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

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

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

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

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

Admission: Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. Oulanka National Park, Finland

Admission: Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Admission: Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. Samaria National Park, Greece

Admission $5.50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ADMISSION: Free

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The post Top 6 National Parks in Europe—And the Best șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűs in Them appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

There’s a saying in Iceland that’s sort of the country’s unofficial motto: Þetta reddast (sounds like “thetta rettast”). Like so many Icelandic words there isn’t a direct translation into English, but the essence of it is, “Ehhh, it’ll be fine…” My good friend , who lives in Reykjavik, tells me, “It’s a big part of our national identity. It’s what we say when we’re rolling with what’s going on, in the face of any kind of adversity.” It’s not as passive as it sounds, though. Rather, it’s about accepting the things you can’t control, and pivoting to adapt and alter the things you can.

This is sage advice for first-timers visiting one of the most rugged and remote island countries in the world. To call the weather “unpredictable” would be generous, and you never know what strange obstacles you might encounter—hello, volcanoes. There have been ongoing eruptions in the town of Grindavik in southern Iceland and tourists have been advised to avoid that area. But the rest of the country is open and if you’re willing to embody the Þetta reddast spirit, you’ll have an incredible time in an otherworldly place, especially if you’re game to travel to Iceland in the off-season.

In October, I finally went to scope it out for myself. My aforementioned buddy PĂ©tur was born and raised in Iceland before moving to California where he and I became friends in high school. He moved back during the pandemic, so I took the rare opportunity to see this majestic place through a local’s eyes. I spent two weeks traveling all over with him and other friends, pivoting a lot, experiencing weird weather, taking thousands of photos, and having an absolute blast. Here’s what I learned.

Why Travel to Iceland in the Shoulder Season?

An Icelandic adventure in the off-season (roughly autumn and spring) has a few distinct advantages:

It’s markedly cheaper.

While flights to Iceland are usually reasonable (I flew , which has a ton of direct flights from the U.S.), life on the ground can be pretty pricey. Accommodations, rental vehicles, tours, and just about everything that isn’t edible is less expensive if you don’t go during the summertime rush.

There are a heck of a lot less people.

Speaking of rush, you will see noticeably fewer tourists in the off-season. That translates to less-crowded trails, better photographs, and critically, easier last-minute bookings—key to your ability to adapt to changing conditions and still get the most out of your trip. More on that in a bit.

You actually get to see the Aurora Borealis.

You can usually only view the Northern Lights in the off-season. Iceland is so far north that during the summer high-season, the sky never gets dark enough for the aurora borealis to be visible. Iceland is one of the best places on the entire planet to see the lights, so if that’s on your bucket list, then bundle up and visit in the off season. (Stay tuned for specific recommendations on where to view them.)

Know Before You Go: Tips for Shoulder-Season Visits

Of course, visiting Iceland during shoulder season isn’t without its challenges. First and foremost, there’s the weather. Battered by the Atlantic Ocean just south of the Arctic Circle, you’re more likely to encounter rain, snow, and the notorious wind in colder months. Days are shorter, too, so you’ll want to get after it early.

Gear You Should Pack for Iceland

Layers will most definitely be your friend. And bring plenty. My daily outfit consisted of:

• Thermal tops and bottoms
• Thick wool hiking socks
• Pair of
• Smartwool hoodie
• (also a good windblocker)
• Pair of
• Super-warm wind/rain-proof
• Wind-proof

With that kit, I was plenty toasty even when the rain came down nearly sideways.

Get Your Tech Dialed: Oh, and make sure you bring a power adapter, because Iceland uses European plugs. I’d recommend grabbing at least one or two, plus an extension cord with a three-way splitter so you can charge up more gadgets at once.

Now, the fun stuff.

Getting Around Iceland: The Best Transportation Options

Iceland is one of those countries where you really want to have your own wheels. There are buses here and there, but if you’re chasing rugged adventures, vehicular autonomy is a must. Of course you could join a tour group, but then you’re stuck with someone else’s agenda and schedule, and you’ll likely be surrounded by tourists.

Be Sure to Rent the Right Rig

Selecting a vehicle plays a significant role in where you can and can’t go. Once the colder months hit, the roads get icy and snowy. Even if you plan to stay in hotels and avoid sleeping in your vehicle, I strongly recommend you rent a rig with all-wheel drive or four-wheel drive that has burly tires to match and that comes with ample clearance. This will enable you to drive safely off the beaten path and check out more of the country, with even fewer tourists around during the day. (As a starting point, check out , which features a fleet of different 4WD-equipped Toyotas starting from $84 per day.)

For a Bed on Wheels, Consider a Campervan or 4X4 with a Rooftop Tent

Cruising around Iceland by campervan or a rig with a rooftop tent is another solid option. You’ll see tons of these on the road, as most outdoor adventure enthusiasts go this route. There are a lot of cool camp spots all around the island, and combining your accommodations with your wheels can be a huge cost saver. Just make sure the van you’re renting has some sort of heater (diesel or propane) and make sure it has AWD or 4WD (again, plus rugged tires and clearance). If you opt for a rooftop tent, make sure you visit in the (warmer) colder months, like September and May, otherwise sleeping on top of your car in winds and frigid temps will be brutal otherwise.

No matter what, read reviews of your outfitter before you commit, because some offer SOS services—in varying degrees of reliability—and you don’t want to deal with a breakdown when you’re deep in Iceland’s backcountry.

Most campervans and roof tent rigs come with bedding, a camp kitchen, stove and fuel, and a plug-in cooler, all of which help facilitate maximum autonomy. For a small upcharge, you can opt for a WiFi router, which makes booking last-minute campsites and navigation easier. (As a starting point, check out for rooftop tent and campervan options. Prices vary.)

Stay on Top of Your Road Conditions Beta

Whichever vehicle you choose, the shows up-to-date road conditions and closures, and will save you essential time.

And be careful out there. Know your driving skills, and the limits of the vehicle you’re renting, and make sure the tires have tread that can handle the conditions you’ll encounter. If in doubt, don’t be an idiot and drive it.

Eating in Iceland: Always Expensive, Rarely Fantastic

Now would be a good time to mention food, and it’s not great news. For starters, grub in Iceland is almost universally pricey, owing largely to the fact that nearly everything has to be imported. It’s also not exactly a foodie haven (with some notable exceptions), so I’d recommend stocking up at a supermarket, like Bonus or Krónan, before you leave Reykjavik. Aside from staples like PB&J, grab an assortment of Icelandic yogurt (a.k.a. skyr). It’s delicious.

Don’t miss the cod jerky, either, which my friend PĂ©tur says is commonly dragged across a tub of Icelandic butter when you eat it. (I tried it, and can confirm it’s indeed tasty.) I also found the sweetest, crunchiest carrots I’ve ever had in my life, and you’ll want to try (or at least force yourself to try) the divisive, salted black licorice (aka salmiakbitar) the island is famous for.

When You Arrive in Iceland

You’ll land at Keflavík International Airport. If you’re coming from the U.S. you’ll likely arrive early in the morning on a red-eye, and may be very discombobulated. If so, and you’ve got the time, take it easy on your first day there by checking out the Reykjanes peninsula. Then, head to Reykjavik to scope out some of the museums and cultural sites (see below for specifics).

Must-Dos on the Reykjanes Peninsula

The 40-minute drive from the airport to the capital city is also absolutely stunning. You’ll pass fields of lava rock that seem to go on forever, and zip by the Instagram-famous . (Note: every Icelandic person I met rolled their eyes at it, though. It’s pretty, but overpriced, from $72, and loaded with tourists. It may also be closed depending on nearby volcanic eruptions.)

If you somehow manage to sleep on the plane and want to hit the ground running, there are a ton of cool spots right on the Reykjanes peninsula before you get to Reykjavik. Don’t miss:

• SeltĂșn Geothermal Area, with sulfury, bubbling, steaming mineral pools
• KrĂ­suvĂ­kurberg Cliffs, with a sheer drop into the pounding ocean below. (It’s so abrupt it looks like the ground just snapped off.)
• Reykjanes Lighthouse, right next to the beautiful rocky shore of ValahnĂșkamöl—both well worth exploring.

I had an absolutely incredible lobster soup at the Café Bryggjan in Grindavík, but unfortunately between then and writing this piece, a cluster of earthquakes and several nearby volcanic eruptions has effectively brought the quaint fishing village to its knees. The town literally sunk several feet and now has a deep, 1.2-mile long fissure running through the middle of it. Its future is currently unknown. Again, why you have to be ready to adapt in Iceland.

Explore Iceland’s Capital: What to See and Do in Reykjavik

Hit Up a Street Vendor or Restaurant for a Hot Dog: When you get to Reykjavik, first things first: Get yourself a hot dog. I regret to inform you, my fellow Americans, that we have been surpassed in hotdoggery, and not by a little. Icelandic dogs have crispy fried onions, multiple sauces, soft buns, and snappy wieners. I ate them almost every day.

Scope Out the Historic Downtown: Work off the hotdogs by checking out the historic downtown area on foot. The Einar Jónsson Museum features some statues that would make Rodin jealous, and there’s a lot to see around the waterfront, including the massive Harpa Concert Hall.

Visit a Real Locals’ Hot Spring: If you’re craving some hot spring action, check out one of the dozens of public pools (like , for roughly $10 per entry) in Reykjavik. No, they’re not glamorous like the aforementioned Blue Lagoon, but all of the heating in Iceland (including hot water) comes from geothermal activity. The water is high in mineral content and it’s deeply soothing. The pools are a massive part of the culture there and they feature several hot tubs at different temperatures, saunas, cold plunges, and even some waterslides.

Just make sure you adhere closely to the showering instructions (i.e. shower naked beforehand and wash your whole body with soap). The waters there are considered sacred to the locals, and disrespecting them by not following pre-soak protocol is one of the rare ways to piss Icelanders off. The public pools are also for socializing, and you’re likely to meet some friendly folks who may offer you insider tips. Effectively everybody in Iceland speaks English, but if you learn a few basic phrases in Icelandic before you show up, it’ll go a long way.

Dine Out on Lamb Stew: For dinner, grab yourself lamb stew (known as KjötsĂșpa, an Icelandic specialty), and pass out for the night before you hit the road bright and early.

The Shoulder-Season șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Itinerary for Iceland Newbies

As cool as Reykjavik is, that’s not what you came for, is it? Here’s what I did. My play-by-ear trip turned into a nice little loop through the west and south, though I recommend you use these ideas more for activity inspiration as opposed to an exact prescription. After all, no two days in the shoulder season are the same and there are endless possibilities. Here were my highlights:

Day 1: Hit Up Some Waterfalls and Hot Springs

Out of the city, our first big stop was Barnafoss, a couple hours northeast of Reykjavik, an utterly massive conglomeration of waterfalls. (FYI, “foss” means waterfall in Icelandic.) If there’s wind, wear your waterproof layers because the mist will soak you to the bone. It’s almost overwhelming to see so many waterfalls from one vantage point, and it’s an excellent place to work on your long exposure photography. (I recommend a tripod and a variable ND filter, along with a few absorbent lens-wipes.)

From there, we backtracked 20 minutes west and hit the natural hot springs at ($50). It’s not as Instagrammable as the Blue Lagoon (phones are actually discouraged at both), but you’ll find a nice array of geothermally heated tubs and saunas, along with traditional cold plunges. Plus, the mountainscape views are lovely.

Then, head west and drive out onto the SnĂŠfellsnes Peninsula. It’s a 55-mile strip of land that is basically a photographic sample platter of Iceland, including lava fields, waterfalls, epic black sand beaches, fjord views, hot springs, and the imposing Snaefellsjökull glacier volcano. I found the lava fields to be particularly gripping, with bright green moss covering an endless sea of black boulders.

We spent that night at the (“Oh hell nar,”) which was modest but clean, and it had some gorgeous ocean views (from $125 USD a night in the off-season).

Day 2: Hike the Rugged Coastline

From there we set out to the western tip of the Snéfellsnes Peninsula stopping at a few viewpoints around Londrangar, where you can stand atop some of the most rugged coastline you’ll ever see, featuring massive blue waves pounding jagged volcanic rock spires.

Make your way down to DjĂșpalĂłnssandur Beach and the DjĂșpalĂłn Lagoon, where you can hike along a shore covered with smooth, marble-like pebbles and a pool that looks like a prehistoric creature could emerge from it at any moment. This whole area gives strong “Land Before Time” vibes.

After that, we headed back east along the northern border of the peninsula, stopping at the stunning BĂŠjarfoss waterfall just outside of ÓlafsvĂ­k. My buddy PĂ©tur didn’t even get out of his car for that one. There are roughly 10,000 waterfalls in Iceland, many of them jaw-dropping, and apparently this wasn’t that exciting by his local standards.

We also swung by the SĂșgandisey Island Lighthouse, on the northernmost part of the peninsula, where we were greeted with a rainbow, and intense wind. We spent that night at the in Borgarnes (from $250), where I had a deliciously savory lamb steak for dinner.

Day 3: Trek to Less-Visited, Off-Road Waterfalls

Our next day was all about chasing more waterfalls. The first stop? The small but isolated Fitjarfoss. We were the only ones there, and it was incredibly tranquil. That was just a warmup, though, for the far more challenging four-mile hike to Glymur Falls, which is the second tallest waterfall in the country, at a staggering 650 feet. It’s a slippery and steep hike that involves at least one river crossing and a few scrambles over significant exposure—we’re talking hundreds of feet straight down to the rocky river below. It’s not for the faint of heart, but absolutely gorgeous on the ascent.

Unfortunately, the crossing was washed out when we visited, so we hiked up the near side of the river as far as we could go. Luckily, PĂ©tur had a drone that could fly the rest of the way and get some great shots. Still, it was 100% worth it.

We then made our way to a gorgeous complex of outdoor hot springs called (from roughly $35 per adult). It’s right on Laugarvatn Lake so we alternated between hot soaks and saunas and natural icy plunges—the perfect remedy for our aching joints.

Day 4: Visit the Highlights of the Golden Circle

The next part of our plan was to take a ferry out to the stunning Westman Islands, but nature had other ideas. 60 mph winds and 18-foot sea swells not only made the passage unappealing, but impossible, as ferry service was canceled for several days. But this is where having more options in shoulder season really comes in clutch. We were able to cancel all our reservations, and because virtually every hotel in the country had vacancies, we just headed away from the wind.

We bet that the harsher weather would equal fewer tourists, so we hit some of the more popular spots along the famous Golden Circle—the most visited day-trip-style route outside of Reykjavik, if you don’t have time to drive the whole Ring Road around the island.

This portion of our trip included visiting the absolutely massive, Niagara-ish waterfall, Gullfoss. Sure, there were still plenty of tourists, and the wind stirred up the mist which made it feel like it was raining, but it’s a breathtaking thing to behold.

Nearby, there’s also Geysir, which—fun fact—is the geyser that gave all other geysers their name. It’s Icelandic for “to gush.” It’s only erupted twice in the last 25 years, but the adjacent Strokkur geyser goes off roughly every 10 minutes about 60 to 120 feet into the air, and still puts on a killer show. The whole area has a lot of cool geothermal features with a sort of Icelandic Yellowstone vibe, and you can hike all around the area to get a bunch of vantage points.

It’s also well worth visiting , a stunning area where all the old clans of Iceland used to meet annually to decide the laws and policies for the upcoming year. It also has a lake, waterfalls, and a museum with tons of artifacts. This place is steeped in history (some of it tragic) and is a sacred place to Icelanders, so be on your best, most respectful behavior here.

Day 5: Surf Your Heart Out

Surfing the Icelandic coast was one bucket-list item I thought I’d never get to check off. In the weeks leading up to my trip, though, I started reading articles about how the best, most-consistent wave in the whole country was at risk of being demolished. The point at ÞorlĂĄkshöfn (near Thorli Beach) is an incredible, peeling right-hander that just goes and goes like a good day at Malibu. Unlike Malibu, though, you’re likely to have four, not 400, other people in the lineup. It’s been a secret spot for ages, but the mayor of the town of ÞorlĂĄkshöfn (and other city council members) seem intent on filling it in with boulders to make room for more warehouses around an expanded harbor. So the local surfers decided it’s better to tell the world than risk its destruction. Unfortunately, the town started filling it in already, despite not yet having environmental permits to alter the coastline, and that has abruptly cut off the end section of the wave. It’s tragic. Watch more on the save-the-wave initiative, here:

I reached out to Steinarr Lár, one of the surfers leading the fight to save the wave that is at the very center of Icelandic surf culture and community. He was gracious enough to lend me a board, a thick wetsuit, booties, and gloves, though if you want to experience surfing Iceland for yourself, link up with , which organizes surf tours (starting from $350 per day) and can provide you with everything you’ll need. They’re also deeply involved in activism surrounding the wave.

After suiting up in the parking lot, I scrambled over about 80 yards of slippery, seaweed-covered boulders, and then it was pure magic. The waves were between three and four feet tall, with a gentle paddle in, and they ran for nearly a full minute (apparently longer on bigger days). The locals were friendly, the wetsuit kept me plenty warm, and we all got enough waves to turn our arms to spaghetti.

It’s an incredible natural resource, and the idea of it being filled in to fill a few people’s pockets is frankly outrageous, in my opinion. Go surf it while you can and spread the word.

Days 6 and 7: Treat Yourself to a Northern Lights Wake-Up Call

After roughing it for several days, I decided to opt for some luxury. My friend PĂ©tur, who works for a , says that whenever people’s top priority is seeing the Northern Lights, he books them at the (pronounced ron-cow, from $340 per night in shoulder season) because it’s sort of isolated on a big dark plane. Think: 360-degree views. It also has an observatory for stargazing when the lights aren’t visible, and there’s a button on your phone to order a wake-up call in the middle of the night should the lights pop up. It was easily the nicest place I stayed during my entire trip, and it’s a perfect base camp for all south-coast adventures.

Iceland’s version of upscale is different from what you might expect, coming from the U.S. If you have Four Seasons or Ritz expectations, you may be surprised to find that things are a bit more low-key here. Hotel Rangá is still very nice, but it’s more rustic and minimalist—at least in the more basic rooms. (The master suites are each decked out like a different continent and they went all-out.)

That said, its restaurant featured the tastiest food I ate the entire time, with exquisite, tender lamb, fish, and even reindeer carpaccio. They can also organize a candle-lit dinner in a grass-covered cave that used to be an ancient dwelling centuries ago. It’s a must-stay, and wouldn’t you know it, despite none being forecast, we managed to see the aurora on two of the nights we crashed there.

My phone rang around 11 P.M. and I was told the lights were visible. I had pre-arranged many layers of clothes and all my camera gear, just in case. So I threw it all on, rushed out the door, and wow, the sky was lit up with waving, green curtains. There’s a river and a pond behind the hotel, so I played with reflections in my photos, and hooted in joy as colorful ribbons raced over the roof of the hotel. Truly, there’s no other life experience like it.

Bonus: Get Off Road to Tackle Far-Flung Backcountry șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűs

For the last few days of my trip, I wanted to get into some of the places where my friend’s little AWD hatchback couldn’t take me, so I linked up with (also recommended by my friend’s company). We did three expeditions in three days, and each of them got me way off the beaten path. Separately, from that, I also rode some Icelandic horses. Here’s how all of that went:

Take a Buggy Tour into the Wilderness

This is one of the best ways to really get out there away from everybody else. These “buggies” are two-seat 4X4 ATVs complete with roll cages, and we headed out to Emstrur, which was an all-day adventure on dirt roads, crossing a dozen small creeks. There were waterfalls, glaciers, and stunning rock formations throughout these mountains, and we didn’t see anybody else on the long road. (Full day tours start at roughly $660, but they also have one-hour and 2.5-hour options.)

Explore the Katla Ice Caves

The next day was my favorite expedition, a trek out to explore the Katla Ice Caves (from $205 per person). This is an ever-changing system of ice caves at the end of the Myrdalsjokull glacier. It included a massive ice-arch big enough to fly a decent sized plane through, as well as the chance to explore deep into otherworldly tunnels made of light blue ice, with streams and waterfalls flowing through them.

We even got to do a bit of ice climbing. You’ll be provided with crampons, so make sure you bring boots sturdy enough to support them (this was the one day my Altras weren’t quite up to the task). On the way back we visited three more jaw-dropping waterfalls, including Gljufrabui—which is hidden in a narrow slot canyon—and Seljalandsfoss, which you can hike behind for some stunning canyon views.

Cruise Around Landmannalaugar

The last day there was spent exploring in what is affectionately known in Iceland as a SuperJeep (starting around $300). It wasn’t actually a jeep at all, but a kitted out 4WD Mercedes Sprinter van. We went deep into the interior highlands of Landmannalaugar, exploring paths cut by glaciers and massive extinct craters. Of course, there were more waterfalls (just countless!), but my highlight was a gorgeous natural hot spring in the middle of the Fjallabak Nature Reserve. It was the perfect way to relax at the end of a long trip.

Ride Iceland’s Famous Wild Horses

Of course, that isn’t the only way to relax. From Rangá you’re just a quick drive to the coast, or if you want something you truly can’t find anywhere else, go to (rides start around $85/person). Iceland’s horses have been isolated on the island for more than 1,000 years and they have evolved in unique ways, including developing stout bodies, luscious manes, and two specific gaits that only they can perform. They’re incredibly smooth to ride and it’s a fun way to see the grasslands of this stunning country.

Heliski Iceland’s Big Peaks March to June

There’s one more adventure I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention: heliskiing or snowboarding from the top of a peak to the shore of the Arctic Ocean. And you can do it with the boutique operation. Based on the far north side of the island, this outfitter offers everything from three to six-day packages that include meals, rentals, avalanche gear, airport transfers, and luxurious accommodations at the . (Prices start at roughly $7,200 per person for the three-day package.)

Tragically, I didn’t get to do this myself (yet!), but from speaking with those who have (and feasting my eyes on photos and video), the terrain you’ll encounter up there is unlike anywhere else. The mountain surfaces tend to be smooth and steep, so they hold powder well and allow for massive, open-faced carves. You’re guaranteed 15,000 vertical feet a day (which is more than you get at most heliski operations), and some runs will take you all the way down to the beach. At night you can enjoy the hotel’s hot tubs, saunas, and the Northern Lights if your timing is right. The season starts in mid-March and goes until mid-June (where you may be able to ski as late as midnight). Dreamy, indeed.

The Bottom Line: I’m in Love with Off-Season Iceland

Perhaps you’ve gathered this much already, but Iceland blew my mind. And now, I really only want to come back during shoulder season. Yes, the weather was tough at times, and sure, not every road was accessible, but traveling during the shoulder season saved me money and paved the way for a better experience. Plus, you simply can’t beat having far fewer tourists around. So bundle up, plan ahead, and if you have to adapt a little? Well, Þetta reddast


Brent Rose has been covering adventure and gear for șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű for more than a decade. When he’s not writing, you can find him surfing, snowboarding, hiking, or camping, usually somewhere in California. He’s also on Instagram at or his website at brentrose.com.

The post Why You Should Go to Iceland in the Off-Season appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Traveling to see Taylor Swift’s Era’s Tour in 2024? Luckily, she’s headed to a bunch of badass places that happen to be outdoor-adventure meccas, too. Make the most of your fan-filled trip by adding these must-dos to your itinerary, all synced up with international and domestic dates on .

My wife and I flew to Chicago last June to see our favorite artist in concert, and had such a good time we almost immediately bought tickets to the next show we could find, which happened to be in Lyon, France, in June. Talking about getting tickets to a Taylor Swift show would take up an entire article on its own—it’s famously difficult and most easily navigated if, like us, you’re a super fan. But, if you are currently holding tickets for a future concert, that’s exciting, since it may be a reason to explore a part of the world you’ve never seen before.

Why Taylor? I was obviously introduced to her music through my wife (and sister-in-law), but it’s hard not to find stuff to like in her catchy, cleverly-written songs about female empowerment. If nothing else, standing in a stadium alongside tens of thousands of young women having the best night of their lives is something that’s hard to walk away from without having a good time.

Eras Tour Paris and Lyon, France

Show Dates: May 9 – 12 (Paris); June 2 and 3 (Lyon)

Flying all the way to Paris just to see Taylor would probably be worth it on its own, but because we’re going there at the nicest time of year, we figure we should make the most of it. So, we’ve booked a few nights at our favorite hotel on Île Saint-Louis, plan to visit my parents at their farm near Limoges, and will then rendezvous with family and friends in Lyon for the concert, plus a few nights of gorging ourselves on that city’sÌę famous culinary scene. After all that, we’ll be ready for some exercise.

A few years ago, we took the opportunity on a similar trip to visit France’s Écrin National Park, and spent two days backpacking through its high alpine backcountry. There, we slept under a 500-foot waterfall, watched wild ibex and chamois frolic while golden eagles soared overhead, and were positively swarmed by marmots. The best part? We saw zero other people. Compare the park’s 800,000 annual visitors to the 4 million who visit Yellowstone, and you can see why, with a little hiking, it’s not hard to find yourself a slice of the French Alps you can call your own for a night or two. And we’ll return to the park after June’s concert in order to recreate the experience.

If you want to do the same, the easiest way to make it work is by backpacking, and bringing what you would for any high-elevation summer trip. You’ll need to rent a car (either drive from Paris, or take the train to a nearby city), but as compensation for that additional expense, you’ll get to drive in the Alps, which includes some of the most fun and visually stunning roads in the world. (There will be no need to travel off-road, so a small, sporty car is fine.) Leave your nice clothes in the trunk, out of sight, and make sure you throw your passport and wallet into your pack while you camp—vehicle break-ins are a problem at trailheads in Europe, just like they are in America.

We like to stay another night in Paris before we fly out. Since driving in the city is a nightmare, I return the rental car to the airport on our way back into the city, then take the metro (RER) into town. While planning your route, don’t forget how small Europe is. On that same trip, we popped into Italy for lunch after hiking back to the car, and still made it into Paris in time to shower and head to a fancy dinner.

Here are outdoors tips for every other stop on Taylor Swift’s Era’s Tour 2024.

Eras Tour Stockholm, Sweden

Show Dates: May 17-19

If you have tickets to see Taylor in Stockholm this May, you’re making me jealous. Late spring in Sweden is gorgeous. Take advantage of the spring weather by getting on the water. will rent you boats and other equipment, or take you on a guided tour of some of the 30,000 islands on the archipelago. Day trips start at under $95-a-person. Like other nordic countries, Sweden has a right to roam law that enables you to explore most wild places, so if you have time, rent camping gear from Get Out too, and enjoy a night under the stars on one of those islands.

Eras Tour Lisbon, Portugal

Show Dates: May 24-25

Portugal’s Atlantic coast is famous for its big waves. Even if you don’t surf, head over to watch people ride the famously huge waves in Nazare. More accessible (read: easier) surf can be found in nearby Coxos. Tours, lessons, and gear are available from . A day trip to Nazare costs $60-a-person if you just want to watch, while a rental board and wetsuit can be had for about $38.

Eras Tour Madrid, Spain

Show Dates: May 29-30

It’s going to start getting hot in Madrid in late May. The 125-acre El Retiro park in the city center is designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site and includes expansive shaded gardens and a pond you can row boats in.

On the west side of the Manzanares river, you’ll find the even larger, 3,800-acre Casa de Campo. Use the city’s bike share service, , and pedal under the pine trees. Rates run just 50 cents per half-hour.

Eras Tour Edinburgh, Scotland

Show Dates: June 7-9

June in the Scottish Highlands may be marked by as much as one or two hours of clear skies. Pack rain gear and hike to the most remote pub in the country, which is 18 miles one way. Food at , in the Knoydart Peninsula, is said to be better than is typical in the country, but there’s no accommodations to spend the night. Rather than carry heavy camping gear, we’d rentÌęa room or house in the . You’ll appreciate having a roof over your head and a place to dry out your socks. Just make sure you book ahead of time.

Eras Tour Liverpool, England

Show Dates: June 13-15

The neatest thing about northwest England is the canals. Built before the advent of rail to connect British industry with ports sailing to America and elsewhere, the canals are now almost-forgotten byways that wind their way through the pastoral English countryside. You can stay on a Ìę(or plenty of places elsewhere), hike or bike paths that run along them, or to paddle them starting at under $40-a-day.

Eras Tour Cardiff, Wales

Show Date: June 18

Once there, skip town and make the drive to the for Pen y Fan, which at 2,910 feet isÌęthe tallest peak in the Brecon Beacons. Don’t worry, all road signs are in English, too. The United Kingdom’s Special Air Service famously conducts its selection trials on the mountain, but the 7.5-mile hike to the summit from Cwm Gwdi is much easier than their 22-mile trek. Don’t be fooled by the sub-3,000 foot elevation, terrain on Pen y Fan can be treacherous and Wales isn’t famous for its sunshine.

Eras Tour London, England

Show Dates: June 21-24; August 15-20

Take the tube out to Richmond and walk up the hill to Richmond Park, making sure you walk up the terrace for the views over the Thames. You can hike the park’s 7-mile trail that follows the perimeter while watching the 600 plus head of red and fallow deer that, unlike wildlife in the U.S., belong solely to the King. Head back down to town for a pint at , and make sure you entertain the locals with your best Ted Lasso impression.

Eras Tour Dublin, Ireland

Show Dates: June 28-30

Get away from the hokey tourist attractions (think: the Blarney Stone) and drive the two hoursÌęover to Galway on the west coast to hike the Cliffs of Moher. The most popular route runs 12 miles . You know what I’m about to say: pack rain gear and waterproof boots.

Eras Tour Amsterdam, the Netherlands

Show Dates: July 4-6

Rent a stand up paddle board from (from $16-a-day)Ìęand see the city from its most famous attraction. Amsterdam is also famous for its cycling. There’s plenty of places to rent one, or you can take advantage of the city’s for about $5-a-day.

Eras Tour ZĂŒrich, Switzerland

Show Dates: July 9-10

You’ll be 30 miles from the Swiss Alps, some of the most beautiful mountains on earth. Rent a car and drive into them, where virtually any activity is possible. From mountain biking to via ferrata to paragliding, you won’t go wrong. Heck, just driving around is about as good as it gets, too. For a basecamp check out , the highest campground in the country. There, you can (glamping tents start at $118-a-night) or bring your own tent or camper. Parking spots start under $10-a-night).Ìę

Eras Tour Milan, Italy

Show Dates: July 13-14

Rent a car (or preferably a motorcycle) and drive up to Lake Como. There, take one of the car ferry routes across the lake at sundown. For just a few bucks, you’ll get views Lake Como regular George Clooney might be jealous of. My favorite town on the lake is Mandello del Lario. Home to the world’s oldest motorcycle factory, you can , or simply enjoy the town’s working class heritage to enjoy an honest, affordable meal. Bring your hiking shoes and take the 5.6 mile loop up to Alp d’Era for stunning mountain views.

Eras Tour Hamburg, Germany

Show Dates: July 23-24

Taking a rowboat (from ) across the Alster Lakes is the definitive experience here, but Hamburg is also a great place to cycle. The city’s bike share program is everywhere and costs only 12 Euros per day.

Eras Tour Munich, Germany

Show Dates: July 27-28

Most people visit Munich to drink beer, but you can also do that after hiking. Germany’s highest peak, Zugspitze, stands 9,718 feet tall, and takes most of the day just to climb the 14 miles, let alone descend. A faster option is the (tickets are about $67 per-person), and you can also for the same price to the plateau, about halfway up, where many shorter hikes are available.

Eras Tour Warsaw, Poland

Show Dates: August 1-3

Did you know that Warsaw is home to ? Located on the Vistula river, you can sunbathe, swim, or even enjoy a campfire. And visiting one won’t take you too far from the city’s stunning architecture and many historic castles.

Eras Tour Vienna, Austria

Show Dates: August 9-10

Vienna maintains 14 excellent hiking trails right inside the city. The free contains all the maps and information you’ll need, and you can fill it with stamps collected from each route. Earn all 14, and the city willÌęreward you with a commemorative pin.

Vienna is better known for . So you can unwind after all those hikes in a thermal pool or with a good massage. is the largest thermal pool in the city, day passes start at $22.

Eras Tour Miami, Florida

Show Dates: October 18-19

October is hurricane season in Florida, so I’d travel armed with backup plans. I’d also take the opportunity to go see the Everglades before they’re destroyed by climate change. There’s all sorts of ways you can do that, from self guided tours of the national park, to guided boat experiences. But if it was me, I’d help out with local conservation efforts by booking a guided python hunt. The species is invasive, and kills just about every native species of wildlife there is, and the hunting season is open year-round. You don’t even need to know how to shoot or hold a hunting license if all you want to do is tag along as locals catch their own. A goes for $1,800 for a group of three. Plus, you’ll get to experience Florida culture at its finest.

Eras Tour New Orleans, Louisiana

Show Dates: October 25-27

Sure, y0u can visit to eat and drink like everyone else does, but New Orleans is another swamp town, and the best way to spend time in that unique environment in a or kayak. can be had for as little as $65 per-person. You can also fish for speckled trout in Lake Ponchartrain on your own; the cooler weather in October starts getting them active. Or, head to the marsh to for $805-a-day, per-boat.

Eras Tour Indianapolis, Indiana

Show Dates: November 1-3

Indianapolis isn’t exactly a mountain town. So if you want to have an adventure, you’ll need to get creative. offers four different outdoor paintball fields, with both public events and private rentals available. Games are run seven days a week, and start at just $28 per-person, including equipment rental. ÌęNearby Parke County is also , boasting 31 total. Those would make a great day-long driving tour. Hiking trails are available in Fort Harrison State Park. I’d take the 4-mile , which will offer the best odds for solitude. There should be plenty of fall colors left in early November.

Eras Tour Toronto, Canada

Show Dates: November 14-23

Add a few nights to your trip before or after the concert, and head to a cottage on one of the 250,000 lakesÌęnorth of the city. It’s the definitive Ontario activity. Fall on the lakes is particularly beautiful, and you’ll be getting dustings of snow by November. Make sure you rent a winterized cabin and pack warm clothes. Look for cabins in Muskoka or Georgian Bay if it’s your first time, those areas enjoy more facilities and services than more rural climes.

Eras Tour Vancouver, Canada

Show Dates: December 6-8

December is stormy in Vancouver. Sure, you could chase some early season snow in the nearby mountains, but I’d head for nearby Vancouver Island, and the many hotels and cabins located on its pacific coast. There, you can take in full might of the ocean, while staying safe inside facilities that run from basic to ultra luxury. The most famous hotel on the island is Wickaninnish Inn, where rooms during storm season start at $400-a-night. I’ve never not seen orcas on the ferry ride over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Video by Mikaela Ruland

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

1. Finland Makes Access to Nature a Priority

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

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

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

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

2. Finland Stays Connected to its Heritage

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

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

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

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

3. Finnish Food Is Delicious and Healthy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Travel is so expensive post-pandemic. But I don’t want to give up the idea of an annual vacation. How can I keep costs down? —Tripping Out Over Expenses

Experts predict that this year will be the busiest ever for travel since before the pandemic. And for many, it’s already feeling like it might be the priciest. According to NerdWallet’s , the cost of hotels, entertainment, and dining out are rising, with overall travel expenses for the past 12 months up 3.1 percent through January 2024 compared to pre-pandemic levels.

Hotels will be a big vacation investment. Lodging rates increased 5.2 percent between December 2023 and January 2024 alone. And traveler beware: the average daily hotel rate is projected to grow nearly 5 percent more in the next year, according to hotel-commerce platform . There’s been little respite from room rates hovering at properties across the U.S. this winter, and staff shortages will likely mean continued high prices but fewer services. You’re getting gauged even more for dining out: in January, prices for restaurant meals were 25.6 percent higher than the same month four years ago.

There is some good news: airfare—on domestic routes in particular—is predicted to drop 16 percent this year, according to Kayak. The travel-research engine estimates it will cost $461 on average to fly in the U.S. I recently booked a round-trip, direct flight from Denver to Newark, New Jersey, in April on United for a very reasonable $227. That’s about half of what I was paying for the same flight in April 2018.

That said, the overseas flights I’ve booked for spring and summer travel have given me serious sticker shock. International airfare departing from the U.S. is up 10 percent compared with 2023, . In the past, I’ve scored direct flights from Denver to Los Cabos, Mexico, for under $400; a flight for late March this year was $1,200. Similarly, a late-May flight from Denver to Majorca, Spain, was priced at over $3,000, when in the past I’ve seen it for as low as $600.

Some experts are optimistic that , especially those from upstart low-cost carriers like Breeze Airways and Norse Atlantic Airways, will help lower international fares, but I’ll believe it when I see it. For now your best strategy is to book overseas fares early. According to Kayak, eight months is the sweet spot and can save you between 8 and 18 percent.

If you’re on a budget but still want to go big in some fashion, don’t despair; you can still have an affordable annual vacation if you’re willing to be flexible on timing, strategic about choosing a destination, and plan ahead. Here are some of my tricks, plus tips from industry experts on how to make that happen.

1. Travel in the Shoulder Season

Shoulder seasons are periods when destinations see fewer tourists but aren’t closed for the off-season. The perks are fewer crowds and often great deals on hotels and flights, but on the flip side, shops and restaurants may be shuttered or have limited hours. Weather can also be a gamble. In Mexico, for example, September and October are the slowest months of the year for tourism; they’re also the wettest, and the time tropical storms are most likely to hit both coasts, says Zach Rabinor, founder of Journey Mexico.

Don’t dismiss destinations during a rainy season, though. In Costa Rica, you can save 30 to 40 percent between August and November and enjoy deserted beaches and lush rainforests, says Javier Echecopar, cofounder of Journey Costa Rica. “Those months are considered rainy, but usually with clear mornings followed by afternoon showers,” he says, adding that on the Caribbean side of the country, the coast tends to be very clear during those months, a result of microclimates.

If you’re seeking value above all else, you may need to skip bucket-list destinations this year, even during the slow seasons. I booked a trip to Rome in March, and while streets and major attractions were quieter, prices weren’t cheaper for my flight, hotels, or restaurant meals.

Jenna Swan, a travel agent with Embark Beyond, says you’ll find more value visiting less iconic cities during shoulder season. “A room in Paris could easily cost two or three times the amount of a room in Madrid,” she told me.

2. Pay Attention to the Extra Costs of Travel

I used to be quick to jump on a cheap airfare or hotel rate without considering the bigger picture. When choosing between a 6 A.M. flight priced at $450 versus a 10 A.M. priced at $500, I’d book the seemingly more affordable option. What I didn’t factor in was that getting to the airport would tack on extra fees: the $10 bus route I typically take doesn’t run that early, which meant I’d have to pay upward of $100 for an Uber, or drive and fork over as much as $50 a day for airport parking.

Additionally, major airlines are piling on more fees, for everything from checked bags to select seats, and airline websites often use design strategies known as dark patterns used to push consumers to buy extras (like a rental car or trip insurance) during their purchase.

3. Book an All-Inclusive Vacation

Once associated with budget travelers and bottomless drinks, the all-inclusive-resort model has gone upscale, with properties that feature Michelin-star restaurants, fine wines, and privately guided activities. The initial price tag can seem spendy, but when you factor in everything, you get incredible value.

And all-inclusive stays aren’t just for beach holidays. Package-vacation pioneer Club Med now offers properties in Quebec and the Alps. A family of four booking Club Med’s five-night in Charlevoix, Canada, can save upward of $7,000 compared to a plan-it-yourself ski vacation in Aspen, Colorado—even after factoring in airfare.

4. Use a Travel Agent

As a seasoned traveler, I used to think a travel agent would be of no use for me. I now view these professionals as travel wizards. They have industry connections that translate to free room upgrades and special perks, like resort credits, complimentary breakfast, and occasionally other amenities such as a bottle of wine waiting in the room, free airport transfers, and VIP access to museums and adventure sites. If anything goes wrong, they’re on call to help. And they know how to score great deals. When I reached out to a travel agent about the exorbitant Majorca flight, he was able to bring the cost down to $1,753—almost half of what I was looking at spending—by mixing airlines and connections.

5. Check the Exchange Rate—and Head to Where It’s Most Beneficial

Last summer I traveled to Croatia, not realizing the country had embraced the euro. When I visited in 2020, the dollar’s strength against the kuna made Croatia feel like an economic destination. But now it’s just as pricey as vacationing in France or Italy.

A good exchange rate gives you extra buying power to maximize your travel experience (think: more activities and spectacular meals). In Canada, given the strength of the U.S. dollar, everything is essentially 30 percent off for Americans; in Australia, around 35 percent. Asian countries such as Vietnam and Indonesia, and South America nations like Colombia and Argentina, are also excellent places to stretch your dollar.Ìę

6. Let New Flight Routes Dictate Your Destination

Low-cost carriers offer some of their lowest prices when launching new routes. Frontier, for example, has promoted fares as low as $19 in the days following the announcement of new routes. And even after promotional fares disappear, having a new airline on a route adds competition that tends to nudge prices down. Many major airlines are also launching new routes this year. American, for example, will begin flying to the new airport in Tulum, Mexico, this month. Follow travel sites like Skift and the Points Guy, which keep up with this information.

7. Reconsider Hostels. Many Are New and Hip.

Yes, the grungy backpacker hotels of your post-college days still exist, but there’s also a crop of clean, budget-friendly hostel chains attracting crowds. Check out , (which describes itself as “a collection of hotels that combine the social culture of a hostel”), and . According to Oliver Winter, founder of A&O, the largest hostel brand in Europe, nearly 28 percent of guests are between the ages of 25 and 34. Boutique hostels often offer private rooms with an en suite bathroom, bunk rooms to accommodate families or groups of friends, and a place to make meals so you’re not forced to fritter away your budget dining out. I’ve stayed in a four-bed bungalow bunk room at the Freehand Miami with friends, and it felt as stylish and immaculate as a boutique hotel, plus, the bar, Broken Shaker, makes some of the best drinks in the city.

8. Save on Meals (but Still Eat Your Heart Out)

I always try to book a hotel room that includes breakfast in the rate. My strategy: eat a hearty, late breakfast and then pocket a muffin and a banana for a snack later on that can tide me over until an early dinner.

Taking advantage of local street-food scenes can also save you heaps. A&O’s Winter says that Florence, Italy, is a little-known street-food city (though not full of food trucks, as Americans might imagine, but shops that sell various hot and cold sandwiches and beverages you can enjoy on the street). He likes , close to the National Museum of Bargello.

For the past 15 years, șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű travel-advice columnistÌęJen Murphy has gone on a weeklong European ski vacation with friends that typically costs less than a long weekend of skiing in the U.S. She is a huge fan of off-season and shoulder-season travel and thinks the term “rainy season” should be changed to “green season.”

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You may have seen headlines about crazy winter weather across Europe. Snow storms pummeled the Alps in the late fall, making for one of the snowiest Novembers on record. A few hundred miles away in the Pyrenees, rain fell on barren mountainsides amid soaring temperatures. Then, a mid-January warmup saw France nearly break its high temperature average for the month. Across the continent, the conditions have wreaked havoc on winter sports.

Perhaps no sport has faced more turmoil than extreme skiing and snowboarding. The Freeride World Tour (FWT), the preeminent series for the sport, was recently forced to completely upend its annual competition schedule. The tour canceled its first two events in the Pyrenees—one in Spain’s Baqueira Beret, and the other at Andorra’s Ordino Arcalis resort. While the mountain range features the perfect terrain for freeride competition, there’s just not enough snow.

“It is a shame, but it shouldn’t be a surprise that the Pyrenees stops were canceled,” said Drew Tabke, a retired FWT skier. “Every year we went to Andorra we had tough conditions.”

While the Spanish Pyrenees has fared a little better and has open ski areas, the snowpack has failed to meet the demanding conditions that freeride competitions require: ample coverage combined with avalanche stability on the steepest, above-treeline terrain. So while the groomers are skiing well in Baqueira Beret, Spain, the Baciver face that is home to the FWTÌęstop was not sufficient to ride.

Aymar Navarro, a veteran FWTÌęskier and Pyrenees local, expressed dismay at the weather conditions in his home range. “It is true that the Pyrenees suffered a lot of heat these last two seasons and I think it is not normal,” he said. But Navarro maintains that these venues are special, and deserve to remain on the calendar. The Baciver face is situated right above the piste and crowds gather to watch the athletes drop into the face. “It is unique to be able to compete in front of so many people—it is like a soccer stadium,” says Navarro. “You can stand in the start gate and hear everything said in the crowd. It makes your hair stand on end.”

Organizers further shook up the schedule with a backup plan to keep athletes competing. They held an event on the famed Bec de Rosses face in Verbier, Switzerland, on January 26-27. During a typical season, the Verbier event is the series finale, and it features perhaps the steepest and most dangerous slope in competitive freeriding.

“The Bec is like the Eddie,” says Tabke, referring to the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational which takes place in Waimea Bay. “It’s an event everyone wants to compete in, but is only good every six years.” The Bec is no stranger to bad crashes—Navarro broke his shoulder in two places after a brutal crash on the face during the FWT finale in 2022.

Placing Verbier first placed some athletes at a disadvantage, Tabke said. Under Freeride World Tour rules, skiers and snowboarders get a single run down some of the most difficult mountain faces in the world to prove their abilities. Competitors can visually inspect the face, but none gets a chance to feel out the snow conditions until it is their turn to drop in. North American athletes rarely compete in events that allow visual inspection. Max Hitzig, a 21-year-oldÌęGerman skier and Zuzanna Witych, a 31-year-old skier from Poland, won the pro skiing events at Verbier. Meanwhile NĂșria Castan Baron (26) and Victor de Le Rue (34) stood atop the podium in the women’s and men’s snowboarding categories, respectively. Not a single North American rookie stood on a podium.

But not every athlete complained about the shakeup. Molly Armanino, 30, a Lake Tahoe skier who made her debut on the Tour in 2023 said she was happy to simply ski the imposing face.Ìę“Going straight to the Bec was scary, but it was awesome to actually be able to ski it,” she said. “Last year we waited around for a week before the event was canceled so coming back to Verbier first thing this year felt fitting.” Armanino landed on the podium in Verbier withÌęa third-place finish.

The next stop is scheduled to be held in Kicking Horse, outside of Golden, British Columbia, between February 13-19. But snow conditions in Western Canada are also challenging. “It’s quite dire here,” said Dr. Michele Koppes, a professor and research chair in landscapes of climate change at the University of British Columbia.

“Right now we’re sitting at about 56 percent of our average snowpack,” she said. Koppes pointed to several major shifts that are changing the climate in B.C. Heat in the arctic circle has shifted the jet stream further south, pushing warm air into Canada. In January, British Columbia broke its 30-year record for high temperatures. Due to the unusual warmth, the high peaks are seeing rain instead of snow? “The freezing level in the Coast Range fell at 2,500 meters (8,200 feet) two days ago,” Koppes said. “That’s above the summit of Whistler Blackcomb.”

Climate models for the near future point to weird winters continuing. Rain-on-snow events and atmospheric rivers which saturate the snowpack are going to become increasingly likely, said Koppes. Unless the Freeride World Tour can pivot its structure, which is locked into one-week weather windows at each stop, the future of competitive freeriding looks unsure. “We’re living in highly variable times and we fear these out-of-norm conditions are becoming the new normal,” said Koppes.

The Kicking Horse event is still a few weeks away, and snow conditions can change quickly. “Rain and wet avalanche danger in January in Canada is a new one for me,” said Armanino. She’s says she’s not sure what the Tour would do, if the Kicking Horse competition was canceled—by then, they’d be down three out of six total stops (plus a seventh with the Verbier addition). But she has hope—“I’m still sort of optimistic that they’ll have the comp at kicking horse. With an unskied face, all you really need is a few inches of snow to make it sendable!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Fly to Florida for $39! Act now and get round-trip airfare to Denver for $79! Budget airlines advertise ridiculously cheap flights to cities across the country. They can be enticing, but do the deals hold up when you read the fine print?

My wife and I jumped on one of those deals a couple of years ago to fly Allegiant Air to Fort Myers, Florida, for a long weekend for about $200 total. We could only take a backpack each, and had a dawn flight on a Monday to get home. Was the flight OK? It definitely wasn’t what I’d call “comfortable.” There wasn’t much leg room, the seats were thinly padded, and my wife was on the other side of the plane. But the price was too good to pass up, and we found sun and fun midwinter.

Expect tradeoffs with budget carriers, says Zach Griff, senior reporter at , a website that analyzes flight trends and credit-card points in order to uncover deals. Sure, he says, the fares are cheap, but these ultra-low-cost airlines are stripped of most of the inclusions you expect from traditional airlines. There are often extra charges to bring a carry on, reserve a seat, etc.

“Once you start adding in all the ancillary charges,” he says in an email, “the deal isn’t as good as it might’ve looked.

“That said, there are certainly deals to be had. For some people who don’t value these extras, flying on a budget carrier can pay off. Even when factoring in all the extras, it’s often cheaper to fly a budget carrier.”

What about the reliability of these smaller airlines? When weather and other delays affect airports, larger network carriers have more planes moving, which adds a layer of redundancy in their operations, Griff explains. A company like Delta can absorb that delay and get you on another flight within a few hours. But smaller, budget airlines often only have one flight a day, or just two a week in some markets, which could leave you stranded.

I’ve analyzed some of the most trusted budget airlines in the business, as well as some promising newcomers, to see how well their super-low prices hold up. I’ve also figured out the most adventurous locales you can get to by flying the fare-reduced skies. Here’s what I found.

1. Avelo Airlines

is a relative newcomer to the scene, introducing ultra-low cost airfares in 2021. The company has hubs in Hollywood/Burbank, California; and New Haven, Connecticut. Avelo operates a small fleet and essentially offers two different route maps serving mostly small regional airports. If either of those airports are convenient to you, you can get cheap flights to some pretty great destinations. Avelo does charge for add-ons like carry-on bags, but the fees are more reasonable than in some other price-cutting airlines.

Best For: SoCal and Connecticut-based travelers looking for vacation escapes on the cheap.

Adventurous Destinations: From New Haven, you can get to Charleston, South Carolina; San Juan, Puerto Rico; and Fort Lauderdale, Florida. From Burbank, you can go to: Bend, Oregon; Boise, Idaho, Bozeman, Montana; Colorado Springs, Colorado; Kalispell, Montana.

The Deals: From Burbank, you can find really good prices to any of the above cities Avelo serves. I found relatively last-minute round-trip weekend flights to Bend for under $200, and flights to Colorado Springs for $225.

The Catch: Avelo has few daily flights, so for you to get a good deal to a smaller destination, like Bozeman, one of your legs might have to be midweek. Also, if that return flight is canceled, you might have to find another way home.

2. Breeze Airways

took flight in 2018, serving mostly smaller, regional airports on the East Coast, but has steadily grown to reach more than 35 cities, including several key destinations in the Western U.S. The cheapest flights go through the company’s hubs in Charleston, South Carolina; Provo, Utah; Tampa, Florida; and New Orleans, Louisiana. Breeze offers some of the cheapest cross-country flights around, with three different fare classes—Nice, Nicer, and Nicest— to choose from, so you can pick how plain you want the experience to be. The airline never charges change or cancellation fees.

Best for: Flying across the country on the cheap.

Adventurous Destinations: Charleston, South Carolina; Las Vegas, Nevada; Los Angeles and San Francisco, California; Provo/Salt Lake City, Utah, Bentonville, Arkansas.

The Deals: If you live in a city that Breeze serves, there are tons of good deals, as long as you’re OK with the lack of frills, like paying extra for snacks and choosing your seat. I found round-trip flights from Phoenix to Provo/Salt Lake for $137. If you’re looking to go coast to coast, I found round-trips from Charleston, South Carolina, to San Francisco for $299. Keep an eye on their site for periodic sales with one-way cross-country flights for $29., which doesn’t seem like a fiscally responsible pricing scale to me, but who am I to judge?

The Catch: Destinations are limited and the base fare (Nice) is sparse on frills; you’ll have to pay to choose your seat, have a snack, or bring more than a small personal item. For the best deals on longer, cross-country flights you’ll probably have to fly midweek.

3. Allegiant Air

, an ultra-low-cost airline that’s been around since the late 1990s, serves more than 130 destinations in the U.S. The routes hit mostly smaller, regional airports, and Allegiant typically only offers two or three flights a week to each city. Allegiant, too, has taken “add-on” fees to new levels. You’ll pay extra for everything from a carry-on bag to a printed boarding pass (yes, you read that right). But with an expansive route map and But with an expansive route map and a large presence in big destinations like Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Phoenix, and multiple cities in Florida, Allegiant may well fly where you want to go, and for cheap if you can pack light and don’t mind risking a middle seat.

Best For: Impromptu getaways, and people who work from home or for any other reason can fly midweek.

Adventurous Destinations: Asheville, North Carolina; Bellingham, Washington; Bentonville, Arkansas; Boise, Idaho; Bozeman and Billings, Montana; Denver, Colorado.

The Deals: Allegiant offers really cheap flights all over its route map. I found mid-winter flights from Austin, Texas, to Provo/Salt Lake, Utah, for $100 round trip. From Chicago, you can escape the freezing cold with a round trip to Fort Walton Beach, Florida, for $120 in January. I like their interactive map, which allows you to put in your origin city and the date you want to travel and shows you the destinations served from that town as well as sample fares of one-way tickets. If you can fly mid-week, you can save a lot of money.

The Catch: Watch out for those add-on fees, and be prepared to fly midweek.

4. Southwest

is the oldest, and the king, of budget airlines. T, and feels the most like a traditional airline—the seats recline, and there are actually some free beverages and snacks. You even get two free checked bags, which is unheard-of, even on larger air carriers.

This airline has one of the most extensive destination lists, too, reaching 121 cities and 10 different countries. And now Southwest flies to multiple cities in Hawaii. It was also the airline that was hit the hardest during the winter storms that forced thousands of flight cancellations last Christmas. that Southwest was hit harder than traditional airlines because of their aggressive flight schedule (short turnaround times) and under-investment in staff. The airline returned to normal operations after the holidays.

Southwest isn’t classified as an “ultra-low cost carrier,” so you might pay a little more than for flights, but the extensive route map and quality experience might make the extra worthwhile.

Best for: Travelers who don’t want to sacrifice dignity for a deal.

Adventurous Destinations: Hawaii; Costa Rica; Bozeman, Montana; Salt Lake City, Utah; Montrose and Denver, Colorado; Seattle, Washington; Portland, Oregon; Reno/Tahoe, Nevada; San Diego, California, and more.


The Deals: Southwest flies to Costa Rica, Belize, Puerto Vallarta, Havana, and the Bahamas, although they don’t fly to international destinations often, or from many U.S. cities. For good international deals, you have to plan your trip around the airline’s flight schedules. By checking their , you can find really good bargains between the larger U.S. Ìęcities that Southwest reaches. Skiers should definitely look into Southwest flights this winter. I found round trip tickets from Greenville, South Carolina, to Denver for a January trip for just over $300 per ticket. I found similar fares to Salt Lake City, Utah.

Southwest is also a good option if you’re looking to escape winter. I could fly to Miami from Greenville in the middle of the winter for $100 each way. Or, I could fly round trip to Hawaii from Atlanta for $520.

The Catch: Southwest’s pricing is straightforward, even if tickets are a bit more costly than those of the ultra-low-cost carriers on this list. But pay attention to the flight times and durations; the cheapest flights could be red-eyes with purgatory layovers. I once spent six hours in Atlanta’s airport to save some money and spent most of that time roaming the various terminals cursing my frugality.

6. JetBlue

Like Southwest, operates much like a traditional airline, with reclining seats in a plane that’s divided by class—you can pay more for extra leg room. It also offers some free beverages and snacks, plus free wifi with seat-back entertainment. Some large carriers don’t even offer free wifi.

JetBlue isn’t classified as an “ultra-low-cost” airline, but offers tickets that are usually cheaper than the larger airlines to certain destinations, and serves more than 100 different cities. The company’s main hub is JFK International, in New York, but it also has bases in Boston, Fort Lauderdale, Long Beach, and San Juan, Puerto Rico, which means you can usually find pretty cheap flights between these hubs. Thanks to that San Juan airport, JetBlue serves a lot of Caribbean countries, such as the Dominican Republic, Barbados, and Aruba.

Best For: Escaping to some place tropical.

Adventurous Destinations: San Diego, California; Denver and Steamboat Springs, Colorado; Bozeman and Kalispell, Montana; Las Vegas and Reno/Tahoe, Nevada; Asheville, North Carolina; Salt Lake City, Utah; Burlington, Vermont; Seattle, Washington; Vancouver, BC; multiple cities in Puerto Rico; St. Thomas, Virgin Islands; and all over the Caribbean.

The Deals: Honestly, the airline’s flights between major cities in the U.S. often cost the same price as traditional airlines. But with escaping winter in mind, I found round-trip tickets to San Jose, Costa Rica, from Atlanta for $400, and weekend flights to San Juan, Puerto Rico, in the middle of winter for $300 round trip.

The Catch: If you go with the lowest fares, you have to pay extra to carry on a bag or pick your seat. Also, cancellations or flight changes will cost you if you choose their cheapest fare.

7. Play Airlines

An Icelandic-based company, recently started offering service from four American cities—Baltimore; Washington, D.C.; Boston; and New York City—that gives East Coasters cheap flights to 22 destinations in Europe, and especially good deals to Play’s home base in Reykjavik. Don’t expect frills on the long, cross-Atlantic flights. You’ll pay for seat assignments and any checked bags, but if you can handle that, there are good deals. Also cool: If your ultimate destination is one of Play’s other European cities, you can request an extended layover in Iceland for up to seven days between flight legs.

Best For: That trip to Iceland you’ve been dreaming about.

Adventurous Destinations: Reykjavik; Amsterdam; Dublin; Prague; Mallorca; Vienna; and more.

The Deals: I found round trip tickets from New York and Washington, D.C. to Reykjavik two weeks from the date of my search for $233. If you’re flexible and like the idea of flying to Europe at the last minute, Play could be for you; the airline announces relatively last-minute deals on their website regularly. When I looked well in advance, prices were also cheap. I found spring break trip options to Paris and Reykjavik in April from under $400 per round-trip flight.

The Catch: Flying to Europe last minute is a tough sell for some of us, and do you want to take that flight knowing you can only bring a backpack and can’t choose your seat?

Yes, I do.

Graham Averill is șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű magazine’s national parks columnist. He will always choose the cheapest flight option, even if it means he can only carry on what he can fit in his pockets and has to catch a flight home at 4 A.M.

The post The Best Budget Airlines—and șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Locales They Go To appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

The map that has become a meme first began arriving in text messages, emails, and social media tags at least four years ago. Maybe you’ve seen it online, too—a Google Maps screenshot of the globe with a blue line that curves nearly 14,000 miles northward from Cape Town, South Africa to Magadan, Russia, arcing like a launched rocket through zones of extreme geopolitical turmoil. It is, allegedly, “the world’s longest continuous walk,” a fact I’ve never bothered to vet despite the dozens of friends who’ve sent it my way. I’m not very interested.

It’s true that I love walking long distances, whether that means going from Mexico to Canada via the Pacific Crest Trail or traversing entire states like Florida and Arizona a month at a time. But for me, hiking is a means to an end, never the end itself. I don’t want to walk the longest continual path so much as the most impactful ones, the ones that show me nature and beauty, myself and others, the present and especially the past from some surprising vantage. I suppose this viral trek would do the trick, but I’m not sure if it’s the best or most efficient way to encounter the unexpected I crave, at least compared to these ten hikes I’m determined to do in my time.

Rakiura Track, New Zealand

Distance: 20 miles
Time to Tackle: Three days
Terminus: Near Oban

Look at a map of Te Araroa, a 1,900-mile path that splits both the North and South Islands horizontally. Notice the dot of land just beneath the trail’s southern terminus? That’s Stewart Island, or , home to an eponymous national park and perhaps the most enticing of New Zealand’s ten Great Walks: the Rakiura Track. Kiwis take “tramping” seriously, devoting so many public resources to developing, protecting, and maintaining their routes that Americans can only be envious—or at least visit. Consider the Rakiura, which winds along near a series of bays and inlets (head out at night to look for kiwi feeding) and heads into forests of towering rimu. Enjoy three days of slow walking and reverie on isolated beaches, and choose from multiple huts (think Appalachian Trail shelters, but sturdy and clean) and campsites, ranging from $5 to $60 per night. And while I do love hiking in ankle-deep mud, officials work hard to curb the bog’s creep by packing down the trail. Thanks to flipped hemispheres, you’ll want to trek Rakiura—or tack it onto the Te Araroa—between October and March, when stateside hiking opportunities dwindle.

Greater Patagonian Trail, Chile and Argentina

Distance: 1,900 miles
Time to Tackle: A lifetime
Termini: Santiago, Chile (north), and Navarino Island, Chile (south)

I often lament that much of my hiking life happens on established trails, following routes that can be navigated via maps on apps. But what would it be like to really explore, to feel the frontier of modern adventure? For the next several years, the Greater Patagonian Trail should provide some answers. Dreamed up by German engineer Jan Dudeck and his dauntless Chilean wife Meylin Ubilla over almost two decades, the GPT, despite its name, is less a trail than a confederation of cattle paths, tiny roads, and otherwise unmarked expanses that you must make your own way through. Sure, the Pan-American Highway and Chile’s Route of Parks can guide you deep into some of the least developed parts of the planet, but no journey questions and expands the philosophical underpinnings of hiking quite like this one does. Can you negotiate your way through private land in Spanish? Can you slow down and embrace local culture and astounding beauty without feeling the American compulsion to finish, let alone finish fast? Can you accept failure, the most common GPT outcome, as a variety of success? With its stunning diversity of terrain and dependence on diplomacy, the GPT might be my ultimate trail—the one that, when I’m ready to commit, could be my final trek. Good thing Dudeck and Ubilla have yet to settle on its ends.

Ocean to Lake Trail, Florida

Distance: 61 miles
Time to Tackle: Four days
Termini: Lake Okeechobee (west) and Hobe Sound Beach (east)

I’m cursed to be a completist. The trait becomes arduous with through-hiking, where the desire to finish every side jaunt quickly piles on the miles. If hiking is partly about minimizing what you need, maybe I can learn to let completeness go, too? Some winter soon, I’ll head south to the Ocean to Lake Trail, a fee-free, west-east offshoot of the 1,200-mile Florida Trail, a playground of swamps and sand, cypresses and pines. The Florida Trail is as fun and uncanny as American through-hiking gets, but it’s also a monthlong negotiation with alligators and grotesque, blistered feet. This sampler offers plentiful campsites, nearby restaurants (it’s South Florida—always go to the Mexican spot), and cell service, so you can post trail pics for your adoring masses to enjoy. Although Florida is infamous for ceaseless strip malls and ostentatious development, its woods and wetlands remain among the wildest places in the U.S. This lush little corridor proves it.

Route K, Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia

Distance: 11 miles
Time to Tackle: Five hours
Terminus: Entrance Station 1

To glimpse —a chain of sapphire and emerald jewels cut into karst and connected by streams, many of them subterranean—is to wonder whether you’ve wandered into an AI-generated simulacrum of natural beauty. Not only are these gems at the core of Croatia’s oldest national park, but you can see many of them during day hikes on a network of serpentine trails. The longest one, Route K, is a circuit among the lower and upper lakes; it spools around the awe-inspiring Jezero Kozjak, like a Lake of the Ozarks retouched in Photoshop, and leads you across a series of boardwalks—ideal platforms to take in an unbelievable panorama of verdant forests, towering waterfalls, cascading seeps, and sprawling tufa embankments. Despite the place’s popularity (it’s affordable, and a quick trip from the Adriatic Sea, which separates this coastline from Italy), wolves, black bears, and wildcats prowl the landscape, a rarity in Europe. There’s a nominal entrance fee; otherwise, you’re free to roam.

Backbone Trail, California

Distance: 67 miles
Time to Tackle: Three to five days
Termini: Point Mugu (west) and Will Rogers State Historic Park (east)

Tell people you hiked the Pacific Crest Trail and they’ll wonder how many times you saw the ocean. (Answer: zero.) So here’s your chance to admire the big blue expanse from several thousand feet above Los Angeles. zigs and zags across the Santa Monica Mountains, just north of the lavish homes of Malibu, before descending to coastal coves. Slicing through a rare safeguarded stretch of Mediterranean ecosystem, this is arguably the country’s most anomalous trail—public land with ocean views, in an area where private interests buy up every scrap of acreage. During the pandemic, the Backbone became a hot spot on the fastest-known-time circuit, with runners racing it in ten hours. Assuming you’re not pursuing such a record, know that campsites are infrequent. So have a friend pick you up at day’s end, or recruit a guide via the Santa Monica Mountains Trails Council to lead you and secure lodging, though it could cost upwards of $500. Otherwise, if night sets in and you’re out of options, you’ll need to burrow in among the chaparral; if anyone asks, you’re from Calabasas.

Chilkoot Trail, Alaska

Distance: 33 miles
Time to Tackle: Two to five days
Termini: Dyea, Alaska (south), and Bennett Lake, British Columbia (north)

From battlefield paths to Appalachian gaps, I love historic trails—journeys that foster a visceral connection with the past in ways books can’t. Exemplary in that regard is the , a Tlingit trade route across the Coast Mountains that bustled with prospectors racing from Alaska into Canada’s Yukon during the Klondike gold rush. Officials weighed their gear just below Chilkoot Pass to ensure that they were bringing enough food and supplies for the expedition ahead. Remnants of this American avarice litter the trail, which, if you’re heading south to north, climbs from a gold-rush ghost town to the Canadian border before descending to mountain-bound Bennett Lake. (“The world’s longest museum,” the National Park Service calls it.) You’ll need a permit ($60) to overnight at the many otherwise free campgrounds. The trail’s international border was closed in 2022, and the trail itself was damaged by floods in October, though the entire thing is expected to reopen in August of this year. If you want to attempt the entire trek, double-check the status before you start—you’re here for a Klondike gold bar, after all.

For more ideas on spectacular Alaska hiking, check out our recommendations in The Best Places to Visit in the U.S.

Trans-Bhutan Trail, Bhutan

Distance: 250 miles
Time to Tackle: 35 days
Termini: Haa (west) and Trashigang (east)

Apart from their traditional uses, historic trails fascinate me because they often involve a renaissance story that occurred long after they were supplanted by train tracks or highways. Case in point: the , used by royal couriers, soldiers, and religious pilgrims for half a millennium before parallel road construction led to disuse and disrepair in the 1950s. Last September, the eastern Himalayan nation reopened the route after substantial fixes by a small army of trail builders. Few places in the world offer an experience of a culture this distinct, especially on foot. When Bhutan, a Buddhist and matrilineal society, opened its borders to tourists in 1974, it revealed rich folklore, verdant expanses of uncut forests, and ornate temples and fortresses tucked into cliffside crags. As you make your way across sweeping valleys, through cramped passes, and into welcoming villages, you can look forward to sharing hearty meals like ema datshi—a stew of cheese and chilies—with the people who made them. The Trans-Bhutan Trail strings together such experiences (along with possible sightings of red pandas, Bengal tigers, and Asiatic black bears) like an ancient charm necklace. Save up, though, since a local guide is required. A five-day trek through a remarkable section near Paro is just $375, but a through-hike will run you around $20,000—cheaper at least, and less clichĂ©, than an attempt on Mount Everest.

Sinai Trail, Egypt

Distance: 340 miles
Time to Tackle: 50 days
Termini: Serabit el-Khadim (west) and Ras Shaitan (east)

“How many trails do you have left?” friends always ask. But how can I reach the proverbial trail’s end when new ones appear every year? To wit, in 2015 three Bedouin tribes on Egypt’s storied Sinai—the land bridge between Africa and Asia—banded together to introduce an amazing 140-mile route from the Red Sea to the country’s highest summit, 8,600-foot Gabal Katrine. With proof of concept and new revenue bolstering a region not frequented by tourists, organizers soon got five more tribes on board and expanded the trail by 200 miles. The Sinai traces an austere desert landscape beneath massive skies. What’s out there? Tiny chapels and abandoned mines, Martian-like rock outcroppings and near tropical oases, serrated mountains and slot canyons. Due to local custom, and an attempt to create an economic boom in an area that sees few of them, you’ll hike with Bedouin guides, your gear and water ferried by camels that, yes, you can ride. Each of the four sections takes about a dozen days to complete and costs a little over a grand, an absolute bargain in the realm of international accompanied treks. The first official through-hike is set for autumn 2023 with local outfitter . While the trip is high on my list, it’s going to have to wait, because terrorism remains a threat in the region; at press time the U.S. government advised against travel in the Sinai. Check with the State Department’s Bureau of Consular Affairs before you book.

Hayduke Trail, Utah and Arizona

Distance: 812 miles
Time to Tackle: Two months
Termini: Arches National Park (east) and Zion National Park (west), both in Utah

George Washington Hayduke is the justifiably spiteful hero of Edward Abbey’s , a comical, canonical manifesto of guerrilla environmental resistance. I have a suspicion Hayduke would approve of now bearing his name. An unsanctioned route that rambles across the mighty sandstone mesas, canyons, and monoclines of the lower Colorado Plateau, the Hayduke traverses public land, including five national parks. With its river crossings, treacherous descents, barely-there pathway, dearth of resupply options, and general water scarcity, it may be the most demanding trek in America. The commensurate beauty, however, is a testament to the no-guts-no-glory credo that compelled Hayduke (and maybe got him killed). At least it’s free, as Hayduke would have wanted. This is the trail I most covet, but even as I near 10,000 total miles on foot, I don’t know that I’m ready yet. My motto, should the time come: Prepare to go through hell to see the Southwest’s heaven.

Olomana Trail, Oahu

Distance: 4.4 miles
Time to Tackle: Four hours
Termini: Olamana Ridge Trailhead (north) and Ahiki (south)

The City of Honolulu recently posted a pair of signs at the famed Olomana Trailhead in eastern Oahu, but these weren’t a polite guide to trail etiquette. “Six people have fallen to their deaths after hiking past the first peak,” read the top placard, a stern preamble to a second sign listing the dates and locations of the accidents. The trail, just ten miles from the capital, is part of the island’s incredible free recreational network—which is to say that, despite the signs, you can legally hike it. But it’s worth considering whether you’re up for the challenge. Named for the first of three steep and narrow summits, linked by a short but harrowing path lined with guide ropes, Olomana is one of the most polarizing trails in the U.S. It’s trumpeted by adrenaline junkies, who also champion the sweeping coastline views that such extreme exposure allows, but scorned by those who see it as a potentially fatal magnet for YouTube bros. Maybe it’s both.

Map It

Nothing gets us excited about a hike more than a good map

And there’s no better backcountry map out there than Gaia GPS. For the ten hiking routes featured here—many of them in places where cell service may be nonexistent and advanced beta on terrain and logistics could be a lifesaver—you can download detailed Gaia GPS trail maps for offline use, so you always find your way. Gaia Topo’s interactive maps set the standard for clarity and detail, and help you locate campgrounds, scenic overlooks, water sources, and summits. Precise weather forecasts are available by tapping the map, and you can leave a breadcrumb trail of your progress, in case you want to take that detour to a waterfall and still find your way back. Once you’re home again, relive the whole experience in 3D on . Bonus: șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű+ members get access to all these routes—and millions more trails worldwide—along with Gaia GPS’s safety tools, giving them everything they need to get after it with confidence. (Disclosure: Gaia GPS is owned by șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Inc., which also owns șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű magazine.) —Tasha Zemke

The post The Ten Most Beautiful Hikes in the World appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Four years ago, during a Zoom work meeting, a colleague who lives in London told me she’d decided to quit flying on airplanes. She simply couldn’t stomach the cost to the climate. Due to her decision, she said calmly, she would probably never visit the U.S. again. My heart skipped a beat.

Her choice seemed so extreme. She shared it with me casually in the context of conversation, without a trace of judgment or moralizing. Still, I felt shocked and inexplicably a little defensive—but also intrigued. At the time, I traveled by air as often as ten times a year for my work as a journalist and to see family members strewn about the country. I couldn’t imagine my life without flying.

But my colleague’s comment lodged in my mind as a beautiful and challenging seed. Over the next few years, it cracked through the concrete of what had been, until then, a completely unexamined belief in my inviolable entitlement to flying. When the pandemic arrived, grounding travelers and shrinking international air travel by 60 percent in 2020, I began to see that significantly reducing air travel—or even giving it up altogether—was absolutely possible.

Rare individuals have chosen not to fly for ethical reasons for decades, but in the years leading up to the pandemic, the smattering of outliers coalesced into a movement. It took root most quickly and deeply in Sweden, which in 2017 became the first country in the world to establish a legally binding carbon-neutrality target—a year before Greta Thunberg began protesting in front of its parliament. In Swedish, the movement became known as flygskam, which translates to “flight shame,” a term commonly attributed to Swedish singer Staffan Lingberg, who gave up flying in 2017.

The number of people pledging to stop flying grew so much that Swedish air travel declined 5 percent between 2018 and 2019, and the movement strengthened in other parts of Europe as well. In the U.S., the flight-free movement, in the form of groups like Flight Free USA and No Fly Climate Sci, has been slower to spread but is growing. This year, Flight Free USA, for example, is on track to see the largest number of pledges to stop or minimize flying at 436. By comparison, tens of thousands have pledged in Europe over the past four years.

On a collective level, the reasons for minimizing commercial aviation are obvious. In 2018, the industry accounted for of global emissions and has single-handedly contributed to about of observed human-caused climate change to date. If it were a country, it would be the sixth largest polluter in the world. Currently, no aviation technology or mitigation technique exists that could minimize emissions to the extent needed to avert catastrophic warming. (Small and short-distance electric planes are in development; FAA-approved commercial models could be available as early as 2026.)

At the same time, a relatively small group of people, including me, are living large on the backs of the masses. One found that only about 11 percent of the world’s population flew in 2018. And a startling of the world’s population causes 50 percent of the emissions from commercial aviation. While emissions depending on the distance traveled, the efficiency of your ground-transportation method, and the number of people in your vehicle, flying is almost always the most carbon-intensive mode of transportation mile for mile. Simply traveling less and traveling shorter distances are surefire ways to minimize emissions.

But individually, giving up flying can be hard. Surrounded by millions of others who aren’t adjusting their own behaviors, do my choices matter? Is it worth what seems like a huge personal sacrifice, when I am just one lonely person taking a stand?

Not long after my colleague’s comment, I broached the topic with a close loved one who has solar panels on his house and drives an electric car. I thought we could have a substantive discussion, but his response was simple: “I’m not going to stop flying,” he said testily. End of conversation.

This shutdown, as well as my own reluctance, made me even more curious. What did we really think we were losing? On a subconscious level, do those of us who fly believe we have the right to pollute more than others, simply by virtue of being accustomed to it? And able to afford it? I was also moved by my colleague’s matter-of-fact attitude. Although her choice seemed radical to me at the time, she didn’t seem perturbed. She wasn’t standing atop some mountain of haughty saviorism. She even seemed quietly peaceful about it. I wondered about what seemed to be an unseen reward, some hidden gain, about not flying that I couldn’t understand from the paradigm in which I dwelled.

“At first, I didn’t want to be confined like that,” Liz says. Yet as she took in the news of the escalating effects of climate change, an almost debilitating climate-despair grew, and her wanderlust began to feel too big, somehow out of balance with the world as she understood it. She wasn’t quite sure how it would go to fly so little. Alternative transportation isn’t as simple in the U.S., where long-distance ground infrastructure lags behind that of Europe. Last year, when Liz came to visit me and other friends in Colorado, she rode the train from her home in Virginia. It took 53 hours. (A comparable trip in Europe, from Madrid to Berlin, would take half the time.)

Recently, I’ve begun talking with others who have renounced flying or drastically minimized their air travel. For each person, the choice sprung from a visceral experience that they couldn’t ignore. Eric Holthaus, a meteorologist and author of The Future Earth: A Radical Vision for What’s Possible in the Age of Warming, was boarding a plane at the San Francisco airport in 2013 when, reflecting on the latest dire Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report, he had a panic attack. He vowed to make that flight his last.

Daniel Fahey, a Lonely Planet travel writer based in England, saw a graph representing carbon emissions over the past 10,000 years, with an almost vertical line illustrating emissions in the past century, and felt queasy. His last flight was in 2018. Kim Cobb, a climate scientist and director of the Institute at Brown for Environment and Society, was filled with grief when a coral reef she’d studied for 18 years almost entirely died off during a monthslong marine-warming event in 2016. Flying home over the Pacific from Korea the next year, staring down at the vast ocean, she thought, Really, Kim? “I just remember this pit in my stomach, realizing that I don’t know how many more times I can do this,” she says of her international flight.

Kim started walking her kids to school every day, biking to and from work in Atlanta and, later, in Providence, Rhode Island, and, between 2017 and 2019, she reduced her plane travel from 150,000 miles per year to zero, transforming her life in the process. Still, sometimes life presents challenges: she chose to fly once, last September, to her brother’s wedding in Denver because a train trip would have necessitated taking her kids out of their new school for a week.

In 2021, I experienced my own climate gut punch. șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű offered me an opportunity to travel to the Arctic for the winter solstice, a bucket-list trip I’d dreamed about for nearly a decade that was finally materializing. But to travel so far (7,000 miles round-trip), with so many resulting carbon emissions, and to a place especially sensitive to the ravages of global warming, felt irresponsible and tone-deaf. Yet it was hard to deny a longing that felt much deeper than simply wanting an escape or an adventure. I thought hard about it and ultimately decided to go.

Lodging in an off-grid retreat center 63 miles north of the Arctic Circle in the Brooks Range of Alaska, I watched northern lights tango across the sky, cross-country-skied as polar dawn melted into polar dusk, and immersed myself in the crystalline stillness of a place that slumbers without any direct sunlight for more than a month. Those mountains, tundras, and boreal forests continue to haunt my dreams, and memories of the land’s beauty and fragility inspire my work.

But during my time there, the temperature shot upward more than 60 degrees over the course of about 24 hours, from minus 35 to a preposterous 28 degrees, an Arctic-winter heat wave that echoed broader temperature shifts and catastrophic changes debilitating the region. The cognitive dissonance of loving a place so much while also contributing directly to its demise was almost physically painful.

Flying home, a subtle tension suffused my body, as if I could feel the misalignment between my choices and my hope and concern for the world. I wanted to forget about it, ignore it, or rationalize my way out. I bought to mitigate my travel for that entire year, but it felt like a cheap apology. (According to one to the European Commission, the vast majority of offset programs don’t reduce emissions.) I wasn’t sure my relationship with flying would ever be the same.

Still, voluntarily not flying while friends take holidays in far-flung places feels like nothing but a gaping and pointless loss. And while it takes a certain amount of privilege to be able to fly, it could potentially take an even greater degree of privilege to travel and not fly, given the time and expense involved. Those who have chosen to fly less or not at all say there are trade-offs.

My friend Liz declined an offer to go on a camping trip with a group of her favorite people because it would have necessitated a flight, and she has opted to do a professional training program online instead of in person. For a time, meteorologist Eric Holthaus took long train trips for work, which put a strain on his family life, and he declined his dream job at the Weather Channel because it would have required too much travel. Climate scientist Kim Cobb recognizes that if she hadn’t already been well established in her career, there would have been profound opportunity costs.

There is also an emotional risk to being an outlier. Liz has found that her choice has sometimes made people so uncomfortable that they’ve ridiculed her or immediately dismissed the idea. Many of Holthaus’s friends have responded with disbelief. “It’s amazing how much travel is baked into middle-class, upper-middle-class culture,” he says. “It’s an identity, and I wasn’t really expecting it to be that hard to break. But with that has come a chance to examine all of that privilege of having traveled and being cultured as a status symbol. It’s not really that uncommon to not fly. It’s just in our bubble that it feels unthinkable.”

Holthaus also, however, delights in the benefits of slow travel, in which people travel more slowly and conscientiously rather than and quickly and superficially. He realized he had both more money and more time to spend outside on his vacations, and they felt more special and intentional. Daniel Fahey, the travel writer who once thought nothing of jetting from London to Beijing for a weekend, has found the challenge and novelty of traveling plane-free invigorating. “When you’re traveling slow, you’re not numb to everything else,” he says. “You’re more alive to stuff. If I fly across the country and watch a movie for an hour and a half, I’ve been disengaged from my environment.” There’s also an intrinsic value to feeling aligned with your conscience, he says.

Liz spoke of the ineffable rewards of minimizing flying, how traveling more slowly felt less wrenching on her body and less transactional. Cobb feels more connected to her community and family—and she’s in better shape because she makes time to bike to work now.

I recently learned of a Buddhist teaching that speaks to this debate: a wise person always trades a lesser happiness for a greater happiness. I wondered if flying less could be the greater happiness because it’s simply a more harmonious and peaceful way of being in the world. “It’s a satisfaction with doing less, with having less, with living in deeper harmony,” Liz explained. “I do feel like I’m respecting the earth more with these choices.”

Tourism can be a great force for destruction but also a force for tremendous social good, for travelers and hosts. I certainly wouldn’t advise people to stop traveling. I am grateful for innumerable wonderful travel experiences that have entertained, delighted, and expanded my understanding of this planet and its inhabitants, human and otherwise, and deepened my empathy.

But there have also been ways that I have traveled, largely in haste and frequently aboard a plane, that have encouraged a sort of objectification of those places, as if they were products or trophies. When I plop in from out of the sky, my comprehension of a new land and its people is often decontextualized from the living fabric of the earth and my place in it. Could I have even more meaningful and adventurous travel experiences, with greater positive impacts for the places I visited, if I approached travel in a different way? Like opting for longer and more sporadic overland journeys instead of shorter trips with long-haul flights?

Last fall, my husband and I had a couple of flexible weeks and were considering a trip together, possibly to Central America. I looked into flights to Costa Rica and Belize. We could have afforded to go, but something felt empty about it, jet-setting off to a remote beach or rainforest. It felt too easy and on some level unrealistic. We decided not to go abroad and instead each took shorter trips closer to home.

I drove south a few hours from my home in Colorado, to a remote area of New Mexico. A storm arrived and blanketed the desert with snow, and I hiked through the silent sage and junipers as the sun reemerged. An owl swooped out of the dark in front of my car one evening, and an elk herd passed right before me. On my way home, cresting the Continental Divide at dawn, I passed through a forest of ponderosas perfectly encapsulated in a million faceted crystals of frost—in all of my travels to many dozens of countries, it was among the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

But I also recognized an internal shift. Instead of feeling a sense of harried entitlement that can sometimes come with the busyness of long-haul trips, and the way I have shoehorned them into my very full life, I felt a sense of humility and a deeper appreciation of what the earth was offering me through no apparent merit of my own. Internally, it was undoubtedly trading a lesser happiness for a greater happiness.

I’d like to say that I’m vowing to quit flying entirely, but because our closest family members live 15 hours away by car, that may not be realistic. My husband and I already have two obligations that necessitate flying this year. However, it is feasible to reduce our flying to one flight trip per year, and I intend to do that in 2024. It will take some imagination, ingenuity, time, and planning ahead. I recognize that the privileges of having traveled the world previously and having a flexible job and some disposable income make this choice easier than it may be for some. But there are others making this choice, and it occurred to me that minimizing flying, in and of itself, is an adventure. It’s not about living within some rigid ideal but probing the forward edge of social change.

In the relationship between individual, cultural, and systemic change, you never know exactly how your part will affect the whole. But when I started to think in a real way about limiting my flying, I noticed that my paralysis and resignation around climate change loosened. I began to feel a sense of energy and agency, even hope, however small. People everywhere, in every time, have to step into a future way of being that they can’t currently imagine. Why not me? Why not you?

Kate Siber is a correspondent for șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű magazine and the author of two children’s books. Her work has also appeared in Men’s Journal, The New York Times Magazine, and various National Geographic publications. Her next trip—by electric car—will be to Canyonlands National Park in Utah.

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