My travel companions and I had spent nearly a week in Alaska’s Katmai National Park surrounded by wild coastal grizzlies with nary an issue. But on our last day in Hallo Bay, a popular bear-viewing area in the park, something was amiss. Our guide Brad Josephs, an employee of outfitter Natural Habitat șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűs, caught sight of an older bear, partially hidden in the tall sedgegrass, staring intently at our group. Josephs calmly ordered us to bunch together. He stood at the front, between us and the bear, while the other guide, Teresa Whipple, kept watch from behind. It was highly unlikely that the bear would become aggressive—attacks are extremely rare and only two people have been killed by grizzly bearsÌęin the park’s history—but by grouping together, we’d look more imposing. Thankfully, it soon ambled off without issue.

I’ve loved bears for much of my life, but it wasn’t until this five-day group trip in June 2018Ìęthat I became truly obsessed. During my time there, I was fascinated by the bears grazing, playing, and interacting with one another. We watched cubs playfully wrestle with their siblings, and saw a fully-grown pair battle each other—the ordeal looked like an episode of Wild Kingdom. Because Katmai’s coastal grizzlies have never been hunted, they have no fear of humans. Food is in such abundance that we’re not prey, but ratherÌęharmless curiosities, which allows them to drop their guard (at least as much as a bear can in a wild environment). Of course, they’re still wild animals, and in the case of that grizzled grizzly, it was better to be safe than sorry.

The bears consumed my attention, but I also found our guides, Josephs and Whipple, fascinating. Each day, they told us where to go and what to do, both to keep us safe and give us the best opportunities for photographs. Throughout our time in the field, they softly narratedÌęthe entire experience as it happened; it was like having your own personal David Attenborough whispering in your ear. I was struck by how knowledgeable they were, and by how they seemingly knew what to do in any circumstance. It seemed that being a guide was as much about intuition as it was about training and classroom knowledge.

While I’m sure Josephs could read context cues from the old grizzly’s body language, it was almost like he had a sixth sense when it came to the bears, the kind that only comes from years in the field. In the four years since, I’ve had multiple other grizzly encounters, but none as special as that first trip. Meeting other bear guides—like my friend, National Geographic photographer Jad Davenport—made me wonder what makes a great guide. What possesses a person to become a bear guide in the first place? What training goes into it? Did I have what it takes to become one?

With that last question in mind, I reached out to the Commercial Bear Viewing Association of British Columbia (CBVA), Ìęa group promoting safe and sustainable bear viewing on the western edges of Canada, and signed up for their level-one guide certification class, which would involve a week of classroom training and a final examination in the field. To achieve the level-two status, guides need to spend 150 more hours in the field, with level-three guides logging an additional 200 hours on top of that. A few weeks later, I was on a Zoom call with about a dozen other wannabe guides, learning about bear behavior and safety techniques.

If you met my instructor Daryl Dancer on the street, you’d never guess that the petite 65-year-oldÌęisÌęa bear guide and general badass. Dancer is an 11-year veteran of marine search and rescue, and she has been guiding trips along the coast of British Columbia for 16 years. Still, she admits that teaching bear safety has been a learning process. Even after taking her first CBVA course, she was deathly afraid of grizzlies, a fact she kept hidden from her bosses at the guiding service at the time.

“Bears scared me because I really didn’t know anything about them,” Dancer said. “I became a guide because it sounded fascinating; it brought all my skill sets together – boats, outdoor education, and my nature knowledge. It was such a great opportunity, I didn’t want a little anxiety to get in my way.”

It wasn’t long before Dancer had to face her fear while on a tracking tour with two clients to the Great Bear Rainforest in 2008. Before this trip, Dancer had only guided from the water, but now she was venturing onto land.

“The goal was to find evidence of the bear, not the bear itself,” Dancer said. “I heard a loud crack nearby, and I immediately knew it was a bear. I said ‘Hey bear,’ and saw it stand up behind a huckleberry bush. It looked at me, and I looked at it, and it just shrugged and walked (a little further) away. We observed it for a while until it walked off. I managed to keep it together at the time and didn’t let the clients see me sweat, but when I got back to the lodge, I had a mini breakdown.”

Dancer realized after the encounter just how unprepared she was. So she devoured every book she could find about bears. The more she learned, the more she understood and admired the animals. She gained so much knowledge and experience over the years, CBVA asked her to become an instructor.

While the fear may be mostly gone, Dancer, who primarily guides along the coasts of Vancouver Island spends a lot of time and energy avoiding close encounters with bears—she has never even had to deploy her bear spray. With a little patience and a lot of attentiveness, she has developed an understanding, she believes, with the bears. She’s familiar with many of the individual bears in the areas she frequents and has learned their behavioral patterns. However, she’s wise enough to know that these are wild animals, and could be unpredictable.

“Bears are super tolerant,” Dancer says. “It’s amazing that there aren’t more negative encounters. But sometimes you can follow all the rules and do everything correctly, and things still go horribly wrong.”

Dancer drilled this concept into us during our Zoom training sessions. Much of the early instruction was fairly basic, like how to tell the difference between brown—grizzly—and black bears and how to avoid startling a grizzly, which is what leads to most attacks. I was surprised to learn that predatory black bears are more prevalent in the wild than predatory grizzlies. After that, we moved on to hypothetical situations, with Dancer challenging us to make split-second decisions that could save our lives and the lives of potential clients in the field. We discussed actual real-life bear encounters others had experienced, breaking down what they’d done right and wrong, and discussing it all in detail.

After passing our written tests, Dancer declared us ready to go looking for actual grizzlies. Less than two weeks later, I boarded a plane in my hometown of Indianapolis, heading to British Columbia. Five of us met in the Canyon Creek Road Trailhead parking lot, less than ten miles outside the town of Golden. It was late April, and although pockets of snow could still be found at lower elevation, the mosquitoes were already out in full force, biting through my thick black hoodie. We headed up the trail for our final test and a nervous anticipation surged through the group.

As we hiked, we took in the steep slate canyon walls and the snow-capped Dogtooth mountains further in the distance. I mentally calculated the odds we’d encounter a bear. At the onset of the hike, Dancer told us the likelihood was fairly low at this time of year, but we persisted, hoping for an experience that would cement our new credentials. Visitors had spotted a grizzly in the area two days prior, and I crossed my fingers we’d come across it—from a safe distance, of course.

We looked for signs that it and other local bears had awakened from their winter hibernation—scat, paw prints, or bits of fur snagged on tree bark—but to no avail. We did find some non-grizzly scat among some grouse feathers just off the trail, which led to an impromptu ten-minute lecture about different types of animal poop from Fabien Stocco, another of the prospective guides. I was chuckling about how excited we all were to chat about feces when we heard a loud rustling about 60 yards deeper in the woods. The crashing got louder as we glimpsed a blur of brown fur racing down a pine tree. Would this be our moment? But the commotion wasn’t caused by a grizzly, merely two pine martens chasing each other through the forest.

Everyone in the group had a different reason for wanting to be a bear guide. Some wanted to take clients out searching for grizzlies, while others were more focused on other outdoor pursuits and just wanted to keep themselves and potential clients out of harm’s way. For example, Stocco had spent a dozen years as a wilderness guide and photographer in his native France before immigrating to Canada five years ago. He wants to guide again, with a focus on bringing at-risk kids into nature to teach them about wildlife and the surrounding ecosystems.

Tracey Osterland, a paramedic who has worked in Alberta provincial and federal parks, recalled her most hair-raising bear encounter. She was working in one of the parks and noticed a grizzly several hundred yards up a hill. Although she felt safe at that distance, she pulled out her bear spray, just in case. Suddenly, the bear bolted downhill, closing nearly the entire distance between them in just a few seconds. As she reached for her bear spray, she fumbled it. As the bear closed in, she mentally prepared herself for the worst.

“At that exact moment, the grizzly came to a complete stop,” Osterand says. “It stood up, lookedÌętowards me, sniffed the air, thenÌędropped back to all foursÌęand relaxed.ÌęIt then ignored me once again to continue grazing. It was so unconcerned about my presence, it turned its back to me so that it could nosh on some dandelions.”

Osterland resolved to be better prepared for future encounters. She took the class not only for her benefit, but to share her knowledge with others, especially park visitors who may have been given wrong or even dangerous information over the years. She hopes to eventually become a bear guide during the summers, while continuing to work for the parks and as a paramedic in the off season.

The final member of our quintet, Val Pleym, wasn’t even interested in bears particularly; she just felt that, as a sea kayak guide, she wanted to be prepared in case she and her clients came across one along the coast.

Although my fascination with bears runs deep, if I’m being completely honest, I was taking the bear-guiding course partially out of personal shame. In 2022, I spotted two black bear cubs in Yellowstone National Park, and stopped to take photos along with a handful of other tourists. A park ranger ambled up beside me and asked, “Do you know why those cubs are up there? They’re scared. They’re terrified of you and all the other people out here.” During guide training, I kept returning to that vivid memory. Perhaps the biggest role of a guide in the field isn’t necessarily to protect people from bears, but to protect bears from people.

We completed the hike in Alberta without seeing a grizzly. But a few days later, I finally saw one.ÌęBoo, a 700-pound male brown bear, lives at a sanctuary at Kicking Horse Resort just west of Golden. With winter winding down, the sanctuary was still closed to visitors, but Boo’s caretaker agreed to take Dancer and I up for our own private visit.

Boo paid us no mind for the most part, preferring to gnaw on a semi-frozen chicken carcass near the fenceline. And while I enjoyed watching Boo wiggle his back against a rub tree, I have to admit the only real charge I felt came from the electric fence surrounding his enclosure. Compared to other grizzly encounters I’ve had elsewhere, this felt all too tame. Josephs, who has led bear tours around the world for nearly two decades, perfectly described why.

“When people say, ‘That’s grizzly country,’ it evokes a sense of wilderness that’s missing throughout most of North America,” Josephs says. Seeing a bear in a zoo or through fence wires just evoke the same thrill of seeing a grizzly in the wild.

So do I have what it takes to be a bear guide? I passed my certification with flying colors, and Dancer thinks I’d make a great guide. But I wasn’t sure until I recently returned to Alaska to photograph coastal grizzlies, this time in Lake Clark National Park. Watching them interact in the meadow, I found myself able to anticipate their reactions and interpret their behavior. My instincts on when the group should bunch together on the beach or step off the trail were borne out by the actual guides. It felt as if I’d passed a self-imposed extra-credit exam.

I still have a lot to learn, of course, but that can only come from in-field experience. A friend at a guide company told me they were struggling to fill openings after COVID, as many experienced guides left the industry. While I won’t be able to spend an entire summer in bear-filled meadows—as much as I love bears, I love my wife even more—I hope to fill in for other guides a few weeks here and there in conjunction with my writing assignments. Being an outdoor journalist is a great gig, but adding bear guide to my resume would be even cooler.

The post You Can Be a Bear Guide, Too—If You Can Handle the Heat appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Minutes after Winnebago introduced their , I began hounding the company to let me take it for a spin. Thankfully, after unveiling their , called the eRV2, earlier this year, they finally relented and agreed to let me borrow it for a five-day test drive in California.

How We Tested the Winnebago eRV2

The state has the most charging stations of any other in the country, so I chose to test the eRV2—which will likely be available to consumers early next year—north of the Bay Area, believing it would likely have the best ratio of chargers to gorgeous scenery. I wanted to test the range of the vehicle, the amenities, and the overall comfort to see if it was a practical vehicle for both weekend road trips and extended jaunts. Here’s what I found out.

Charge Anxiety Is Real

Let’s address the massive elephant in the room right off the bat. Built on Ford’s eTransit platform, the eRV2 that I drove had a claimed range of about 108 miles. That distance quickly shrinks if you speed, accelerate too quickly, or travel uphill for long distances. If you keep the cruise control to 55 MPH, you might be able to stretch it 
 a little. Because charging to a virtual crawl after you reach 80-85 percent, you’re left with an effective range of between 80 and 90 miles (at best) during the bulk of your driving day. Think about it like this: for every 90 minutes you drive, you need to spend around 45 minutes at a fast charger before you can get going again.

If I were a betting person, I’d wager the model going into production early next year will have an , perhaps approaching 175 or 200 miles. A Winnebago rep said the company hopes the chassis battery will allow for at least three hours of travel time before needing a recharge. But that still might not be enough for most RVers in the middle of the country, especially as the infrastructure struggles to catch up to the demand for EVs. ( to switching to the Tesla charging standard going forward, so that may positively impact charging times, finding fast chargers, and so on.)

And what if you don’t have the fast-charger option? When the charger I navigated to in Lakeport, California, was out of order, I had just a ten-mile radius to find an alternative. With no other good options, I plugged into a charger at a nearby community college, but it was very slow. It took 2.5 hours to boost the van back to a 32-mile range, which was exactly enough to get me to the next fast charger. I wanted to build in a little cushion, but my desire to get back on the road won out over common sense. Driving over a mountain pass, I watched the projected mileage drop as the elevation increased. I’ve never been good at math, but using simple subtraction at the midway point, I realized I would likely not make it and might be forced to call the Winnebago help line for a tow. Luckily, the regenerative braking system worked well on the downhill, and I made it to the next charger with a few miles to spare. But I wouldn’t want to have to relive that nervousness every day.

Which brings up a very real problem: range anxiety. Half the fun of a road trip is taking unexpected side trips and detours. Why don’t we check out that cool state park we heard about 20 miles off this exit? Let’s head toward that trailhead 10 miles down this dirt road. Given the range issues above and current dearth of charging options, those unexpected moments may be fewer and farther between (which is, of course, an issue with any EV at the moment). You’re no longer meandering from Point A to Point B; you’re navigating from charging station to charging station. My nervousness skyrocketed as I entered parts of Redwood National Park with little or no cell signal, which meant I couldn’t access or mapping apps to find nearby chargers.

Both of these factors could lead to a change in the way you recreate outdoors. I love dispersed camping in national forests and BLM land, but while in the eRV2, I was mostly seeking out campgrounds with electric hookups so I could charge overnight using a 50- or 30-amp outlet so as not to burn additional daylight the next day.

Exploring the Interior

The battery on the inside of the van, however, had plenty of juice. With 500 watts of solar panels on the roof and an approximately 270 amp-hour Lithionics battery bank powering the back of the van (as well as a 35-gallon freshwater reservoir), you can spend several days comfortably camping without hookups. A smart monitor tracks both energy and water levels, as well as controls the LED lights and internal climate controls. (You can also access the data from the Winnebago Connect app on your smartphone.) I was lucky to have great weather and sunshine during my trip, so the eRV2 rarely dipped under 90 percent of the house battery, and I only felt the need to top it off once at a campground.

The fit and finish of the eRV2 cabin feels almost like the interior of a high-end spa, minus the masseuse. The clean lines and gorgeous light wood interior reflects the “Japandi” fusion of Japanese and Scandinavian design principles.Ìę Most of the materials used—like the Chilewich flooring and various seat fabrics—are made from recycled or sustainable materials. The living-space layout echoes most camper vans, with the galley, bathroom and bed/sitting area flowing into one another.

The galley was nicer than my kitchen at home, and included a removable convection stove that can be used either indoors or outdoors thanks to a folding table accessible from the outside of the van. The mini-fridge was surprisingly roomy, holding all my perishables, as well as a dwindling 12-pack of California-brewed IPAs. A slide-out pantry compartment would have been a welcome addition, as I was forced to stow groceries for my five-day trip in whatever cabinet or compartment space I could find.

On that note, storage throughout the van was lacking for more than a few days on the road. I would have loved a dedicated drawer or cabinet for a laptop, tablet, and other work gear (while charging it at the same time), as well as more conveniently located outlets in the living space. Likewise, there were no hooks to hang jackets or hats, but those can easily be added by the end user.

Like many other camper vans, the rear sitting area transforms into a bed, although I kept the bed setup for the majority of my test drive. (It takes less than ten minutes to transform the space, and that number will assuredly drop lower the more times you do it.)Ìę The driver and passenger seats swivel 180 degrees, allowing me to work and eat at a slim fold-out table behind the seat. The van only seats two people, so it’s designed to only sleep two as well. I imagine Winnebago is planning a more family-friendly version in the future but they wouldn’t confirm that.

The eRV2’s small bathroom contains a removable cartridge toilet and shower. The toilet holds about three days of waste; when it’s full, the entire toilet must be removed so you can separate the bottom half to dump it. I timed my showers with dumping the tank; while the toilet was removed, I utilized the extra space to get myself clean. (It was a tight space even without the toilet; for a larger gentleman like me, it would be next to impossible to shower with it in.) When I was finished and dressed, I replaced the toilet, which was surprisingly painless.

On the Road

Behind the wheel, you’ll never mistake the eRV2 for a sports car, but it handles extremely well for a large van. On my way out to Redwood National Park’s Fern Canyon, it conquered a small stream crossing and crater-filled gravel road with aplomb, while the expansive cockpit offered great views of the road and California’s amazing natural scenery. After nearly a week of use, I went from absolutely loathing Ford’s dial shifter to merely disdaining it (I want the gear shifter either in the steering column or between the seats, just like it’s been for the last century, dammit!).

Looks-wise, it’s much like most other vans on the market now. You’d be hard-pressed to know it was an electric van unless you saw it charging at a station. And when you’re charging, you will be answering questions: I talked to dozens of fascinated folks while charging—there’s definitely strong interest in electric RVs.

Will It Be Worth the Cost?

During my five-day trip, I often pondered if the pros of this new electric Winnebago outweighed its significant limitations. This was on my mind as I reached the Whiskeytown National Recreation Area, where I was struck by the number of fire-scarred trees stretching out for miles in front of me.

The Carr Fire ravaged the area in 2018; five years later, some life has returned to the surrounding mountains, but it remained a sobering reminder on the deadly hazards of climate change. The point was driven home even more when I crossed into Lassen Volcanic National Park, which saw nearly 70 percent of the park sustain serious damage during the 2021 Dixie Fire. Seeing the charred remnants of those forests made me reexamine some of my thoughts about the eRV2. This wasn’t just a shiny new toy, but a much-needed first step toward a fully electrified future. But is it good enough for consumers to take that step now?

When the eRV2 goes into full production next year, who will buy it? Winnebago representatives refused to give an estimated MSRP on the upcoming production model, but given the prices on their current line-up of RVs and the premium placed on electric vehicles, I’d guess the bare-minimum price would be $175,000 and could easily surpass $200,000. So that may limit the market to well-to-do weekend warriors living in metropolitan areas throughout Colorado, Utah, and, of course, California, who have a wealth of camping and outdoor options practically in their backyard. People, in other words, who need only to drive 90 minutes to their planned camping spot, top off at a charging option near the destination, camp for a few days, then head home.

By jumping in this early, Winnebago has a massive head start on the rest of the RV industry, and for that, I applaud them. This is the direction we need to see. But we’re probably at least five years away from an electric RV with a mileage range palatable to most users and a robust enough nationwide infrastructure.

The post Testing Winnebago’s Electric RV Prototype appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

My wife, Dee, and I were driving through West Virginia last fall when we decided to do a quick detour to New River Gorge National Park. Maybe a mile or so from the park entrance, I glimpsed a ramshackle home with a collapsing roof and a faded “For Sale” sign in the front yard. A few shingles and a fresh coat of paint, and that house would be as good as new, I thought. I was sure all the raccoons and opossums most assuredly living in the house now would make for great roommates. After that initial chuckle, I began to think in earnest how cool it would be to have a national park as your backyard.

Soon enough, those initial daydreams had me fantasy-scrolling through for weeks afterward. With more and more employers allowing remote work, why not migrate somewhere where you can have million-dollar views, even if you don’t have a million-dollar budget?

“The pandemic and subsequent rise in remote work has had a number of major impacts on the nation’s real estate landscape,” Orphe Divounguy, Zillow’s senior economist, told me. “It unlocked many peoples’ ability to live where they want, and not necessarily within a reasonable daily commute to an urban job center. It’s encouraged people to move to affordable areas where their dollar goes further, and stimulated demand for outdoor living space.”

So where’s the cheapest—and by contrast, the most expensive—place you can buy a home near a national park? Although my wife isn’t letting me call the movers quite yet, I did look into what it might cost to relocate to one of these spots. This list, based on Zillow.com data, uses average home prices for counties contiguous to the national parks. (Basically, within a relatively short bike ride to the park.)

The Cheapest Places to Buy

1. New River Gorge

It wasn’t a shock to see at the top of the list, but I was amazed that the average cost of a house on the edges of the park is about a third less than the second-cheapest park option. According to Zillow’s research, it’s possible to buy homes in the surrounding Summers and Fayette counties for $90,827 and $94,633, respectively. The gateway town of Fayetteville—which calls itself the “coolest small town in America”—will have you scratching your head to come up with more creative euphemisms than quaint.

Who should move here: Love whitewater rafting? The upper and lower New River boasts some of the best rapids in the nation. There’s plenty of great hiking, biking, and rock climbing as well. In short, it’s a dirtbag’s paradise, with costs to match.

What you can expect for your money: Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find the house I’d seen weeks earlier that sent me down this rabbit hole, but , four-bedroom, one-bath ranch was selling for $99,900, just a bit over the area average. Don’t despair if that’s still out of your price range. It’s also not unusual to find small, fixer-upper homes for about half the price.

2. Voyageurs

The gateway to Voyageurs is Koochiching County, where a house will set you back an average of $145,484. About 10,000 people already call International Falls and the surrounding area home. But if you’re planning to move here, be sure to set aside enough money to buy a boat and a good parka. During the warmer months, life revolves around Kabetogama and Rainy Lakes, and in the winter, International Falls earns its nickname as “the Icebox of the Nation,” when the average temperature dips below freezing for nearly a third of the year.

Who should move here: People who love water, quiet, and the bitter, bitter cold.

What you can expect for your money: , three-bedroom, one-bath ranchÌęis selling for $144,000.

3. Mammoth Cave

While buying a home in Edmonson County—average cost: $149,580—won’t give you an amazing view of Mammoth Cave National Park’sÌęnamesake attraction, the park does offer 80 miles of trails above ground, as well as some great biking and fishing options. Fairly close to Bowling Green, Kentucky, the county sits about 90 miles away from both Louisville and Nashville, Tennessee.

Who should move here: Spelunkers likely won’t be able to freely roam the nearly 400 miles of caves underneath the surface, but the surrounding bluegrass country and other opportunities for adventure should make up for it.

What you can expect for your money:Ìę , three-bedroom, two-bath ranch will set you back $155,000.

4. Great Smoky Mountains

The areas surrounding Great Smoky Mountains National Park are a study in contrasts. You have Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge, which answers the age-old question “what would Las Vegas look like if it were driven by fudge shops instead of gambling?” You also have Cocke County, Tennessee, which is much, much quieter and surrounded by an ocean of green space. Just a bit over $170,000 will buy you an average home here, although that number may be slightly skewed by the amount of so-called “unimproved land” available close to the park boundaries.

Who should move here: șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűrs who don’t mind crowds. You can’t deny Great Smoky Mountains’ immense natural beauty, but you may have to search for solitude in the nation’s most heavily visited national park. Luckily, if you tire of all the people, nearby Cherokee National Forest offers a respite.

What you can expect for your money: This 1,250 square-foot Ìęsits so close to the national park you might be asked for your America the Beautiful pass before walking into your backyard. Stripped down almost to the studs, the house is currently on the market for $145,000.

The Most Expensive Places to Buy

1. Grand Teton and Yellowstone

The scarcity of private land—less than three percent of Teton County’s 2.7 million acres is privately owned, according to local realtor Latham Jenkins—makes it the most expensive gateway community in the county, with the average home near Grand Teton National Park costing $1.69 million. By comparison, Gallatin County—five hours away, located to the north of Yellowstone, and the fifth-most expensive spot on this list—is a relative steal at $668,894, a full million dollars cheaper.

If you don’t have an extra million to spend on a house, there may be another way. Jenkins says Teton County sometimes offers deed-restricted properties for people working full-time in the county and making 80 to 120 percent of the median family income. One such home sold for $320,781 in November 2022.

Who can afford to move here: Powerball winners, billionaires who just bought a cowboy hat and their first pair of hiking boots

What you can expect for your money: $1.5 million will get you a condo in Jackson Hole or you could spend $1.7 million on this 2,000 square-foot, four-bedroom, two-bath on 4.8 acres of land. For about the price of a two-acre lot in Teton County ($550,000), you can buy this 2,520 square-foot, four-bedroom, two-bath in Gallatin County’s West Yellowstone.

2. Everglades

“Who wants to live next to a swamp?” I asked myself before I quickly remembered how close Everglades National ParkÌęis to the Florida Keys and Miami. That explains why the average home price in Monroe County is $1.03 million. Given the snowballing effects of climate change, this area may not be the wisest place to relocate long term, unless, of course, you don’t mind snorkeling to the mailbox in your old age.

Who can afford to move here: Fan-boat aficionados, alligator wrestlers with trust funds, Jimmy Buffett

What you can expect for your money: You can buy a $1,664 square-foot, three-bedroom, with a four-car garage and private boat ramp for $928,000. Too rich for your blood? Here’s a 1,100 square-foot for a mere $340,000.

3. Pinnacles

Technically, the Channel Islands would be considered the third-most expensive spot, given its relative proximity to one of the most densely populated and priciest zip codes in the nation. But since you can’t even see the actual islands from that coastline, I’m moving PinnaclesÌęup one spot.

Considered by many to be California’s most underrated national park, Pinnacles is a volcanic wonderland with miles of great hiking. Average home prices for San Benito and Monterey Counties are $830,658 and $810,729, respectively. The most expensive homes in these two counties are actually on or near the coast, so properties nearer to the park can be considered a relative bargain.

Who can afford to move here: Tech execs who don’t mind a long commute

What you can expect for your money: This 2,408 square-foot, just west of Pinnacles can be yours for $649,000, well under the local average.

4. Rocky Mountain

I didn’t expect to see Rocky Mountain National Park this high on the list—average home prices are $764,804 in Boulder County and $740,515 in Grand—but it makes sense. This is one of the most stunning places on earth, with world-class biking, hiking, skiing, and more in every direction, not just the park.

Who can afford to move here: Unfortunately not this freelance writer

What you can expect for your money: A stone’s throw away from Grand Lake on the park’s border, this 1,277 square-foot, three-bedroom, two-bath is on the market for $734,000.

The post The Cheapest (and Most Expensive) Places to Buy a Home Near a National Park appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Professional athletes are constantly flying around the globe for races and events, so they know a thing or two about traveling and being prepared. Three of our favorite pros shared both the common and slightly odd items they take along everywhere.

What Do You Never Leave Home Without?

Clare Gallagher, Ultrarunner: “Running shoes, usually two pairs. I once had a mental breakdown—my most hysterical to date—after I realized I left a pair of trainers underneath the seat in front of me on a plane.”

Jeremy Powers, Cyclocross Racer: “I always travel with fresh ground and a Ìę($13) that snaps down flat for travel, plus filters and a metal cup. It’s important to have one constant when you’re traveling, and this way I can always have coffee from home.”

Coryn Rivera, Cyclist: “I once scratched my retina because my eyes were too dry on the plane. It was pretty damn painful. Since then, I’ve always traveled with eye drops, like ($11). I put in a couple drops whenever I feel my contact lenses getting kind of stuck to my eye.”

What’s the Most Unusual Thing You Carry?

Powers: “I’ve flown in business class with a set of compression boots. I brought them onto the plane and plugged them in because the seats had power. They pulsate and put pressure on my feet and legs. makes a great pair, and mine worked out well, but people definitely got weirded out when the machine hummed and my legs grew to double in size.”

Gallagher: Probably my ($119), what with the havoc travel can wreak on already-sore muscles. If nothing else, it’s a good conversation starter.”

​RŸ±±č±đ°ùČč: “I started packing Ìę($4) after one flight where I ate popcorn and got a kernel stuck between my teeth and gums. It was so painful! I asked the flight attendant and everyone around me if they had a tooth pick or floss to no avail.”

Ever Make an Impulse Buy at the Airport?

Gallagher: “Other than duty-free and food, I try to stay away from the overpriced crap at airports. I guess the last impulse purchase I had was in Cuba, where I bought three cigars for my dad and a Fidel Castro magnet.”

Powers: “I haven’t bought it yet, but there’s a bag on that you can ride through the airport. For a pro cyclist, that’s basically a dream.”

​Rivera: “I had a few different plug converters for traveling out of the country, but they were the bulky kind and came in a travel case. One trip, I forgot all of them, so I went to the airport electronics store and splurged on kind of a nice high-tech one, ($7). It was just a sleek rectangle with all the different plugs included that just fold out, plus a USB plug at the top. It’s my favorite converter now, so I don’t mind forgetting my old plug converters. But I’ll never forget this nice new high-tech one.”

What’s Your Best Travel Advice?

Gallagher: “, flip-flops, and Crocs should never be brought on the same trip. Restraint, people!”

Powers: “I always bring a pair of headphones, an eye mask, Ìę($3), and one of those germ masks that you put over your face. I tend to sleep with my mouth a little open, and one time I had someone sneeze on me while I was sleeping on a long-haul trip to Europe. Most things in life I let roll, but that one left a scar.”

Rivera: “Just relax. Shit happens—even on a carefully planned trip—and a good traveler should always be ready to improvise and adjust.”

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Ask nearly any frequent flyer, and they’ll tell you the most important thing in their carry-on is their headphones. Some might reach for studio-level quality headsets endorsed by famous musicians, but when you’re on a plane, the most important feature is active noise canceling. These headphones use built-in microphones to zero in on the ambient hums and rumblings of the airplane cabin. When you hit play, a set of equal and opposite tones are mixed into the music, canceling out the noise and allowing you to enjoy “” in all its remastered glory. Here are some of our favoriteÌęheadphones for flying.

Bose QuietComfort 35 ($350)

Music sounds rich and full on , which offer a bigger emphasis on bass than previous . The noise canceling works flawlessly through the supremely comfortable ear cups, and there’s enough battery storage for 20 hours of music. As a bonus, owners can connect to the Bose app to access the auto-off timer, volume control, and battery readings. You can also share music with another set of Bose headphones via Bluetooth.

Plantronics BackBeat Pro 2 ($200)

For nearly half the cost of its higher-priced competitors, delivers clear, crisp sound quality and superb battery life: 24 hours per charge. These are a bit on the heavy side, though the noise-canceling feature works well, if not quite as good as the Bose.

Sony MDR-ZX110NC ($50)

If you’re looking for affordable noise-canceling headphones, check out . They aren’t cordless, but the sound quality is impressive for the price (the least-expensive model on this list).

Klipsch X12i ($280)

A good friend swears by these from Klipsch, claiming they’re the first thing he packs when heading out on a trip. The sound quality is amazing—no earphones this small should have such a rich dynamic range—and the noise canceling is equally impressive. Made from aluminum, these earphones are so light and comfortable that you’ll forget they’re in your ear.

Phiaton BT 100 NC ($100)

Planning to get in a workout after your flight? These around-the-neck, headphones are water- and sweat-resistant and allow you to control your music without having to fish the device out of your pocket. Phiaton claims the noise canceling blocks out up to 95 percent of outside noise—perfect for when you’re trying to avoid the clanging weights and tinny radio of your hotel gym. Expect 12 hours of use on a single charge.

Audio-Technica ATH-ANC23 ($70)

The bass is absolutely phenomenal for a at this price point. They fit snugly and offer superb comfort, and because they’re wired, you can get up to 80 hours of use from one AAA battery.

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Since I live out of suitcases for weeks at a time, I tend to be pretty picky when it comes to luggage. My gear has to be rugged enough to suffer the occasional tumble off the roof rack of an SUV yet simple enough that I can quickly pick out the item I need without having to spend ages searching for it. And since I hate checking bags, even my roller bags tend to be crisp and compact enough to slide easily into an overhead bin. Here are some of my favorites.

Osprey Meridian 60L ($350)

I fell in love with almost as soon as I bought it at an REI garage sale. The detachable daypack is perfect for day trips, and the padded laptop sleeve gives my MacBook Pro a bit of extra security. The zippered top pocket is a convenient place to store my headphones or passport. If I’m traveling in rough or tight environs, I can carry the bag by its comfy padded handle or attach the accompanying shoulder straps to convert it into a backpack.

Timbuk2 Co-Pilot Luggage Roller ($225)

Ultra-organized travelers will love the clamshell design with multiple mesh compartments of . I especially like the top pocket, which offers quick and easy access to needed items after the bag’s been stashed in the overhead bin.

Thule Crossover Rolling Duffel 87L ($300)

I can easily stash gear for a week or two inside , and its clamshell design allows me to separate and air out my dirty clothes. Despite taking years of abuse from baggage handlers all over the world, the thick, durable nylon exterior looks none the worse for wear, and the no-crush zipper pocket provides plenty of protection for goggles, sunglasses, and other breakables.

Away Bigger Carry-On ($245)

Thanks to a built-in battery pack and two USB ports under its handle, you can easily use your luggage to charge a phone or tablet while sipping a beer at the airport bar. (Be warned: Charge time can take up to eight hours. For best results, leave plugged in the night before your flight.) Many travelers are also drawn to the hard-shell exterior, which offers a bit more protection than similar soft cases.

Eagle Creek Gear Warrior AWD 29-Inch ($329)

At just over eight pounds, the is as light and tough as a champion featherweight. Multiple handles make it easier to move the case around when fully loaded, and exterior straps allow you to strap on helmets or other bulky gear. When not in use, the handle slides down into a zippered compartment for greater protection.

The post Roller Bags That Don’t Suck appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

The angular design of the Ìę($27,800) is eye catching, but the amenities are even moreÌędrool worthy. The trailer sleeps a family of four and comes standard with a 12-volt refrigerator, sink,Ìęhot shower, and roof rack. It's also light enough to towÌęwith your Subaru Outback.

The post Taxa Outdoors Cricket Trek Trailer appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

The handle on thisÌęOpinelÌęand L.L. Bean collaborativeÌę($40) is madeÌęfrom reclaimed maple that’s been sitting at the bottom of Maine’s Moosehead Lake since the logging boom of the early 1900s. TheÌęwood holdsÌęa standardÌęthree-inch bladeÌęmade fromÌęSandvik stainless steel.

The post Opinel No.8 L.L.Bean Moosehead Knife appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

The 5160 steelÌęhead on Council Tool’s Saddle Axe ($150) has two cutting edges:Ìęa 25-degree flat edge for shaving kindling and a 32-degree one for splitting thicker firewood. The 16-inch hickory handle slips intoÌęyour backpack until you need the tool.Ìę

The post Council Tool 2# Double Bit Saddle Axe appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

LuxuryÌęand #vanlife don't oftenÌęgo together. șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Van’s Ìęis anÌęexception. The baseÌęis aÌę4×4 Mercedes Benz Sprinter, whileÌęextra features abound, includingÌęan indoorÌęstainless-steel shower, a high-end stereo system, and a drop-down flat screen T.V. Alex Honnold, eat your heart out.Ìę

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