcupine Islands. So at day’s end, throw the boat on the car, drive 65 miles from Bar Harbor to the fishing town of Stonington, and hop the passenger ferry to Isle au Haut. We like the lean-tos at Duck Harbor Campground, just off the south ferry landing. This 4,000-acre island is the perfect spot to bring your own craft for a second day of low-key island exploration.
THE DETAILS
LODGING – Acadia National Park (207-288-3338, ) allows camping at Duck Harbor campground. The fee is $25 per campsite per night, and a permit is required; call the park or stop by park headquarters, three miles west of Bar Harbor.
OUTFITTER – Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (207-288-0007) offers a two-and-a-half-hour paddle around Sheep Porcupine for $37 per person. Kids must be ten or older. Or David Legere will customize an Acadia sea tour for your family (price depends on number of hours).

Montana

Glacier National Park

I’d just finished breakfast and was checking out the gift shop at the West Glacier Restaurant (“Family Dining Since 1938”) when I bumped into my first bear bells. Were they kidding? There were handhelds (like sleigh bells) for sale, as well as walking sticks with tinkly bells. While bear bells might make charming souvenirs for some of Glacier National Park’s 1.8 million annual visitors—only a tiny percentage of whom come anywhere near actually bumping into a bear—I didn’t think I’d march my kids down the trail without at least stocking up on pepper spray.
The thing about Glacier is that although it may be bumper to bumper on the famed 52-mile Going-to-the-Sun Road, which spans the park between Lake McDonald and the town of St. Mary, step out of your car and there’s a serious wildernessful of adventures to be had. During a one-week visit last fall, I spent a few action-packed days in West Glacier, then drove across to the less-visited eastern side of the park before looping back on U.S. 2, along the southern boundary. I joined a family field seminar at the Glacier Institute and went mountain biking, rafting, fly-fishing, and horseback riding, but the most exciting thing, in the end, was plain old hiking.
Some 730 miles of maintained trails crisscross the park, all running through country that’s spine-tinglingly wild—just knowing that grizzlies are out there makes rounding each bend that much more interesting. It isn’t often you find yourself encouraging your kids to be noisier on the trail, but that’s what you need to do when you are, frankly, lower on the food chain and don’t want to surprise anyone outranking you.
We learned the ins and outs of hiking in Glacier from Bill Schustrom, a retired science teacher who’s worked in the park for 30 years and now gives campfire talks. During the summer months he plays the ukulele and sings songs like “Bats Eat Bugs, They Don’t Eat People.” The chorus, “Nothing in this park / Wants to eat you for a meal / Because if they do / They know how sick they’ll feel,” cracked us up and calmed our nerves. Another hit was communing with the park’s smaller denizens at the Glacier Institute, a nonprofit outdoor-education center that offers family field seminars. Our Teva-clad teacher, Chris Gibson, led us down to the Middle Fork of the Flathead River and set up an impromptu classroom before outlining the basics of aquatic insects. “Here’s how to tell the difference between insects on the river: A stone fly has two tails and armpit hair. Mayflies have three tails and a hairy butt,” he instructed, eliciting giggles from preteens and parents alike. Looking for bugs turned out to be better than it sounds—sort of like a treasure hunt. What you do is crouch along the edge of a stream and turn over stones, looking for anything interesting hanging on. Once you find a live specimen, you shake it into a bucket to examine later under a microscope—and recall that the park has incredible diversity, from tiny stream creatures to large mammals. Glacier is one of the few places in the world, we learned, where all native predators and virtually all their prey still survive in the wild.
Our Glacier game plan was to mix a steady diet of hikes (which my husband and I love) and other outdoor activities with some requisite drives (which are so spectacular that even the kids stayed awake). Thus the field seminar was followed by an afternoon rafting the Middle Fork of the Flathead, ideal for families because it’s mostly flat, with a handful of Class III rapids. Another day we rented mountain bikes and cruised the banks of the Middle Fork on deserted trails, then drove the Going-to-the-Sun Road in the sweetest of rides: one of the park’s fleet of restored 1936 “Jammer” buses (nicknamed, it’s said, for the sound of drivers jamming their gears up and down the highway) with the canvas top rolled back and wool blankets tucked under our chins. Another morning was spent horseback riding before heading up to the Many Glacier region in hopes of spotting a grizzly.
Sure enough, we came across hopeful visitors with spotting scopes trained on two tiny specks that were supposedly bears (they looked like rocks to me). We had given up the search and started back when one of our young companions shouted, “There’s a bear!” A hundred yards up the scree field to our left, we saw a hefty, cinnamon-haired griz. It stood sniffing the air for a moment, then lumbered into a patch of huckleberries.
We wondered aloud about the sixty-something couple we’d just watched hike up the same slope. “What’s he eating in those bushes?” someone joked, laughing nervously.
Now that we’d encountered this truly wild thing roaming the park, an awestruck hush settled over the group. I thought about the bear talk that Bill, our Jammer driver, had delivered.
“Do you know what to do if we spot a griz? Gather together in a tight circle, and make sure your driver is in the middle!” he’d quipped.
Call me chicken, but I’m with Bill.
THE DETAILS
GETTING THERE – To reach Glacier National Park (406-888-7800, ), fly into Kalispell’s Glacier Park International Airport or drive 25 miles from Whitefish, Montana.
LODGING – Glacier Raft Company Cabins (800-235-6781, ) is a half-mile from the park’s west entrance. One-bedroom cabins, with log beds, kitchens with Franklin stoves, and front porches, sleep four and cost $195 per night in peak season. Doubles at the historic Glacier Park Lodge (406-892-2525, ) start at $135 a night. Doubles at The Resort at Glacier’s new Great Bear Lodge (800-368-3689, ) are $170. Along the southern boundary, the Izaak Walton Inn (doubles from $108; 406-888-5700, ), built for railway workers in the 1930s, is a great find—kids will love sleeping in a retrofitted railcar.
OUTFITTERS – Daylong seminars with the Glacier Institute (406-755-1211, ) cost $30 for adults, $20 for kids. Glacier Raft Company (800-235-6781, ) runs half-day ($40 adult, $30 child) and full-day ($65 adult, $48 child) rafting expeditions on the Flathead. Rent mountain bikes from the Glacier Outdoor Center ($29 per day for adults and $15 per day for kids 12 and under; 800-235-6781). Glacier Wilderness Guides (800-521-7238, ) runs top-notch fly-fishing trips on the Middle and North forks of the Flathead (from $225 for two people). For horseback riding outside the park, try Montana Ranch ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs—their motto is “Real Cowboys Don’t Ride Single File” (half-day rides, $65 per person; 888-338-3054, ).
FOOD – Don’t miss the Two Sisters café (406-732-5535) on U.S. 89, outside Glacier’s east entrance, where the ceiling is hung with Elvis memorabilia, and the comfort food (spicy chili, burgers, buttermilk chocolate cake) is surprisingly great.

Tennessee

Great Smoky Mountains National Park

The Smokies, true to their moniker

Tennessee’s Goshen Prong Trail is so blissfully quiet you can hear twigs snap under your hiking boots and a creek, Goshen Prong, tumbling nearby. The leaves of the old-growth deciduous trees rustle softly; not another trekker is in sight. Ah, solitude. It’s only after a smack of open palm to forehead that you remember that this is Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the most heavily visited of our national parks.
Despite the Smokies’ bad rap (a daunting ten million visitors annually), most tourists are car-bound, leaving 512,000 acres of uncongested backcountry for hiking adventures. Vesna Plakanis, who owns the outfitter A Walk in the Woods with her husband, Erik, is a modern-day John Muir of the Smokies—smitten with the park and extremely knowledgeable about its ecology. Let her guide you on a hike; with a gifted naturalist on hand, the park’s astounding biodiversity (Great Smoky Mountains National Park is richer in flora and fauna than any other national park) springs to life.
Here’s an ideal two-and-a-half-day, 15-mile hike: Ditch the masses as they slog up the paved half-mile Clingmans Dome Trail, atop the park’s highest peak (6,643 feet). Instead, take the Clingmans Dome Bypass Trail. Few people use it, because it’s rocky, wet, and overgrown. Tread nimbly and enjoy the dearth of humanity and breathtaking views of North Carolina and Fontana Lake.
Watch for a rock outcropping where this path intersects the Appalachian Trail after a half-mile—look for raptors coasting overhead. While it may be tempting to turn off onto the AT and skip Clingmans Dome, now a third of a mile away, gird yourself for the mob in order to take in the sweeping multistate views.
Then double back to the AT and the ridge that is the border between North Carolina and Tennessee. You’ll see beech gaps, grassy balds, and some of the oldest trees east of the Mississippi River. You might also see some of the eccentrics who give the AT its personality. Vesna remembers one toting a large college flag on a mast and another packing his own Porta-Potti.
Go 2.5 miles along the AT and then peel off on the Goshen Prong Trail. A prong is a tributary, and this one is a delightful companion—an Appalachian stream with small cascades. Pitch your tent at backcountry campsite 23 and fall asleep to the sound of water. Next morning, continue northeast on the trail for 3.3 miles to the turnoff at Little River Trail. After about a mile of flat hiking in dense forest, grab the Husky Gap Trail and head north 2.1 miles to the Sugarland Mountain Trail. Campsite 21, ideal for night two, is less than a mile down Sugarland. Your reward: an awesome swimming hole, with a huge slanting rock that serves as a slide. Wake up for a low-key four-miler out on the overlook-rich Sugarland Mountain Trail.
THE DETAILS
LODGING – Great Smoky Mountains National Park (865-436-1200, ) requires free permits for its 114 backcountry camping sites. Reservations are required for campground 23 but not for campground 21. Call 865- 436-1231 to book.
OUTFITTER – A Walk in the Woods (865-436-8283) leads guided walks starting at $20 per adult and $16 for kids; a guided trip for a family of five runs $250 per night and includes meals and cooking gear.

Florida

Dry Tortugas National Park

Fort Jefferson

Any fool living in Maine would seize the opportunity to sail with his family in the Florida Keys in November. Any fool, even if his wife, Lisa, was seven months pregnant and had suffered a near-deadly case of bacterial meningitis a week earlier and had been told by her doctors that she absolutely could not leave the state. Even if this were his crew: Helen, age five, a hellcat whose greatest desire is to own a pig; Anabel and Eliza, six-year-old twin acrobats with no understanding of the word no. And even if he’d be guiding a 36-foot sybaritic catamaran 70 miles west of Key West with only a modicum of captaining experience so his family could fulfill his desire to visit Fort Jefferson, a 150-year-old red-brick monolith set on Garden Key in Dry Tortugas National Park that is known mainly for housing Dr. Samuel Mudd, who was serving a life term for helping John Wilkes Booth evade capture.
We’re talking the Dry Tortugas. Even its name sounds exotic. It’s been a national park for just ten years and is known mostly to sailors and a few tarpon-chasing sportfishermen. Located on a major migratory flyway, the Dry Tortugas are visited by about 300 species of birds in the fall and spring and shelter the only U.S. nesting ground for the magnificent frigate bird. Its angular, six-foot wingspan is easy for young birders to spot as it glides across this collection of seven islands, the least disturbed and southwesternmost outpost of the Florida Keys.
Vibrant, colorful reefs and wrecked ships lie a mere five feet beneath the surface, almost as if they’ve been placed there for little kids to see more fish than they ever imagined. Even the guy at the charter-boat place agreed: “There’s no finer place in Florida for snorkeling,” he bragged. “You’re gonna love it.”
Clearly, we had to visit Dry Tortugas National Park, and so we set out with an itinerary I’d worked on for weeks. We started by traveling to Key West, the closest bit of developed land to the park, to pick up our vacation vessel at Oceanside Marina. It was then, during a precharter talk with Robin Rule, a partner in Southernmost Sailing, that our voyage began to take an unexpected course. She used the p-word. Yachtsmen love to bandy that word about—it’s a verbal secret-society handshake and is the antithesis of my very being. But Robin used it, and that was that. “This time of year, with the sun setting so early, it’d be prudent to anchor by 4 p.m. And your plan to reach the Dry Tortugas? Not prudent. Five days isn’t enough time. You’re here to have fun, and if you bite off more than you can chew, it’s no fun.” Hmmm.
Five hours later, we were sailing downwind in a rolling sea as blue and blissful as my wife’s suddenly sparkling eyes. I’d set my sights on sailing to Boca Grande Key, about 18 miles out to sea, with a few small keys en route. From there it would be an easy two-day sail to Dry Tortugas. We were making seven knots and the skies were clear. Never mind the fact that one of the boat’s two 25-horsepower engines—used as backup if we couldn’t sail—had quit on us as we motored out of the marina. To hell with it! We were bound for the Dry Tortugas, where kids turned angelic and parents felt at peace. I just needed the right time to tell Lisa.
We reached Boca Grande an hour before sunset, near a curving white beach that disappeared into mangroves. Great white egrets and a Helen-size osprey watched us anchor. A gentle wind whirred in the rigging, and mullets leaped like shimmering Baryshnikovs above the Atlantic’s surface. We went ashore in the burnished glow of dusk on the edge of protected land—most of Boca Grande is a wildlife refuge. Stingrays stealthed into the sandy bottom, and the girls learned that sponges aren’t really fluorescent rectangles manufactured for washing dishes, but are actual living creatures. Dozens lay washed up on shore; Anabel kept one as a hat.
The next morning we sailed on to the Marquesas Keys, a ring of islands about eight miles west and the only atoll in the Atlantic. My plan was to spend the afternoon there, snorkeling above a shipwreck, and then head across to the Dry Tortugas once the kids were asleep at 9 p.m. We could sail 45 miles and be anchored beside Fort Jefferson by 4 a.m. I decided to let Lisa in on my thoughts while we negotiated our way into the Marquesas. “Are you crazy? What happened with being prudent?” she asked, uttering the p-word for the first time since we left Oceanside Marina. I interrupted her, yelling, “Coming about!” She jumped up, cranked in the starboard sheet, and—huffing like a mama bear—turned her full attention to me.
“Are you even thinking about the kids?”
“I can handle this boat, sweetie,” I answered, and then saw that something was amiss. The sails stalled, backed, and then headed us toward some rocks 100 yards away. “Let the sheet go! We didn’t make it.” We fell off the wind, sped up, came about, and failed to make it again. I cranked the remaining working engine, but it notched us up only a knot or so, no aid in getting us anywhere. We spent the next four hours trying to get a mile upwind. By this time, the girls were crying for a swim but wouldn’t go in unless I did. Lisa wasn’t really talking to me.
So I plunged into the five-foot-deep water, entering a forest of turtle grass. I repeated things like “have fun” to myself.
The girls jumped in. Lisa joined us, floating toward me.
“You know I love adventures. If it were just us—” she began.
“No, no. You’re right. The p-p-p-prudent thing to do would be to return to Key West.”
We didn’t make it to the fort—we didn’t even try. We did, however, do everything the girls wanted to do—swim, beachcomb, climb in the mangroves, and eat lots of crackers and goat cheese. We snorkeled in 40 feet of water that was visible to the bottom. And we made it back to Oceanside Marina. In other words, we were prudent and—to my surprise—we still had fun.
What did we miss? I don’t know this from experience, but they say Fort Jefferson remains a marvel, though its facade of 16 million bricks needs replacing, and that just a mile from Garden Key an outcropping of staghorn coral is flourishing—just waiting for some fool in a sailboat escaping the North.
THE DETAILS
GETTING THERE –There are several ways to reach Dry Tortugas National Park (305-242-7700, ) from Key West, including a charter catamaran, high-speed boat, and floatplane. Two companies offer round-trip boat service; both leave Key West at 8 a.m. every day and return at 5:30 p.m. Both cost about $100 and include breakfast, lunch, drinks, a tour of the fort, and snorkeling gear. For prices and reservations, contact Sunny Days Catamarans (800-236-7937, ) or Yankee Fleet (800-634-0939, ). Seaplanes of Key West (800-950-2359, ) makes the trip in less than an hour. Price is roughly $180 for a half-day trip, $300 for a full day, and includes drinks, a fort tour, and snorkeling gear.
LODGING – Seven islands, including Garden Key, make up the park. Some are day-use only or are closed to visitors because of nesting birds and the fragility of the land. The park’s 13-site campground on Garden Key, the only accommodation offered, costs $3 per site per night. It operates on a first-come, first-served basis, except for the group area, which has to be reserved. There are no boat moorings or slips for the public; overnight anchorage is limited to a designated area off Garden Key’s eastern shore.
OUTFITTERS – To charter a sailboat, you have to prove your seaworthiness with a bareboat-school certificate or by listing your captaining history and passing a sailing test. Monohulls cost around $1,200 for a week; catamarans, up to $2,800. Contact Southernmost Sailing (888-352-7245, ). We got a $200 refund on our charter because of the engine problems.
FOOD – There is no food service in the park, so stock up in Key West at Fausto’s Food Palace (305-296-5663, ), a Cuban market. You must bring everything you need, including water.

Colorado

Rocky Mountain National Park

The magnificent elk, best seen during the September rutting season

High-altitude Rocky Mountain National Park, bursting with 74 peaks over 12,000 feet, serves as an adventure training ground for my family. Our ultimate ambition is to summit 14,255-foot Longs Peak—our team, including my 12-year-old daughter, Cleo, and her middle school pals Emma and Celeste, should be ready for this expedition in a summer or two. In preparation, we’re working our way steadily higher on the park’s 355-mile trail system.
We live in nearby Boulder, with plenty of good climbing and hiking a few blocks from home. The national park, with 266,240 acres of spectacular views and Lake Granby nearby, makes a favorite weekend destination. We start with the 4.7-mile hike through Glacier Gorge—perfect for kids because you can take it in easy stages and use Mills Lake, Jewel Lake, or Black Lake as your turnaround point, depending on the strength of your team. If they’re really in shape, you can push onward, up a mile of steep switchbacks, all the way to Green Lake, at 11,550 feet. That’s the next stage in our training course.
The first half-mile, from the 9,240-foot Glacier Gorge Junction trailhead to silvery Alberta Falls, is an easy 140-foot climb doable even by four-year-olds. Then the trail levels out to wind around Glacier Knobs, a pair of immense granite outcrops. It was here, during our most recent excursion, that the kids learned a lesson in noise control: They suppressed giggles so as not to frighten a chipmunk stealing a two-inch cube of Emmentaler cheese right off my lap. (But it’s a mistake to shush kids up on these trails—you don’t want to surprise a puma.)
As we continued hiking, the girls chattered back at colonies of pikas in the granite scree fields and conquered a gentle climb onto bedrock scoured by a glacier 10,000 years ago. We spotted plenty of birds—everything from mountain chickadees to golden eagles.
The first puddle is Mills Lake, where marmots gazed gravely back at us from rocks above. We skirted the rocky east shore, then climbed to marshy Jewel Lake. From there, the trail’s last mile is a switchback climb alongside Ribbon Falls to Black Lake, at 10,620 feet, where we nearly popped our necks staring at the overhanging rock walls. They form an immense amphitheater, with six peaks soaring over 13,000 feet. We ate lunch with our sweaty feet dangling in the cold lake, and watched for jumping fish.
When it comes to camping, the kids like the spartan Moraine Park or Glacier Basin campgrounds, because from there (a short drive from the Beaver Meadows entrance) it’s a quick walk to see elk gathered at dusk and dawn, especially during rutting season in early fall (that’s when traffic is light on the trails, too). Around the campfire, I get to be a backwoods gourmet; Meredith, Emma and Celeste’s mom, tells South African ghost stories from her childhood.
The day after our training hike we often drive over Trail Ridge Road to Lake Granby, in the Arapaho National Recreation Area, just past the park’s southwest boundary. There we rent a sloop and sail with the mountain wind, a unique experience for our landlocked, high-altitude kids. From the boat we can plan our assault on Longs Peak, visible as it towers into the clouds, 13 miles away.
THE DETAILS
GETTING THERE – Rocky Mountain National Park (970-586-1206, ) is reached by driving U.S. 36 northwest from Denver and Boulder.
LODGING – A tent site at Moraine Park or Glacier Basin, or any of the three other roadside campgrounds in the park, costs $18 a night. Call 800-365-2267 to make a reservation (recommended between Memorial Day and Labor Day). The park also offers 267 backcountry campsites; for full information on campsites, see . The romantic Stanley Hotel (800-976-1377, ) was built in 1909 by F. O. Stanley, inventor of the Stanley Steamer automobile, and was Stephen King’s inspiration for The Shining. The front rooms command a magnificent view of the peaks. Doubles start at $149 per night.
OUTFITTERS – Rent sailboats from Captain Spongefoot Sailing Company (970-887-1043) on Lake Granby, in the Arap-aho National Recreation Area. A 24-foot sloop costs $145 for four hours. For powerboat rental (about $150 per day), call Highland Marina on Lake Granby (970-887-3541).
FOOD – Kids like the burgers and sandwiches at Penelope’s World Famous Burgers in Estes Park (229 W. Elkhorn Ave., 970-586-2277) and the hearty chicken and deli specialties at Mountain Home Cafe, also in Estes Park (533 Big Thompson Ave., 970-586-6624).

California

Channel Islands National Park

Humpback whales breach the surface to feed

No way! muttered Chelsea as we paddled our sea kayak toward a 20-foot arch on Santa Cruz Island. With waves roiling through the rocky opening—at the base of a massive cliff called The Elephant on the island’s east coast—kayaking through the arch must have seemed challenging, if not downright impossible, to even the most daring ten-year-old.
Our paddle beneath The Elephant was part of a three-day weekend in Channel Islands National Park, off the Southern California coast 70 miles west of Los Angeles. The park’s five islands—Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, San Miguel, Santa Barbara, and Anacapa—are pockmarked by hundreds of arches and caverns, roughly two-thirds of them along shore. As we discovered, each of these wave-forged openings in the coastal cliffs presents a unique navigational challenge. Seal Cave, with its rocky beach, is a refuge for harbor seals. Shipwreck Cave preserves the rusty remnants of a barge. Painted Cave, at nearly a quarter-mile long, is one of the world’s largest sea caves.
Kayaking these marine caverns wasn’t possible when I was growing up in Southern California: Most of the Channel Islands were privately owned, used as sheep and cattle ranches or hunting preserves. In 1980, the islands collectively became a national park.
Although they have similar natural histories, the islands are distinct. Anacapa is tiny, a razor-thin wedge of vertical rock topped by a lighthouse. Santa Rosa is known for its hundreds of ancient Chumash Indian sites and the remains of pygmy mammoths that lived almost 13,000 years ago. More than 50,000 seals and other fin-footed mammals—one of the world’s greatest concentrations of pinnipeds—gather on San Miguel near Point Bennett. Isolated Santa Barbara Island, southeast of the main cluster, is for those who want to escape even the most minimal vestiges of civilization. And Santa Cruz, with its deeply indented topography, is ideal for cavers and paddlers.
The Channel Islands are called the American Galápagos because of their variety and volume of wildlife. Humans, however, are more scarce. Although 30 million people dwell on the adjacent mainland, only about a quarter-million people make the trip out to the islands each year.
Chelsea and I have made the voyage several times. We’ve scrambled up grassy peaks and trekked richly wooded valleys in search of creatures, such as the island fox, found nowhere else on earth. We’ve snorkeled kelp beds to see garibaldi (the bright-orange state fish), cruised through pods of several hundred dolphins, and glimpsed three humpback whales. And we’ve camped along an isolated beach, the waves lulling us to sleep with notions that the entire California coast used to be this way: wild, remote, utterly unspoiled—and ripe for kayak adventures.
Despite her initial trepidation, my daughter maintained her cool as we slipped beneath The Elephant. She kept the jagged walls at bay with her paddle, and I carefully guided us through the swell. As we breached daylight again on the other side of the arch, she whirled around with a grin of triumph and an idea: “Let’s go again!”
THE DETAILS
GETTING THERE – Channel Islands National Park (805-658-5730, ) is accessible only by boat or private plane. Island Packers (805-642-1393, ) runs ferries from Ventura Harbor on the mainland, where the park’s visitor center is located, to all five islands. Round-trip fares range from $37 per adult and $20 per child for Anacapa to $62 per adult and $45 per child for Santa Rosa. Service to Santa Rosa and San Miguel runs May to November.
LODGING – Camping is the only overnight accommodation in the Channel Islands. Campers must obtain a permit ($10 per night; 800-365-2267, ). Each island has seven to 40 campsites; backcountry beach camping is allowed on Santa Rosa and Santa Cruz.
OUTFITTERS – Aquasports (800-773-2309, ) offers single- and multi-day sea-kayaking trips along the Santa Cruz coast that include sea-cave exploration and hiking. Trips leave from Ventura Harbor; fees range from $189 for a day trip to $359 for a three-day trip with overnights at Scorpion Ranch, a camping area on the east side of Santa Cruz Island. Horizons West ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (562-799-3880, ) offers fly-in camping on Santa Rosa Island. Three-day trips cost $485 per person, including airfare, meals, and tents.
FOOD – Christy’s Deli (1559 Spinnaker Drive in Ventura Harbor, 805-642-3116) prepares box meals for trips to the islands. Groceries are available at the adjacent Village Market (805-644-2970).

California

Yosemite National Park

El Capitan and the Merced River

With its 360-degree views of the Tuolumne backcountry, the 10,940-foot summit of Cathedral Peak is the best place to fully appreciate the majesty of Yosemite National Park. There’s the granite spire of Eichorn Pinnacle, sapphire-blue Cathedral Lake, and—way off in the distance—the unmistakable bald pate of 8,842-foot Half Dome. Of course, getting there involves rock climbing up at least 22 pitches.
Just because you don’t climb now doesn’t mean you can’t learn. “People are surprised by how quickly they progress in our classes,” says Doug Kerr, who has been with the Yosemite Mountaineering School for 20 years. Keep expectations reasonable—there’s no way you’ll be leading your kids up Yosemite routes after a week. But clawing up a face while safely tied into an experienced guide’s belay line? No problem. (Kids should be, at minimum, a mature ten years old.)
Schedule your Yosemite climbing adventure for July or August, when the Yosemite Mountaineering School expands its operation from the crowded Valley (the park gets 3.5 million visitors annually) to the alpine meadows of Tuolumne. If your only experience with rock is through the speakers of a stereo, begin with the intro class; plan on a six-hour day of climbing instruction. You’ll be scaling heights up to 60 feet by day’s end. Even more fun, you’ll experience the rush of rappelling down.
Subsequent classes teach increasingly sophisticated techniques such as crack climbing, multipitch climbing, and self-rescue. Reserve some of your vacation fund to hire a guide from the school after you graduate—it’s the most expedient way to see parts of Yosemite that most people only dream about.
Pitch your tent at Tuolumne Meadows Campground, convenient to both the school and some of the West Coast’s most memorable backcountry hiking. Get the ground perspective of Cathedral Peak, one of John Muir’s favorite mountains: Just 3.5 miles from the campground at the Cathedral Lake Trailhead, there is a simple seven-mile out-and-back hike to stunning views at Upper Cathedral Lake.
THE DETAILS
LODGING – Yosemite National Park (209-372-0200, ) maintains 304 campsites at Tuolumne Meadows, with flush toilets, drinking water, and a general store. Half the sites can be reserved in advance for $18 a night; call 800-436-7275.
OUTFITTER – Classes at Yosemite Mountaineering School (209-372-8344, ) average about $90 per person per day, including equipment (shoe rental is extra). Private guides start at $100 per person per six-hour session.

Maine

Acadia National Park

Acadia at dawn

ONE OF The nation’s tiniest national parks—a diminutive 35,500 acres, smaller than any Ted Turner ranch—Acadia National Park ranks second only to Cuyahoga Valley National Park for the dubious distinction of most tourists per square foot: 81.7 annually. However, adventure in Acadia isn’t an oxymoron. The park’s humpbacked Porcupine Islands are one of the most coveted paddling spots on the planet: Hop in your sea kayak and lose the crowds (most of them, at least).
The Porcupines are a collection of four small islands in Frenchman Bay, off the larger Mount Desert Island, where much of Acadia proper is located. While Frenchman Bay can be calmer than the water in most bathtubs, there is lobster-boat traffic to contend with, and the weather here, even in summer, can change at the drop of a spray skirt. When it does, the winds pick up suddenly and the tides get muscular; there’s no choice but to find the quickest route possible back to port. These are reasons why a guide is a wise investment, especially for first-timers to Acadia. We threw in with David Legere, a gregarious and thickly accented Maine-iac who owns Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs. The outfit’s dock is right in downtown Bar Harbor, the little town on Mount Desert Island that is most convenient to the Porcupines.
You can easily see all four islands in one day. Burnt Porcupine and Bald Porcupine islands have the most dramatic features—steep ledges, pounding surf, bristling stands of thick spruce and fir. Getting to Burnt Porcupine, 1.25 miles offshore, involves an exposed open-water crossing with potential for extra-choppy seas and strong winds.
Acadia is silly with birds—273 species in all—and from the sound of it, most happily hang out on Long Porcupine. Look for peregrines, ospreys, blue herons, and guillemots. Sheep Porcupine Island hosts an active bald eagle nest—you may spot young eaglets poking out in early summer. In the water, keep an eye peeled for harbor seals and harbor porpoises.
No camping is allowed on the Porcupine Islands. So at day’s end, throw the boat on the car, drive 65 miles from Bar Harbor to the fishing town of Stonington, and hop the passenger ferry to Isle au Haut. We like the lean-tos at Duck Harbor Campground, just off the south ferry landing. This 4,000-acre island is the perfect spot to bring your own craft for a second day of low-key island exploration.
THE DETAILS
LODGING – Acadia National Park (207-288-3338, ) allows camping at Duck Harbor campground. The fee is $25 per campsite per night, and a permit is required; call the park or stop by park headquarters, three miles west of Bar Harbor.
OUTFITTER – Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (207-288-0007) offers a two-and-a-half-hour paddle around Sheep Porcupine for $37 per person. Kids must be ten or older. Or David Legere will customize an Acadia sea tour for your family (price depends on number of hours).

Crème de la Canada

Northern Exposure

Acadia at dawn

ONE OF The nation’s tiniest national parks—a diminutive 35,500 acres, smaller than any Ted Turner ranch—Acadia National Park ranks second only to Cuyahoga Valley National Park for the dubious distinction of most tourists per square foot: 81.7 annually. However, adventure in Acadia isn’t an oxymoron. The park’s humpbacked Porcupine Islands are one of the most coveted paddling spots on the planet: Hop in your sea kayak and lose the crowds (most of them, at least).
The Porcupines are a collection of four small islands in Frenchman Bay, off the larger Mount Desert Island, where much of Acadia proper is located. While Frenchman Bay can be calmer than the water in most bathtubs, there is lobster-boat traffic to contend with, and the weather here, even in summer, can change at the drop of a spray skirt. When it does, the winds pick up suddenly and the tides get muscular; there’s no choice but to find the quickest route possible back to port. These are reasons why a guide is a wise investment, especially for first-timers to Acadia. We threw in with David Legere, a gregarious and thickly accented Maine-iac who owns Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs. The outfit’s dock is right in downtown Bar Harbor, the little town on Mount Desert Island that is most convenient to the Porcupines.
You can easily see all four islands in one day. Burnt Porcupine and Bald Porcupine islands have the most dramatic features—steep ledges, pounding surf, bristling stands of thick spruce and fir. Getting to Burnt Porcupine, 1.25 miles offshore, involves an exposed open-water crossing with potential for extra-choppy seas and strong winds.
Acadia is silly with birds—273 species in all—and from the sound of it, most happily hang out on Long Porcupine. Look for peregrines, ospreys, blue herons, and guillemots. Sheep Porcupine Island hosts an active bald eagle nest—you may spot young eaglets poking out in early summer. In the water, keep an eye peeled for harbor seals and harbor porpoises.
No camping is allowed on the Porcupine Islands. So at day’s end, throw the boat on the car, drive 65 miles from Bar Harbor to the fishing town of Stonington, and hop the passenger ferry to Isle au Haut. We like the lean-tos at Duck Harbor Campground, just off the south ferry landing. This 4,000-acre island is the perfect spot to bring your own craft for a second day of low-key island exploration.
THE DETAILS
LODGING – Acadia National Park (207-288-3338, ) allows camping at Duck Harbor campground. The fee is $25 per campsite per night, and a permit is required; call the park or stop by park headquarters, three miles west of Bar Harbor.
OUTFITTER – Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (207-288-0007) offers a two-and-a-half-hour paddle around Sheep Porcupine for $37 per person. Kids must be ten or older. Or David Legere will customize an Acadia sea tour for your family (price depends on number of hours).

The Ultimate Classroom

Best Educational Parks

Acadia at dawn

ONE OF The nation’s tiniest national parks—a diminutive 35,500 acres, smaller than any Ted Turner ranch—Acadia National Park ranks second only to Cuyahoga Valley National Park for the dubious distinction of most tourists per square foot: 81.7 annually. However, adventure in Acadia isn’t an oxymoron. The park’s humpbacked Porcupine Islands are one of the most coveted paddling spots on the planet: Hop in your sea kayak and lose the crowds (most of them, at least).
The Porcupines are a collection of four small islands in Frenchman Bay, off the larger Mount Desert Island, where much of Acadia proper is located. While Frenchman Bay can be calmer than the water in most bathtubs, there is lobster-boat traffic to contend with, and the weather here, even in summer, can change at the drop of a spray skirt. When it does, the winds pick up suddenly and the tides get muscular; there’s no choice but to find the quickest route possible back to port. These are reasons why a guide is a wise investment, especially for first-timers to Acadia. We threw in with David Legere, a gregarious and thickly accented Maine-iac who owns Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs. The outfit’s dock is right in downtown Bar Harbor, the little town on Mount Desert Island that is most convenient to the Porcupines.
You can easily see all four islands in one day. Burnt Porcupine and Bald Porcupine islands have the most dramatic features—steep ledges, pounding surf, bristling stands of thick spruce and fir. Getting to Burnt Porcupine, 1.25 miles offshore, involves an exposed open-water crossing with potential for extra-choppy seas and strong winds.
Acadia is silly with birds—273 species in all—and from the sound of it, most happily hang out on Long Porcupine. Look for peregrines, ospreys, blue herons, and guillemots. Sheep Porcupine Island hosts an active bald eagle nest—you may spot young eaglets poking out in early summer. In the water, keep an eye peeled for harbor seals and harbor porpoises.
No camping is allowed on the Porcupine Islands. So at day’s end, throw the boat on the car, drive 65 miles from Bar Harbor to the fishing town of Stonington, and hop the passenger ferry to Isle au Haut. We like the lean-tos at Duck Harbor Campground, just off the south ferry landing. This 4,000-acre island is the perfect spot to bring your own craft for a second day of low-key island exploration.
THE DETAILS
LODGING – Acadia National Park (207-288-3338, ) allows camping at Duck Harbor campground. The fee is $25 per campsite per night, and a permit is required; call the park or stop by park headquarters, three miles west of Bar Harbor.
OUTFITTER – Aquaterra ºÚÁϳԹÏÍøs (207-288-0007) offers a two-and-a-half-hour paddle around Sheep Porcupine for $37 per person. Kids must be ten or older. Or David Legere will customize an Acadia sea tour for your family (price depends on number of hours).

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OUR FAMILY, LIKE MOST, GAVE UP ON SPONTANEITY about a minute after our first child was born. I am reminded of this one spring break a dozen years later (my boys are 12 and nine) when we decide on the spur of the moment to retrace what’s left of Route 66—starting in Las Vegas, Nevada, and driving to Albuquerque, New Mexico—some 900 miles with detours. My husband and I have only a loose idea of where we’re headed, but after a steady diet of schedules and play dates, the sheer randomness of the road feels fantastic. We pick up a mile-by-mile guide to Route 66 at a gift shop and, ditching the interstate, give in to the old road instead. Our high-desert spin delivers all the big stuff, like the Grand Canyon. Yet it’s the funky, leg-stretching detours in between—the self-portrait taken in Twin Arrows, the pieces of pavement pocketed outside Two Guns, just standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona—where we find ourselves surprised with the unexpected adventure of it all.

Sign for the times: Route 66, New Mexico

Illustration by Zohar Lazar

Day 1 Las Vegas, Nevada-Flagstaff, Arizona
We head south from Las Vegas, stopping for lunch in Kingman, Arizona, (our first official point on the Route 66 trail). The neon-lined strip where I-40, U.S. 93, Arizona 68, and Route 66 converge begs to be bypassed for a simpler two-lane. We find it, veering onto the longest remaining stretch of continuous Route 66 and making a leisurely loop through the kind of towns the interstate forgot: Hackberry, Truxton, Peach Springs. Just past Peach Springs, in classic Route 66 tradition (everything from tepees to pythons competing for motorists’ eyeballs), a giant fiberglass dinosaur stops us in our tracks. This, it turns out, is the 1950s signpost for Grand Canyon Caverns, where we not only climb out of the car but descend 21 stories by elevator to explore a series of huge underground chambers and weird limestone formations. The caves earn a three-star rating. “I bet bats like it here too!” hollers James, my nine-year-old, nicknamed Fruit Bat for his propensity to consume endless quantities of apples, pears, oranges, you name it. We pile back into the four-door and gun it all the way to Flagstaff, overnighting at the historic Weatherford Hotel.
Day 2 Flagstaff-Grand Canyon
We linger in the Weatherford’s dining room while the boys pump pennies into the lobby’s antique scale, which coughs up your weight and fortune. Although Route 66 runs due east from Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon is too close to ignore, so we swing north and take U.S. 89 toward the national park’s less-crowded east entrance. Although we’re tempted to pull off at Sunset Crater Volcano and Wupatki National Monuments, we press on to the Cameron Trading Post, stopping for bowls of eye-poppingly spicy green chile. At Desert View, just inside the park, we get an outrageous vista of vermilion cliffs rising from the Paria Plateau while far below, an impressive stretch of the Colorado River snakes through Marble Canyon.

The boys are more wowed, though, by the Watchtower, a cylindrical stone structure designed in 1932 by architect Mary E. J. Colter. The guys dash up its circular stairway but are still too energetic, so we tackle three miles of the South Rim Trail. My husband has his heart set on staying at the El Tovar Hotel, a hulking pile of stone and hand-hewn logs, and we luck into a last-minute cancellation.

Day 3 Grand Canyon-Holbrook
We’re back on I-40 in search of Route 66 remnants. In Flagstaff, we buy a copy of Route 66: The Illustrated Guidebook to the Mother Road, and follow it like a treasure map. With guide in hand, even Sam, the too-cool-for-this-trip 12-year-old, yells out, “Whoa, GIANT Twin Arrows!” as we pass the town of Twin Arrows, where 200-foot-tall wooden monoliths that look like they’ve been shot to Earth from Mars pierce the dusty parking lot of a boarded-up diner. Next comes Two Guns, where mountain lions, bobcats, and coyotes once represented the West in a roadside zoo. The day’s hit is Meteor Crater park, the site where a speeding mass of meteoric iron and nickel smashed into the earth 50,000 years ago. After hiking around the giant, windblown crater, we have to drag ourselves away from the visitor center and speed on, stopping only to snap a family portrait on that corner in Winslow, Arizona. By now we’ve got the Route 66 bug bad, so we also track down what’s left of the famous “Here it is!” Jack Rabbit signs that once harassed motorists for hundreds of miles on the way to the town of Jack Rabbit. Final stop is Holbrook, home of the original Wigwam Motel. We’d planned to spend the night in an authentic 1950s stucco tepee at the Wigwam, but chickened out, opting for Holbrook’s Holiday Inn instead.

Day 4 Holbrook-Canyon de Chelly
East of Holbrook is Petrified Forest National Park, famous for its 225-million-year-old trees. By now the boys are sick of jumping in and out of the car, but the dinosaur museum inside the park is so good they can’t help themselves. After ogling the dioramas, we wind our way through mammoth logs littering the Giant Logs Trail. We share a laugh over a guy videotaping the logs. (“Now that will be exciting!” Sam says, rolling his eyes.) Everyone agrees that the petrified trees are pretty amazing strewn across the desert, older than the dinosaurs, their ancient wood perfectly preserved.
We speed on across I-40 and then north on U.S. 191 for an overnight at Canyon de Chelly. We have a 75-mile drive ahead, but we love the landscape—at least my husband and I do. The backseat mood lightens at Hubbell Trading Post, a bright spot in the desert since it opened in 1876. James buys beef-jerky bits; Sam teases him that they look like dog food, and we have to concur. Our destination is the locally owned Thunderbird Lodge, where we camp out in our motel room, writing funny postcards.

Day 5 Canyon de Chelly-Albuquerque, New Mexico
We’ve signed up for the early jeep tour of Canyon de Chelly. I’d feared the group ride would be hopelessly hokey, but as we motor through the canyons in open-air six-by-six trucks, sheer sandstone walls towering above, giant treads splashing through shallow rivers, there’s no question about it: This one’s a home run. Sure enough, huddled under wool blankets while late-winter sun works its way down the canyon walls, both boys are thrilled to be here. We spend the morning exploring prehistoric Anasazi cliff dwellings and canyon walls etched with dozens of mysterious Indian petroglyphs. After lunch at the Thunderbird Lodge we head back down U.S. 191, and then pick up I-40 east again. Our final destination is Albuquerque, 200 miles ahead. In between are the Route 66 towns of Gallup, Grants, Cubero, and Laguna, and about ten thousand tumbleweeds. We might make another detour to explore the underground lava tubes of El Malpais National Monument. Or then again, we might not. And settling in behind the wheel, tuning in the local country-western station for another round, it occurs to me that this is about as good as it gets. We’re packed like four sardines into a tin-can rental car and loving it, so go figure. Such is the allure of the all-American road trip.

DAY ONE (Las Vegas, NV-Flagstaff, AZ)
MILEAGE: 250.
DRIVE TIME: 4 hours.
DIRECTIONS: U.S. 93 to Kingman, then loop north for 85 miles on the longest remaining stretch of Route 66, connecting to I-40 in Seligman.
STOPS: Grand Canyon Caverns: entrance fee $9.50 for adults, $6.75 for kids 4-2; 928-422-3223. The Snow Cap Drive-In (928-422-3291) in Seligman for ice-cream cones, burgers, and the notorious squirting mustard bottle (an old Route 66 trick).
STAY AT: Weatherford Hotel, Flagstaff: doubles, $75 (928-779-1919; ).

DAY TWO (Flagstaff-Grand Canyon)
MILEAGE: 86. Drive time: 1.5 hours.
DIRECTIONS: U.S. 89 north to Arizona 64.
STOPS: Cameron Trading Post (800-338-7385) for museum-quality beadwork, textiles, and baskets, and Navajo tacos.
STAY AT: El Tovar, Grand Canyon: doubles, $118-$187 (303-297-2757; ).

DAY THREE (Grand Canyon-Holbrook)
MILEAGE: 180.
DRIVE TIME: 3 hours.
DIRECTIONS: Arizona 64 west to I-40 (watch for turnoff to Meteor Crater, exit 233).
STOPS: Meteor Crater (800-289-5898); guided rim tours leave hourly.
STAY AT: Wigwam Motel: doubles, $35-$41 (928-524-3048). Holiday Inn: doubles, $85, including continental breakfast (928-524-1466).

DAY FOUR (Holbrook-Canyon de Chelly)
MILEAGE: 125.
DRIVE TIME: 2 hours.
DIRECTIONS: I-40 to U.S. 191. STOPS: Petrified Forest National Park ($10 per car; 928-524-6228); Rainbow Forest Museum has exhibits on petrified wood, geology, and paleontology. Hubbell Trading Post National Historic Site (928-755-3475).
STAY AT: Thunderbird Lodge: doubles, $106 (928-674-5841).

Day FIVE (Canyon de Chelly-Albuquerque, New Mexico)
MILEAGE: 230.
DRIVE TIME: 4 hours.
DIRECTIONS: U.S. 191 to I-40 east.
STOPS: Canyon de Chelly half-day jeep tour (sign up at Thunderbird Lodge): adults, $40; kids under 12, $30.50. El Malpais National Monument (505-783-4774): Stock up on maps at the visitor center; then hike a three-mile loop through the Big Tubes area.
STAY AT: La Posada de Albuquerque: doubles, $80-$200 (800-777-5732).

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