When I had the chance to spend some time in Europe this year, the first thing I wanted to do—well, besides find some really good cheese—was figure out how to visit as many national parks as possible. As the editor in chief of , °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’s sister brand, I spend a lot of time thinking about national parks. Whether it’s figuring out how to pack as much as possible into a weekend in Yellowstone, thinking about the implications of reservation systems, or dreaming about units to visit, I eat, sleep, and breathe America’s best idea.

But narrowing down the European parks to visit proved tougher than I’d imagined. While the 27 EU member countries share a market and (mostly) a currency, each nation’s approach to public lands is vastly different. Some European national parks are all pristine wilderness areas and have strict recreation-use laws. In others, you’ll find trendy bars serving Aperol spritzes, with Vespas parked outside. There’s even a Croatian national park with a zoo, complete with an elephant, ostriches, and zebras. Slovenia has just a single park; Finland has dozens.

While European parks run the gamut, they all have one thing in common. They’ve been set aside as meriting designation, meaning they’re worth a visit to see something meaningful, whether that’s glistening glaciers, spectacular mountain peaks, hanging bridges across thundering rivers, or ancient vineyards clinging to cliffs above the sea.

These are the European national parks that top my travel bucket list. I’ve been to several of them and can’t wait to see the rest.

1. Triglav National Park, Slovenia (Triglavski Narodni Park)

Admission: Free

WHY GO: While Alpine countries like France and Austria get most of the love, many people know almost nothing of one of the Alps’ best destinations: Slovenia. On my first visit to the country I was instantly charmed by the country’s rolling pastures, pretty churches set against the backdrop of mountains and blue lakes, and university-town capital, Ljubljana, which, with its avant-garde metalwork and dragon mascot, has a decidedly punk feel. When I realized that a subrange of the Alps was protected in the northwestern corner of the country as Triglav National Park, I knew I had to return.

Nestled up against the Italian border and nearly touching Austria, Triglav is home to thick forests, rivers, mountain villages, and big peaks that quickly made it one of my favorite national parks. Mount Triglav is the crown jewel at 9,396 feet, but plenty of other impressive summits draw peak baggers from across the world. Vogel Ski Resort can be found here too, offering 14 miles of terrain.

BEST ADVENTURES: Most park visitors flock to the Lake Bohinj region, a nearly 800-acre glacially carved valley filled with deep blue water where you can rent traditional wooden rowboats ($16/hour), among other watercraft. Vogel is in this area, and you can take the gondola and chairlift ($34 roundtrip for adults) partway and hike to the summit. The 6.1-mile trail isn’t technical, but it is steep in places, secured with cables and pegs. Keep your eyes peeled for the ibex and chamois that live here.

Watch the weather for wind gusts that could shut down the lifts, and stay aware of the time, because it’s a long trek back down if the chairs stop running before you reach them (they close at 4 p.m. in the summer). At several traditional huts on the mountain, you can enjoy local cheese and mountain dishes like goulash.

While the Bohinj area is the most popular, venturing further into the park is absolutely worth it. Head up and over the steep and narrow VrĆĄič Pass to Triglav’s more remote west side (my favorite), where you’re as likely to encounter a herd of sheep blocking the road as cyclists riding on it. Tackle the 15-mile , a hike that can be done in a long day, or at a slower pace, where you spend the night in one of several villages along the way. The beautiful trail follows the river, which is so clear and bright it almost hurts to look at. My husband, dog and I got distracted on our hike and instead spent a pleasant afternoon wadingÌę in the cold snowmelt. Wind your way gradually down valley under larches and across swinging bridges.

If you really want to get away, several long-distance trails, including the Via Alpina red route (1,500 miles) and the Alpe Adria Trail (466 miles), run through Triglav. For less of a commitment than those, head into the Seven Lakes Valley on a multi-day excursion, where you can spend the night in several maintained huts (no camping is allowed in the backcountry).

HOW TO GET THERE: Slovenia has a great public transportation system, making it easy to get from Ljubljana to Bled by train (40 minutes) and then Bled to Bohinj by bus (40 minutes), so you can stay in the capital and still explore the park. Buses run to other parts of Triglav, too, but pay attention to timetables, as they are less frequent and getting a taxi or rideshare won’t be an option in remote parts of the park.

BEST TIME TO GO: June to September is high season for hiking and hut availability, but can also be crowded. Snow melts early in this part of the world, so low elevation hikes can be done in the spring and fall to avoid the crowds. Ìę

WHERE TO STAY: Accommodations, from private hotels and guest houses to campgrounds and mountain huts, abound inside the park. My husband and I like staying in Bohinj on the west side for easy access to Vogel and the pretty town of Bled, or the quiet village of Trenta on the east side. For an alpine experience, book a bed at Tičarjev Dom ($47 per person with breakfast), the mountain hut at the summit of Vrơič Pass. You’ll sleep dormitory-style and rise to incredible mountain views the next morning from the patio over a bela kava (coffee with milk).

2. Oulanka National Park, Finland

Admission: Free

WHY GO: If you’re looking to get into some of the most remote wilderness on the continent, head to Oulanka National Park in Finland. The park hugs the Russian border in the far northeastern part of the country above the Arctic Circle and is an experience in solitude. In fact, the wilderness doesn’t stop at state lines. It continues east, bleeding quietly into Russia’s PaanajĂ€rvi National Park, with a simple rope forming the border and keeping canoeists in the EU. Last year I visited Levi Ski Resort in Finnish Lapland, four hours to the north, and fell in love with polar night. Getting back is at the top of my list and this time I want to get deeper into the wilderness, specifically at Oulanka.

Planning a trip to this remote land filled with boreal forests, rushing rivers, and limestone gorges isn’t easy, but I promise the hardest part will be picking which season to visit–winter or summer? This far north, the year is capped by eternal night in the deep winter, when you can snowshoe, cross-country ski, and try to spot the Northern Lights, and permanent sun in the height of the warm months, with plenty of daylight for canoeing and hiking trips.

BEST ADVENTURES: Summer visitors have two main choices for exploring: by water or by land. Paddlers can rent canoes and camping gear from to embark on a trip down the Oulankajoki River. The lower section is calm, with a short two-hour option to a takeout or a seven-hour route that makes an excellent overnight trip with a stop at any of several campsites or the first-come, first-served AnsakĂ€mppĂ€ Wilderness Hut. There are rapids and a portage on the upper section of the river, so skip it unless you’re an experienced boater.

On foot, try the , a loop that crosses some of the park’s famous hanging bridges. In summer months, the trail is one-way (clockwise). Backpackers can head out on the 50-mile Bear’s Ring, aka . Finland’s most popular hike traverses the park from north to south, with each stage ending on a bus route in case you’d prefer to sleep in a real bed, or campsites and huts along the way if you’d rather rough it. Thundering rivers, placid streams, bogs, hanging bridges, and delicate purple orchids await. Look out for traditional Sami herders and their reindeer, who still inhabit the area today.

In the winter, I love how the mercury plunges when Finnish Lapland freezes over, rewarding intrepid and cold-tolerant visitors with a magical landscape. It’s my favorite time of year to be in Finland. Pines and spruces thick with frozen snow stand like fuzzy sentinels over ice-crusted rivers and cross-country ski trails. In December and January, you’ll find a scant three hours of daylight. In late winter, you’ll still experience plenty of darkness for northern lights spotting, but will also be treated to long sunrises and sunsets, turning the landscape into a cotton-candy-colored forest.

Use an app like My Aurora Forecast to monitor northern-lights conditions for your best chance at spotting the undulating colors. Other winter options are to rent snowshoes or cross-country skis in nearby Ruka and set off on the park’s many trails.

HOW TO GET THERE: The closest airport to the park is Kuusamo, which has several flights from Helsinki each day, plus a few other major European cities like Brussels and Frankfurt. While renting a car in Kuusamo is the easiest mode of travel, a bus route from the airport accesses the Karhunkierros Trail, Oulanka National Park Visitor Center, and Ruka, if you’re eager to add downhill skiing to your itinerary. Ruka Ski Resort is Finland’s best known, and has a long season lasting October to May.

BEST TIME TO GO: Peak season for hiking and canoeing, the park’s main attractions, is July through September when the weather is warmest and most predictable (think 50s) and the days are the longest. To see the Northern Lights and get out on snowy trails, December through March are the best season, but be ready for temps from freezing to below zero.

WHERE TO STAY: For the most options, base yourself at Ruka Ski Resort. Ruka offers all sorts of lodging options and the park is a quick 30-minute drive away. Winter visitors who want to go all out should stay at , with glass igloos perfect for aurora spotting (from $347/night with breakfast). If you want to be closer to the park, ’s cozy wilderness hotel borders it (from $109/night for a double room).

3. Cinque Terre National Park, Italy (Parco Nazionale delle Cinque Terre)

Admission: $21-$35/day for train and trail access

WHY GO: I’d seen the brightly colored Italian houses clinging to cliffs above an azure sea on my Instagram feed, but had no idea that the five villages making up the Cinque Terre (note the article “the,” as you’ll be judged mightily for dropping it) are actually a national park until I visited this past spring. The land here is characterized by its human influence. The steep hills leading straight into the sea have been terraced and cultivated for more than 1,000 years.

BEST ADVENTURES: The most popular hiking route is the Blue Trail (also called the Sentiero Azzuro or SVA), the main path that historically connected all five villages. In 2019, a landslide took out the section of trail between Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore, and maintenance work is ongoing, though the Manarola to Riomaggiore section reopened in July. The sections between Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso al Mare remained open. Whenever you choose to travel, start out as early in the day as possible or plan an evening hike to dinner to avoid the crowded midday hours. Taking the train back is also always an option if the trails get packed (we had to turn around and take the train in April because the pathway was gridlocked).

(grab a focaccia made with the region’s famous pesto for my favorite mid-hike snack) and on to Monterosso is 4.1 miles one way with 2,000 feet of elevation gain. A less popular, but in my opinion even better, hike on the Blue Trail is the . You’ll climb up to the tiny town of Volastra, perched above the Cinque Terre, and then back down to Manarola. Time your hike so that you can grab a glass of wine and bruschetta at Cantina Capellini, a winery producing the Cinque Terre DOP white wine. The simple patio is right on the trail, situated amongst the vines, and overlooks the sea. Make sure you have room in your pack for a bottle to take home.

Heading south from Corniglia and ending in Manarola is 3.6 miles one way, with 1,300 feet of elevation gain. The descent on this route is heinous (you’ll end lower than you began), so you may want to skip this one if your knees are bad.

When you’re not on the trail, take advantage of amazing food (cornettos! pesto! wine! fried anchovies! focaccia!) on a patio, or head down to the water. Each town has sea access for swimming, though you won’t find much of a beach anywhere besides at Monterosso. Spread a towel on the rocks and sunbathe, or ($10.75/hour rentals from Riomaggiore) to explore the coastline.

HOW TO GET THERE: Fly into Florence, Milan, or Rome. Trains run directly from these major hubs to La Spezia Centrale, the closest city to the Cinque Terre, or you can drive to La Spezia Centrale and park your rental car in the large garage at the station. From there, it’s a quick seven-minute train ride to the first village, Riomaggiore. Each additional village is just a few minutes further up the tracks. If you plan on utilizing both the train and the trails, purchase a in advance, which allows unlimited train rides between villages (including La Spezia), access to the trails, and free use of the toilets at each train station ($21-$35/day).

BEST TIME TO GO: Hiking the Cinque Terre is best done in the off-season. Summer crowds are epic, and the trails can get packed by late morning even in the spring and fall.

While it’s a gamble to visit in the colder months (November through March), as the trails can close when weather is bad and you’ll have fewer lodging and dining options, it’s the least busy season. Plan a visit for the fringe months of March or November to capitalize on good weather and to beat the masses.

WHERE TO STAY: You’ll find hotels in Monterosso and Riomaggiore on each end, as well as in the larger city of La Spezia, a quick train ride away. But for the most authentic experience stay in one of the three central villages. Book a vacation rental (Airbnb has plenty of options) in Vernazza, Corniglia, or Manarola, and you’ll get to experience the towns when all the day tourists from the cruise ships have left. Quiet restaurants, empty streets, and coffee with the locals each morning are treats.

My favorite village is Corniglia, for its smaller size and gorgeous view from atop a hill, though the walk from the train station up a long set of stairs to the town makes coming and going a chore. We ended up skipping our dinner reservations one town over in favor of staying put here with a bottle of wine and take-out focaccia.

4. Dolomiti Bellunesi National Park, Italy (Parco Nazionale Dolomiti Bellunesi)

Admission: Free

WHY GO: While each region of Europe’s Alps has its own flavor, the Italian Dolomiti are particularly impressive. Craggy mountains, mist-filled valleys, and sweeping forests provide one of my favorite landscapes in the world.

The range, which encompasses northeastern Italy, is home to the 12 world-renowned ski areas that make up the Ikon Pass destination Dolomiti Superski. It’s also a Unesco World Heritage Site and the location of several incredible regional parks, such as Tre Cime. But you’ll only find one national park, Dolomiti Bellunesi, in the region. I’ve somehow missed this corner of the Dolomiti in all of my adventures here, so I can’t wait to plan a trip back to see it.

Stretching 12-square-miles northwest of Belluno, this somewhat under-the-radar park offers visitors the best of the Dolomiti, with fewer crowds than the area’s better-known and more northerly destinations of Tre Cime, Seceda, and Lago di Braises. Home to via ferratas, two of the famous Alta Via trails, and countless quintessential Italian villages, this is the place where you want to start your Dolomiti adventure.

BEST ADVENTURES: You’ll want to experience this national park by foot–miles of trails cross the mountains, including two of the Alta Via, or “high routes.” Alta Via 1 is a classic and one of the least technical of the routes, running 75 miles from Lago di Braies to La Pissa. The final four stages, which are often the least crowded, wind through the park. Alta Via 2 also includes three stages in the national park, from Passo Cereda to Passo Croce d’Aune. This route is more technical, with via ferratas required along the way. A climbing harness, helmet, and gloves are needed to tackle this option ( in Cortina »ć’AłŸ±è±đłúłúŽÇ for $23/day).

Whether or not you embark on one of the park’s through-hikes, you should definitely experience a via ferrata while in the Dolomiti. Popularized during WWI in the region to help troops navigate vertical terrain, these “iron paths” use ladders, rungs, pegs and steel cables affixed to rocks to help people move across the cliffs. The park’s highest peak, Schiara, has three via ferratas ringing it: Zacchi, Berti, and Piero Rossi, which, linked up, make for a long but doable day in the mountains if you stay at ($74/night for half board). These routes lean toward being difficult, so hiring a guide is advisable. I found to be excellent on my most recent via ferrata adventure, on the Punto Anna route in Cortina d’Ampezzo, an hour and a half north.

Cyclists can test their mettle on the grueling stage 20 of the 2022 Giro d’Italia route, which runs 104 miles (168 kilometers) from Belluno to Marmolada, crossing through the park on SR203. Whatever activities you choose to get up to, make sure to include some time on either end of your trip for a quick detour to the so-called Prosecco Road between Valdobbiadene and Conegliano, where the prestigious DOCG (the highest quality designation) sparkling wine is produced in the hills. My favorite producer, Adami, is one of the oldest in the region and has an excellent tour and tasting experience.

HOW TO GET THERE: Venice offers the closest major airport, and train service to Belluno takes approximately two hours. From there, the Dolomiti bus services many of the roads within the park, but note timetables, as service can be limited. Unless you’re planning a through-hike, the best way to explore the Dolomiti is by renting a car in Venice or Belluno, then driving to trailheads.

BEST TIME TO GO: Most staffed rifugios (mountain huts) away from the ski resorts are only open to hikers in summer, so June through September are the best months to visit if you’re planning an overnight adventure. The weather often stays pleasant through October, though, and travel then is a great way to skip out on some of the crowds if you’re prepared for the possibility of an early season snow storm.

WHERE TO STAY: Hiking the Alta Vias, even just a few linked stages, takes forethought, as many of the rifugios along the route fill up early in summer. Start planning in January or February when availability opens. Otherwise, you’ll find accommodation options—including hotels, guesthouses, rifugios, and vacation rentals—in and around the park, but book early as options can be limited. Belluno, with 36,000 inhabitants, is the closest major town.

For a unique experience, plan a stay at an agriturismo, a working farm where you’ll be treated to meals with homemade products like cheese and salumi. Mountain pasture cheesemaking has become a somewhat lost art in the Dolomiti, but this park has worked hard to restore five of these “malga” operations. If you don’t stop at an agriturismo, watch for latterias (like Latteria Perenzin in San Pietro di Feletto) where you can buy the locally made cheese alongside salumi and other products perfect for a picnic.

5. Samaria National Park, Greece

Admission $5.50

WHY GO: Encompassing the longest gorge in Europe, Samaria National Park showcases the best of the Mediterranean, from towering cliffs to fragrant cypress trees, and from white limestone riverbeds to the sparkling sea itself. Since the park is comprised almost solely of one long, steep , you can experience the place in its entirety, from the White Mountains to the Mediterranean, in one day. Samaria Gorge is located on the western side of Crete, Greece’s biggest island. I haven’t gotten to Greece yet, but a friend and colleague promises me that it’s the first place I’ll want to go.

BEST ADVENTURES: The park is open, weather permitting, from May through October. Entry begins at 7 a.m., and it’s an excellent idea to start out then, before the heat of the day. Much of the trail is exposed and sunbaked, so going the first or last month of the season is wise to avoid the mid-summer heat. The park closes down during excessively hot stretches, or if flooding is possible in the shoulder season. Pay attention to the heat and hold off if the temperatures are dangerous. It’s usually a five- to seven-hour hike without services, so pack plenty of water and snacks; bring sun protection, a hat and a neck gaiter to help stay cool; and wear hiking footwear. Water from springs is often available along the route, but don’t count on it.

You’ll start hiking steeply downhill, taking in the views of the surrounding White Mountains, before continuing through a pine and cypress forest and reaching the church of St. Nikolas inside the ruins of an ancient temple. Look around for kri kri, wild Cretan goats. Cross a few streams and you’ll find yourself in the ancient village of Samaria, which is now solely inhabited by park staff.

The gorge gradually narrows as you cross through a (hopefully) dry riverbed, alongside striped rock walls, into the skinniest point in the canyon, where the walls are just under 10 feet apart. The park closes at 6 p.m., so make sure you’re through the exit by then. Either walk another 1.5 miles or hop on a cheap shuttle to get to the village of Agia RoumĂ©li, where you can grab a late lunch or early dinner at one of several restaurants and, if time allows, take a well-earned dip in the Mediterranean.

The single ferry leaves the village at 5:30 p.m., only once per day, so don’t miss it or you’ll have to arrange a taxi boat or stay in the village. Depart at Chora Sfakion or Sougia and take the bus back to your car or lodge. If arranging your own transportation stresses you out, many tour companies offer guided excursions in the park.

HOW TO GET THERE: From Athens, fly into Chania International Airport for the closest access to the park. In Chania, you can either rent a car and drive to the gorge, or purchase a bus ticket to Xyloscalo, at the start of the trail. The full hike is one way, and at the end you’ll take a ferry to Sougia ($16/person) and then the bus either back to your car at the trailhead or your hotel in Chania. Be sure to reserve your return tickets in advance to avoid getting stranded.

BEST TIME TO GO: Samaria Gorge is open May through October, with the beginning and end of the season providing the coolest temperatures.

WHERE TO STAY: Most visitors base in the city of Chania and do the trip to Samaria Gorge in one long day, but if you, like me, would prefer a slower pace and to experience the secluded village of Agia Rouméli without the crowds, you can stay at one of the few hotels or vacation rentals in town. offers rooms, breakfast and beach loungers starting at $79 per night. You can spend the entire next day enjoying the beach before catching the ferry back.

6. Écrins National Park, France (Parc National des Écrins)

ADMISSION: Free

WHY GO: Écrins National Park, a glacier-filled alpine paradise with more than 150 peaks topping 3,000 meters, sits near the Italian border in eastern France. The Alps are one of my favorite landscapes in the world and, after visiting them in Austria, Italy, Slovenia, Switzerland, and Lichtenstein, I put this French national park squarely on my to-do list. Barre des Écrins is the tallest summit here, towering 13,458 feet above the park, the most southerly 4,000-meter peak in the Alps. Here, amongst the chamois you’ll almost certainly spot, you’ll feel like you’re at the top of the world.

BEST ADVENTURES: You could hike the park’s many trails, including a section of the Grand Écrins, but this is also a space known for its alpine climbing. If you’re looking for adventure, a three-day mountaineering- and glacier-skills course with will help you tag the summit of Barre des Écrins, staying in remote mountain huts ($1,645).

Within the boundaries of Écrins are two ski areas, and two others just bordering the park might be the area’s most famous, especially for cyclists. Les Deux Alpes bike park is one of the biggest in the Alps and is home to beginner- to competition-level courses in everything from downhill to enduro with pristine alpine views. Alpe d’Huez offers one of the Tour de France’s most iconic climbs in addition to the wild Megavalanche, a mass-start mountain-bike race on a glacier. Ride into the national park, which has around 100 miles of marked bike trails.

HOW TO GET THERE: The closest major city is Grenoble, France. Fly into Lyon, Geneva, Marseille, or even Paris and take a high-speed train to Grenoble. From there, if you plan on some serious exploring, it’s best to rent a car, but bus service is also available to Les Deux Alpes if you will stick to the resorts or hire a guide to get into the mountains.

BEST TIME TO GO: July through September are the months to visit to avoid snow in this mountain environment.Ìę

WHERE TO STAY: The ski resorts and villages in and around Écrins provide ample lodging, but to really get away from it all, book a stay in one of the 40 throughout the park. While some of these mountain huts simply serve as basic overnight shelters for mountaineers, others are staffed in the summer, offering hot dinner and breakfast and often a lovely patio on which to take in the setting sun in a gorgeous high-alpine setting.

Refuges almost always require a hike to reach, so choose your trail, do your research and book ahead to ensure you have a bed waiting at the end of your day.

Mikaela Ruland is the editor in chief of National Park Trips. She lives for the outdoors, and you can usually find her hiking, skiing, or mountain biking. She’s been to national parks on three continents, including 23 of the 63 U.S. national parks. Her favorite is whichever one she’s traveling to next.

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On my first inhale after leaving the puddle jumper that had brought us to the Kittila Airport, my nose hairs froze. Despite it being 9 a.m., the stars still winked overhead, here at the top of the world. It was minus 4 degrees outside.

Descending the gangway onto the icy tarmac in Finnish Lapland was a dream come true. I recognize I’m in the minority, being a person whose idea of fun is hanging out above the Arctic Circle in January, but exploring polar night in the frozen north was my bucket list adventure.

Well, it wasn’t actually polar night, I reminded myself as my husband, Topher, and I drove the 20 minutes from the airport to the ski town of Levi where we’d be staying. Polar night–that time at either pole when the sun never crests the horizon–had ended a couple weeks earlier and days were hovering around four hours in length already. But it was close enough.

I’d gotten incredulous questions from more than a few people before coming here. Northern Finland? In January? Really? I, myself, had dubiously seen Finland atop the World Happiness Report since 2018—it was once again named #1 in March 2024—and wondered how a country known for pickled herring and the wild vacillations between light and darkness could really be the happiest on earth. That couldn’t possibly be good for your circadian rhythms, right?

But then, I stumbled upon photos of fluffy-looking frozen Nordic pines against cotton candy skies, dog sleds racing through pristine forests and the Northern Lights dancing across the heavens. There was an undeniable pull that I couldn’t get out of my head. I’m a visual, gut feeling traveler. I don’t particularly care about ‘best of’ lists or wonders of the world. All it takes is a scroll through Google Images to convince me where to go. That’s how we ended up in Lapland, the Arctic region that spans Norway, Sweden, and Finland. It wasn’t easy or cheap to get here, and I knew I wouldn’t be doing my chronically Vitamin-D deprived self any favors by choosing an even colder, darker destination than my home in the Colorado Rockies, but I couldn’t look away.

Our plan was to spend five days skiing, dog sledding and, hopefully, spotting the Northern Lights. On that first, jet-lag-hazed day, we made our way up the mountain, or “fell” in Finnish, to the top of Levi Ski Resort during the scant few hours before darkness. Down at the lower elevations, the sun hadn’t quite risen above the horizon, but up on the fell, we were bathed in glorious, golden light. The trees, coated with a layer of ice and snow, looked like characters out of a children’s book. The weak sunlight and sub-zero temperatures kept everything perfectly frozen. I’d been in Finland for mere hours, but I was already feeling the magic sweep over me, only intensified when I caught sight of reindeer munching on lichen in the snow.

How does Finland keep earning the top ranking? The report, produced by Gallup, the Oxford Wellbeing Research Centre, the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network, and the WHR’s Editorial Board, measures happiness by asking the residents of countries across the globe a single question. After all, no one is better equipped to report on happiness levels than the folks who are being measured in the first place.

Gallup asks poll participants to evaluate their lives on a 0 to 10 scale and then the rankings are taken from a three year time frame. The report then goes on to explain these rankings using six factors: GDP per capita, social support, healthy life expectancy, freedom, generosity, and corruption. In 2021-23, Finns ranked their lives at 7.741, an entire point above my home country of the United States and six points higher than the lowest ranking country, Afghanistan.

Economist Jeffery Sachs put it like this in a :“The idea is a good balance of life.”

Each year when Finland is crowned the Happiest Country in the World again, a slew of articles comes out trying to explain it. Last year a Finnish psychologist pointed to a lost , touting community trust as a factor. The country’s highlights reasoning that also makes for good travel marketing: the ability to see the Northern Lights, sauna culture, warm and welcoming locals.

The desire to quantify, and therefore be able to replicate, such an essential human experience as happiness makes sense. Humans have been chasing it since the dawn of time. The more I researched happiness though, I started to think that it was a slippery, elusive state that’s more than the sum of its parts. I spent five days above the Arctic Circle in Finland, getting out in nature, immersing myself in culture, eating incredible food, and being present. By the end of my trip, I could feel deep in my chest that there was something special about this place. I hadn’t seen the sun since we’d left Denver. Every time we left the Airbnb, even if it was just for dinner, I donned every item of clothing I’d brought with me. This included a pair of clear-lensed goggles that kept my contact lenses from freezing. The cold reverberated so deeply in my bones, I wondered if I’d ever be warm again. It was madness. But I’ve never enjoyed a trip more.

Video by Mikaela Ruland

It’s easy to quantify why Finns are happier than Afghanis, but it’s harder to explain why they’re happier than their Scandinavian counterparts. I’ve yet to visit Denmark or Iceland, the other two countries that reside in the top three spots on the 2024 World Happiness Report, but I do know how Finland made me feel. Happy. Here’s why.

1. Finland Makes Access to Nature a Priority

Kilometers to miles had gotten muddled up in my head and halfway across the frozen lake, icy winds buffeting us from seemingly every direction, I knew it was time to bail. The permanent sunset was staining the sky a dusky pink, and I tried to focus on the slide, glide, slide, glide of my cross-country skis on the groomed trail. When we finally reached the shelter of the trees, I pulled my fingers out of my gloves for a precious few seconds to check the map. Luckily for us, the entirety of Levi was ringed by miles and miles of groomed ski trails. We certainly weren’t going to make it the entire loop I’d charted for us, but we easily picked another trail and headed back towards town.

Finally free of the wind, I began to notice the other folks we passed on the trail. There were skate skiers and traditional skiers, dog walkers and snowshoers, families with kids and older couples whose ski suits looked straight out of the 80s. On occasion, our trail crossed a snowmobile track. Above us, on the fell, downhill skiers and snowboarders carved the slopes. Despite the cold and the shortly impending darkness, locals and tourists alike were out enjoying the incredible access to nature that Levi provided.

When I researched Lapland, I was overwhelmed by choice. There are dozens of towns scattered across northern Finland, even more if you factor in Sweden and Norway, each offering its own flavor with a distinct central theme: easy access to top notch outdoor recreation of any style. After another kilometer, we were planting our skis in a snowbank and sitting down to eat pizza and warm up. We didn’t even have to get in a car— the trails were accessible from our Airbnb’s front door.

One day, we skied to a reindeer farm, our pockets filled with salty licorice, and drank cocoa in front of a roaring fire in a little cafe. Another day, we were given a brief overview and sent careening down a trail behind our own team of eight sled dogs with All Huskies Sled Dog Safaris. Topher and I took turns driving, one of us bundled up in the sled while the other threw their weight into the turns, stepped desperately on the brakes on the downhills, and ran behind the sled on the uphills. It was exhilarating, gliding through the snowy forest and working in tandem with the enthusiastic dogs to cross the snow. When our guides released all eight teams of dogs after the run, it was the best kind of chaos, as more than 60 elated animals ran through the yard.

2. Finland Stays Connected to its Heritage

That first day when we ventured up the fell, we were on our way to Samiland, a UNESCO Observatory cultural village site. The extensive indoor exhibit introduced us to the Sami, an Indigenous group of people whose traditional homelands encompass northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia. We learned about the different groups of Sami, their history, culture, and traditions, and then went outside to wander through a replica Sami village which included two very adorable, live reindeer. Reindeer were, and remain, an integral part of Sami culture. We’d come to learn that reindeer herding was not just a relic of Scandinavia’s past, but a vibrant and important part of the region’s present and future.

Thirty-three percent of Finland is designated as reindeer husbandry area. In Norway and Sweden, reindeer herding remains the exclusive privilege of the Sami people. In Finland, any EU citizen can own reindeer, as long as they are approved by the reindeer herding district’s board, but the industry still remains largely Sami. Visiting Samiland, which was embedded in Levi Ski Resort and shared a building with a luxury hotel, I was struck by how the Indigenous culture was at the forefront of the narrative here in Finland, a stark difference to the U.S.

That evening, we waited with a group of expectant diners in the lobby of the Hotel K5 in Levi before several servers in traditional dress appeared to lead us outside and down into the Earth. At Saamen Kammi, visitors like us can experience a traditional Sami meal in an underground hut. In the circular room, we sat around the central cooking area, taking in our surroundings. The walls and ceilings were made of pine boughs and there were reindeer hides on the walls. The smell of meat cooking over hot coals wafted up to us, making our stomachs grumble. As we ate our meal, we learned that many of the ingredients were foraged from the surrounding forest, a practice that feels like it should be relegated to the tables of fine dining restaurants but is commonplace in Finland. In a world exceedingly saturated with styrofoam and plastic packaged foods, it’s a piece of their heritage that they’ve somehow retained. After dinner, we were treated to music and dance by a Sami father-daughter duo performing traditional Joik music.

Samiland and Saamen Kammi were just two examples of the ways in which a town with a year round population of 600 weaves their heritage into everyday life. From reindeer farms to restaurants to warming huts along ski routes, we never forgot about the history and culture of the place we were visiting.

3. Finnish Food Is Delicious and Healthy

When I pitched this vacation to my husband, I made sure to include the caveat that it wouldn’t be a “food trip.” While we usually plan our travels around all the incredible things we’re going to eat, I couldn’t imagine that winter in northern Finland was going to be that kind of trip. I’d even gone so far as to book Airbnbs with kitchens so we could cook our own meals if the food proved to be disappointing. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My first hint that I was mistaken came in the Helsinki Airport, an unexpectedly beautiful space that looked like Ikea’s chic older sister. After a delayed flight and missed connections, we’d unexpectedly had to spend the night in an airport hotel, eating granola bars for dinner. Early the next morning we were ravenous and filled up our trays at the airport cafe with cardamom buns and thick toast topped with lox. It was the best airport meal of my life.

While Saamen Kammi was a beautiful cultural experience, it was also one of my favorite meals ever. Dinner started with steaming bowls of clear salmon soup, perfumed heavily with dill. Around the central fireplace, we filled our plates with roasted and sauteed reindeer, planks of salmon set above the flames and covered with a creamy dill sauce, mashed potatoes and winter vegetables. For dessert, we had squeaky Lappish bread cheese with preserved cloudberries. I was blown away. Every ingredient was locally sourced and despite feet of snow outside, the meal in front of us was deeply connected to the land. The reindeer meat was so good that I couldn’t even muster guilt when I conjured their cute faces to mind. Rich and sweet, without too much gamey flavor, it quickly became my favorite component of Finnish meals.

Another night in Levi, we ordered sauteed reindeer with lingonberries and a reindeer burger at Nili Poro, an intimate, warm spot run by a local reindeer herder. The interior was covered in pelts and wood and candles flickered on the tables. We drank glogg, spiced mulled wine, and asked for seconds of the incredible “fell bread” the Sami chef bakes on his mother’s stove every morning. At Ristorante Renna, my husband had reindeer sausage and lingonberries on a pizza and I gambled and ordered a smoked salmon pie, complete with cucumber, dill cream sauce, and arugula. It was the most interesting–and delicious–pizza I’ve ever eaten.

While we didn’t find much of a fika culture in Finland, at least in Levi, we were delighted by Campfire Barista at the base of the slopes. On a cart pulled by snowmobile, owner Steffan brews coffee and crafts lattes over an open fire as you watch. Our lattes tasted like spruce and woodsmoke.

And I couldn’t get enough of the grocery store bins full of black licorice, tasting strong and salty. I brought bags of it home on the plane. What started out as an adventure vacation turned into one of my favorite food trips.

4. The Northern Lights, Saunas, and an Appreciation for the Present Moment

I’d imagined that the Finns somehow managed to rank as the happiest country on Earth despite the near constant winter darkness, but during our week in Lapland, I learned that they did so in spite of it.

Yes, during the few daylight hours each day we encountered plenty of locals and visitors alike on the trails, taking advantage of the light to ski and snowshoe and walk, but when darkness settled back in, we still passed folks pushing strollers, meeting friends for a meal and going about their day, all with a smile on their faces.

Many of us fell in love with Cecilia Blomdahl’s slice-of-life from Svalbard (an island close to the North Pole) during the pandemic, and I saw her perspective on polar night reflected on the faces of many of the locals we interacted with: “Polar night is something we get to experience, rather than endure.”

The glow of streetlights on snow, the stars overhead, and the crisp feeling of a long night quickly won me over, but my excitement for the darkness mostly stemmed around the My Aurora Forecast app I obsessively started checking as soon as the color faded from the skies each day. The first few nights, I had alarms set throughout the hours I should have been asleep to check the Northern Lights prediction. I knew it was a slim chance—so many people I’d chatted with who had been to the Arctic had never spotted them—but I was hopeful.

Halfway through dinner on our third night, I got an alert. I checked the webcams, scouring the skies on my screen for any hint of green. There it was. Or were my eyes playing tricks on me? I’d been staring at the tiny box for days, maybe I was hallucinating. My husband confirmed it was definitely a green glow. We left our half-eaten meal on the table and rushed up to the top of the fell where the skies were dark and fairly clear. We waited in the freezing car, our breath fogging up the windows, and peeked outside every few seconds. Then, all of a sudden, the Northern Lights appeared.

Tendrils of green danced across the dark skies, coming from every direction. We stumbled around the parking lot, giggling like little kids and staring at this precious wonder before us. I was shocked by how dynamic they were, undulating ribbons in constant motion. We stayed out in the cold for 20 minutes until the clouds obscured our view. That miraculous show ended up being the only time all week we’d spot them, despite having booked a glass-roofed Airbnb the next day. I’d dashed off a few quick shots on my camera, but left my phone in the car. It’d been a magical moment I’d allowed myself to be fully present for, a rarity these days.

We’d read a Sami legend that the Northern Lights came from a fox brushing her tail along the snow, the moonlight reflecting on the snowflakes she’d swept up. On the drive home, a fox crossed the road in front of us, pausing in our headlights. The solar cycle is peaking in 2024, meaning the Northern Lights are supposed to be some of the best of our lifetime. I can’t think of a better way to connect with the present moment than by chasing them across the Arctic.

After each frozen adventure, we’d return to our Airbnb and turn on the sauna. With one sauna for every two Finns, the country is replete with them. Sauna culture is such an integral part of everyday Finnish life, that it was inscribed into UNESCO’s list of intangible cultural heritage in 2020. Sauna isn’t just about cleansing the body, it’s also about cleansing the mind and finding a sense of inner peace. It wasn’t hard to find vacation rentals that included them—in fact ones without were the rarity. When the rocks were hot, we’d step inside and ladle in water, letting the steam sink into our bones and melt the lingering cold from our bodies. In a sauna, you can’t scroll social media or check the news. With no windows to the outside world, the only option is to be present in the current moment. To sit and to let my shoulders relax and just be. It was a foreign concept, but one I quickly fell in love with.

On the plane ride home, my head started to pound. It took me half an hour to realize it was because the sun was streaming in through the windows, my eyes already unused to the bright light. I closed the window and let myself bask in the darkness for a few more hours.

Mikaela Ruland is the Associate Content Director for National Park Trips. This year, she is exploring as much of Europe as she can. She recently skied in Zermatt and the Italian Dolomites.Ìę

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It’s a Friday afternoon in fall, and the A27 highway is deserted as small Italian villages and dormant farmland pass by the windows of our rental car. I’m focused on the true crime podcast coming through the speakers when the low layer of clouds suddenly parts. The gasp I make rattles my husband Topher, who jerks the wheel in concern that we’re about to hit something. It’s a tense thirty seconds of me unhelpfully squealing, “look, look, look!” before he sees the mountains, too. Like out of a dream, the peaks I’ve been fantasizing about for years get closer and closer as we eat up the kilometers: the Dolomites.

Topher, our 60-pound dog, and I are driving from Croatia. I’m craning my neck to take in the imposing, snow-dusted peaks as we rapidly start climbing through a valley carved by a river blue gray with glacial run-off. I’d fallen in love with Italy before I could even point to it on a map thanks to my dad’s Navy stint there in the 80s. I grew up on stories of pasta swimming in garlic, skiing across international borders, and crazy Italian drivers—all punctuated by the wild gesticulation my folks had picked up while living there. When we finally crossed the Atlantic on my first international flight to visit Tuscany the summer I turned 18, it was like seeing a favorite musician in concert for the first time. My love was firmly cemented.

As I got older and honed my passions, most of which revolve around big mountains I can hike or ski or bike, I stumbled upon photos of the Dolomites. The home of storied alpinists like Reinhold Messner, the mythical looking mountains, so different from the Rockies I grew up in, enchanted me. I showed my mountaineer dad pictures, and he corrected my pronunciation. The Doh-loh-mee-tee—not the frequent American mispronunciation doh-low-mights—were definitely badass, he confirmed.

The more elevation we gain, the less I’m paying attention to the podcast. I finally pause it so I can more effectively ooh and ahh. I’d planned our fall trip to hopefully coincide with the changing of the larch trees—conifers straight out of a Dr. Seuss book, with furry looking branches filled with needles that turn gold in October and drop to the ground in winter. I hadn’t accounted for the rest of the foliage hitting its peak this same weekend. The hillsides are practically glowing in every shade from yellow to orange to red. Each new valley we enter is ringed by endless rocky peaks, the most delicate coating of snow clinging to their crevices. Still-green meadows sprawl out underneath them and perfect little villages with terracotta roofs cling to the sides of the narrow road as it winds up, up, up. I’m torn between memorizing the names of the peaks from Google Maps so I can come back and explore them, and just soaking in their grandeur.

We drive through the ski town of Cortina »ć’AłŸ±è±đłúłúŽÇ and head up a windy road towards a looming pass. Many of the buildings along the route are emblazoned with the red squirrel symbol of the Scoiattoli Cortina mountaineering and ski club, a group of alpinists world renowned for their first ascents of the east wall of Mount BlancÌęand most of the peaks surrounding us now. We’re on hallowed ground.

Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2009, I’m not alone in my adoration of the Dolomites. Stretching nearly 550 square miles across northeastern Italy, the mountain range is home to more than 12 ski resorts, including the two-time winter Olympics destination of Cortina »ć’AłŸ±è±đłúłúŽÇ. The jagged peaks and serene valleys are an outdoor enthusiast’s dream come true. You can hike, climb, and mountain bike in the summer, ski, snowshoe and ice skate natural lakes in the winter. With 18 3,000-meter peaks and countless mountain villages blending Austrian and Italian architecture, there’s a lifetime worth of exploration in this region.

I’m sure Topher is tired of me saying “This is wild,” but I can’t find any other words. Travel writers are fond of declaring a place fairytale-like, but the peaks and valleys surrounding me feel more like something out of a fantasy novel. I half expect a dragon to come flying out from behind the nearest summit. The road leads us through a golden forest, and I realize the larches I was so keen to see don’t require hiking to view. They surround us on all sides.

We arrive at the summit of Passo Tre Croci and check-in to our no frills hotel perched above the village of Cortina D’Ampezzo below. There’s a trailhead leading away from the parking lot, and we frolic down it for a ways, letting the dog stretch her legs in the dying light. When we get to our room, I throw the windows wide open and take pictures of the sun turning the peaks pink until the stars come out. The bartender downstairs pours us Aperol spritzes and lets the dog make herself at home on a thick pelt acting as a rug. Then she returns with a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches with delicate grill marks from the panini press for us, and I can tell Italy has already won my husband over.

The next morning, the sky is still dark and star-studded as we drive back down the pass, through Cortina, and up the mountains across the valley toward the Ponte di Rocurto trailhead where we had chosen to hike. All the cafes we pass are closed, making me glad I’d downed a cup of sludgy instant coffee in the room.

The road is already lined with cars when we get there and the sun still hasn’t risen. It’s as bad as some of Colorado’s notoriously crowded fourteeners, but I reason with myself—and Topher—that the trail leads to several multi-day routes, with mountain huts along the way, so maybe the hike won’t be that busy. We get lucky as we start climbing the six-mile trail to Lago Federa and don’t see another soul. The route is steeper than we’d banked on and so we hike quietly, aside from our heavy breathing.

As we pass gaps in the trees, the mountain on the other side of the valley shows itself, powdered sugar snow clinging to the face, clouds playing peek-a-boo with us as we go. The first of the sunlight filters through the canopy and sets the golden larches around us aglow. The trail is covered in a thick carpet of needles and my breath fogs. I wonder if it would be macabre to tell Topher to scatter my ashes in this mountain range when I die, having been here for less than 12 hours. I look back down the trail at him, slogging his way unhappily up the incline, and think better of it.

That doesn’t change the sentiment, though, as my dog and I power up the trail. I start flipping through my mental list of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. An achingly still morning canoeing across Washington’s Lake Crescent. The streets of Paris. Sunset in my favorite valley outside of Aspen, Colorado. The frozen forests of Finnish Lapland, the Northern LightsÌędancing across the sky. There’s a split in the trail and shows a short path ending in a binoculars symbol. Topher is out of sight at this point, so the dog and I take the detour. Tears spring to my eyes as we reach the fence at the end, keeping us from plummeting off the cliff. It doesn’t matter which direction I look, striking mountains peeking out from behind wispy clouds, golden hillsides and postcard-worthy villages crowned by church spires sprawl out in front of me. There’s no competition. This is the prettiest place I’ve ever been.

When Topher arrives, I watch him take in the scene before pulling out his phone to snap a picture. He’s still grumpy from the more-than-we-bargained-for hiking grade, but I can tell he’s enchanted, too. The trail levels out and before we know it we’re approaching the lake we’ve come to see. The curved horn of Croda da Lago’s peak reflects in the glass-still water, the entire scene bathed in a warm glow where the sun hits the thousands of larches around us. The lake is lined with photographers, but everyone speaks in the hushed, reverent tones the landscape demands.

We take a million photos and wander the shore, soaking in the autumn sun and the stunning views. On the far side of the lake, we post up on the patio of a mountain hut called and drink cappuccinos and eat ricotta cake and apple strudel. This rifugio, one of the few open this late in the season, takes overnight guests, but not dogs. I’m already pining to come back next summer, my eyes focused on the trail that wanders over the next ridgeline, surely leading towards more incredible beauty, delicious food, and heart pumping climbs.

That evening, we tuck ourselves into a booth in the back of a tiny restaurant called Il Vizietto di Cortina, which is full to bursting. The night before we’d tried the local specialties—beetroot ravioli covered in butter and poppyseeds (casunziei) and Ampezzo potatoes cooked with caramelized onions and speck. Tonight we’re trying dishes from other regions of Italy, and our table is soon laden down with bowls of seafood spaghetti dotted with scampi and clams, Amatriciana with speck and cherry tomatoes, and Aperol spritzes (even though it’s cold enough for puffies). There’s twinkle lights in the windows and the soundtrack is a cacophony of ItalianÌęand bottles being uncorked and clinking forks, and while I’m a hopeless romantic when someone sets a bowl of pasta in front of me, this too is excruciatingly beautiful.

I’d sketched out a few hopeful hikes for the next morning, but when we awake our feet are tired and the sky is gloomy. The 8.3-mile hike to Lago di Sorapis’ Gatorade-blue waters will have to wait until next time. Instead, we find a local bakery and save a pair of backpacking Brits who don’t have any cash and are trying to buy a baguette. We marvel at the croissants and cornettos we’ve filled our bag with as we wind up the mountain.

Our target is Cinque Torri—the five rock towers visible from town. In the summer, there’s a lift running up to its base. In the off season, there’s a steep, several-mile trail under the chairlift or a dubious looking road travel bloggers have warned us against. I give Topher the choice—he’s heard there’s a World War I museum at the top so there’s no turning back now—and he opts to maneuver our little rental car with a concerning lack of ground clearance up the dirt road. It’s not long before we pass an abandoned Land Rover and I grip the sides of my seat, reminding myself of all the wild places he’s navigated our Subaru back home. Maybe we should have opted for the additional insurance.

Before long we’ve climbed out of the trees and park underneath a rifugio that’s boarded up for the off-season. Above our heads, the towers loom large. We climb a short, muddy road and find ourselves at the top of the ski lift. Below us, bunkers from World War I are hidden amongst the rocks so well I can’t pick them out.ÌęHere, the Italian Army made their stand against the Austro-Hungarians. We wander through the bunkers, peering out through gun sights and reading information panels, imagining what the young men who were stationed here more than a hundred years earlier had been thinking. It starts snowing, itty bitty flakes that melt the second they hit my jacket.

It’s time to drive home, fueled by cappuccinos and ricotta cake from a restaurant we pass on the way back down to Cortina. As we head through the last tunnel, leaving the Dolomites for the plains below, I promise myself this won’t be the last time I visit. I’ve already got plans swimming through my mind of ski trips and hikes between rifugios, and for the first time in years I think about starting to rock climb again. There’s a siren song from these mountains, beckoning me up and up and up. Who am I not to listen?

is the associate content director for . This year, she and her husband Topher are spending as much as time as possible exploring in Europe.ÌęÌęÌęÌę

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At 6,593 feet, Mount LeConte is the third-tallest peak in the park and home to one of the most unique backcountry accommodations in the National Park System: LeConte Lodge. This remote lodge, built in 1926, is located near the mountain’s summit. The compound consists of seven log cabins and three lodges with individual bedrooms and a communal dining room.

Routes to LeConte Lodge

There are half a dozen trails leading to LeConte Lodge and the summit of Mount LeConte. While ambitious hikers could tackle most of the routes in a single day, overnighting at LeConte Lodge, if you can manage it, is an experience you won’t want to miss when summiting this peak.

Of the six trails that lead to the lodge, Alum Cave is the shortest but steepest at 5 miles one way and almost 3,000 feet in elevation gain. For those looking for a long route, Brushy Mountain clocks in at 9.1 miles one way. The most popular route, however, tends to be Trillium Gap at 6.7 miles. It’s considered the easiest of the six trails and it also has the bonus that hikers will likely encounter the lodge’s famous on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays along the trail. Vehicles can’t access LeConte Lodge, so food and other supplies for lodge guests must be packed in. Llamas have the least impact on the landscape, so they help deliver the goods. See the .

Staying at LeConte Lodge

Once you arrive at the lodge, enjoy the solitude of the surrounding area. Water and pack lunches are available here for day hikers, along with merchandise from the camp store.

If you have advance reservations to stay at the lodge, enter the quaint dining room for a hearty dinner consisting of beef and gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, stewed apples, and dessert. Breakfast the next morning is scrambled eggs, Canadian bacon, biscuits, pancakes and grits. Lunch is provided in the dining room or to-go if you are staying more than one night. While the lodge covers meals, guests carry all their other clothing and gear with them up the mountain: It’s the backpacking version of glamping.

Take in the views from a rocking chair on the deck, go for a hike, or play board games with your fellow guests. When it’s time for bed, you’ll bunk down under the glow of kerosene lamps since there’s no electricity at the lodge. Linens are provided, and all cabins and lodge rooms have propane heaters to keep you warm on chilly mountain nights. There are no showers at the lodge, but there are flush toilets in an adjacent privy building.

Perhaps the best reason to choose to stay at LeConte Lodge rather than summiting and descending from Mount LeConte as a day hike is that you’ll be perfectly positioned to watch the sunrise from Myrtle Point. This spot is where the lodge’s builder, Jack Huff, married his wife, Pauline, and it is a stunning place to watch the sun come up and bathe the Smokies in golden light.

Reservations for LeConte Lodge

This incredible backcountry experience is definitely no secret. Reservations are coveted and hard to come by. In early August 2022, the lodge opened a lottery for the 2023 season, and then closed it in late September. In the interim, people could fill out reservation requests for their desired dates. On Oct. 3, these written requests were processed simultaneously with phone-call requests. Usually, all dates are booked through this process, but occasionally certain dates don’t get filled, and there may also be cancellations. The lodge has a waitlist form that you can fill out,Ìę specifying three dates you’d like to be waitlisted for. You can also call the office at 865-429-5704 to see if any additional dates are available for reservation.

Now you know: Mark your calendars each year to submit requests in August and September. If you don’t get one in October, you can always watch and hope for cancellations.

While the process of obtaining a reservation can be frustrating, it’s well worth it if you do get the chance to experience an overnight stay at LeConte Lodge. Find more information at .

Whether or not you can snag a stay, you can visit the lodge. Its office is the hub of activities on the mountain. Visitors at the lodge are offered numerous forms of non-electronic entertainment, and many day hikers use the office as a resting place before trekking back down the mountain. Day hikers may purchase food and other items at the camp store.

This story was first published in °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’sÌęsister brandÌęÌęwhere Mikaela Ruland is Content Director. In addition to eight , each one dedicated to a national park, National Park Trips publishes four magazines a year, providing expert travel service on Grand Canyon National Park, Colorado’s national parks, Yellowstone National Park, and Yosemite National Park. National Park Trips also provide free trip planners for many parks.Ìę

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Photos of the breathtaking Havasu Falls tumbling over red cliffs and ending in a Gatorade-blue pool were popping up all over social media—until they stopped. Visitation to this outpost of the Grand Canyon ceased in March 2020, upon the arrival of the pandemic. Three years later, as of February, the falls have reopened on a limited basis.

Given that the falls are bucket-list status, it has always been challenging to get a permit to hike there, especially so this year. No new reservations or permits will be issued this year, but existing ones made prior to the onset of COVID-19 will be honored. As stated by on Facebook, “Only those reservation holders that were impacted by the COVID tourism suspension have a confirmed reservation. The only way to get a reservation for 2023 is to purchase off the official transfer list” for cancellations.

To track cancellations, watch closely, and be aware that you must sign up for an account to see availability. The above Facebook page has good information as well.

DON’T LOSE HOPE: check the cancellations daily, or start dreaming and planning for next year. New permits will be issued again starting in February 2024.

Whenever you can get the chance, this is what to expect during the hike and the best way to do it.

How to Reach Havasu Falls

These falls and their sister falls—Navajo, Mooney, and Beaver—are among the Southwest’s most awe-inspiring natural wonders. The falls don’t technically lie within . They are located on the Havasupai (meaning people of the blue-green waters) Reservation and are inaccessible by road.

A trip to Havasu Falls isn’t for the casual visitor. Not only is it a long and steep 10-mile hike to the falls, but even in normal years you need to secure a competitive lodging reservation, which also serves as a permit, in advance. Day hikes are not allowed. The challenges you’ll face in actually getting to the falls, however, are well worth it when you drop your pack and swim in those waters.

Visitors to Havasu Falls spend their time swimming, hiking to the area’s other waterfalls and attractions, and soaking in the stunning views. While you’ll be surrounded by natural beauty, you definitely won’t feel a sense of solitude while hiking to and staying on the Havasupai Reservation. Within the canyon are accommodations for several hundred people, and visiting is so popular that every space is full all season. As long as you don’t mind enjoying the scenery with other hikers, this spot is still well worth it.

How Long Is the Trail to Havasu Falls?

The trail to Havasu Falls is 10 miles one way, or 20 miles roundtrip. However, you’ll want to account for some extra mileage to hike to the other beautiful waterfalls in this canyon and to reach your campsite, which may be past the falls.

From the parking lot, descend 1,200 feet in the first mile as you tackle steep switchbacks through beautiful red sandstone to the flatter ground of a dry stream bed. Follow the trail as it gradually descends over another seven miles, and at a junction, follow the sign that points to the village of Supai. The desert transforms into a lush oasis as you hike along Havasu Creek and then arrive at Supai. Check in at the Tourism Office and show your reservations to get mandatory wristbands for everyone in your group.

From Supai, continue another two miles to the campground. You’ll catch your first view of Havasu Falls, the last 10 miles evaporating from your mind as you take in the turquoise waters. There’s one more steep descent to the campground.

How Difficult Is the Hike to Havasu Falls?

The difficulty depends on your abilities. Seasoned hikers might find the trek moderately difficult, but if you lack experience, it’s likely to feel pretty grueling. Train for your trip by hiking or hitting the gym with a loaded backpack to ensure that you’re feeling fit and ready.

From the trailhead, you’ll descend 2,500 feet to the campground over 10 miles of hiking. That means 2,500 feet of climbing on the way back up at the end of the trip, too. While that distance and elevation might not seem overly difficult for experienced hikers, wearing a loaded backpack and hiking through the shade-less and extremely dry terrain can make it more intense.

To have the best possible experience, avoid planning trips at the height ofÌę summer, when midday temperatures can easily top 100 degrees. Start both ways as early as possible to avoid the heat of the day. The trail is closed overnight, so 4 a.m. is the earliest you could begin.

The trail starts at more than 5,000 feet above sea level, so drink plenty of water to avoiding dehydration and altitude and heat sickness. There are no water sources along the trail, so you’ll need to bring enough for the entire hike in and then out again (water is available at the destination). The Hualapai Tribe recommends a gallon of water per person for each leg (out and back) of the hike. A gallon of water weighs 8.3 pounds, something to know as you’re packing your backpack.

Alcohol is strictly prohibited on the reservation—yes, really, you can end up in jail for a year if you ignore this law—so put the extra weight that might have been taken up with an aprùs beverage into hauling all that water. Proper sun protection, like a hat with a brim, lightweight long-sleeve layers, sunglasses, and sunscreen are also important for hiking in the desert.

The steep switchback sections can be pretty gnarly on the knees, but trekking poles will take some of the load off your joints and help you balance.

When Is the Best Time to Visit Havasu Falls?

The hiking season for Havasu Falls is February through November.

In the summer months of June through September, the in the canyon. Daily highs often top 100 degrees and nightly lows stay above 70 degrees. While these temperatures can be doable at the bottom of the canyon where you can cool off in the creek or find shade, the temperatures along the trail up and down are fierce. If you do plan a summer trip, start your hikes in and out very early in the day. Flash floods can occur in the summer months when monsoon rains drop large amounts of water on the hard desert floor in a short amount of time. Even if there isn’t rain on the reservation, flash flooding can still occur from nearby storms. Always check the weather forecast before starting out and if you hear or see flood waters approaching, get to high ground immediately.

The best times to plan a trip to Havasu Falls are the spring and fall months. Highs are in the seventies and eighties, and the lows rarely dip below freezing at night.

The colder months of February and November may be the easiest times to get permits. While snow at Havasu Falls is pretty much unheard of, temperatures will likely drop below freezing at night and hover in the fifties and sixties during the day. Since campfires aren’t allowed, pack plenty of warm layers and a warm sleeping bag.

How Do I Get a Permit to Hike to Havasu Falls?

The answer is with a little bit of preparation and a ton of luck. Day hikes are not permitted to Havasu Falls, so you need to either make a camping reservation or a reservation at the lodge in the village of Supai, two miles from Havasu Falls. Don’t even think about attempting to visit without a reservation. You may need to show either your camping or lodge reservation to drive to the trailhead.

As noted above, unless you have a delayed permit, the only way to visit in 2023 is to grab a cancellation. For 2024, keep in mind that reservations are extremely popular and often sell out as soon as they become available. Create an account on before the reservation window opens, and add in all your personal and payment information so you’re ready on the big day. Be ready to reserve right when reservations open and be prepared to be flexible on your trip dates.

If you aren’t able to make a reservation, keep an eye on for the list of cancellations, which gets updated at 8 a.m. MST each day. If you see a reservation that works for you, you can book right away.

Be sure to specify a Potential Alternate Trip Leader in case you aren’t able to go on the trip. Reservations can’t be transferred, so the rest of your group will be out of luck unless you specify an alternate to take your place as the trip leader.

Where to Stay at Havasu Falls

There are two types of reservations for staying on the Havasupai Reservation: camping or staying at the Supai Lodge.

The campground is located 10 miles from the trailhead and spans a mile along Havasu Creek between Havasu Falls and Mooney Falls. You won’t be making reservations for an assigned campsite, just for the dates of your trip. Once you arrive, you can set up camp anywhere in the designated camping area.

All campground reservations are for three nights and four days. This gives you plenty of time to explore the canyon as well as rest up for your return hike uphill. Composting toilets and drinking water are available at the campground. Campfires and flames of any kind other than gas-powered cooking stoves are prohibited.

The other option is to make a reservation at the Supai Lodge, located in the small village of Supai. Supai is two miles from Havasu Falls and is where the tourist office, museum, lodge, store, and café are located. You can reserve four-person rooms (two queens) at the lodge. Accommodations are basic, but each room has air-conditioning, heat, and hot showers.

The Supai Café is usually open from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., though the hours may vary. It serves burgers, fries, and Indian Tacos, made with fry bread. The Supai Store sells drinks, ice cream, travel-sized toiletries, and canned goods. Because of the remote location, inventory may be limited, and prices will be expensive. Better to bring your own supplies.

In the past, some tour companies were able to obtain permits to guide clients to Havasu Falls, but in 2019, the tribe suspended commercial use permits for the foreseeable future.

The tribe also offers pack mule reservations to shuttle your gear from the trailhead down into the canyon. However, we suggest steering clear of the pack mules and instead experiencing the sense of satisfaction you’ll get when you make it to Havasu Falls with all your gear on your own back.

How Much Does It Cost to Go to Havasu Falls?

Camping reservations for Havasu Falls include three nights and four days for $395 per person. Rates at the Lodge are for four people and include three nights and four days of lodging. Each reservation costs $1,980. When staying at the Lodge, you will also need to pay a $40 deposit per night and a $50 per person entrance fee, plus taxes.

How Do I Get to Havasu Falls and Havasu Creek?

The only way to get to Havasu Falls and the beautiful Havasu Creek is to hike 10 miles with your gear either in a backpack, or carried by a pack mule.

The closest major towns to the Havasupai Trailhead are and , Arizona. It’s a great idea to stay in one of these towns the night before your hike to help get an early start on the trail.

From Kingman, take Historic Route 66 east just past the town of Peach Springs. Take a left on Indian Road 18 and continue 60 miles to the end of the road at the Hualapai Hilltop Parking Area. From Williams, take I-40 west to Route 66 and then Route 66 west to Indian Road 18. The turnoff will be on your right from this direction. Indian Road 18 is paved the entire way so any vehicle will get you there without problem. Both routes take approximately two hours and 15 minutes.

There are no gas stations or services along Indian Road 18, and no gas stations in Peach Springs. Fill your tank up before leaving Williams or Kingman.

From the parking lot, the trailhead is very easy to spot.

Can You Swim in Havasu Creek?

Cooling off in the waters of Havasu Creek and enjoying the beautiful pools at the base of the various waterfalls are among the main attractions of the Havasupai Reservation. Water temperatures remain approximately 70 degrees year-round, but the air temperature can make swimming feel pretty cold in the early spring and late fall.

Bring water shoes or sandals with good treads, like Tevas, to protect your feet as you scramble over sandstone to explore the creek. Packing a swimsuit is a good idea, but if your swimsuit doesn’t have great coverage, you may also want to bring a pair of quick-drying shorts or board shorts and a quick drying T-shirt or rash guard to protect your skin on rough surfaces.

Cliff jumping is not allowed in any of the pools under the waterfalls, as the pools are fairly shallow and jumping can be extremely dangerous. There are no lifeguards at any of the waterfalls, swimming holes, or the creek, so swim at your own risk and keep a close eye on small children. Pool floats, kayaks, stand-up paddleboards, and pretty much anything else you might play with in a body of water are not allowed.

Day Hikes from Havasu Falls Campground

Flooding in October 2022 destroyed several bridges and trails and changed some of the waterfalls on the Havasupai Reservation. Once you have obtained a permit, check with the Havasupai Reservation for up-to-date information on area trails.

Navajo Falls

Navajo Falls is the first waterfall you’ll encounter after the village of Supai. It’s 1.5 miles from the village, and half a mile before the campground.

In 2008, a flash flood changed the flow of Navajo Falls, creating two waterfalls where there was once only one. The Lower Falls plunge 30 feet and end in a nice swimming hole that’s often less crowded than those below the other waterfalls.

Havasu Falls

Havasu Falls is located two miles from Supai, at the camping area. This stunning 100-foot-tall waterfall cascades over vibrant red rock into a turquoise pool.

While more powerful than Navajo Falls, Havasu is still mellow enough that you can swim behind the pouring waters and enjoy the approximately five-foot-deep pool at its base.

Mooney Falls

Mooney Falls are located another mile past Havasu Falls. These are the most dangerous of all the waterfalls, as the approach trail is narrow, steep and often slippery. You’ll have to descend a cliff face using chains and ladders to reach the bottom of the falls.

The falls tumble 200 feet down into an approximately 15-foot-deep pool. Mooney Falls may feel colder than the others since the spot often shaded, so dress accordingly. Crowding can occur on the route, so plan your hike for early in the morning or late in the afternoon to avoid congestion on the narrow trail.

Beaver Falls

Beaver Falls is located three miles from Havasu Falls, making it a long, six-mile roundtrip hike from your campsite, but the incredible view is worth it.

Unlike the other waterfalls that plummet long distances, Beaver Falls tumble down Havasu Creek through exceptionally beautiful pools.

You’ll have to climb down to Mooney Falls and then continue along the trail hugging the western canyon wall. As you leave the Mooney Falls area, you’ll see more ladders leading up into the cliffs. Don’t climb them out of respect for the Havasupai, as they lead to a historic burial site.

You’ll encounter at least three creek crossings as you head to Beaver Falls, so bring along your sandals or water shoes. At a point where you encounter a seemingly out-of-place date palm tree, either cross the creek again and journey up the creek itself to the upper falls, or take a sharp right and follow a trail on higher ground to a section of ladders that will lead you to the lower falls.

Past Beaver Falls, it’s possible to leave the Hualapai Reservation and hike to the confluence of Havasu Creek and the Colorado River, but this 16-plus-mile roundtrip hike from the campground is not recommended, as the route is unmarked and lies outside of the reservation, meaning there are no rangers to help if you get into trouble.

How to Respect the Land and Havasupai Tribe

With more than 300 people staying on the Havasupai Reservation each night, it’s important to do your part when visiting to respect the natural wonders of the canyon and the tribe whose homelands you’re staying on.

First, practice principles. Every item you bring in, from granola-bar wrappers to toilet paper, needs to be packed out and disposed of properly when you get back to your car. Use the toilets in the campground, and don’t urinate or defecate near or in Havasu Creek, as it contaminates the waters for everyone else.

Camp on durable surfaces. Because all camping on the reservation is choose-your-own-site, it’s important to find a place to pitch your tent that will minimize your impacts. The same goes for exploring the various waterfalls and creeks. Stay on the main trails and avoid following or making your own desire-paths, as they can really impact fragile plant growth.

Store all your food and scented items in a bear canister. While there aren’t any bears in the canyon, plenty of small critters will get into your food and toiletries if you don’t store them properly.

The second way to respect the land you’re visiting is by adhering to all the Havasupai Tribe’s rules and policies. These include: no alcohol or drugs of any kind, no playing music or being loud or disrespectful, and no flying drones. You aren’t allowed to photograph Havasupai people or Havasupai property, including the buildings in Supai. Remember, you’re visiting someone’s home.

Familiarize yourself with the history and the culture of the Havasupai people before visiting to ensure you can be the best guest possible.

This story was first published in °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’s sister brand . In addition to eight , each one dedicated to a national park, National Park Trips publishes four magazines a year, providing expert travel service on Grand Canyon National Park, Colorado’s national parks, Yellowstone National Park, and Yosemite National Park. National Park Trips also provide free trip planners for many parks. See the Grand Canyon trip planner .

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