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Few seasons are as packed with as much travel potential as fall. Leaves light up forests, summer crowds are gone, and the heat gives way to crisp air, making it perhaps the best time of year to get outside and explore. Americans are understandably ready. Road trips have never been more popular, and people are beginning to look further afield, too. Traveling abroad to some places is easier than you might think—provided you do your homework. Many countries, like Iceland, simply require proof of vaccination or a negative COVID-19 test prior to landing. Still, traveling now calls for flexibility and smart planning, especially as the Delta strain of COVID-19 creates uncertainty. Always double check the news about restrictions in a place before arriving, and if we’ve learned anything from the pandemic, it’s how to adapt on the fly and embrace change. That’s how many of the best adventures come together anyway. To celebrate fall, we compiled a list of destinations that avoid crowds and get you outside, whether you decide to travel now or in the future. See you on the road. —Ryan Krogh

Explore Colorado’s Grand Mesa

Colorado’s shimmering golden aspens make the state’s trails prettier—and more popular—than ever in fall. But there’s a way to have them to yourself. Head to the newly renovated (from $350), about 80 miles east of Grand Junction. Located at 9,200 feet atop the Grand Mesa—the world’s largest flat-top mountain—the four-room, five-cabin property sits at the gateway to , providing guests access to over 300,000 acres of backcountry. The remote location feels like your own private park, with 200-some miles of trails for mountain biking and hiking, plus lakes for paddling and casting—all of them directly outside your front door. Fly fishing on the Roaring Fork River and mountain biking the Palisade Plunge, 32 miles of thrilling downhill singletrack, are easy day trips. Meals, served at Electric Mountain’s main timber-framed lodge, are mostly sourced from the chef’s farm in nearby Paonia—think kale and feta salad, roasted beet bruschetta, and grass-fed burgers—and are a reminder why this area is known as the state’s breadbasket. This region is also the heart of Colorado’s burgeoning wine scene. Book tastings at and the to see why the wines are starting to turn heads. —Jen Murphy

Chill Out on Molokai, Hawaii

Fall is typically Hawaii’s shoulder season, when daytime temperatures cool to a blissful 70-degrees, hotel prices drop, and crowds thin. However, travel has flooded back after pandemic lockdowns, and islands like Maui and Oahu are once again packed with travelers. But there is still Molokai, the antithesis of resort-lined Waikiki. With no stoplight and just a single hotel, the islandĚýbeckons travelers who crave a slower pace and empty beaches. (from $140), with its retro, Polynesian-style bungalows, is a central base close to the main town of Kaunakakai, as well as the sacred Kapuaiwa Coconut Grove that was planted in the 1860s by King Kamehameha V. For a more far flung escape, head to the west side of the island and book one of (from $5) at Papohaku Beach. The largest white-sand beach on the island stretches for three miles and is 100 yards wide, so it feels like your own private island. Halawa Valley, home to one of the earliest Hawaiian villages, is a 90-minute drive to the island’s east end, and the winding road is worth the trip. The last born-and-raised descendant of the valley, Anakala Pilipo Solatori, still lives there, and he’ll take you on a three-mile hike to Moal’ula Falls through his guiding outfit . Solatori’s conversation and the falls are far way more memorable than any luau. —J.M.

şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř in Texas Hill Country

Hill Country mostly gets pegged as a great day trip from Austin or San Antonio, thanks to its surplus of antique stores and 100-plus vineyards. Increasingly, though, the area’s rolling limestone and granite hills and spring-fed rivers are luring mountain bikers, climbers, hikers, and paddlers. There’s no better time to visit than the fall, when the summer sun stops pounding Central Texas with 100-degree heat. , 30 miles northwest of downtown Austin, offers 18 miles of flow trails for mountain biking and a wide selection of sport climbs, ranging from 5.5 to 5.14, on limestone cliffs that overlook the Pedernales River, perfect for a post-adrenaline-rush, cool-down dunk. Further southwest, between the towns of Boerne and Fredericksburg, is , a family-owned cattle operation that carved 29 miles of mountain biking trails into its 1,300 acres, with hill climbs, long downhill sections, technical singletrack, and several creek crossings. Just 10-minutes away are the clear waters of the Guadalupe River, which paddlers flock to for trips along its cypress tree–lined banks. For hiking, , home to the U.S.’s second largest granite dome, rising 425 feet above the surrounding landscape. The state park has 11 miles of trails, and if you’re headed there it’s almost mandatory to march to the top of the Summit Trail for 360-degree views of Hill Country. For a longer hike, there’s the 4.6-mile Loop Trail, which circumnavigates the dome. Either way, make sure to leave early in the morning to avoid the sunbaked afternoons, which can still get uncomfortable in September. Celebrate the summit with lunch at , in nearby Fredericksburg, with pork belly tacos that are some of the best in the state—and in Texas, that’s saying something. They have a full selection of Texas wines by the glass—and bottles to go, too—in case you’re in the mood. For a place to bed down, there’s , with twelve cottages and a lush garden tucked away just off Main Street (from $215). —R.K.

Bike Tour Vermont’s Culinary Heartland

Vermont is no secret in the fall, when its vast tree canopies—more than 80 percent of the state is forested—transform into an eye-popping patchwork of marigold, ochre, and burgundy hues. Combine that with the area’s farmhouse-dotted countryside, artisanal cheeses and microbrews, and general bucolic vibe, and it makes sense why road-tripping through the state is high on anyone’s autumn bucket list. But there is a better way to see the leaves: by bike, so you’re not forced to experience the scenery in blurs of color, and you can work off all those fresh apple cider doughnuts. There’s a new outfitted bike tour that’s dedicated to the state’s artisanal food from ($3,895). The weekend tour covers nine to 52 miles a day, with options for serious climbs tackling 4,969 feet of elevation gain, and plenty of stops to sample Vermont staples like cider from , nutty Tarentaise cheese from , and seasonal Harvest brown ale from . At night, a cozy, six-person cabin in the charming village of Woodstock is your private base. Not a biker? The options to slow down and enjoy the colors are endless, from leaf-peeping while hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail between Pomfret and West Hartford to kayaking on the 750-acre Chittenden Reservoir with local outfit . Surrounded by Green Mountain National Forest, paddle excursions double as safaris, with moose, fox, beaver, and bald eagle sightings common in fall. —J.M.

Go Beyond the Beach in Bermuda

With a storied pirate history, centuries of sailing lore, and the infamous “triangle” sewn thick into Bermuda’s fabric, the Atlantic archipelago just 90 minutes by plane from New York is full of intrigue. It’s also full of legit adventures. Intrepid locals have long practiced what is now known as deep-water free-soloing—climbing sheer limestone faces with only the ocean to break your fall—and free diving among hundreds of shipwrecks that rest offshore. Recent attractions have made the island a beacon for outdoor-lovers looking for more than a beach vacation, including the , 18 mostly-paved miles covering the island from tip-to-tail. It’s prime mountain biking and trail-running terrain, with quiet beaches for a lonely swim all along the way. In fall, island temperatures hover in the low-80s, and the ocean temps peak in late August, so the water is still warm. There’s always the risk of a hurricane at this time, but most storm activity is only glancing blows, with plenty of warning to decide whether to stay or go. Plus, room rates are usually significantly discounted after August. This summer saw the opening of the (from $583) on Gates Bay in St. George’s, where the Sea Venture wrecked in 1609, spawning Bermuda’s accidental founding. Also new this year, thanks to the pandemic, is the which was designed as a way for non-Bermudians to work remotely from the island for up to a year. The government’s site includes extended-stay options, vacation-home rentals, and a concierge service to make sure digital nomads have everything they need. —Terry Ward

Discover Oregon’s Other Best şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Town

The small town of Sisters often gets relegated to the backseat when it’s compared to adventure-mecca Bend, but the artsy community shouldn’t be overlooked as a nature-lover’s paradise, especially in fall. While the vibe is more homegrown than hip, you can’t beat its access to the outdoors and friendly locals. The 36 craftsman-style cabins at (from $241) are nestled in a ponderosa forest and biking distance to the system, a mix of single track and forest service roads. From town, you can cycle 32 miles to the towering spires of , an underrated gem laced with trails for hiking and bolted routes for climbing. And the bucket-list , a 25-mile singletrack with stunning views, is just an hour’s drive away. While most of Central Oregon is swathed in ponderosa pine and juniper, the greater Sisters area also boasts an abundance of aspens and western larch trees that are ablaze in color each fall. This being Oregon, you’ll have your pick of epic food trucks—don’t miss newcomer —and craft breweries. Local favorite is just steps from the cabins at FivePine, and its award-winning Conelick’r Fresh Hop IPA is only available September through November. —J.M.

Bike Nebraska’s Cowboy Trail

Car-free and flat as a pancake, Nebraska’s is a dream for novice cyclists looking to safely up their daily miles and explore America’s heartland. Once it’s officially completed, the bike path will be one of the world’s longest rails-to-trails projects, spanning 321 miles across the state. For now, you can ride 195 miles of its crushed limestone from the town of Norfolk in the east to Valentine in the west. The route closely follows highways 20 and 275, with small towns every 10 to 20 miles, which makes stopping for supplies and camping a cinch. There isn’t a lot of shade along the trail, which makes fall an optimal season for comfortable riding. Looking for a day ride? The 15.7-mile stretch between Valentine and Arabia Ranch crosses the via a 148-foot-tall, historic railroad bridge, and passes one of the region’s last strongholds of native prairie. Make it an out-and-back and toast your miles with an Americus IPA from in Valentine. —J.M.

Find the Hidden Catskills, New York

In fall, the Catskills get absolutely blanketed with New Yorkers in search of brightly-colored foliage. For good reason: this regionĚýis an idyllic weekend escape, with apple picking at quaint orchards, excellent meals at farm-to-table restaurants, and hiking underneath a kaleidoscopic tree canopy. Avoid the overcrowded Hudson Valley and head to the triangle between the hamlets of Livingston Manor, Callicoon, and Narrowsburg, which abut the Upper Delaware River. This region, once full of summer camps on tree-lined lakes, has been transformed in recent years into a new, chicer version of the Catskills of yore, thanks to , run by the husband-and-wife team of Sims and Kirsten Harlow Foster. The pair’s properties includes (from $449), a 22-room lodge on Kenoza Lake; (from $219), a farmhouse-style inn on the banks of the Delaware River; and (from $214), a mid-century modern property with a motel vibe just across the Delaware River from Narrowsburg. But it’s (from $525), a 14-room former hunting and fishing lodge outside of Livingston Manor, that’s the crowning centerpiece of the company. The building, which has hosted guests on and off since the 1880’s, is set in the Willowemoc Valley, just upstream from the town of Roscoe, the fly-fishing capital of the U.S. Foster Supply is developing 30 miles of trails on the The Debruce’s 600 acres, and guests have a private half-mile section of river for trout fishing. At day’s end, you can sit down to the lodge’s award-winning Saturday-night tasting menu, a multi-course feast with items sourced exclusively from New York (most from less than 20 miles away). Or relax in the Conservatory in front of the lodge’s original fieldstone fireplace, which gives off, in addition to some warming heat, that aristocratic rustic vibe that made the Catskills so popular in the first place. —R.K.

Cruise Alaska by Small Ship

Alaska may not be top of mind when it comes to fall trips, but there are few better times in the Last Frontier to see brown bears stuffing themselves for winter, humpback whales migrating for winter, and the Northern Lights all at the same time. The best way to do all this, plus see glaciers up close, is a small ship cruise. Among the cruise companies still operating small expeditions this fall are Alaskan-owned , with seven-night trips through the Inside Passage (from $5,195), plus an October trip along the same route aboard the smallest ship in the fleet, the 12-person Kruzof Explorer (from $5,195). (from $7,200) and (from $4,895), which tend to target a younger demographic, offer similar Inside Passage itineraries in September. For something yachtier, charter Alaskan Luxury Cruise’s 78-foot , with just three cabins, for custom five to ten-night September itineraries in theĚýsoutheast that take in iconic spots like Tenakee Hot Springs and the Hidden Falls Hatchery, a famous viewing spot for bears (from $59,400 for seven days and six nights, for six people). “You’re going to see something like 30 brown bears all in one spot,” says Alaskan Luxury Cruise captain Jeff Gorton. “There are going to be a million humpbacks in September, too. They’re migrated by then, and they’re just everywhere.” The weather may be colder than summer, and you’ll need some extra layering, but the wildlife viewing may never be hotter. —T.W.Ěý

Surf SĂŁo Miguel, Azores

One of Europe’s best surf destinations for year-round waves is less than a five-hour flight from the U.S. East Coast. It’s called São Miguel, and fall is one of the best times to catch reliable swells in the still warm Atlantic Ocean. São Miguel is the largest of nine islands within the autonomous Azores archipelago, over 800 miles off the coast of mainland Portugal, and exposed to all of the Atlantic’s power. This is the land of long point breaks and world-class reef breaks, with sites like Ponta dos Mosteiros and Ribeira Grande getting hit with a wide range of reliable waves, from beginner-friendly swells to filthy overhead barrels. Consistent north swells usher in peak surf season from October to March, but there’s usually something breaking year-round. With more cows than people on São Miguel (population roughly 140,000), the lineups are never crowded. A 3/2 wetsuit is all you’ll need to paddle out. has regular flights from Boston to the city of Ponta Delgada, on São Miguel. (As of now, there’s a mandatory COVID test administered upon entering, with a 24-hour quarantine period until the results are returned.) Stay within a short drive of the best surf spots along the northern coast at (from $305), the first ecologically-friendly ocean-side hotel to open in the Azores. The property has villas atop a bluff overlooking the beach. —T.W.

Paddle the Edisto River in South Carolina

In summer, North America’s longest free-flowing blackwater river, the Edisto, can feel more like a lazy river. But in fall, the water is typically a few feet higher and faster. Plus, paddling is more enjoyable when you aren’t slapping away bugs and sweating from humidity. There are three rustic treehouses in the middle of the 48-acre Edisto River Refuge, which allow for an overnight paddle worthy of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. Chris Burbulak, owner of , supplies two-person canoes and runs a shuttle up river, making the trip manageable, even for beginners. The 13-mile paddle to Burbulak’s treehouses (from $70)Ěýtakes four to five hours, and guests must pack in drinking water and food. But there are plenty of large-mouth bass and catfish along the way for anglers. The fall colors are another distraction, as are sightings of the occasional Peregrine falcon, wood stork, and great blue heron. At the refuge, guests can wander trails and fry up their day’s catch (each cabin has a propane grill). After a good night’s sleep, you’ll be ready to tackle another 10 miles of paddling back to civilization. —J.M.

Swim With Whale Sharks in La Paz, Mexico

October marks the start of whale shark season in the Sea of Cortez, and the Bay of La Paz is one of the top spots in the world to swim responsibly alongside these gentle giants. The Mexican government caps the number of boats that can enter the creatures’ feeding zone—located 20 minutes off La Paz’s shore—to 20 at a time, and outfitters face a hefty fine if more than six snorkelers are near a whale shark. Book a trip with , a local company that has guides with degrees in marine biology. Mexico’s hippest hotelier, Grupo Habitas, recently opened the 32-room (from $250) along the city of La Paz’s iconic coastal boardwalk, the Malecón, giving travelers a perfect reason to spend a night or two away from resort-saturated Cabo. Use the hotel as a base camp to visit the seal colony of Los Islotes island, the uninhabited beaches of Espíritu Santo, and the Caribbean-blue waters of Balandra Bay by day. At night, feast on gourmet tacos at the new nearby restaurant , then sip mezcal-spiked Baja mules on Baja Club’s rooftop bar. It may be fall, but it’ll feel like you’re living an endless summer. —J.M.

şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř on Greece’s Largest Island

One of the first European countries to reopen its borders to tourists, Greece has been at the top of vaxi-cation lists and has a high overall vaccination rate. Food, friendliness, history, adventure, culture—Greece still has it all. If you go, skip tourist hotspots like Santorini and Mykonos—the latter was cited recently for spiking COVID-19 rates—and spend a week (or more) exploring Crete, Greece’s largest island, which has regular flights from London, Berlin, Paris, and Athens. Roughly 200 miles south of Athens, Crete has constant strong winds for windsurfing and , rugged mountains for trekking, and historic ruins like the Palace of Knossos, where you can geek out on the island’s ancient civilization. Because Crete straddles the Mediterranean-North African climate line, the water remains bathtub warm through early fall. You’ll want a rental car to get around the island. , a 17-room hotel (from $217) built in the middle of the island’s largest olive grove, in western Crete, is 25 minutes from the charming town of Rethymno, and less than an hour’s drive to stunning hikes like Platania Gorge and Patsos Gorge. Even if you just walk around the island’s villages, you can’t go wrong. Be warned: the end of October and first days of November are when locals start producing their potent firewater known as raki, made from twice-distilled grapes and anise. Cretans are known for their hospitality—which can border on delightfully smothering—and it’s considered bad manners to turn down a shot of the local hooch. —J.M.Ěý

Hike Utah’s Water Canyon

Zion National Park is just 232 square miles and can get 676,000 visitors in peak summer months. Thankfully the trails throughout Greater Zion—a term coined in 2019 to encourage travelers to think beyond the relatively small park boundaries—are equally spectacular. Fall is the ideal time for hiking in the area, too: there’s no need to worry about spring run-off or triple-digit temperatures. Plus, the area’s distinctive red rocks become even more striking when set against autumn foliage, with trees lit up in vermilion, burgundy, and honey-colored hues. Tucked away on the backside of the park, Water Canyon has undulating, streaked walls and waterfalls reminiscent of the most popular canyons in Zion. The trail—6.7-miles out-and-back—gets narrower and steeper as you ascend to the canyon rim. At the top, you’ll find yourself surrounded by a sea of hoodoos (pinnacled rock formations) and gazing out at the park’sĚýhighest formations in the distance. If the thought of setting up camp after a half-day hike is daunting, there are a handful of new glamping retreats nearby, like (from $359) and (from $379), that make cushy base camps. —J.M.

Discover Florida’s Coastal Dune Lakes

Most of the spring break activity is centered around Pensacola and the beaches to the East, leaving , a stretch of supremely scenic beaches (16 in total) largely free of the chaos—especially in fall. Here, some 40 percent of the land is preserved, and there are over 200 miles of hiking and biking trails to explore. Gulf of Mexico adventures range from paddleboarding and snorkeling—there are some 700 near-shore structures sunk along an extensive —to venturing inland to explore South Walton’s system of 15 coastal dune lakes, rare formations created when windblown-sand is redistributed to create shallow freshwater pools. These natural phenomenon are found only here and a handful of other places on the planet, among them Madagascar and New Zealand. The biologically-diverse, brackish ecosystems are idyllic for birdwatching, kayaking, and fishing—a secret discovery zone set just off from the beaches. The 100-acre Western Lake at , along scenic Highway 30A, has kayaks for rent at the onsite ranger station. Just a 15-minute drive west is , where you can sip sustainably-produced vodka made from 100-percent Florida Panhandle corn that gets filtered through a unique oyster shell apparatus to smooth the liquor out. Stay at the (from $322) in Sandestin, which opened in February, and has a celebrity chef-led restaurant with a mean biscuits and gravy. There’s also a huge range of gulf-front vacation rentals from which you can sip your morning coffee in utter solitude. Fall visitors to South Walton often land another treat, too, as swarms of Monarch butterflies alight in parks and beachside neighborhoods starting in late September. It’s a fleeting rest stop, just long enough so the charismatic insects can refuel on their epic journey to Mexico. —T.W.

Camp on Lake McConaughy’s Shores in Nebraska

Smack dab in the middle of the Great Plains you can eek out a few more months of your summer water-sports obsessions—kiteboarding, wakesurfing, and paddle boarding—on Lake McConaughy. About a 3.5-hour drive from Denver, Nebraska’s largest lake boasts 55 square miles of astonishingly crystal blue water and over 70 miles of white sandy shoreline. As of April, beach camping is no longer first-come, first-serve during peak summer season, which had meant that scoring a site was virtually impossible. After September 12, when the crowds disappear, you can have your pick of right-on-the-sand sites—a rarity. and campgrounds, located on the northeast shore, have some of the most coveted spots. The best kiting is on the north shore as well, but note, this isn’t a spot for beginners; experienced kiters must bring their own gear, and you’ll want a wetsuit by October. If you don’t have your own set up, rents everything you need, from wakesurf boats to fishing boats—in fall, its prime season for white bass and walleye, which grilled over a fire may be the best freshwater fish you ever eat. —J.M.

Go Birding in Southern Oregon

The are the perfect argument for the Oregon you never knew existed. Here, in the south central part of the state—about five miles northeast of Plush (population 46)—the old-growth firs, snowy volcanoes, and craggy coasts have given way to a prehistoric land of crescent-shaped sand dunes, sun-seared desert, and a 40-mile-long chain of twinkling lakes that attract gaggles of migrating birds every fall. The best way to explore these relics of the last ice age is by boat. During wetter years you can launch a canoe and glide along the entire 10-mile , a route that links Turpin Lake in the north with Campbell Lake in the south with views into the grassy steppes of the to the southeast. Bring your binoculars and be on the lookout for tundra swans, American coots, and Caspian terns. Even during drought years you can still find places to paddle. The folks at in Lakeview, about 40 miles southwest of the wetlands, rent kayaks and can give you suggestions on where to go based on water levels. If coming in from the north be sure to stop in Silver Lake at the for a 40-ounce steak. —Tim Neville

Road Bike in Tucson, Arizona

There are few better places in the U.S. for world-class cycling than Tucson—at least outside the triple-digit heat of summer. The city of 500,000 has become a magnet for serious bikers in winter, but fall may be the best time of all, with afternoon highs in the 80s (and mornings much cooler than that). The aspen and maple trees in the canyons of Santa Catalina Mountains turn bright gold and deep red, and locals come out of their summer hibernation to host a series of fall events, which includes gem shows and artisan markets that are huge draws for the artists that have put Tucson on the map. For cyclists, however, the focus is blacktop, and the sheer number of road options is the real attraction. There are easy rides, like various sections of —a 131-mile network that connects all corners of the city to one another with butter-like pavement—to classic epics like , a 61 to 80 mile out and back that’s popular with the pros who train here in winter. In fall, one of the best rides may be the city’s most famous—, a nearly 7,000-foot climb over 59 miles that will take in the aspen trees in the Catalina Mountains. Back in town, there a number of new restaurants to try, including , a joint project between chef Carlotta Flores of the Charro restaurant family and Don Guerra of Barrio Bread, with menu items like Southwest-inspired “tortamanos” sandwiches, with pulled pork and prickly pear BBQ sauce on house-baked azteca bread. Opening in mid-September, (from $200) is a 10-room inn in a converted downtown building that once housed Tucson’s oldest newspaper. The property is a joint project between hotelier Moniqua Lane and Arizona winemakers Sarah and Rob Hammelman, and it will feature a 5,000-square-foot wine barreling and tasting room in the basement, an easy way to wind down after a ride. —R.K.

Weekend on Long Island’s North Fork

The eastern end of Long Island is no secret. In the summer, the Hamptons are awash in New Yorkers eager to see and be seen. For the most part, however, the North Fork has managed to avoid the hoopla and remain the sedate, bucolic destination it has been for the last 50 years. This is especially true in fall, when you can finally get a seat at one of the shuck-your-own oyster stands and the sugar maple and red oak trees are ablaze in color. Offset by water views at almost every turn, it’s hard to find a better place for a long weekend. Plus, the water temperature in September and October is as warm as in June, . , a 363-acre spit of land jutting out into Gardiner’s Bay, is one of the few North Fork beaches that doesn’t require a residential parking permit. In the fall, walk along its empty shores or rent a bike for touring along the area’s roadways. This seasonĚýis also the time of year when migrating stripers and false albacore—albies to fishing diehards—cruise through the area, chasing massive schools of sardines. There’s nothing relaxing about fly-fishing for these two species from a boat, but when you get on a blitz—the fisherman lingo for when stripers begin crushing sardines on the surface of the water, with seagulls crashing down on them and boats jockeying to get in position—there are few piscatory experiences that are more adrenaline inducing. Book a guide through , and stay at the (from $179), a time capsule straight out of the 1950s, with wood paneling, shag carpeting, and laminated countertops—curated so perfectly that Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, and Vanity Fair have staged fashion shoots here. For local oysters, stop at Little Creek Oyster Farm and Market, where they serve buckets of the bivalves on picnic tables in front of the Peconic River. For local wine—there are more than 50 wineries on the North Fork—it’s hard to beat the charm at , a rosĂ©-only spot with a tasting barn and pebbled courtyard garden. For one of the best pies of your life, stop at the farm stand , which has a daily bake list that will likely include standards like peach and cherry and also more exotic flavors like blackberry-apple and blueberry cream. —R.K.

Explore Iceland’s Southern Coast

Iceland was buckling under the weight of over-tourism in recent years, but COVID changed all of that—at least for now. Tourism is on the rebound, but it’s nowhere near pre-pandemic levels, which means there’s no better time to visit. And few international adventure destinations offer the country’s current straightforwardĚýentry requirements—fully vaccinated individuals are allowed, with no testing or quarantine required, as of press time. Plus, Iceland is easy to access from the East Coast— less than a six-hour flight from New York’s JFK or Newark airports on , which also has nonstop flights to Reykjavik from Boston, Chicago, Orlando, and Washington, D.C. One item drawing tourists back is the eruption of Fagradalsfjall, the first volcano to blow its top on the Reykjanes Peninsula in some 800 years. Fagradalsfjall is still flowing with lava for the time being. Meanwhile, rather than attempting to circumnavigate the country’s entire Ring Road, focus on just the southern coast, especially in fall, when the north coast road’s weather is unpredictable. Here’s your itinerary: hit Fagradalsfjall on arrival (it’s just 30 minutes from the airport) before or after spending the night in Reykjavik. Ěý(from $193) is centrally located and has roomy apartments above a great wine and tapas bar called . Also, don’t miss the city’s new , with its swim-up Champagne bar and fjord-view sauna and natural hot springs. Next, head east a few hours to the log cabin-style (from $380), where hot tubs front one of the country’s best salmon-fishing rivers. If you’re feeling especially adventurous, you can day trip in a rented 4×4 or into the spectacular Þórsmörk Valley, then scuba dive with in Silfra, a glacier-fed fissure with some of the best underwater visibility in the world. Not keen on cold water? Cruise east along the storied south coast and stop in the scenic village of Vik at the new , one of Iceland’s more celebrated craft breweries. In autumn, you might even get to see the Northern Lights, which become visible in the skies from late August onwards. —T.W.

Hike and Bike Northern New Mexico

When the aspen trees in New Mexico’s Sangre de Cristo Mountains go into bright yellow overdrive in fall, there are few more dramatic destinations in the U.S. than Taos. So leaf peeping? Check. Native culture and excellent dining options? Check and check. And, oh yeah: Taos is an absolute world-class outdoor destination, too. Hiking and mountain-biking on the renowned , fishing for wild rainbows in the , and summiting 13,159-foot Wheeler Peak, the state’s highest—these are all standard and beloved adventure options. There are lesser-known gems, too, like mountain biking the relatively easy, if wildly remote, Valle Vidal Loop, roughly 47 miles of old two-track roads that go into the heart of the mountain basin. Fall brings chillier air to this part of north central New Mexico, but it’s still comfortable, temperature-wise, to camp out in the 1.5 million-acres . In town, there are a few new and noteworthy restaurants, including , where Kiwi Alyson Hyder churns out New Zealand-style meat pies and puff pastry sausage rolls. At the Bavarian-inspired , a food truck stationed near Taos Ski Valley, the bison on the menu is sourced from the Taos Pueblo, the Native community a mile north of town that has been in existence for over 1,000 years. For lodging, check out (from $90), where you can crash in one of 20 vintage camper trailers—from a 1960s Airstream to a 1967 Avian Tourist—all immaculately restored. Each trailer is equipped with kitchen facilities and its own deck looking over the vast Taos Mesa, just eight miles from town. At night, while taking in the stars overhead, it’ll feel a million miles from just about anything. —T.W.

Multi-Sport in Puerto Rico

The beauty of Puerto Rico, besides the island’s generally chill vibe, is that you can make a long weekend here as urban or outdoorsy as you want. It was hit with back-to-back hurricanes a few years ago and recovery has been slow, but the island is firmly on the upswing. New hotels are opening, and the outdoor activities that made the island a beacon for adventurers are still here: waves for surfers, singletrack rides that unspool from jungle to beach (like the ), and the bioluminescent bay off nearby Vieques island that’s considered the brightest in the world. For lodging in Old San Juan, (from $189) is new on the scene, with 43 rooms and a rooftop pool, or for a splurge check out the oceanfront rooms at (from $1,349). Surfers know that Isla del Encanto’s waves start to whip into shape from September onward—it’s still hurricane season, after all. For breaks with fewer crowds, paddle out at north coast spots like Playa Jobos and Isabela. There’s also hiking within the only rainforest in the U.S., , where the 2.3-mile Toro Wilderness Trail leads to the park’s highest peak, at 3,524 feet. Or venture deeper inland to the Cordillera Central mountain range for cave tubing and cliff jumping along the Tanamá River, where pre-Colombian petroglyphs and karst landscapes show off a side of Puerto Rico that few visitors know exist. —T.W.

Glamp in Maine

˛Ń˛ąľ±˛Ô±đ’s Acadia National Park, encompassing the most impressive (and highest) rocky headlands along the entire U.S. East Coast, gets the briefest reprieve from its summertime rush before the autumn masses arrive. This sweet spot happens in September, just before the deciduous trees start flaming all-out crimson. This year, during its first season in Maine, the glamping outpost is staying open until October 11 (from $399). The camp’s 63 safari-inspired tents—all with private bathrooms and some with private fire pits—hug a rugged stretch of coastline along the Blue Hill Peninsula, less than 20 miles northwest of the park, with views of Cadillac and Dorr mountains shimmering across the bay. The night skies here are extra inky, and to take advantage of them Under Canvas offers “Stargazer” tents with plexiglass windows in the ceiling. The camp’s dinner is served at a big communal tent near the shoreline, with the fruits of the local seas—clams, steamers, mussels, and lobster—figuring heavily among the offerings. From the property, it’s an easy to drive to the park, where you can spend your days hiking or biking Acadia’s roughly 120 miles of trails. There’s also in historic Castine, and hopscotching between lighthouses and lobstering villages by car along the greater Blue Hill Peninsula. If you do the latter, make sure to check out the three-barrel microbrewery at , which has excellent craft ales on tap and a selection of local oysters. Of course, no one would blame you if you simply relax in your tent. —T.W.

Chase Volcanoes in Lake Atitlán, Guatemala

Lake Atitlán is Central America at peak seduction, with jaw-dropping volcano views, deep blue water, and Mayan culture at every turn. It’s three hours from Guatemala City’s La Aurora International Airport, but it feels a thousand years away. While autumn is technically still the rainy season in this part of the world, the showers never last long, you can experience the country’s rural highlands at their least trafficked, and hotel rates are lower, too. There are plenty of rustic places to stay along and around the lakeshore, but you won’t regret a splurge on (from $197), where rooms and villas are decorated with indigenous Guatemalan artwork and overlook the caldera-turned-lake. From the property, birdwatch in the surrounding Sierra Madre highlands and spot endemic species like the pink-headed warbler and azure-rumped tanager. There’s excellent hiking around Lake Atitlán, too, including a strenuous four-mile jaunt to the summit of Volcán San Pedro, at 9,908 feet. Spend one night in the old-world city of Antigua at (from $197), a colonial-style villa set amidst the jungle. The hotel has just seven rooms decorated with the owner’s art collection, fire pits in a lush garden, and volcano views all around. —T.W.

Surf California’s Quieter Coast

Located roughly halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco, unspools for more than 80 miles along California’s Central Coast, striking a mellow note compared to the crowded vineyards of Napa Valley and packed surf breaks of SoCal. September ushers in SLO’s best surf season, thanks to favorable offshore winds and regular north and northwest swells that see breaks like the relatively mellow Cayucos Pier barreling with regularity. (Cayucos is worth a stop even if you don’t surf: you can learn how to make a meal out of marine algae during seaweed foraging tours at .) The same is true of the Rock, in Morro Bay, where you surf in the shadow of a preserve for endangered peregrine falcons. For the best autumn road trip through the region, start with some harvest-season wine tasting in the vineyards of the Edna Valley, just outside SLO, then head north to the oceanside enclaves of Cambria and San Simeon. In Cambria, the newly opened lodge (from $224) on Moonstone Beach has hygge-inspired interiors with vast coastal views and complimentary bikes from cycling brand Linus that you can use to tool around. September and October are also the best months to see large populations of elephant seals hauling their enormous bodies onto the beaches at . Avoid the crowds of onlookers by leaving the parking lot for the four-mile round trip hike past secluded coves along the to see smaller gatherings of the 5,000-pound pinnipeds. —T.W.

The post The 25 Best Fall Trips in the World appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Things were cooking for Lindsey Vonn.

It was early 2020, the world had yet to shut down, and the Olympic downhiller had been retired for less than a year. An HBO documentary about her had aired a few monthsĚýearlier ago, and her memoir, , was set to drop in March. (The looming pandemic would push its release to October 2021.)ĚýShe hadĚýlaunched with longtime sponsor HeadĚýand then with a childhood friend. Soon Vonn would be making her own film , and Frank Marshall, producer of The Sixth Sense and Seabiscuit, wanted to team up. Now VonnĚýwas in the foothills north of San JosĂ©, Costa Rica, sitting on a rock in utter bliss withĚýLucy, her baby-sized Cavalier King Charles spaniel and number one travel buddy.ĚýThere, at the Territorio de Zaguates Dog Sanctuary, the ground around her shimmered with hundreds and hundreds of street dogs. “It was a wave of dogs, like 1,500 of them,” Vonn says.Ěý“I literally couldn’t see the ground.”

Vonn had come here to work on her latest television project:Ěýhosting The Pack, a ten-part reality competition series on November 20. The show casts a dozen dogs and their owners—or “partners,” as Vonn calls them—on a jet-setting journey around North America, Central America, and Europe. At each location, they race to complete tasks that are designed to showcase what producers say is the deep bond between humans and their dogs. But really it’s all about which dog can tug, fetch, push, or paw its way around an obstacle the fastest. Episode by episode, the field is whittled down to a single winning human-canineĚýteam. Along the way, we learn fun dog facts (mushing started in the tenth century), see awesome landscapes (Switzerland, Costa Rica, Utah), and learn about various pup-focused charities and causes around the world. Think of it as The Amazing Race but with moreĚýbarking.

https://www.youtube.com/embed/VcKsIuQ23Xg

The competition itself offers up a $500,000 prize, plus another $500,000 earmarked forĚývarious charities, including $250,000 for the winner’s charity of choice. But the takeaway, fleshed out with emotional backstories and on-camera interviews, is more about how a human’s unconditional love for a dog can bring confidence, patience, and growth to each. Fair enough—scores of new pandemic pet owners stuck at home will surely relate.Ěý

The show began as an idea from Chris Castallo, Amazon’s chief for alternative programming, who recruited , an Emmy-winning producerĚýfrom The Voice and Survivor, to bring the show to life. Bienstock, who is himself “a dog guy,” needed a host who had a spirit of adventure but who was also obsessed with dogs. “We came up with Lindsey Vonn,” he says. “She really loves dogs on a human level.”

The show oscillates between the cool and the contrived, depending on your own relationship to travel, adventure, and things you’d like to do with your dog. My 11-year-old loved watching the pups roll balls and play a giant floor piano, but for non-dog owners (guiltyĚýas charged), parts of the series—like dressing dogs in little hats and outfits for a Parisian fashion show—feel lame. Same goes for the more outdoorsy moments. Go stand-up paddleboarding with your dog? Standard. But rap off a thundering jungle waterfall with a sopping wet standard poodle dangling from a harness between your legs, just because? Um, OK.Ěý

The show works best when we get to see dogs doing very dog things. Dixie, a bluetick coonhound, just cannot shut up at the least opportune times. One dog runs off to play with the other dogs instead of crossing a finish line, upending a tight race. Snow, the rappelling standard poodle, lets out a burp right into the face of his owner, er, partner, Josh White, as White goes to speak to the cameras.

Funny stuff aside, we also get to see dogs use their skills in ways we humans never could. We watch them find survivors entombed in a mock earthquake disaster zone at a research and training facility in Mexico City, and then we stare in awe as they sniff around a battleship to find puzzle clues tucked away in cabinets and forgotten recesses. Some tasks rely less on instincts and more on newly taught tricks. Humans desperately pleading with their dogs to fetch some keys to free their owners from a jail cell is pretty funny. Watching dogs try to deliver a fine French meal to discerning Parisians, on the other hand,ĚýjustĚýlooks like a great waste of food.

To make sure the canines didn’t have to do anything that made them anxious, afraid, or stressed, the producers hired an animal safety team that had input onĚýeverything from the design of the tasks to how the dogs would travel. That included chartering a plane with a grassy “dog toileting area” and first-class seats for the pups. Veterinarians traveled with the group and helped keep track of all the shots and paperwork theĚýdogs needed to clear customs quickly. The safety teamĚýfollowed the dogs wherever they went. “They were super conservative,” says contestant Mark LeBlanc, partner to Ace, a border collie, who does well in the show (no spoilers!). If a dog did not want to do a particular task, the team would step in. “It was never, well, maybe the dog can do this,” says Nicole Ellis, a certified professional dog trainer on the safety team. “It was nope, the dog is stressed, we’re not doing it.”

As for Vonn, she holds herself well as a host, with a combination ofĚýfolksiness and glamour. With toy-sized Lucy often staring blankly from her arms, Vonn celebrates and empathizes with the contestants, but sheĚýisn’t afraid to call out bad form: VonnĚýgives one contestant a real tongue-lashing before booting him off the show for hanging himself out of a moving vehicle and later taking his dog out of a travel harness.Ěý“I can say what needs to be said,” she says.

In the end, Vonn’s hoping this will lead to more dogs getting homes and to another season of The Pack. And perhaps, she says, the spotlight will help her launch a real acting career. “Maybe the Rock wants me to be in a movie,” Vonn jokes. “I’m just going to throw that out there.”

The post Lindsey Vonn Is Hosting a Reality TV Show with Dogs appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Editor’s note: While Roman Dial’s son’s full name was Cody Roman Dial, he also went by Roman.ĚýIn the below text, RomanĚýrefers to Cody Roman, not his father.Ěý

While Roman was exploring the cultures, mountains, and jungles of Central America, I was finishing up home projects and making short day trips and planning a long pack-rafting trip in the nearby Talkeetna Mountains in Alaska. I enjoyed hearing about Roman’s trips via email, but looked forward to having him home. When he’d written that he’d been bitten by a dog in Nicaragua and worried it had rabies, I’d even thought to ask him if maybe it was time to come back. But I didn’t.

It had been gratifying to me as his father to see him out on his own. He would return world-wise and confident with a broader view of life. His Spanish would be excellent. His view on economicsĚýand the role of the United States in Latin America would be better informed. It was also clear that his adventures had grown naturally from his upbringing: our family trips to Australia, Borneo, Alaska’s wilderness, and elsewhere. I wanted to hear his stories, perspectives, and insights firsthand.

On July 14, home from a Talkeetna Mountains pack-rafting trip with my friend Gordy Vernon, I scanned Roman’s last email from Costa Rica:Ěý“OK, I found what seems to be the best map yet.”ĚýUnpacking and catching up, I read no further. But buried in the thread—unseen for another week—was his email that said he was “planning on doing 4 days in the jungle and a day to walk out.” We’d been emailing about “super-secret”Ěýtopo maps of Central America. The two threaded emails seemed part of that conversation. I didn’t read past “the best map yet.” If I had, then I would have known he planned to be out from his Corcovado trip the very next day.

July 15 was his out date.

The summer of 2014 was sunny in Anchorage and my wifeĚýPeggy and I kept busy. We worked on house projects until peak salmon season, then drove to the Kenai Peninsula to dip-net fish for our freezer. We camped on the beach where the milky-blue Kenai River slides into the glacier-gray Cook Inlet and the sea breeze keeps July’s mosquitoes at bay. Beneath a clear sky and sunshine, we enjoyed the views of mountains rising above fishing boats plowing back to port, their holds full of freshly caught sockeyeĚýsalmon. The reds were running strong and people lined up shoulder to shoulder, standing in the river, their long-handled nets straining against the current as they excitedly pulled in fish when they felt a gentle bump in their net. We saw friends and filled our coolers with shiny sockeyes.

Still, it nagged at us that we hadn’t yet heard from Roman. I checked my phone for new emails as often as the spotty coverage on the Kenai allowed. Nothing. It had been six months since I’d seen him. He hadn’t told me exactly when he would be back from Latin America, but I hoped to have him home soon. I missed him.

Peggy and I returned from fishing on July 18, cleaned the 20Ěýsalmon we’d caught, and set to work finishing a siding project on our house. Days crept by. Still no word. We weren’t alarmed, just a bit surprised. Hardly a fortnight would pass since Veracruz (aĚýcity in Mexico where he had traveled earlier in the year)Ěýwhen we wouldn’t hear something from Roman. On July 21—12Ěýdays after he had last written—I sent a gentle reminder: “Let me know when you get out.” His email linked to the one starting with “the best map yet” sat unread in my inbox.

On July 23, Peggy and I wandered between fasteners and paint at Lowes, wondering aloud to each other why we had heard nothing from Roman. Two weeks had passed. The longest stretch he’d gone without contacting us after Veracruz had been ten days, during his trips across El PetĂ©n and La Moskitia, wild regions in Guatemala and Honduras, respectively, where he had traveled in between Veracruz andĚýCosta Rica. We were worried now.

“I need to look at his last email again,” I told Peggy. “I didn’t really read it carefully and I’m not sure what he wrote. It seems like it was just about maps.”

Then and there in Lowes Home Improvement, Peggy felt nauseous. We left empty-handed to drive straight home and read his emails carefully. I opened the July 9 thread where the wordsĚý“heading in off-trail tomorrow . . . 4 days in the jungle and a day to walk out” spilled across my screen. My face went numb.Ěý

OhĚýno! He’s way overdue—fuck!

I should have been paying closer attention!

Shock washed over me. Then guilt. Guilt over the fact that I hadn’t read his email thoroughly, that I hadn’t given him the attention he deserved. That, maybe, like Peggy pointed out in nearly every argument, I spent too much time on my own trips, on my own interests.

“Peggy. This email says he should have been done, like”—I struggled with the arithmetic—“like, ten days ago! Something’s wrong!” I turned to her. Her forehead tightened, cheeks slack. She saw my terror; it increased her own.

We jumped into action. She slid me a notebook and pen across the table, then got on the phone and called our daughterĚýJazz. I set to work on the computer, my hands shaking. Fighting panic and rising nausea, I Googled Corcovado National Park guides, looking for someone to help us.

My Spanish too poor to call, I shot off an email to Osa Corcovado Tours.

My name is Roman Dial and my son, Cody Roman Dial, age 27, is missing in Corcovado National Park. He is about 177 cm tall (5 feet 10 inches), with blue eyes, brown hair and glasses. He weighs about 63 kg (140 lbs). He should have a blue two-person tent.
He has been traveling for several months in Central America and doing treks in the jungle, always without a guide.
He emailed us on 9 July and said that he was heading into Corcovado National Park on 10 July for five days alone. He should have returned ten days ago, and he always reports back to us. But we have heard nothing and now are worried.
He wrote that he would be hiking off-trail to the east of the Los Patos toĚýSirena Trail. He said he’d be walking about 5 km a day for 20 km off trail, following the Rio Conte up, then crossing the mountains over to the Rio Claro and followĚýthat to the coast.
Again he said he would be gone for 5 days and that was almost 14 days ago. Can you please advise me what I can do or how we might look for him? I do not speak Spanish, but perhaps I could call someone and speak on the phone? Attached is a photo from two years ago.

The first picture of Roman I found was from Bhutan. Smiling at the camera, he’s a little pudgy, with a bit of beard, short hair, and wire-rimmed glasses, wearing a blue shirt. My arm is around him, hand on his shoulder. I attached the photo and “the best map yet”Ěýand hit send.

I bought an airplane ticket to leave the next day for Costa Rica. I could not stay in Alaska. I would not leave the search up to others. He was my son. My responsibility was to him. Part of the Alaskan creed is that we take care of our own. I had been on enough rescues to know our system worked. Roman had sent me his plans and a map because he knew that if something happened to him, I would come get him.

I had introduced him to the tropics, to wilderness, to world travel. No one knew better what Roman might do. But I needed experienced, reliable help we could trust. I called Gordy. A world traveler himself, he once lost six fingertips when he quit his own attempt at the summit of Mount Everest to rescue another climber on the mountain. He had also lost his father and two siblings in a tragic airplane accident.

Gordy went silent for a minute when I told him the news. He’d been on the Grand Canyon trip with Roman and me. He appreciated Roman’s toughness, wit, and modesty.

Gordy’s voice was slow and measured, fighting back emotion. “Nah, Roman, my Spanish just isn’t good enough for something like that. You’ll be better off with Thai.” Thai Verzone, his Wilderness Classic partner and protégé, had been both a Latin American studies major in college and a mountain guide in Peru, Ecuador, and Bolivia. He speaks Spanish fluently.

Gordy went on. “You know, what I would do is get hold of Roman’s bank records. Those might say a lot about where he was, and where he was going.” This advice from a close friend helped. Peggy would try over the coming days, but it took years in the end to get the records.

I called Thai. “Thai‚ Roman’s missing in Costa Rica.”Ěý

“Włó˛ąłŮ?”

“Yeah, he wrote he’d be gone on a five-day trip in Corcovado, but he’s like ten days overdue!”

“Oh shit—ten days!”

“Listen, can you go down there with me? I need you. I’m leaving tomorrow and could really use your Spanish and jungle skills.”

Thai’s wife, Ana, had just had their baby, Maia, three months before. Thai helped Ana at home and worked at the hospital.

Peggy knew how useful Thai would be with language, wilderness, and people. She quickly volunteered: “I can watch Maia for Ana while Thai goes with you.”

I relayed this to Thai. “Peggy says she can help Ana with Maia if you can come.”

“Let me check with Ana and the clinic, but I’m pretty sure I can do it. How long will we go for?” Thai had his own life.

“If you could come down for ten days, that’d be great. Thai, I really need your help.”

Panic inched up my gorge. I choked it down. Calmness thinks clearly.Ěý

I was terrified that Roman, lost and broken in the jungle, waited for me to come get him. Hadn’t he given me very explicit directions and a map, after all?Ěý

I called the U.S. embassy in San José, worried it might be closed. A recording said, “Push two for life and death.”

I pushed two. A voice answered and said something about a duty officer, then gave me a Mr. Zagursky’s email. I scribbled it in my notebook, then emailed the photo, map, and information to him. I found an email address for the Puerto Jiménez police and sent them the same content, adding Gordy’s suggestion to access Roman’s bank records. I told them all that I was coming down.

My body crawled with anxiety and a sense of panic held barely at bay. I wanted to be down there right now. Every minute counted. While the tropics might seem hot and idyllic, the rains are cold and the chance of rapid infection is real.

I called my boss at work: “Roman’s missing.”

Her response was immediate, empathetic. “Oh, Roman,” she said genuinely, “I am so sorry.” As if he were already dead, that I’d already lost him.

Hurt and angry, I told her, “I’m going down to find him and am not sure when I’ll be back.” What I meant was that he wasn’t dead, that she didn’t need to be sorry because I would bring him home alive.

That eveningĚýI packed jungle gear. Shoes and shirts and pants and a pack. Compass and headlamp. Stove and a cook pot. Dehydrated food. Bug-net tent and tarp. Sleeping pad and sheet. We would have to move fast. Bring only necessities.

My feelings of shock ebbed, exposing a reef of guilt. He’d written that he’d be out on the 15th. I was home then. I should have read his email.Ěý

I should have given him 24Ěýhours, then called Costa Rica on the 16thĚýto say he was 24Ěýhours overdue, then flown there on the 17th. I could have done that.Ěý

But I didn’t. A full week had passed since I could have flown down. It was impossible not to see him suffering, waiting, wondering, Dad, where are you? I told you where I went. I said I’d be out in five days. Dad, come get me!

Hoping for the best, I emailed him: “i am coming down to look for you.”ĚýThe subject read “email please!”

My flight left for Atlanta at 8:30 at night on Thursday, July 24. All day I switched from phone to computer, scrambling to put things together. My brain struggled to function as if nothing were wrong while my heart wrested to take control and panic. Peggy, too, called and emailed friends and family, sounding the alarm. Within 24Ěýhours, friends set up a fund and deposited money for our search.

The Tico Times, a Costa Rican English-language newspaper, . People reached out to help. ThenĚýFacebook kicked in. Someone posted on an Osa-specific page about a sighting. I messaged him and he wrote back:

I am 90% sure that I saw your son based on his picture—did he have a tan safari type outfit (shorts and shirt matching and a hat)? I remember seeing him walking alone along the road and I took him for one of the many volunteers who are always in that area and who never want a ride. I made eye contact with him and he nodded. He was looking into the woods at something that caught his attention. If you want you can call. Hopefully he is simply walking through some tough terrain out in the park and working his way back.

I ached for it to be true. But it couldn’t be Roman dressed in safari garb, turning down a ride on a road. I knew that it wasn’t. Together we had spent too many months over too many years in too many countries on too many continents for that to be the son I raised.

He was in trouble. I knew.

From the forthcoming book . Copyright © 2020 by Roman Dial. To be published on February 18, 2020, by William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted by permission.

FindĚýşÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř’s pastĚýcoverage of Cody Roman Dial’s 2014Ěýdisappearance hereĚýandĚýhere.

The post My Son Went on a Solo Hike and Never Came Home appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

My friend and I were two millennials with passports,Ěýflexible work hours, andĚýthe dream of exploring Central America. The only problem? We had aĚývery limited budget. Then, while browsing Google Flights, we stumbled across a deal that sent us packing our bags: $238 round-trip tickets from DenverĚýto Costa Rica. We quickly cleared our schedules, booked the flights, and started planning our itinerary. In two weeks, we managed to traverse the 20,000-square-mile country (often labeled the Ěýin the region) from north to south and coast to coast. Starting in the capital, San JosĂ©, we headed to the Pacific beaches of Quepos, Manuel Antonio, and PuntarenasĚýbefore goingĚýnorth to theĚývolcanoes of Arenal and Cerro Chato. The trip concluded on the Carribean coast, where we explored LimĂłn, Cahuita, and Puerto Viejo. Along the way, we lounged on immaculate beaches, spotted diverse wildlife, and scaled towering peaks, all for less than $500 each—including airfare. Rather than limiting us, traveling on such a tight budget meant we had better interactions with locals and found spots well off the beaten tourist track. Here’s how we did it.

Flights: $238

The inexpensive flights, booked through budget-but-not-luggage-friendly Spirit Airlines, necessitated some creativity when it came to connections and packing. From Denver, we took a red-eye to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, followed by a quick layover and a three-hour flight to San JosĂ©. Base fares from Spirit don’t include carry-ons, so to avoid the extra cost, we limitedĚýour luggage to one free personal item each. We fit everything into 40-liter roll-top backpacks by choosing versatile, packable synthetic clothing. In the end, we had one change of clothes and a bathing suit each, the bare minimum for both peak bagging and basking on the beach.

Transportation: $25

We decided to exchange time for savings, relying heavily on hitchhiking and Costa Rica’s robust bus system. Hitchhiking is foreign to most Costa Ricans, and many drivers responded to our extended thumbs with a similar gesture of their own. Despite this, we received numerous rides near the coast, usually from locals who had lived or traveled in other countries where the concept exists. From the town of Quepos, where we spent a day exploring Manuel Antonio National Park, and north to the small fishing village of , a gateway to the surfing hot spot of Osa Peninsula, we pieced together a free 60-mile ride from an off-duty taxi driver on his way home with a 40-mile lift from a wealthy business owner who chatted and shared fresh fruit with us. From there, to get into the adventure-filledĚýnorthern mountains, we rode 100 miles with a doctor who stopped at prominent locations in small mountain towns along the way, including magnificent churches and plunging waterfalls. In the more developed towns and cities, likeĚýSan JosĂ©, San RamĂłn in the , a port town on the Gulf of Nicoya, we stuck to the bus system, with fares averaging around $3 apiece. The buses wereĚýsurprisingly punctual, though rides often took longer than expected. On our five-hour trip from San JosĂ© to the southeastern coastal town of Puerto Viejo, for example, the bus was stopped for 30 minutes at the port city of LimĂłn while cranes moved shipping containers filled with bananas.

Lodging: $135

Upon arrival, we had no scheduled lodging, only a vague idea of our options from scouting Airbnb. Our $20-per-night budget severely limited our choices, so we kept our requirements simple: a kitchen and Wi-Fi. Communication issues further complicated our search—neither of us had switched our phones to an international plan, so we had to strategically work with hosts using limited connectivity in internet cafĂ©s, restaurants, and our previous Airbnbs. In Cahuita, a village on the Caribbean coast near the border of Panama, we arrived after a four-hour-long bus ride and waited for over an hour to get a response on directions to ourĚýcabina. In the end, though, Airbnb proved valuable for more than just lodging—it was a great way to connect with locals. OftenĚýwe’d eat breakfast with our hosts, who would give us the lowdown on activities in the area. Without staying atĚýour Airbnb in , we wouldn’t have known to stop at Crocodile Bridge over the Tárcoles River, where we spotted ten of the massive reptiles floating in the shallows.

Activities: $35

Many of the well-known hiking opportunities in Costa Rica require entrance fees into national parks and preserves, ranging from suggested donations toĚý$18. We were willing to pay atĚýsome places and not at others, instead opting for free alternatives that we found by talking to locals and diving deep into travel blogs. Instead of the near Cahuita, which would have cost $30, we hiked down a nearby abandoned dirt road that wound through a forest, offering views of both the Caribbean and a jungle bursting with toucans, monkeys, and sloths.

Despite our budget, we still managed to see some of the best the country had to offer. In totalĚýwe visited three national parks (Manuel Antonio, Arenal, and Cahuita), one private preserve (Green Lagoon), and seven beaches, from Cocles on the Caribbean to EspadillaĚýon the Pacific. The most expensive and beautiful of the parks was , which cost $18 to enter, more than half of our trip’sĚýactivityĚýbudget. But it was well worth it. The park featured pristineĚýwhite-sand beaches, with jungle stretching down almost to the water. Hiking through, we spotted three species of monkeys, giant green iguanas, and innumerable birds. Another worthwhile splurge was climbing the dormantĚývolcano Cerro Chato in ($10), in the north. We passed sloths and a six-foot pit viper on the way up to the summit, where we swam in a bright green crater lake.

Food: $56

Food was the easiest way to save money—and the most tempting way to spend it. After a few days of home-cookedĚýpasta, one of our Airbnb hosts taught us the recipe for pinto gallo (rice and beans), and we quickly adopted it as a diet staple. Both ingredients were sold in bulk, and we added eggs, salsa, and seasoning for variety. We also putĚýthisĚýhearty base on tortillas to make burritos, packing themĚýin bags for a snackĚýon the go. We did eat out to celebrate my birthday at a local soda (restaurant), a treat that came out to $3 each.

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Itz’ana Resort

Belize

Opening in April, Ěýis a perfect base camp for exploring the best of Belize. Night-hike the world’s only jaguar reserve in search of the nocturnal cats? Check. Swim with whale sharks during their annual migration? Check. Sail to empty isles for private snorkeling sessions? Check. Float in the waters of the iconic Great Blue Hole? Check. Cast for wahoo lurking beyond one of the planet’s largest barrier reefs? Check. But good luck prying yourself away from Itz’ana’s lush 20-acre property. The 30-suite resort sits on the Placencia peninsula, a 16-mile-long finger of perfect white sand that separates a mangrove-lined lagoon from the Caribbean. It’s all too easy to spend your days bouncing from the , offering one of the largest rum selections in the country, to the , which serves reef-to-table snapper and conch on a deck over the azure water. From $325 —Graham Averill

Ěý

Guatemalan Highland Tour

Guatemala

In 2014, Vermont native Brendan James was working for a nonprofit in Guatemala when some locals loaned him a hardtail mountain bike and led him along ancient Maya paths weaving around Lake Atitlán. He found fast trails flowing through cool, alpine forests and a homegrown zeal for the sport that’s only flourished since. Today, Guatemala is becoming Central America’s premier fat-tire destination, with newly built singletrack and bike parks opening across the country. James now spends 150 days a year scouting those trails and leading trips for his guiding company, . This year he’s launching the , a seven-day, 96-mile cross-country epic with 29,000 feet of downhill. Along the way, you’ll follow livestock trails and old agricultural paths past 14th-century ruins, crash in small-town posadas, and relax in natural hot springs. From $2,375 —Tim Neville

Mukan Resort

Mexico

Reaching this Ěýin the Riviera Maya requires a 45-minute speedboat ride through mangrove canals, so it feels far removed from the region’s hot spot of Tulum. But there are other reasons this luxurious property stands out, namely that its ten suites, bungalows, and villas are among the very few accommodations nestled inside the 1.3-million-acre , a Unesco World Heritage site containing Maya ruins, a section of the 620-mile-long Mesoamerican Reef, and a jungle filled with diverse wildlife including 356 species of birds and 318 species of butterflies. Ěýin search of sea turtles, scout the biosphere and add threatened birds like the reddish egret to your life list, or fish for tarpon, permit, and barracuda with local guides who have plied these waters since childhood. The day’s catch is served on a dock over Sian Ka’an Lagoon. From $420 —Stephanie Pearson

Isla Palenque

Panama

Want to play out a castaway fantasy? Newly revamped , located on the pristine Gulf of ChiriquĂ­, along the country’s Pacific coast, ticks all the right boxes—with some rather exquisite enhancements. More than half of the 400-acre private island is a nature preserve that neighbors Coiba National Park, a 38-island, 673-square-mile expanse filled with dolphins, leatherback turtles, and whitetip reef sharks. First envisioned as a safari-style camp in 2012, the resort owners reinvented it last summer by constructing eight thatch-roofed casitas just steps from seven gloriously empty beaches. Spend your days exploring reefs and nearby islands like Las Piñalitas by boat, kayak, or paddleboard, or hike to archeological sites full of pottery shards and stone tools left by the island’s pre-Colombian inhabitants. Come evening dine on local favorites like °ů´Ç˛Ô»ĺĂł˛Ô, an Afro-Caribbean coconut stew, while keeping an eye out for breaching humpbacks. If you book through our travel partner , you’ll get four nights for the price of three. From $770 for two people, all-inclusive —T.N.

The Maya Experience, Ka’ana Resort

Guatemala and Belize

Tikal, the capital of Central America’s ancient Maya civilization, was discovered in Guatemala in the mid-1800s, and its stone temples have been a popular tourist destination for de-cades. But the extensive system of roads and canals that connected Tikal to thousands of previously unknown Maya structures wasn’t uncovered until 2016, when researchers began using planes and lasers to pierce the dense jungle canopy and map what’s been dubbed the Maya Megalopolis. Fernando Paiz, whose Foundation for Maya Cultural and Natural Heritage spearheaded the research, also owns the plush Ěýin neighboring Belize. Last spring he blended his two passions to create Ka’ana’s new , a deep immersion into the ancient culture. You’ll follow guides into the jungle on the way to the 77-foot-tall temple of Cahal Pech, learn to cook traditional dishes like the citrus-marinated pork known as poc chuc, or ride in a helicopter with Paiz and marvel as he recounts how the network of structures below is just beginning to be understood by archeologists. From $1,117 for two people —G.A.

Origen Escapes

Costa Rica

This country’s pura vida energy and epic surf spots aren’t a secret. But Costa Rica still has plenty of untapped terrain. , a no-expenses-spared bespoke outfitter, specializes in taking clients to the country’s untouched corners. In December, Origen’s four owners—including Ofer Ketter, a former lieutenant in the Israel Defense Force, and expert waterman and Costa Rican native Felipe Artinano—used their years of expertise to launch the Transformational Travel Series, a group of one-to-two-week itineraries highlighting environmental responsibility and local conservation efforts. Adventurous travelers can Ěýor raft 16 miles of jungle-shaded rapids, while citizen scientists can head off the grid with top naturalists to document new species or track migrating hammerhead sharks. From $1,200 per night —Jen Murphy

Sansara Surf and Yoga Resort

Panama

While parts of Central America sometimes feel overrun with surfboard-toting gringos, Panama has maintained an undiscovered vibe, especially along the southerly Azuero peninsula. The country’s cultural heartland, this region features Spanish colonial churches, biologically diverse national parks, and some seriously great waves from December to May. Located in the sleepy village of Cambutal, Ěý11 cabanas are just steps from the Pacific Ocean, and with nearby beach, point, and reef breaks, you’re sure to find the wave you’re looking for. Choose from all-inclusive weeklong , or create your own Ă  la carte trip filled with offshore tuna fishing, snorkeling, and afternoons spent lounging in the natural pools of a nearby waterfall. No matter which you pick, the use of bikes, SUPs, and kayaks is included in your stay. From $199 —J.M.

Yemaya

Nicaragua

Political unrest in this country over the summer and fall—during which protesters clashed with security forces over government corruption—scared away so many travelers that numerous lodges and tour operators had to shutter their doors. Now, as the turmoil appears to be calming down, traveling here will help these businesses get back on their feet, and resorts that were never near the unrest are enticing visitors with deals. Consider , a 16-bungalow hideaway on the northern tip of Little Corn Island, a carless, 1.2-square-mile dollop of sand 45 miles off the mainland in the Caribbean. The property was revamped in 2017 with five remodeled luxury suites, and it’s slated to reopen in time for the winter holiday season with cut rates of $95 per night, leaving you to splurge on sundowners from the beachside bar, in-room massages, and Ěýon its 40-foot handcrafted sailboat. —T.N.

Acantilados

El Salvador

The surf-focused Salvadorean town of La Libertad has never seen anything like . The sleek 19-room boutique hotel, which opened in November, sits cantilevered over a cliff, exponentially amping the drama of the infinity pool. Surf the classic right-hand point break of El Sunzal in the morning, with or without an expert instructor, then stave off gnawing hunger at El Casco, a renovated century-old colonial house on the property that serves pupusas, tamales, quesadillas, and ˛ÔłÜ±đ˛µ˛ą»ĺ´Ç˛ő—sweet Salvadorean dumplings. In the evening, soak your tired muscles in the saltwater pools, then head to the hotel’s craft-cocktail bar for a Martini Albahaca y Sandia, a mix of watermelon, basil, and vodka. Hikers should make the 90-minute drive northwest to Ěýand summit 7,812-foot Santa Ana, the country’s highest volcano. The view of turquoise Lake Coatepeque is worth it. From $159 —S.P.

Honduran Coffee Route

Honduras

Even though crime has dropped by half over the past five years, Honduras still gets a bad rap. Wandering around the city of Tegucigalpa alone at night was never a great idea, but don’t judge a country by its capital. This fall, Central America’s second-largest nation has made it easier than ever for travelers to check out one of the things Hondurans do best: grow delicious coffee. The new Ěýisn’t a single road but a network of sustainable farms, regional tasting labs and research centers, and more than 60 lively cafĂ©s in six distinct growing regions. The maps and resources on the route’s website will help you craft your itinerary. Keep it simple by focusing on one region—like Copán, home to a magnificent tenth-century Maya city and seed-to-cup coffee varietals with hints of chocolate, caramel, and orange. Get a room at (from $124), which once catered to archeologists, and spend a morning taking a hike around Finca Santa Isabel, a 200-acre family-run coffee plantation with 85 species of birds, like white-breasted hawks and bushy-crested jays. If you’d prefer to have a guide, Copán’s Xukpi Tours can take care of housing and transportation. —T.N.

The Whole Shebang

For cyclists who want to see it all—Mexico’s Maya ruins, Guatemala’s volcano-ringed Lake Atitlán, El Salvador’s sublime surf breaks, Nicaragua’s colonial cities, Costa Rica’s jungle, the Panama Canal, and the unsung spaces in between—sign up for the Mexico City to Panama City leg of . For 2019, this 2,467-mile, 40-day van- and chef-supported portion of the 9,013-mile journey has been rerouted so that all but eight miles are paved (though paved is a relative term, so bring a comfortable bike with beefy tires). From $8,000 —S.P.

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Last spring, I began working on a for on migration in Mexico, Guatemala, and El Salvador. I had a photography budget, and I knew I wanted to hire women. Female writers are sorely underrepresented in my profession—in 2015, in the New Yorker went to men—and the situation is even worse for . If you care about good reporting, as I do, it’s not hard to imagine how serious and far-reaching the effects of this imbalance can be.

“Right now, women make up roughly 15 percent of the news photographers published in major western news outlets,” explains , founder of , a database to promote the work of female photographers. “That’s not just a problem of affirmative action. It’s a problem for responsible and nuanced storytelling.”

Working as a reporter in Central America for the past three years, I’ve gotten used to men asking if I’m married and offering unwanted advice about how to live my life. (“You’d better hurry up,” one cab driver in Mexico City suggested, “before you get ugly!”) The advice is almost always from men I’ve just met, who assume I’m lost and need their help. And while it’s usually framed within well-intentioned warnings about the dangers of traveling alone, the subtext has been obvious: If you’re a woman, you shouldn’t be doing this.

This was evident during my reporting in Tapachula, a town roughly 25 miles from the Mexico-Guatemala border that has experienced high levels of violence and crime. On my first day, I took a collective bus to Ciudad Hidalgo, on the Suchiate River, where migrants and locals cross the border on giant inner tubes, thus avoiding paperwork and fees. En route, a twentysomething guy sitting behind me leaned in and asked where my husband was. Then he asked, “Did you know eight men were beheaded in Ciudad Hidalgo this week?”

It was as if, in his mind, those two questions were somehow connected. When I told him it was none of his business, he let out a howling laugh and announced his findings to the entire bus: “She is definitely not married!”

My plan was to cross the Suchiate River with migrants, and then visit a migrant shelter in Tecún Umán, Guatemala, where I could interview residents for the following five days. I traveled with photographer , and even the male migrants we interviewed at the migrant shelters on both sides of the border asked why we weren’t safely at home with our children. “We don’t have any,” we would respond in unison, which prompted more than a few people to ask if we were lesbians.

The day we conducted interviews and took photos at the Belén shelter in Tapachula, there was only one migrant woman present among dozens of men. Ludin Gómez, 31, a single mother from Santa Rosa de Copán, Honduras, was traveling with her three children: Daniella, 7, Isaac, 9, and María José, 12. “I am so glad you women are here,” she told us both. “Sometimes we think that nobody cares about migrants.”

In March, I spent two weeks living at a in Ciudad Juárez, a town on the U.S.-Mexico border that, like Tapachula, is profoundly affected by violence and human trafficking. Most of the migrants at the Juárez shelter were men traveling alone, but there were several young women with children. At the time, I worked with , a local photographer who said she was often questioned about her choice to travel alone for assignments.

“Why did you come here? Why are you alone?” an indigenous Zapotec woman asked her in Oaxaca City. “Aren’t you afraid to travel alone without a husband and with your camera?”

Some of the mothers at the shelter had been through traumatic experiences along the migrant trail. Itzel, who is a mother of two girls, soon approached them, began exchanging stories, and eventually started taking pictures. Her ease of interaction surprised even me, because I wasn’t sure whether they would allow their children to be photographed. It occurred to me that Itzel’s exceedingly powerful photographs might not have been possible if she had been a man.

“If photojournalists are the lens through which the general public sees the rest of the world,” Zalcman says, “we need to make sure storytellers are just as diverse as the people and issues they cover.”

Photographer , my partner on the migration project in El Salvador, had a similar experience in Tunisia. While on assignment shooting video, a man approached her and said he was impressed by her professionalism. He was surprised, he said, “because there are no female Tunisian photographers.”

Danielle pointed out to him that it was most likely because women are not encouraged to pursue photography as a career, adding that it was like this in the United States, where she was from. He didn’t seem won over, but I hope other people might be. I hired these women because I admired their body of work, their hustle, their drive, and their faith in the power of photography to move people and create positive social change. I want to see the world represented equally—through our voice, as well as our eyes—and I continue to have faith in the power of actions and words to change people’s perceptions about what women can do.

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Television writer Steve Hely (The Office, 30 Rock) indulged his perpetual wanderlust by traveling from Los Angeles down through South America, then wrote a very funny book, , about it.Ěý

In fact, we read it cover-to-cover in a day—including the appendix, which is funnier than most appendices in addition to being a great list of resources on North, Central, and South American travel (with plenty of history and some conspiracy theories thrown in). In this excerpt, Hely shares a selection of the books and people that got him through his 13-country adventure.Ěý

Female Travel Writers

Writing this book and looking at my bookshelf, it occurred to me, I have a strong bias toward travel books written by guys. That might be because men are more likely to brag or write books or publish books, or they’ve historically had all the time and money and reason to travel, and most of my books are old.

But whatever, it’s like 95 percent to 5 percent. I’m sure I have all kinds of biases, but this one I noticed, and when you notice a bias, you should try to correct it, right? So I did. I tried to read books by female travel writers.

Here are, for my money, some of the best ones:

Freya Stark, . Now, that is just a baller title, by an obvious baller of a woman. Freya Stark got half her hair ripped out in a factory machine when she was a teenager. In World War I, she was a nurse. In World War II, she wrote propaganda in Arabic. In between, she wrote some twenty books about one incredible adventure after another.

Eleanor Clark, . This isn’t really a book about a trip, but it is about a place she was visiting, on the coast of Brit-tany, where the men harvest oysters and the women have all kinds of drama happening. Sometimes she goes a little nuts with it, just sometimes, just my opinion, like it can’t possibly be as heartbreaking as she describes it. But maybe I’m just getting cynical in my old age. I hope not! Anyway, great book.Ěý

Dervla Murphy, . Here’s the first sentence of this book: “On my tenth birthday a bicycle and an atlas coincided as presents and a few days later I decided to cycle to India.” Then she did. Dervla is an Irishwoman, and she is tough and no-nonsense and sharp. I can’t help but think she’d find a lot wrong with the way I traveled, but hey: I’m not as clearheaded as she is, I’m doing the best I can.

Anyway: I love you, Dervla!

(I can picture her curtly dismissing my cheap American affection.)

Jan Morris.ĚýWhen he was twenty-seven, in 1953, James Morris, a newspaper re-porter, was at the base camp of the British Mount Everest Expedition when Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay reached the summit for the first time. He wired the news, in code, to London and broke the story. His book about this, Coronation Everest, is pretty fun. A few years later, in 1964, James started transitioning to Jan Morris. Jan has written a bunch of great travel books: To pick one more or less at random, how about . Or . Bow down to Jan.Ěý

Guides (Human)

Marco of . I endorse this man and his business. His patience and generosity to a traveler was one of the finer displays of coolness and good character I can remember. If in San CristĂłbal, why not check out Croozy Scooters?

Owner of , I was mad that you called TV writing pablum for the masses. But I loved being at your place, it was very special.

Captain Rich of . Awesome man.

The captain of the Jaqueline. Two captains in a row who seemed really competent and admirable.Ěý

Walter Saxer of in Iquitos, who told me many good stories I can’t put in this book.

Juan of San Pedro. Not his real name.

The man at the bar at in Punta Arenas.

Guides (Books)

I don’t think I would’ve done any of this if I hadn’t read , by Charles C. Mann (2005). This book is what got Tenochtitlán, the Maya, the Inca, the Amazon, and the whole world of Central and South America so deep into my head that finally I was like, I better go have a look at this.

To sort out how to get where I wanted to go, and also where I wanted to go, the number one helpful source was anonymous people in the and onĚý.Ěý

The other incredibly important start was all the Lonely Planet books I used. Everyone who travels knows these books; they are amazing! Now the company is owned by an American billionaire, which can’t be good. Anyway, these guides are indispensable.Ěý

The third-most important book I read has to be by Michael D. Coe. Just a terrific fun read packed with information that fired up my whole brain.

Oh, but maybe that book is tied with by Bernal Díaz. One of the most incredible books I’ve ever read, no joke. I read the translation by John M. Cohen, who must be great at his job.

More books that were important to me:

Ěýand by Roberto Bolaño. All fiction, but hugely enriched my understanding and helped me build a picture of the Mexican border, Mexico City, and recent history in Chile.

by David Carrasco. Coulda been shorter.

and by John L. Stephens, engravings by Frederick Catherwood. If these guys were still alive I would want them to be my friends.

by unknown sixteenth-century Mayan writer(s). I read the version translated by Dennis Tedlock. Just a Mayan romp through the underworld with talking gourds and so on.

by Evan S. Connell. Fantastic book by a great American writer, who muses and considers the lost worlds of Mesoamerica.

by Joan Didion. Damn, this lady can write about a body dump without once breaking her cool.

by Michael Bradley. Conspiracy that has it all: the Cathars, the Holy Grail, mysterious African sailors, treasure pits, FDR and the New Deal, the Masons—it’s great.

by Walter LaFeber. Good book on all the messes we made and how we either didn’t clean them up or in cleaning them up made worse messes.

by David McCullough. This man is a complete boss and this book is astoundingly great. Something amazing on every page. I stole facts from it up to the exact level where it’d be criminal.

by Stephan Talty. Most readable book about Morgan I know of.

by Mark Bowden. A specific story about a specific moment and maybe a pulpy way in, but the fact is this book really helped me start to sort out Colombian history.

by Wade Davis. Crazily compelling story by the world’s most badass ethnobotanist/journalist.

by Julian Fitter, Daniel Fitter, and David Hosking. How you gonna tell your boobies apart without this book?

by Jonathan Weiner. A must-read for anyone curious about what it’s like to live with your wife on a remote island for twenty years measuring finch beaks.

by Rusty Young and Thomas McFadden. Amazing, entertaining, recommended.

by Ernesto Che Guevara. It’s interesting how honest Che is about his diarrhea.Ěý

by Jon Lee Anderson. What a huge accomplishment to write this book, on top of being one of the most badass reporters ever. Jon Lee Anderson knew more about Central and South America before I was born than I ever will.

by Bruce Chatwin. Way better writer than me, went farther out, wrote a better book. But: I didn’t make anything up.

by Nicholas Shakespeare. The man’s true story is almost better than his writing.

I also read a lot of articles and websites and newspapers and pamphlets. I really tried not to get anything wrong, but if I did please let me know at helphely[at]gmail.com.

Excerpt from by Steve Hely. ĚýReprinted by arrangement with DUTTON, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © 2016 by Steve Hely

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The seven small countries wedged between Mexico and Colombia boast the world’s greatest density of adventure per square mile. Our scouts explored Central America’s reefs, jungles, and beaches, and came back with the knowledge you need for your own expedition.

El Salvador

PupusasĚýand PointĚýBreaks

When I’m going on a surf trip to another country, I don’t want to feel like I’m in Newport Beach, which is why last June I packed my boards and flew to tiny El Salvador. The country has issues with gang violence, but tourists are almost never affected, and it’s the perfect place for a Central American experience without all the gringos.

So bone up on your Spanish and start with the small coastal town of El Tunco, about 40 minutes south of the airport in San Salvador. On weekends it’s packed with day-trippers from the capital, but it empties out during the week. The rocky beaches west of town offer a beginner-friendly surf spot with long, crumbling rights and steeper, shorter lefts. Surfers have known about the point breaks spaced every couple of miles along the country’s south-facing coast for years, but somehow it’s still easy to find nooks and crannies to yourself.

For bigger waves, head seven miles west to El Zonte, a two-restaurant town with a fun right point break. Stay at hotel (from $22), where Alex Noboa and his wife take turns running the joint and sneaking out to surf. Whoever happens to be out of the water can give you the beta on surf lessons, inland waterfall hikes, and coffee tours.

Farther down the coast toward Honduras—what El Salvadorans call the east coast—an even more rural experience can be found. The surf spots are less consistent, but when the swell hits it’s unbelievably good. Countless surf flicks, like Reef’s Cancer to Capricorn, were filmed at the Las Flores break and the half-dozen other world-class waves in the area.

The crown jewel of the region is Punta Mango, a 200-yard cobblestone point break 20 minutes west of the town of El Cuco. Stay at (from $125), which overlooks the barreling, Americano-free waves.

Crucial Beta:ĚýYou don’t need to rent a car in El Salvador. For long trips, arrange a driver through your hotel; the 4.5-hour ride from El Cuco to Tunco ran us $125. For shorter excursions, take the bus. Many are kitted out with skull stick shifts and throbbing Latin beats, and 25 cents will get you and your board anywhere you want to go.

Local Flavor:ĚýWherever you go in El Salvador, you’ll see women pounding out dough to load up pupusas with cheese, beans, chicken, chorizo, or carne asada. In El Cuco, you can’t get one before 5 p.m.; in the rest of the country, they seem to be available 24/7. No matter where you are, they’ll run you 50 cents to two bucks.

—MattĚýSkenazy

Costa Rica

HowlerĚýMonkeys, Waterfalls, and Empty Beaches

If you had the time, you could easily pass months in Costa Rica, hopping from the Monte Verde cloud forests to the world’s most famous beach breaks. But when planning a weeklong trip with a group of friends, we limited ourselves to a single geographic area, since we planned on traveling by buses and wanted to really get to know the place. We settled on the Pacific coast of the Nicoya Peninsula, specifically the pint-size town of Santa Teresa. Nearby Nosara is a famous surfing destination, which means plenty of people know the area is worth a visit. But the region has managed to maintain a laid-back feel—a rare thing in this sometimes touristy country.

After taking the ferry from mainland Puntarenas, the psychological equivalent of leaving Las Vegas for Joshua Tree, we headed straight for the (rentals from $12) and spent the next two days surfing poorly at Playa El Carmen and eating chicken tacos, yucca fries, and ceviche at a little shack called Taco Corner. Our third morning, we traveled by bus nine miles to the even smaller fishing village of Playa Montezuma in search of a series of cascading river pools, about a 20-minute hike from the village center. We whiled away an entire afternoon swimming under a waterfall, listening to the screams of monkeys in the trees, and watching kids splash around on a precarious-looking rope swing.

On the way out, we picked up a few tortillas and a bag of avocados at the market before heading back to the quiet of Santa Teresa. The only souvenir I brought home was a pound of Costa Rican coffee. I can still smell it in my bag.

Crucial Beta:ĚýThe town ofĚýNosaraĚýis one of the best places to practice yoga in the Western Hemisphere. Our favorite retreat: . Started by a founder of the renowned Omega Institute in upstate New York, it’s the perfect place toĚýearn a teaching credential. TheĚýmonthlongĚýJivamuktiĚýtraining gets you starting certification in aĚývinyasa-basedĚýyoga ($6,350, all-inclusive). Not ready to go pro? Book a one-week retreat (teachers and practices change frequently), then lounge in the resort’s infinity pool, try a Reiki treatment at the on-site spa, and roll out your mat twice a day with panoramic views of the Pacific (from $500).

Local Flavor:ĚýDon’t be tempted by a “tropical” cocktail in a hollowed-out pineapple just because you’re in Costa Rica. Central America has mastered the art of the light lager. Each country has a brewery churning out refreshing low-alcohol suds (our favorite: El Salvador’s Pilsener), and no matter which country you’re in, that’s what you should be drinking.

—Meaghen BrownĚý

Belize

WhaleĚýSharks,ĚýHot Sauce, and Family Harmony

Planning a vacation that keeps an entire family happy is next to impossible. One person wants great food, another wants to sit on the beach, persons three through nine are indifferent, and the tenth hates humidity. Which roughly narrows the possibilities down to Portland, Maine, in August—or Belize just about anytime. That’s why last April my in-laws and I headed to Placencia, a small fishing village on the southern end of the country.

Belize is a former British colony, so getting around was as easy as renting a car and being able to read at a fourth-grade level. From there my wife and I chased baby tarpon in inland lagoons (); her sister commuted between the saltwater pool at our rental house and the postcard beach in front of it (); and the in-laws made frequent trips to the shockingly good for shrimp-stuffed squid with mango habanero sauce or braised Belizean lamb.

But the real highlight was the family bonding experience—a chance to snorkel with whale sharks as they made a brief mid-migration appearance. We took a boat beyond the Great Meso-American Reef, and there they were, great school-bus-size fish splashing through 12-foot swells. Everyone dove in except the boat’s captain and the poor guy—me—clinging to an aluminum pole in the throes of seasickness. But, this being Belize, even the whale was accommodating—it surfaced before me as I emptied the last contents of my stomach into the ocean. “Not many people get to see one that close,” the captain said. “That’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” In other words: a perfect family vacation.

CrucialĚýBeta:ĚýThe Maya ruins in Belize are smaller than Mexico’s, not as well maintained, and not nearly as popular. Which makes them a superb place to visit if you don’t want to be herded like cattle through roped-off pathways. Significant portions of Lamanai (two hours northwest of Belize City) and Caracol (two hours south of San Ignacio) remain unexcavated and undeveloped, and they’re ideal spots to explore freely. (Seriously, though, please stay off the ruins.)

Local Flavor:ĚýAsk for hot sauce at virtually any Belizean restaurant and they will bring you one brand: . Legend has it that Marie had a bumper habanero crop one year and, not knowing what else to do with it, ground it up, added some spices, and bottled it. The results—now offered in 11 flavors ranging from mild to “beware”—make Mexican hot sauces taste like tomato juice. It’s hard to find outside the country, so load up at the airport.

—Jonah OglesĚý

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Good news for travelers: The U.S. dollar has increased in value over the last year, rising nearly 10 percent against the euro since January. More good news (at least for Americans): Currencies in many typically expensive places are getting weaker.

While currencies always fluctuate, the drop in the euro and the strengthening of the dollar is “a condition that analysts believe will persist for at least the next year given Europe’s economic challenges,” says , chief economist of Chandan Economics and professor at the Wharton School of Business.

Of course, there’s more to the equation than currency strength. “Watch out for inflation rates,” says Chandan, who points out that even though Turkey’s lira has dropped substantially in recent months, inflation has negated any potential savings. The same goes for Russia. Even some would-be value destinations like Egypt, India, and Indonesia aren’t as wallet-friendly as you might imagine due to inflation.

You’ll get extra bang for your buck if you hit up perennial penny-saving spots like Central America, Southeast Asia, Eastern Europe, parts of South America, and Greece. But if you want to take advantage of the market, it’s time to consider countries that have been prohibitively pricey for the past few years. These places may never be dirt cheap, but all arrows point to a less painful conversion rate in the coming year. Our five picks on which premium places to put on your radar:Ěý

#1: JapanĚý

For years, Japan has had a reputation as one of the most expensive countries in Asia. But Japan’s yen is at its lowest level in seven years and the country is once again in a recession. Now’s the time to think about climbingĚýMount FujiĚý(July to September) or soaking in the glow ofĚýbioluminescent mushrooms on Hachijo-jima Island, a 50-minute flight from Tokyo (May to September).

If you can’t wait ’till spring, think skiing—Japan’s northern most island of HokkaidoĚýgets up to 500 inches of powder a year. Niseko, about two hours south of Sapporo, is known to have excellent night skiing and accepts Vail’s Epic Pass. You could alsoĚýgo north about three hours to Daisetsuzan National Park where locals ski. When you’ve had your fill of adventure, do some sightseeingĚýor go right to the source of the world’s best whiskey. According to the Jim Murray Whiskey Bible, that’s Yamasaki Single Malt Sherry Cask 2013 by Suntory.

#2: Brazil

Hosting the World Cup and preparing for the 2016 Olympics haven’t improved Brazil’s economy. The country had less than half a percent of economic growth in 2014 and the real has plummeted by about 14 percent.

Despite some inflation, you can squeeze out a little more for the dollar than in the past. Hit Rio before it gets consumed by the 2016 Games—it’s home to the world’s largest urban rainforest and surrounded by mountain peaks, perfect for hiking. Or get out of town. Spot jaguars in Pantanal, the world’s largest wetlands, kayak the Amazon,Ěýor get lost along the 685 miles of beach in the northeastern state of Bahia.

#3: Canada

Since the U.S. imports far more oil from Canada than any other country, lower oil prices have translated into a weaker Canadian dollar. The Great White North is still expensive, but it’s cheaper than it has been in a while. If you’re a skier, you’re already thinking about which peaks to hit—check out Northern British ColombiaĚýfor an unforgettable experience. But from mountain biking around Quebec to trekking Alberta’s Willmore Wilderness and sea kayaking on both the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans, there’s no shortage of adventure to be had in those sweet spots between Alaska and the lower 48.

#4: New Zealand

New Zealand is synonymous with adventure: hiking, fishing, white water rafting, bungee jumping, andĚýsurfing.ĚýAmericans will pay a premium for this kind of escape, but falling dairy prices have battered the New Zealand dollar and exchanging the greenback for the Kiwi currency is as good as it’s been since 2012. While we’re not at historic lows (2001 and 2002 were really great years), the chart is trending in favor of the U.S. dollar. Now’s also a good time to think about that RV or motorbike tripĚýsince New Zealand’s experiencing a drop in gas prices.

#5: FinlandĚý

It’s a great time to hit any European country, especially Greece, but consider Finland, which is among the most expensive countries that use the euro. It has one of the slowest growing economies in the eurozone and your dollar will get you farther in this land than it has in some time. Travelers who make the long haul here will be rewarded with nearly tourist-free , , ice fishing,Ěýand the most saunas per person in Europe (5.3 million people to 3.3 million saunas, ). You can even rent your own private houseboatĚýor, if you go in the winter, gaze at the Northern Lights and herd reindeer with the indigenous Sami people.

Bonus Tip:

When paying with credit abroad, you’ll get asked if you want to use dollars or the local currency. —using dollars usually leads to a 3 to 5 percent conversion surcharge.ĚýĚý

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