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 d’Ampezzo 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.

The merits of hut-to-hut hiking are many: it’s one of the most accessible ways to tackle a multiday outdoor adventure, offers the benefits of backcountry camping—crowd-free sunrise vistas, deep wilderness immersion, and long, glorious days on the trail—and promises the creature comforts of home, notably running water, toilet facilities and a warm, dry place to sleep.

While the U.S. has several well-known and well-regarded hut systems, I’ve hiked a handful of the world’s most famous hut-to-hut trails and can tell you that some trekking systems abroad are worth traveling for. Here are the most stunning, with accommodations that range from rustic guesthouses run by locals to high-altitude refugios to backcountry bunkhouses set amid scenery that will soothe your soul. One thing’s for certain—every one of these 13 trips is a bucket-list-worthy escape.

Laugavegur Trail, Iceland

Length: 33.6 miles
Terminus: °ŐłóĂł°ùČőłŸĂ¶°ù°ì
Best time to go: July to August
Days to complete: 5 to 6

Starting with the splotchy rhyolite mountains of Landmannalaugar, as colorful as an artist’s paint palette, Iceland’s fabled doesn’t slouch on the scenery for the entire route southward. The trail, only open mid-June through September—and even then you’ll encounter snowfields—traverses volcanic moonscape slopes freckled with obsidian and plunges into deep green valleys filled with mirror-clear tarns. Because its otherworldly landscapes and jaw-dropping beauty attract the masses, the five (from $80) tend to book up to six months in advance, though hikers may elect to bring their own tent and camp near each hut for free. Want to trek with a guide or explore farther off the beaten path? arranges a Hidden Trails itinerary each summer that tacks on several obscure lakes and waterfalls to this famous hike (from $3,475).

Overland Track, Tasmania

Length: 40.4 miles
Termini: Ronny Creek (north) and Narcissus Hut at Lake St. Clair (south)
Best time to go: December to March
Days to complete: 6 to 7

Though it’s punctuated by a state-of-the-art hut system (think: mud rooms, clean kitchen spaces, and composting toilets), Tasmania’s is rugged, rooty, and rocky, even by American standards. Still, we wouldn’t let a little rain and mud stand in the way of this recommendation; the trade-off are expansive button-grass plains descending into ancient eucalyptus forests, possible encounters with adorable wallabies and wombats, sapphire alpine lakes, and the chance to set off on a class-three scramble up 5,305-foot Mount Ossa, the highest in this Australian island state. Most hikers depart from Ronny Creek and stay in a handful of huts en route to Lake St. Clair and the ferry to the St. Clair Visitor Center, though if you’re up for another 11 miles of tramping, by all means. Plan to pay a total of about $190 for . Looking for a splurge? Check out Tasmanian Walking Company’s six-day (from $2,803), which boasts privately owned huts with fireplaces, local wine, and freshly prepared meals.

Annapurna Circuit, Nepal

Length: 143 miles
Termini: Besisahar (east) to Pokhara (west)
Best time to go: March to April or October to November
Days to complete: Up to 21

The is a breathtakingly high altitude romp around the Annapurna massif, passing through some of the Himalayas’ most soul-stirring scenery as it climbs from lush forests filled with delicate butterflies and past rushing cascades to Thorung La Pass, a lung-crunching 17,769 feet above sea level. Travelers can expect to see myriad important Buddhist cultural markers, too: fluttering prayer flags, centuries-old temples, and intricate prayer wheels. Accommodations are simple and affordable: teahouses with Western-friendly menus and private-room options—just don’t expect a heater. And small villages are now connected via a dirt road that spans most of the route, so making the trek is not the remote experience it once was (and you can hop on adjacent trails to avoid the road altogether). As of April 2023, Nepal implemented a new rule stating that all trekkers must hire a licensed guide or porter to explore the country’s wilderness trails. Experienced tour companies like and offer excellent guided trips, full of history and heart (inquire for prices).

Mount Meru Trek, Tanzania

Length: 43.5 miles
Terminus: Momella Gate
Best time to go: December to February or July to October
Days to complete: 3 to 4

If you don’t have time for a full expedition up Kilimanjaro (19,340 feet), or you’re seeking an epic acclimatization hike before the big journey, Mount Meru (14,968 feet) is a fantastic option. Situated in Arusha National Park, in northern Tanzania, this brief trek boasts abundant wildlife sightings on day one (giraffes, zebras, and, if you’re lucky, elephants) before a steep ascent that affords phenomenal views of the collapsed crater and ash cone. From the summit, hikers can even enjoy panoramic vistas eastward to Kilimanjaro, often hovering above the clouds like an ethereal being. As for accommodations, expect rustic, dorm-style cabins with indoor mess halls and separate lodging for your porters. Due to the amount of wildlife, an armed ranger is required to hike with groups on the first day of this trek, so a guided trip is a must. and are both highly regarded (inquire for prices).

Kumano Kodo, Japan

Length: 43.5 miles
Termini: Tanabe (west) and Katsuura (east)
Best time to go: March to May or October to November
Days to complete: 5

The , located south of Osaka on Japan’s Kii peninsula, is a centuries-old pilgrimage route and one of only two paths of its kind to earn Unesco World Heritage status (the other is the Santiago de Compostela in Spain and France). Technically, the Kumano Kodo is not a singular route but a network of footpaths that crisscross the deeply wooded region, passing ancient Shinto shrines and temples, edging past misty waterfalls (including the tallest in the country), and wending through tiny villages. The (a.k.a. the Imperial Route) is the most popular way to explore. Skip the guided tours on this one—the Kumano Travel website is incredibly thorough and helpful with bookings—and instead plan to overnight in traditional ryokans, or inns, as you go.

Nahuel Huapi National Park Traverse, Argentina

Length: 25 miles
Termini: Villa Catedral (south) to Arroyo Lopez (north)
Best time to go: December to March
Days to complete: 4 to 5

Soaring, toothy peaks that seem to grasp at the sky, glittering azure lakes, rushing waterfalls, and refugios that resemble hobbit houses
 there’s a lot to love about this trek across Argentina’s first national park. Utilize the robust public transportation from the gateway city of San Carlos de Bariloche, and nab a night at —the only reservable hut of the four—in advance. Alternatively, you can hire a respected company like for a guided adrenaline-fueled adventure along steep, rocky ridgelines, with opportunities to rock-scramble and take in the striking views of enormous Lake Nahuel Huapi (from $1,310). Before jetting off, spend a few days luxuriating in Bariloche, surprisingly European and often touted as the Switzerland of South America.

Jotunheimen National Park Historic Route, Norway

Length: 35.4 miles
Termini: Gjendesheim (east) to Eidsbugarden (west)
Best time to go: July to early September
Days to complete: 4

For a hearty dose of towering peaks, deep-cut valleys, and crystal-clear lakes, look no further than through , often referred to as Land of the Giants. Thirty-five miles might not seem like much at first, but this trail is no walk in the park—you’ll be following in the footsteps of Norway’s mountaineering history, sometimes gaining over 3,600 feet in a day as you clamber over craggy terrain (chains are present to aid with grip on the most harrowing sections), making your way between two remote lakes once essential to accessing the region: Gjende and Bygdin. You can book the DNT huts—the video below, of Fondsbu, is just one run by the —in advance and traverse the “fairylands” of Svartdalen solo, or sign on with for a similarly supported route that’ll quench your hiker hunger with delectable included meals (from $4,800).

Tongariro Northern Circuit, New Zealand

Length: 22.4 miles
Terminus: Whakapapa Village, North Island
Best time to go: November to April
Days to complete: 3 to 4

Unlike the Tongariro Crossing (a day hike which traverses the same eponymous national park), the allows travelers to get up close and personal with the nation’s most notorious volcanic peaks, sans the crowds. The loop circumnavigates the snowcapped, charcoal-hued cone of Mount Ngauruhoe, skirting hissing steam vents, ancient lava flows, and brilliant emerald lakes. Considered one of New Zealand’s Ten Great Walks, this hike is for geology and Lord of the Rings buffs who’d love nothing more than tackling a such a boulder-strewn landscape en route to Mordor. You can opt to through the well-appointed huts (which include bunk beds with mattresses, indoor heating, kitchens, and non-flush toilets), or book a locally led trip like three-day jaunt (from $891).

The Walker’s Haute Route, France and Switzerland

Length: 108 to 141 miles (depending on the route)
Termini: Chamonix, France (west) and Zermatt, Switzerland (east)
Best time to go: Mid-July to mid-September
Days to complete: 10 to 14

Sure, this one winds up on virtually every best-of hiking list on the planet, but if you take a second to Google a few snapshots of the gobsmacking glacially carved valleys, fields full of crocus and blue bugle, and steep summits that jut skyward like granitic witches’ hats, you’ll quickly see why. The (not to be confused with the similarly named ) passes below the summits of ten of the twelve highest peaks in the Alps. You’ll alternate between staying in well-appointed mountain huts and quaint European villages, indulging in fresh pastries and local cheeses between leg-burning ascents. Huts book up well in advance (and require a for booking), or just let an experienced company like or do all the hard work and logistics, while you focus on the scenery (from $6,195 and $3,616, respectively).

Sunshine Coast Trail, Canada

Length: 111.8 miles
Termini: Sarah Point on Desolation Sound (north) to Saltery Bay (south)
Best time to go: June to September
Days to complete: 9 to 10

Often lauded as our northern neighbor’s best, least commercialized, and longest hut-to-hut trek, the meanders across the British Columbia seashore, terminating some 90 miles north of Vancouver. The journey is a bucket-list adventure for forest bathers and ocean lovers alike, with wonderful opportunities to spot wolves, deer, raccoons, grizzlies, and elk, not to mention pick plentiful blackberries and salmonberries in late summer. Fourteen (with another slated to open next year) are set along the route, and the provides loads of how-to info it you’d prefer to go it alone. Another possibility is a guided partial trek with (from $1,340).

The O Circuit, Chile

Length: 85 miles
Terminus: Torres del Paine National Park’s Laguna Amarga Entrance
Best time to go: November to March
Days to complete: 11

As one of the premier treks in South America, southern Chile’s O Circuit is a show-stopping option for mountain-loving backpackers who want to put in the big miles when the U.S. is knee-deep in winter. Longer (and more secluded) than its more famous cousin to the south, the , the O Circuit includes the aforementioned route, plus dozens of off-the-beaten-path miles skirting the northern expanse of Torres del Paine National Park. Purchase your online in advance, then plan to get to your refugio (see the sites managed by and ) or camping spot as early as possible, as this trip is incredibly popular. Wildland Trekking offers , if that’s your preference ($5,900).

Triglav National Park Traverse, Slovenia Mountain Trail, Slovenia

Length: 27 miles
Termini: Vrsic Pass (north)Ìęto Lake Bohinj (south)
Best time to go: June to September
Days to complete: 4

It seems like the Julian Alps have been on the tip of every travel writer’s tongue ever since the Juliana Trail made its debut back in 2020. But if you’d rather not blow all your vacation time hiking the full 168 miles through this scenic landscape, through Triglav National Park will give you a taste of the best stuff. Book hut reservations for , , and in advance, then get ready to traipse across craggy ridgelines, limestone escarpments, and peacock-green tarns. If arranging the trek yourself sounds like too much of a headache (and the language barrier can be intimidating), offers a similar itinerary, with an optional add-on to summit 9,396-foot Mount Triglav, the highest in Slovenia ($430).

Sneffels Traverse, Colorado

Length: 29.4 miles
Termini: Telluride (south) and Ouray (northeast)
Best time to go: July to September
Days to complete: 5

The U.S. is home to several well-regarded hut systems, but one stands out above the rest: the . Run by the in the (you guessed it) glorious San Juan Mountains of western Colorado, this route begins at 10,676-foot Last Dollar Pass, above the iconic ski town of Telluride, and meanders between four diminutive, eight-person bunk-style cabins on its way to the gold-rush town of Ouray. Due to its popularity, hikers ($275, including return-shuttle service) through the hut system between June 1 and October 15. Expect eye-catching meadows of purple lupine, serrated sky-high peaks, and verdant forests of aspen and pine along the way.

Emily Pennington has now trekked on every continent, including hundreds of nights spent on the trail in the United States. For big adventures, she recommends bringing a Kula Cloth and a clip-on carabiner mug.

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On the evening of my eighth day hiking the Juliana Trail in northwesternÌęSlovenia,ÌęI arrived in the mountain village of Log pod Mangartom,Ìęonly to discover thatÌęthe village’s sole restaurant had closed for the season. Not relishing the thought of dining on the two stale pieces of bread in my pack, I set out to find a meal.

“Food?” I asked an old woman standing by the water spigot in the center ofÌętown, pantomiming eating. “Do you know where I can find food?” The woman squinted, repeating the hand-to-mouth motion I made, and said something in Slovene.

I nodded. “Food?” I said again. “Restaurant?” She pointed toward a low stone house across the road that wasÌęstrangled with ivy. I held up my hands, confused, and she whacked me with the cane, gesturing for me to follow.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting knock-kneed at a tiny wooden table in her two-room cottage, between shelves lined with ancient sets of china, black and white photos, and walls plastered with yellowed newspaper clippings. The woman opened her icebox and served me meat, cheese, bread, and sweet wine until my stomach ached, even as I half-heartedly protested. After swallowing nearly a quarter poundÌęof prosciutto, I finally convinced her to stop feeding me. I tried to wash my plate and offer money, but she just whacked me with the cane, snatched the plate, and shooed me out.

The , which opened in October, covers 167 miles and encirclesÌęSlovenia’s and the Julian Alps. It takes hikers through a variety of landscapes, from the remote and densely forested Baska Grapa in the south to the rolling green hills and dales of the Sava River Valley in the north. Wooden A-frame farmhouses dot grassy hillsides where cattle and horses graze freely, withÌęthe Alps rising in the background. More than once in my two-and-a-half weeks on the Juliana last fall, I had the feeling of walking through a fairy tale.

The trail is split into 16 stages of varying lengths, each oneÌędesigned around notable nearby sites. For example, the short stretch ofÌęstage 11 is intentional, giving hikers time to visit the imposing , perched high above town, the world-famous and the , built by Austro-Hungarian soldiers in World War I. Every stage is a vastly different experience.

“The Julian Alps are an incredibly diverse region culturally,” said Janko Humar, director of the Tourism Board and one of the key figures who helped spearheadÌęthe trail’s development. A tall, stout man, with close-cropped gray hair, an easy smile, and a rock-solid grip, he has been involved in tourism in the Soca for 30Ìęyears. “In the north, you will find communities which appear more Austrian,” he added, “in the south, a style of life which is more Italian.”

Though the Juliana stops in a few major tourist towns, hikers will spend over half their nights on the trail in tiny settlements like Log pod Mangartom. This was deliberate, said Humar. “We want to get travelers into regions that have previously seen little to no tourist presence,” he said. “Over 60Ìępercent of [Slovenia’s] overnight tourists come in a period of three to four weeks during the summer and only visit a couple of spots, like Bled and Bohinj. The Juliana gives conscientious hikers an avenue into remote valleys and villages untouched by tourism, which will also help boost the local economies.”

There’s no need to bring a tentÌęeither. Each section ends in a village or town where travelers can sleep. Some, like stage 11—an idyllic stretch along the verdant banks of the Ìęfrom the quiet fishing town of Most na Soci to Tolmin—are only a few miles. The longest segmentsÌęare only 15 miles, and most are about tenÌęmiles. The trail is primarilyÌęflat, sticking to the river valleys between the peaks, but a handful of sectionsÌęrequire a few thousand feet of elevation gain.

The recommends hiking in the fall or spring, due toÌęheavy snow in winter and crowds of tourists in the summer. All 16 stages are marked on the Ìęapp for Android and iOS. Along with cultural sites, there are plenty of adventures along its path.

In the southwestern reaches of TriglavÌęNational Park, from stages 11 to 14, the trail follows the emerald Soca River, whichÌęfeatures world-class fly-fishing and whitewater. There are also paragliding and hang-gliding spots along the Soca and near the opening stages of the trail in the Sava Valley to the north. Dozens of waterfalls and lakes lie just off the route, like the sublime Kozjak waterfall on stage 13, nestled in a rocky, moss-shrouded amphitheater in the hills northeast of Kobarid. Trekkers can visit the popular Slovenian lakes of and on the eastern part of the trail, and the famed Lago del Predil sits just across the Italian border to the west at Predil Pass (the final two stages of the trail travel through Italy).

Podbrdo, in stage eight, is a particular gem. In this quiet village of 300, tucked away in the isolated Baska Grapa Valley, on the southeastern edge of the national park, sheer, tree-covered ridgelines loom hundreds of feetÌęon all sides. Travelers can dine on freshly caught trout at the town’s only restaurant, Brunarica Slap, perched above the Baca River.

For climbers, the Juliana is within spitting distance of countless multi-pitch rock and Alpine routes on famous peaks in the northern and western segments of the trail, including Mangart (8,789 feet), Spik (8,110 feet), and Triglav (9,396 feet). Triglav, Slovenia’s tallest mountain and a national icon, is famed for its 3,940-foot north face, which offersÌęsuperb sustained climbing and is one of the tallest faces in Europe. The area also features canyoneering and via ferrata opportunities in Gozd Martuljek and Mojstrana, near the trail’s first stage, which winds along the mellow banks of the Sava Dolinka RiverÌęin the shadow of the lofty summits of the Martuljek range.

The slopes of nearby Mangart, visible from stage 14, hosted a Ìęheld by members of the U.S. Army’s Tenth Mountain Division after the Second World War. There’s more skiing in and Planica (the latter home to the ).

For history buffs, there are seven major castles and fortresses along the Juliana, with several others close by. Among the most notable are the 1,000-year-old Grad Kamen castle, north of Begunje village in stage three, andÌęKluze Fort, which defended against Napoleon’s army in the 18th century, en route to Log pod Mangartom on stage 14. On stage eight, at Vrh Bace, a mountain pass north of Podbrdo, the Juliana crosses the Vallo Alpino, where defensive bunkers were built along Italy’s northern border before World War II. HereÌęhikers can explore a labyrinth of abandoned passageways and tunnels honeycombing the mountain ramparts (no fees here—just scramble off the path a bit to find the entrances). The trail also travels a large portion of the Isonzo (Soca) Front in the west, which saw a dozen bloody battles between Austro-Hungarian and Italian forces in the First World WarÌę(much of Ernest Hemingway’s novel A Farewell to Arms is set along the Soca). As a result, a host of impressive museums dot villages and towns along the trail. Of note is the award-winning history museum in Kobarid, the stopping point after stage 12.

There are plenty of quirky sights to see, too, like the beehive of Anton Jansa, the father of modern beekeeping, or the longest train tunnel in Slovenia (and the hundred-year-old railway running through it), anÌęeasy way to cheat one of the more difficult stages, undercutting the Vrh Bace pass and taking tired hikers directly to Podbrdo.

Each day brings something new. Sometimes hikers travel on narrow mountain tracks, other times on dirt roadsÌęor bike trails. More than once I found myself crossing a farmer’s field, mingling with goats and cattle, or wandering through villages consisting of no more than four or five buildings, someÌęcompletely abandoned settlements. Another segment took me along a desertedÌęmining facility that dates back to the 14th century, in the Italian village of Cave del Predil.

șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűs aside, it’s the people you meet that make the Juliana shine. Great climbing and kayaking couldn’t beat the memories of theÌęmeal the woman in Log pod Mangartom fed me,Ìęor beers by the fire with villagers in Grahovo ob Baci,Ìęor the cafĂ© owner in Begunje who, when I asked for directions, sent his daughter out with a massive sandwich and coffee and shrugged off the money I offered. One night I stayed up past midnight sharing home-brewed schnapps and swapping stories with several local roofers at a village inn. In the morning, they passed me on a dirt road, riding in a flatbed. “American! American!” they yelled as they roared past, oblivious to the dust shower they were giving me.

The Juliana Trail won’t be the most challenging hike you’ve ever done, but you won’t find an experience quite like it anywhere else.

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In early May 2017, I walked out of the small airport in Ljubljana, Slovenia, carrying two giant duffels and a ski bag. An orange Land Rover pulled up to the curb. Out climbed Davorin “Davo” ÌęKarničar, the only man to ski Mount Everest from top to bottom. We’d never met, but Karničar shook my hand and smiled like we were old friends. His biceps and chest bulged out of his T-shirt.Ìę

A few minutes later, we began the short drive to Jezersko, the 600-person farming village where Karničar had lived all his life—and where he died Monday, September 16, in a tree-felling accident at age 56. (Jeff Mechura, president of Elan USA, Karničar’s longtime ski sponsor, confirmed his cause of death on Tuesday.)ÌęWe snaked along the Kokra River, clear and pure, talking as we went. His English wasn’tÌęgreat—“expedition English,” he called it—but his cheerful spirit made up for it.Ìę

An unlikely turn of events had brought us together: one month earlier, having heard Karničar was preparing to attempt the first full ski descent of 28,251-foot K2, I emailed him requesting an interview. He wrote back a few hours later with what he called “a proposition.” Instead of doing the interview by phone, he could fly to Colorado, where I live at 10,200 feet, and we could ski together. He’dÌęget some high-altitude training, and I’dÌęget my interview. “What do you think about this?” he asked.Ìę

I was elated, of course. He bought a ticket for the first of May. I was to pick him up at the Denver airport at midnight. A few hours before I left, I received an email from his wife, Petra. Davo had been stopped in Istanbul due to President Trump’sÌęrecently enacted travel ban and sent back to Slovenia—denied entry to the U.S. because he’dÌęskied in Iran a few years before. Aside from the disappointment and wondering what would happen to the story, there was also a bigger problem. In advance of his visit, Karničar had ordered eight expedition tents and eight sleeping bags and had them shipped to my house, since they weren’t available in Europe. The only way to get them to Slovenia in time for his imminent departure to Pakistan was for me to deliver them in person. I could see his stress ease when he picked me up in Ljubljana and saw that the gear had made it, too.Ìę

Karničar was old school. He never sought nor cared about the attention he garnered from skiing the world’sÌębiggest mountains. But you could argue there was not a more accomplished ski mountaineer on earth, even if few people outside Slovenia—a nation smaller than New Jersey—knew who he was. He made first descents on two of the 14 8,000-meter peaks—Annapurna, in 1995, with his brother Drejc; and Everest, in October 2000, alone—and skied parts of five other 8,000ers, as well as treacherous lines in the Andes and Alps. His first attempt on K2, which ended when his skis blew away in a storm high on the mountain, took place in 1993. He was also the first to make uninterrupted ski descents of the Seven Summits, completing his quest in November 2006.Ìę

Everest marked his pinnacle but also took its toll. During his first attempt, from the north side in 1996—which he aborted at 8,300 meters when the deadly storm chronicled in Into Thin Air blew in—Karničar lost two fingers to frostbite. In 2000, he slid 25 vertical feet down the snow-covered Hillary Step before narrowly arresting his speed. His 12,000-foot, oxygen-free descent was livestreamed by a Slovenian telecommunications company, turning him into a celebrity back home. But when I asked how many people watched, he scoffed: “I don’t care about this. Before and after the expedition, I was concentrating only on my work.”

He could come across as standoffish, but it masked his tender simplicity. When Karničar finished the Seven Summits, a month after Jackson Hole-based ski mountaineer finished her own pursuit of the same goal, some Slovenians urged him to contest DesLauriers’Ìęclaim of being first, since she took two days to ski Everest and did not make a full ski descent. “People tell me, ‘Davo, you must make an explanation, you must tell her this is not true,’” he said. “I don’t need that. I’m happy!”

And he was. A father of seven (including three grown kids from his first marriage) and grandfather of two, Karničar was rooted by his family. “Children are the greatest gift,” he told me. He had four under the age of 16 when I visited. Eva, 10, was riding her bike one-handed in the driveway. Izidor, 15, had just come home from skiing Mt. Elbrus, the highest peak in Europe, with Davo. Ten-month-old Martin, the youngest, climbed into the dishwasher as we spoke. Davo, standing in the same kitchen where he was born, couldn’t help but beam at his son’s curiosity.

A framed photograph hung on his wall: Karničar, a proud Catholic, meeting the Pope with the Elan skis he used on Everest (he held the same ski sponsor for 44 years). A stuffed marten and stuffed fox rested on the floor, below various pelts and a dozen mounted skulls from game he’dÌęeither killed or found in avalanche debris. When I brought up K2 and how Karničar's looming attempt was affecting their family, Izidor chimed in. “I’m not scared, because I trust him,” the boy said in English, one of three languages he’s fluent in, along with Russian and Slovenian. Karničar got up and hugged his son, who was already taller than his five-foot-eight dad.Ìę

The next morning, Karničar drove me and a photographer up a stunning alpine valley to his favorite trailhead. We hiked up a steep, exposed trail to the Čeơka Koča, or Czech Hut, which his father managed for 40 years. We talked about his brother, Luka, who died in a training accident with the Slovenian mountain rescue team, of which Davo was also a member; and about his best friend and longtime expedition partner, Franc Oderlap, who was killed by icefall on Manaslu, the world’s eighth tallest mountain, as Karničar watched in 2009.

He was hardened by those and other tragedies, but the hut calmed him. Before he became a mountaineer, he spent eight years competing for Yugoslavia’s national alpine ski team, training on the slopes above the hut. (He later worked as a serviceman for Norway’s World Cup racers in the early ’90s). As we switched from sneakers to ski boots, Martin’s voice chirped from Karničar's phone—“Dada, dada”—whenever someone called. We started skinning into a dense fog. Karničar's trademark yodel echoed off the cirque above us.

After an hour, the fog lifted to reveal massive rock walls caked in snow and ice. Karničar continued alone up a ramp and onto one of the walls, stopping on a hanging snowfield and transitioning from crampons to skis. I met him halfway down his descent, and we skied to the hut on perfect spring snow.Ìę

Back at the trailhead, we shook hands and hugged in honor of a memorable day in the mountains. “Sometimes,” Karničar said with a twinkle in his eye, “when I’m really happy, I drink one beer.” So we drove back down the valley, past the chalet that he and Petra bought a few years earlier, where he hoped to open a ski-mountaineering school and lodge. We stopped at a restaurant on a lake and sat by the window, looking up at verdant pastures and towering peaks—his version of heaven.
Ìę

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Drone pilotÌę travels across the world to capture scenic landscapes and dramatic vistas. In this film , he documents a journey he took to the wild nation he named the film after.Ìę
Ìę

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SoÌęyou’re not in the mood to fuss with a tent, but you still want an awesome outdoor escape. Try one of these quirky lodges: From treehouses to yurts, there’s no hassle with setup, andÌętheyÌęput you smack-dab in the middle of nature, with easy access to climbing, cycling, fishing, hiking, rafting, and surfing.

In a Yurt

SPLURGEÌę
, Quincy, Washington
Price:ÌęFrom $229 per night.
Digs: The Cave B Inn andÌęSpa, in Washington’s Columbia River wine country, features 25 Douglas fir–framed yurts set among vineyards. You won’t miss roughing itÌętoo much when you’re gazing up at the stars through the skydome above your bed.
Out and About:ÌęJust outside of your yurt, you’ll find a 3.5-mile trail loop that passes a waterfall. More challenging hikes, such as theÌęÌęinÌę, are a short drive away. Cave B partners withÌęÌęto arrange fly-fishing excursions on the nearbyÌę. Climbers will want to tackle the shortÌębasalt columns calledÌęÌęon the hiking trails inÌę. And, of course, there’s only one way to end the day in wine country: a tour and tasting at Cave B Estate ($20).Ìę

SAVE
, Tennessee Pass, Colorado
Price:ÌęFrom $225 per night for up to six guests (that’s $37.50 a night per person).
Digs: Overlooking the towering peaks of theÌę, these yurts are a 1.3-mile hike from theÌę. Each yurt has handcrafted log beds with down comforters, plus thoughtful amenities like playing cards and checkers. Precut firewood is supplied to stoke the soapstone woodstove.ÌęKitchenettes come stocked with pots, pans, sugar, coffee, and hot chocolate mix.
Out and About: Foodies will want to call in advance for a dinner reservation at theÌę, which serves four-course meals of Rocky Mountain cuisine, like grilled elk tenderloin with smashed potatoes, Colorado rack of lamb with herb gremolata, and homemade fruit pie, for $85 a person. Don’t worry—you’ll burn off the indulgenceÌęÌęthe next day.

In a Tipi

SPLURGE
, Wells, Nevada
Price:ÌęFrom $1,200 a night, minimum four-night stay, includes meals and most activities.
Digs: The ten bright, hand-painted tipis at Mustang Monument were designed for the cowboy and cowgirl with five-star taste. Inside the 300-square-foot tipis, you’ll find hardwood floors and a Pendleton-meets-West ElmÌęaesthetic of leather chairs, custom-made beds, and western Americana. The real draw are the 650 rescued mustangs that roam this sanctuary in the Nevada Desert.
Out and About: Experienced riders can saddle up with resident cowboysÌęClay and MarcusÌęand gallop alongside America’s wild horses. For a slower pace, hop on a 4×4 and embark on a wild mustang safari that passes through old gold-mining settlements.Ìę

SAVE
, Todos Santos, Mexico
Price:ÌęFrom $130 a night.
Digs: Pachamama appears like a mirage on the beach, just five minutes beyond . The hotel’s seven adobe tipis were designed with windows so you can take in views of the Pacific and the . The tipi village has its own sun-drenched hammock lounge.
Out and About: Pachamama offers frequent yoga retreats, and all guests have access to the outdoor yoga deck, meditation room, and temazcal (sweat lodge). Staff can direct you to local surf breaks, and mountain bike rentals are available in town at .Ìę

In a Treehouse

SPLURGE
, Bled, Slovenia
Price:ÌęFrom $320 per night.
Digs: Slovenia is one of Europe’s least-explored gems—think food, fishing, and parts of the Alps nobodyÌęyou know has ever seen. Base at this garden-to-table foodie fantasyland that opened last summer. It features six treehouses connected by a system of suspension bridges. Each treetop home sleeps four and includes modern amenities such as minibars, TV, and Wi-Fi, and most have hammocks. The enormous on-site garden is the source of most of the ingredients used at the restaurant.
Out and About: It’s an easy bike ride to , where you can SUP to aÌęchurch that sits on an island in the middle of the water. OrÌęrent a fishing rod and cast for pike, carp, and trout. Staff can help arrange half-day trips to nearby Ìęfor stunning pools and waterfalls or full-day hiking excursions to Ìęin the Slovenian Alps.Ìę

SAVE
, Cave Junction, OregonÌę
Price:ÌęFrom $130 per night, including breakfast.
Digs: Channel your inner Tarzan in the trees at Out ’n’ About Treesort. Swinging bridges and a network of zip lines connect a village of treehouses that can accommodate between two to five people. Made-to-order eggs, waffles, quiche, and still-warm muffins are part of the complimentary breakfast each morning.
Out and About: Day excursions range from whitewater rafting the Rouge and Klamath Rivers with Ìęto horseback rides to nearby Ìęabove .

In a Cabin

SPLURGE
, Chitina, Alaska
Price:ÌęFrom $1,700 per night, minimum three-night stay, includes meals and activities.Ìę
Digs: Accessible only by plane, this Alaskan wilderness retreat deep inÌęWrangell–St. Elias National Park and PreserveÌęboasts that it’s 100 miles away from the nearest paved road. The fiveÌętwo-bedroom cabins are exceptionally comfy, with king-size feather beds, wrought-iron stoves, Craftsman furniture, and unbeatable views of theÌęÌęand surrounding peaks.
Out and About: There’s no itinerary here. Guests choose from a laundry list of adventures, such as air safaris, glacier hikes, trout fishing, and bear viewing, and then return to a dinner of wild game and veggies straight from the organic on-site garden.Ìę

SAVE
, Blanding, Utah
Price:ÌęFrom $79 per night.Ìę
Digs: FourÌęone-bedroom cabins run on solar power and come with oneÌęking and two twin-size beds, basic cooking utensils, and complimentary coffee. Each cabin has its own outdoor cooking area. Abajo can also provide preordered barbecue dinners that include ribs, chicken, and sides for $38 for two people.
Out and About: The location puts you at the doorstep ofÌę,ÌęCanyonlands, andÌęMonument Valley,Ìęwhich means days are spent exploring Native American archaeology sites, climbing slot canyons, mountain biking, road biking, and getting lost on miles of hiking trails.

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Heavy storms and aÌęÌębattered the Balkans in May, but by the end of the month, the sun appeared and I was bound for Slovenia and the northern head of the newÌęÌęhiking trail, which follows theÌę, aÌę620-mile string of peaks spilling south and east from the Alps proper.

My goal: to walk several sections of the route, which, like the range, parallels the Adriatic Sea and connects countries down the length of the Balkan Peninsula. The main artery of the Via Dinarica—namedÌęșÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű’sÌęBest New Trail for 2014—is called the White Trail. It crosses, in geographic order, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Albania, and Kosovo.

For countries along the Via Dinarica, the hope is that this megatrail corridor—a project funded by the European Union, the United Nations Development Programme, and the U.S. Agency for International Development—will eventually showcase an underutilized mountain range to a global audience. The route would act as a vehicle to highlight the breadth of the region’s outdoor adventure possibilities and often-overlooked Old World culture and promote environmental awareness. With any luck, it could also ignite and galvanize camaraderie among the range’s historically contentious neighbors.

“Connecting the dots, combining resources and offers, and sharing a common visual identity will help put the Via Dinarica on the outdoor traveler’s radar,” Tim Clancy, media consultant for the project, wrote in an email. “It will provide sustainable incomes for mountain folks as well as youth (where unemployment is as high as 60 percent in many places), and it will force governments’ hands in establishing better channels of cross-border communication and cooperation because of tourism, border-crossing issues, and branding.”

But with all that the Western Balkans countries have endured the past 20 years—hell, the past 500 years—imagining that a trail could act as a tourism engine while also loosening the grip and memory of dictatorships, cross-border wars in the former Yugoslavia, and intolerant fate seems, at the start of our journey, mighty ambitious. The plan does possess one giant trump card: Few acts are as simple, straightforward, beautiful, and universal as a hike in the mountains. For visitors such as myself, this is the brand-spanking-new Via Dinarica’s hopeful, peaceful plea.

Driving through western Bosnia, however, nothing appeared brand spanking new. Old men in coveralls and women with kerchiefs scored black soil with hoes that looked as if they’d been handed down since the Habsburgs. A horse pulling a red wooden carriage filled with hay loped past the occasional burned-out building—souvenirs from theÌę. Villages were demarcated by symbols devoted to higher powers. The call to prayer, bellowing from a mosque’s minaret, gave way to clover-shaped Orthodox crosses, which morphed into Catholic churches taking shape on the next horizon. Everywhere, axes splitting wood paced the drive with a discordant, metronomic orchestra.

As we drove north, the two-month, six-part journey became real. My trek will begin in karst- and cave-filled Slovenia. Afterward, I will hike through Croatia, which, like Slovenia, is a member of the European Union. Known more for its coast, Croatia possesses a jagged relief of dramatic mountains, including the trail’s namesake: Mount Dinara. Some of the most epic hiking will take place across Bosnia and Herzegovina’s virgin forests and sweeping, untouched vistas.

Then, I’ll take part in a 500-kilometer bicycle ride across Bosnia to commemorate the anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre in 1995. Next, I move into Montenegro to experience the Tara Canyon, the deepest river canyon in Europe, andÌę, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Finally, I will hike into Albania, home to the rugged Prokletije Mountains and the 8,839-foot Maja Jezerce. I’ll end in Kosovo, one of the world’s newest countries and outdoor-adventure destinations.Ìę

During each stage, I will travel with a different cast of vagabonds—mountaineers, outdoor enthusiasts, and climbers—who will hike and bike with me and provide local expertise. The exception will be a Dutchman named Thierry Joubert, a friend and mountain guide with a these-aren’t-the-droids-you’re-looking-for demeanor, who runs the Bosnian-based eco-adventure outfitterÌę. Thierry has lived in the region for 22 years and will be my partner in crime throughout the journey.Ìę

“The tagline of the Via Dinarica is ‘connecting naturally,’” Thierry said from the driver’s seat, resuming a sentence he’d started before he handed his passport to the border patrol officer. “But what the trail actually does is reconnect people across the Balkans from Slovenia to Albania.”

Though we won’t walk the path step for step, we will be pioneers of sorts. (Most expeditions will be about a week long, and we will occasionally use transfers along the way, due to time constraints.) The nascent trail, fully actualized conceptually, still lacks much in the way of signage, maps, and publicity—even here in the Balkans. Mountain associations along the route have started to jump on board, but for many locals the term Via Dinarica is as foreign as my mama’s homemade apple pie.

The part that won’t be foreign about the Via Dinarica for experienced through-hikers familiar with European trails: the rush of trekking from summit to summit, from hut to hut, from village to village. The difference for those who have hiked in Western Europe: This trail has some polishing yet to do. For folks who like to discover places while they’re still wet-paint-fresh, the time is right for a trans-Balkan jaunt.

I’ve hiked multicountry European megatrails before. In 2007, I walked from Trieste, Italy, up and over the Alps to Monaco on the well-groomed and tourist-heavyÌę. Connecting eight nations, the Via Alpina was the inspiration for the Via Dinarica, which started to take shape on paper in 2010. The skeletal frame for the Via Dinarica, in the process of being fully marked, combines long-standing hiking paths, shepherds’ tracks, smugglers’ routes, and former World War II military trails carved by partisan soldiers while outmaneuvering Nazi regiments.

The populations spread across the Via Dinarica speak three distinct languages and observe four religions. Their histories were molded by the Great Schism between the Eastern and Western churches in 1054. Their empires were carved up by the Habsburgs, the Ottomans, and the Venetians. Their alliances are ancient. Their rifts are current.

Though the countries of the Balkans have a long history of mountaineering, for the most part people here don’t consider hiking a birthright like those in France or Switzerland might. With the exception of Slovenia and to a lesser degree Croatia, mountain huts aren’t evenly spaced the way they are in Western Europe. Trekking here can be untamed at times. Trail markings can be inconclusive. Maps are precious. Advice from locals and shepherds is even more so. A local human guide’s consultation is often necessary. If one gets lost, it could be for a while. Worst-case scenario: You end up in a Balkan village and take up residence. Best-case scenario: You find a Balkan wife and learn obedience.

“The Via Dinarica is challenging from a sport perspective,” continues mountaineer Kenan Muftić, who was the trail’s project manager during its original planning stages. “But it is removed, and the conditions aren’t perfect like in other places. And,” he looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eye, “it’s wild.”

The reasons for that wildness are manifold. Some explanations are theoretical, and some are concrete. Theoretically, this isn’t Western Europe. People here are tough. Rare is the generation that hasn’t known hardship of the sort that most living Americans will hopefully never see. My people are from here (my paternal grandfather emigrated to the States), but by every definition I am a delicate flower in comparison.

More concretely, the great outdoors here are, by design, less developed. Massive swaths of the region are unsullied, unindustrialized, and nearly untouched. There are primordial forests. For decades, this region has bucked modernity—through communism and conflict—in an unwitting quest to remain one of the last wild places in Europe. Locals make their own cheese, concoct their own brandy (called rakija), and cook coffee on ancient iron stoves. Shepherds still wander remote hilltops and along craggy mountaintops. Hidden rivers, canyons, and lakes pop up from behind peaks as if a director had moments before called out, “Places!”

And then there’s the war. Folks here—including frequent tourists like me—are desperate to get past the war. At best, the subject is boring for locals. At worst, the fear is that by focusing on the war that splintered Yugoslavia between 1991 and 1995, visitors will continue to focus on the war. I won’t go too far down this rabbit hole then, except to say two things. First, the war was devastating in every way a war can be: physically, psychologically, governmentally, and economically. Second, tourists are absolutely safe here. Full stop.

For the purposes of the Via Dinarica, the war had another, unexpected effect. Especially in Bosnia, the war changed the mountains conceptually. For many, mountains still represent the frontlines during the four-year conflict in the mid-1990s. Armies lobbed mortars into cities from peaks and ridges. Hilltop snipers aimed at children scurrying through streets carrying water.

“A generation of fathers and grandfathers stopped taking their kids into the mountains,” says Samer Hajrić, a Bosnian mountain guide, who was in our SUV on the way to Slovenia. “There is a gap in the tradition.”

And there are theÌę. Landmines are a big problem, especially in Bosnia, which was supposed to be mine-free by 2009. According to Bosnia and Herzegovina’s Mine Action Center, mines still cover 2.4 percent of the country, and their complete removal is now projected for 2019. However, safety concerns for trekkers are minimal. Most mine-risk areas are clearly marked. The rule here is “if you don’t know, don’t go.” Translation: If you aren’t absolutely sure about where you’re about to hike, get a guide. You’ll learn more about the trail and the culture, and the price, relative to the United States, is cheap.Ìę

Sound like a lot to digest before a hike in the mountains? It is. The Balkan Peninsula is a beautifully complicated place. Readers should think less about trekking here in terms of reaching lung-busting elevations and more from the perspective of achieving personal-best cultural interactions.

Ìę

After leaving Sarajevo, we had one goal on our first day: get to theÌęÌęin Slovenia, the self-proclaimed “best-known cave in the world.” An admittedly tourism-heavy affair, the entrance to Postojna’s 21 kilometers of labyrinthine underground passages is a giant Secessionist-era manor with an apron of cafes, fast-food eateries, and trinket shops. The spot is, however, emblematic of the karst substrate that will cover much of my hike through the Balkan Peninsula’s western half.Ìę

We arrived late in the day and zoomed through the cave on a train moving at a speed that could only be the result of a driver ready to go home to dinner with his wife. We whisked past the stalactites and stalagmites that are indicative of the subterranean level here. Much of Slovenia, Croatia, and Bosnia is riddled with such caves—porous limestone carved by underground rivers—making it one of the largest karst fields on the planet.

The next day, we set off on the first of three days of hiking. We met up with Jernej JeĆŸ, a Slovene geologist working with theÌę, appropriately, and a member of the nearby Mountaineering Club Podnanos. As we hiked to , the highest peak in the region at 1,796 meters (5,892 feet), JeĆŸ explained that the Dinaric Alps, composed of carbonate rocks, were formed after the Adria microplate plate, moving north and east, collided with the European plate and was tucked underneath. He moved his hands to display a thrusting and folding motion as if he were making an invisible crust-and-mantle Dagwood sandwich.

We walked to the summit ofÌę, strewn with patches of grass covering pocked limestone like bad teeth under an unkempt beard. We looked across the southern frontier of Slovenia, often called Little Switzerland. JeĆŸ stopped making his earthen hoagie and swung an arm, pointing in the near distance with Vanna White–like grace: “That is Croatia.”

Coming down from the mountain, we walked past World War I bunkers and tank traps built to protect the border. A mama brown bear saw us and hurried her two cubs over the next ridge. “The Via Dinarica is a perfect plan,” JeĆŸ said a few kilometers later when we reached , the next mountain hut. We ordered beer. After a mandatory discussion with the hut’s owner about which of Slovenia’s main beers is better, Union or LaĆĄko, JeĆŸ continued, “It connects places with similar geographies and different cultures. With different but also the same histories.”

After leaving JeĆŸ, we debated our next move. We had originally planned to walk across the border to Croatia, but hiking through countries with relatively new political realities is a logistical challenge. Though both Slovenia and Croatia are EU members, the latter has yet to be admitted in the Schengen Area: a border-free zone that, according to theÌę’s website, “guarantees free movement to more than 400 million EU citizens.” Rather than risk a large fine and the administrative headache of getting caught illegally crossing the border, we drove through passport control. (Croatia was admitted into the EU in 2013. Rumor is that it will be admitted into the Schengen Area in 2015.)

At around 11 p.m., after a teeth-shattering four-wheel-drive crawl that locals passionately warned us to avoid, we entered the Planinarski dom (mountain hut)Ìę. We sat with Romina Vidrih, who, with two other families, runs the hut for a mountain association that boasts 200 members. The renovated, meticulously clean hut sleeps 40 and sits in the middle of 10 peaks—all a day hike away. Though Vidrih was a seasoned hiker and had bagged many of the summits I was planning over the next two months, she had not heard of the Via Dinarica.

The next morning, we took one of the day hikes to the nearbyÌęÌępeak before setting off west toÌę, the northernmost of Croatia’s eight national parks. Designated a national park in 1953, Risnjak covers more than 24 square miles and forms a synapse between the coast and the continent. As we stared across the unmolested, undulating forested terrain, it became obvious how important protecting sensitive chunks of real estate can be, even—perhaps especially—in a small country about the size of West Virginia. The park provides habitat for more than 1,000 different plants, as well as wolves, bears, and lynx.

It’s a nine-hour hike from the ±áČčłó±ôŸ±Ä‡ through the Platak ski center, acrossÌę—a peak inside the park’s western edge—to theÌęÌęmountain hut, which sits just below the Risnjak’s highest point, the 1,528-meter (5,013 feet)Ìę. While dining on bowls of polenta-and-beef goulash, we spoke with the proprietor Gari Devčić, who was, he proudly announced, named after Gary Cooper. Every day, Gari treks in daily supplies for the hut, recognized in 2013 as Croatia’s best.

“The Via Dinarica is a fantastic idea. We will build a new Yugoslavia,” Gari said and laughed. “It will be great for mountaineering all over the region. We need many more people to come walk around the mountains for us to stay open.”

We woke at five the next morning to summit Veliki Risnjak. From the peak, we—two Bosnians, a Croatian, a Dutchman, and an American—could see the sun rising over Western Europe. Behind us, the light inched across the park and began to illuminate the coast. “It is easy to feel small, isn’t it?” Thierry asked rhetorically as he turned around to watch theÌęÌęand Croatia’s northernmost islands, Cres and Krk, take shape in the dawn mist. Behind them, our next stage: a hike from Croatia’sÌęÌętoÌę, famous for its climbing above the Adriatic Sea. “Past those waves, the mountains are waiting for us. We have a long way to go to get to Albania.”

The post A Balkan Journey: Slovenia to Croatia appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

We tapped our global network of correspondents to bring you °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’s 2012 Travel Awards: a definitive roundup of the best new adventures, exotic retreats, empty beaches, local food, bars with a view, ­on-time airlines, screaming deals, gorgeous islands, and more. This isn’t just a collection of unforgettable trips—it’s a road map to life-changing experiences.

PLUS: A list of our Hall of Fame travel destinations.

Best Islands

The Seychelles

Culebra, Puerto Rico

Culebra, Puerto Rico

Villa North Island, the Seychelles

Villa North Island, the Seychelles

There are islands with white-sand beaches all over the world, but once you’ve been to the Seychelles nothing seems to measure up. Its 115 islets lie in an end-of-the-world location 700 miles north of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean, which sets the stage of remove. Most hotels have an island to themselves, creating the illusion of a private kingdom. And the Seychelles’ clear waters host some of the greatest marine biodiversity on earth, attracting divers, bone-fishermen, sea-kayakers, and sailors. While you can certainly splurge—the pinnacle of indulgence is still North Island—there’s no need to empty your bank account. At the (from $88), a hotel with 14 rooms on a secluded beach on Mahe, only a cold beer will distract you from the vista of empty sand and sea.

RUNNER-UP
Culebra, Puerto Rico
On many Caribbean islands, $2.25 won’t even get you a cocktail, but on Puerto Rico it’ll buy a ferry ride to Culebra, a seven-by-five-mile island that feels much farther than 17 miles away. This is a slice of bygone Caribbean, with not even a hint of a big resort or cruise ship. There are a handful of seafood shacks, small pensions, and a year-round population of about 2,000 laid-back locals. Rent a room at the (doubles from $95), then wander to the harbor to hire a boatman to take you to beaches unreachable by foot. offers scuba and snorkel trips.

Best Airline

Virgin America

Leave it to Richard Branson to inject style into the business of flying with the country’s newest major airline. The lounge at the San Francisco terminal feels like the lobby of a W Hotel, and the planes have mood lighting and hip music playing as you board. With above-average on-time arrivals and departures, the airline also features onboard Wi-Fi, seat-back screens passengers can use to order meals and cocktails, and sleek entertainment systems with first-run movies, TV shows, and music videos available at a finger swipe. (The airline will debut a system with social-media connectivity later this year.) But what really surprises are the reports of stellar customer service. It’s almost as if the flight attendants are happy to work there.

RUNNER-UP
Southwest
Because of its two-free-checked-bags policy, democratic seating, decent fares, on-time arrivals and departures, good service at check-in and in the air, clean cabins, reliable baggage handling, and helpful website, almost 15,000 readers voted tops. Enough said.

Best Travel Company

Geographic Expeditions

Our criteria in this category were exhaustive. We looked at the quality of a company’s guides, the authenticity and diversity of its trips, its level of service, philanthropic credibility, safety record, and, most important, clients’ reviews and experiences. While companies like Austin-Lehman șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűs, OARS, and Wild China scored high marks, Geographic Expeditions stood above the rest. For starters, has consistently taken travelers to the most remote regions of the world, from Everest’s north side to Patagonia’s glaciers to the far reaches of Papua New Guinea. This year it’s trailblazing new terrain with a ($11,450). Guided by Vassi Koutsaftis, a 20-year vet who has led treks in Tibet, Pakistan, and Afghanistan, the journey starts on the Silk Road in China’s Kashgar and tops out at the 17,056-foot advance base camp of K2. No need to worry about getting back alive. The company’s emphasis on safety comes from the top: president Jim Sano, a former Yosemite National Park ranger and search-and-rescue team member, is an accomplished mountaineer himself. The price of every GeoEx trip includes medical assistance and evacuation coverage from Global Rescue and medical-expense insurance through Travel Guard. The company has also pioneered relationships with nonprofits and NGOs—37 and counting—like the Maasai Conservation Wilderness Trust, which draws in annual tourism revenues of $750,000, all of which goes straight back to the Masai community. But the primary reason more than half the company’s clients come back for more? Its outstanding guides—from Buddhist icon and scholar Robert Thurman, who leads meditation trips in Bhutan, to mountaineer (and șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű correspondent) Dave Hahn, the only Westerner to have summited Mount Everest 13 times, who runs the company’s expeditions to South Georgia Island in the South Atlantic Ocean.Ìę

RUNNER-UP
The Wilderness Group
In 1983, Wilderness Safaris, now known as the , was founded with a simple but novel idea: offer a superior travel experience while conserving land, wildlife, and local culture as part of its business plan. The company now runs more than 60 lodges in nine countries across Africa, from rustic tented camps in Botswana to tony desert outposts in Namibia. Proceeds from guest fees go to the Wilderness Wildlife Trust, an independent entity that puts 100 percent of its funds toward conservation work, like reintroducing endangered black and white rhinos in Botswana. But customers return for the bucket-list adventures: driving hundreds of miles over-land between Botswana’s savannas, the Kalahari sands, and the Okavango Delta—spotting elephants, rhinos, zebras, and lions along the way (from $5,400 per person for seven days)—or diving with whale sharks off a private white-sand island in the Seychelles.

Best New Frontier

Myanmar

Myanmar youth

Myanmar youth

Julian Alps, Slovenia

Julian Alps, Slovenia

Good news is starting to trickle out of Myanmar, formerly known as Burma. In August 2009, influential pro-democracy activist Aung San Suu Kyi and her party reversed their stance on tourism (it’s no longer discouraged); elections—albeit contested—were held for the first time in decades; and the long-repressive regime has begun loosing its grip. Meanwhile, the number of travelers has surged about 60 percent since 2008, and more than a dozen guide services plan to debut trips this year. Still, the place saw only 310,688 travelers in 2010. (By comparison, Nepal brought in more than 600,000.) That may be due to the ethnic conflict with the Kachin Independence Army in the northern region of Kachin. But the fighting is far from the areas of the country most travelers see. So should you go? The pro-tourism argument holds that avoiding government hotels and patronizing small businesses funnels money to locals, who need it. And the appeal is undeniable. A long-standing trade embargo with the West has insulated the country—for better or worse—from modernization. Men still wear traditional skirtlike lungis, horse carts trot dirt roads, and golden stupas and Buddhas are preserved as if in a time warp. Though independent travel is possible— has a guidebook—getting permits to trek or raft is difficult, and public transportation is poor. Asian-travel specialist Effie Fletcher, of , organizes custom trips with local guides ($100–$200 per person per day), including hiking through tiny Buddhist villages in the Shan Plateau mountains, rafting the Malikha River, shopping at a colorful floating market, soaking in hot springs, staying in monasteries few foreigners have ever seen, and visiting the 4,000-plus temples that have stood on the plains of Bagan for more than 800 years.

RUNNER-UP
Slovenia
Slovenia packs Mediterranean beaches, more than 87 hot springs, rugged peaks in the 9,000-foot Julian Alps, 6,000 miles of trails, and 40-plus ski resorts into an area about the size of New Jersey. Yet it gets a mere three million visitors a year, compared with neighboring Croatia’s 10.6 million. Our bet? Not for long. It’s easy to get to: drive 3.5 hours from Vienna or fly from a number of European cities into Ljubljana. and locals are friendly, making independent travel easy. Fish for marble trout, Europe’s second-fattest species, in the Soca River with , or explore some of the country’s 8,000 caves and mountain-bike alpine valleys with outfitter . ’ new eight-day trip ($3,299) includes kayaking the Krka River with a Slovenian Olympic medalist, biking through Swiss-like villages, and trekking to a vista above seven alpine lakes in Triglav National Park.

Best Camera

Canon PowerShot G-12

Professional photographers use as a spare. Here’s why: it shoots with the power and precision of a DSLR, fits in a breast pocket, captures 720p high-definition video in stereo sound, and sports a flip-out, adjustable viewing screen that allows for discreet composing. $500

RUNNER-UP
Nikon Coolpix P300
The big news is the ’s 1080p full-HD video, a rarity in compact point-and-shoots—especially at this price. As for still images, it’s a 12-megapixel camera in a category that usually tops out at ten. $330

Best New șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Lodge

The Singular, Patagonia, Chile

Heli-skiing Thompson Pass, Alaska

Heli-skiing Thompson Pass, Alaska

Patagonia's Torres del Paine National Park

Patagonia’s Torres del Paine National Park

owners took a 100-year-old cold-storage plant and transformed it into a luxe, minimalist 57-room hotel. The best part? It sits a few miles outside of Puerto Natales, on the shoreline overlooking the glacier-backed Fjord of Last Hope, and 70 miles southeast of Torres Del Paine National Park, making it the perfect jumping-off point for guests to get immersed in this massive landscape. The lodge offers more than 20 guided adventures, including boating up the fjord, riding with gauchos on a private reserve, and trekking to the famous Salto Grande Glacier in Torres del Paine. The hotel’s spa overlooks the moody fjord, and dinner is local Magellan lamb or king crab accompanied by any of 135 local wines. Rooms, including transfer and full board, start at $580.

RUNNER-UP
Tsaina Lodge, Alaska
Want access to 15,000 vertical feet a day and 900 annual inches of Chugach powder? now operates out of the brand-new Tsaina Lodge, a sleek 24-room building nestled at milepost 35 on Thompson Pass, 40 miles north of Valdez. Each room has huge views of white-capped peaks, the restaurant serves up fresh Alaskan seafood, and the bar sports the woodstove from the legendary old Tsaina tavern, where big-mountain riders like VHSG founder Doug Coombs used to grab a microbrew. Not a bad place to return to after a perfect powder day. Seven nights lodging, 30 guaranteed ski runs, breakfast, airport shuttles, and use of avalanche gear, $8,340.

Best Luggage

Tumi Ducati Evoluzione International Carry-On

For the past seven years, Ted Alan Stedman, our Buyer’s Guide luggage expert, has tested hundreds of bags around the world. This one is his favorite. Inspired by the Ducati 1199 Panigale motorcycle, the 35-liter corners nearly as well on its durable wheels; has a telescoping handle, a full zip-around main compartment for easy access, and large and small exterior zip pockets to keep crucial small stuff handy; and slides seamlessly into an overhead compartment. The only problem? Getting your hands on one. The Evoluzione sells out fast. $545

RUNNER-UP
Patagonia Maximum Legal Carry-On
After rigorous field testing, we know that the 45-liter is enough bag for a 14-day trip to Africa. With tuck-away straps that convert the carry-on into a backpack and no wheels to add weight, the soft-sided MLC, made of 1,200-denier recycled fabric, is ideal for rugged trips that involve flights in small planes and always fits overhead. $159

Best Eco-Lodge

Mashpi Lodge, Ecuador

First, it had to have eco cred. Just as important—location. The striking new , with windows so large you feel like you’re suspended in a cloud forest, crushes it on both fronts. It will soon run on hydropower; sources papaya, guava, fruits, and herbs from local farms for meals; and hopes to one day be an important job-provider in the region, with a goal of hiring 80 percent of its employees from surrounding communities. The lodge sits in, and will help support, 3,200 acres of mainly primary forest in one of the most under-studied cloud forests in the world. Two and a half hours northwest of Quito, at 3,116 feet on the western slope of the Andes, Mashpi is home to an estimated 500 species of birds, 36 of which can only be found here. It’s also a place where the lucky can spot an ocelot, puma, or rare cuckoo. $1,296 per person (double occupancy) for three days, two nights, and all meals and transfers.

RUNNER-UP
Kosrae Village, Micronesia
The owners of developed the Micronesian eco-lodge in 1995, before it was trendy to be sustainable. The reason: between empty beaches, wild rainforest, and ultraclear waters teeming with coral reefs, there’s a lot to protect. Visitors kayak through mangroves, hike to ancient ruins, and dive with eagle rays and sharks. Kosrae Village hired local builders to construct the collection of nine low-impact thatch-roof cottages on a small stretch of beach, all fish and produce are purchased from local farmers and fishermen, and the lodge owners started the , which is monitored by volunteer divers. From $139 per night.

Best Off-the-Beaten Path Trip

Chiapas, Mexico

Amasra, Turkey

Amasra, Turkey

Until recently, Mexico’s southernmost state was considered a backward land of masked, murderous Zapatista rebels. What gets overlooked: the region hasn’t seen violent conflict since 1994, making its mountainous landscape ripe for exploration. Chiapas isn’t even mentioned in the U.S. State Department’s Mexico travel warning. Your biggest worry here is how to fit in all the rugged wilderness— 3,300-foot cliffs for climbing near Tuxtla GutiĂ©rrez; the 13,200-foot TacanĂĄ volcano, straddling the Guatemala border; Class III whitewater on the Lacanja River, in the 818,413-acre, jaguar-populated Montes Azules Biosphere Reserve; and hiking and mountain biking on trails packed down by centuries of use by the indigenous population, many of whom have rarely seen outsiders. Fly to the city of Tuxtla GutiĂ©rrez; hop on a bus for the one-hour ride to San Cristobal de las Casas, a 16th-century colonial city sitting at 7,218 feet; base out of the centrally located (doubles, $96); and piece together your own adventure with local rafting and biking guides. rents mountain bikes in San Cristobal de las Casas ($14 per day) and offers guided six-hour bike tours of nearby Maya villages, like Chamula ($50 per day), and four-hour hiking tours of the cloud forest ($17). Heads up: Chiapas is untapped for adventure tourism, so you won’t find outfitters with the latest gear on every corner. For an excellent eight-day immersion, the offers a trip that includes visits to the seventh- and eighth-century ruins Palenque and YaxchilĂĄn, a stay at a jungle lodge on the LacantĂșn River, a visit to a biology research center in the Maya Biosphere Reserve, and time to explore San Cristobal de las Casas ($2,555 based on double occupancy).Ìę

RUNNER-UP
Central Black Sea Coast, Turkey
Turkey sees some 30 million tourists each year, but very few of them ever make it to the remote central Black Sea coast, a four-hour drive north from Ankara. Which is good for you, because the region’s mile-long beaches, empty coastline dotted with ancient cities like Amasra, and absurdly good seaside restaurants remain undiscovered. Even fewer people make it to , a pristine enclave of forests and gorges with a series of hiking trails recently crafted from ancient footpaths. English speakers are hard to come by, even in hotels. Brave it on your own or hire a seasoned Turkish guide, like Turan Kirac, who runs trips in Turkey but guides independently in this region. He’ll lead you on a custom road trip from the Ottoman-era, Unesco World Heritage town of Safranbolu, along the dramatic California-like seashore, to the ancient mountain village of Azdavay (from $120 per day; kiracturan@hotmail.com).

Best New Biking Trip

°ä±đ°ù±čĂ©±ôŽÇ Pro Travel Experience

Sierra Cascades route

Sierra Cascades route

Leave it to and Robinson and bike manufacturer to raise the bar for outfitted trips tied to races. This year they’re offering the Tour de France, among other custom tours. The difference? You’ll be on °ä±đ°ù±čĂ©±ôŽÇ R3 team bikes—and get to test a °ä±đ°ù±čĂ©±ôŽÇ S5, the cycling equivalent of a Ferrari—and cover the exact same routes as the pros do mere hours before the peloton screams by. You’ll ride in a paceline and have support from a team car and a soigneur for water refills and pre- and post-ride massages. And you’ll schmooze with pros along the way. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to the front line of race culture. After rides like the famed Col d’Aubisque on the Tour de France trip (July 14–20; $4,995), cyclists sack out in grand historic hotels, gorge on butter-heavy meals, and top it all off with a snifter of cognac.

RUNNER-UP
The Sierra Cascades Bicycle Route
When the debuted the new Sierra Cascades route in 2010, the 2,389 miles connecting Sumas, Washington, and Tecate, California, became the most challenging border-to-border road ride ever designed, with some 20 passes. The good news: its leg-pulverizing challenge is matched only by its spectacular views. Tracing the Pacific Crest Trail through a greatest hits of western scenery, riders see the volcanoes of the Cascades, groves of sequoias, Lake Tahoe, the Sierra Nevada, and beautifully desolate stretches of the Mojave Desert. Pit stops include Mount Rainier, Crater Lake, and Yosemite national parks. Riders typically use the —which include detailed directions and landmarks like campgrounds, motels, gas stations, and bike shops—to navigate the route, which takes about 50 days to complete if you average 55 miles per day. Or bite off a chunk, like the nine-day, 446-mile stretch between Mount Rainier, Washington, and Crater Lake, Oregon (map section 2), which passes through Hood River, the Columbia River Gorge, and Bend, Oregon, where the beer flows freely.

Best New Safari

Odzala-Kokoua National Park, Congo

Next month the Wilderness Group will open the first two camps in the Republic of the Congo’s , introducing travelers to a creature few people have ever witnessed in the wild: the western lowland gorilla. Rwanda has long been known as a gorilla-watching hot spot, but in Congo you’ll see few other visitors. (The peaceful country is often confused with its more tumultuous neighbor, the Democratic Republic of the Congo.) Local Mbeti trackers lead hikes through forests and savannas to observe these close evolutionary relatives foraging, socializing, and caring for young. By evening guests retire to one of two lavish camps, each with six low-impact bamboo suites. It comes at a price ($6,000 per person for a six-night safari), but the experience is singular.

RUNNER-UP
Ngoma Safari Lodge, Botswana
Because of a prescient commitment to conservation, Botswana has some of the largest concentrations of wildlife in southern Africa—herds of hundreds of elephants aren’t uncommon here. The newest addition to Botswana’s safari offerings is the luxurious community-run , which opened last spring near Chobe National Park. Each of the eight thatched suites, with atrium ceilings and canopy beds, looks over the Chobe River floodplain, which is dotted with elephants, zebra, and buffalo. From $495 per person per night, all-inclusive.

Best Beach

Mahaulepu Beach, Kauai

Catching air, Kauai

Catching air, Kauai

Ilha Grande, Brazil

Ilha Grande, Brazil

Off the coast of Ilha Grande, Brazil

Off the coast of Ilha Grande, Brazil

There are plenty of Hawaiian beaches well suited to sipping mai tais, surfing, and admiring a parade of imaginative swimwear. is not one of them. Located on the south side of Kauai, this two-mile stretch of coast is accessible only by a brain-rattling two-mile dirt road or a three-mile hike that passes by Hawaii’s biggest sinkhole cave—both of which tend to weed out the cooler-toting riffraff. The area is considered sacred by native islanders, with ancient burial sites in the dunes and water where endangered monk seals outnumber people and whales pass by in winter. Bring a sailboard, snorkel the offshore reef, or simply take in the mountains and the sea from your own private stretch of shore. The closest hotel is the in Koloatwo miles away. This is the Hawaii of centuries ago.

RUNNER-UP
Ilha Grande, Brazil
No country does beach culture better than Brazil, and Ilha Grande’s 106 white-sand ones are pristine. One hundred miles southwest of Rio and 14 miles into the Atlantic, this 75-square-mile island was once home to Brazil’s common criminals. The prison closed in 1994, and the government turned the island into a reserve. AbraĂŁo is the only town large enough to mention, and most beaches are a short hike, bike, or boat ride away. Lopes Mendes, with its empty lineup, is impossible to beat for surfers. Stay at ($135), a small guesthouse with a hammock on your own private balcony, a mere 150 feet from Praia do Canto beach, another beauty.Ìę

Best Video Camera

GoPro HD hero2 Professional

GPS

GPS

The company’s latest helmet-mountable camera has a lens that’s twice as sharp, and an image processor that’s twice as fast, as the original’s. It also has an 11-megapixel sensor, up to 1080p video resolution, and an integrated battery warmer. Users cite its excellent image and audio quality and especially its bomber waterproof housing—the can handle tumbles in snow and big waves. Available in outdoor, motorsports, and surf editions. $300

RUNNER-UP
Contour GPS
This tiny, 5.2-ounce 1080p video camera is embedded with a GPS receiver that automatically tracks your speed, location, and elevation up to four times per second. Download the app to your smartphone and you have an instant wireless handheld viewfinder. The one bummer: the Contour lacks the waterproof casing necessary for soggy outdoor pursuits, which also makes wind noise louder at higher speeds. $300

Best Weekend Escape

Vancouver, British Columbia

Mount Lemmon ride, Tucscon, arizona

Mount Lemmon ride, Tucscon, arizona

A water-fall along Vancouver's Fraser River

A water-fall along Vancouver’s Fraser River

Vancouver has 250 miles of bike lanes and paths, at least 100 North Shore mountain-bike trails spread across three mountains, 11 miles of beach, the best oysters you’ll ever slurp (at the ), and, within two hours inland, some of the best skiing, mountain biking, fly-fishing, whitewater rafting, hiking, and climbing on the planet. Not to mention the protected coves and bays for sea-kayaking Vancouver Island, just a 1.5-hour ferry hop away. BookÌęa room downtown at the 47-room (doubles, US$89–$179) and rent one of its Pashley Cruisers (US$40 per day) to tour the city. Want big mountains? Hop the train downtown for a 3.5-hour ride winding through canyons and up steep mountain grades to Whistler (round-trip from US$264). The lift-accessed has more than 4,946 vertical feet. Want watery fun? Fly-fishermen catch and release steelhead on one of the myriad Sea to Sky rivers, like the nearby Upper Cheakamus. For more water, raft the , a thrilling Class III–IV ride (from US$165 per person for a day trip). Stay at the , a classic log building on the shore of Nita Lake, less than five minutes from the Whistler train station and trailheads to world-class hiking, biking, and skiing (doubles from US$229).Ìę

RUNNER-UP
Tucson, Arizona
World-class athletes know that Tucson is an excellent place to train in winter. For one thing, it’s warm: the dry Sonoran Desert sees 84-degree highs in October and November, and temps range from 68 to 99 February through June. Base out of the (doubles, $299), then start exploring. There are more than 500 miles of premier road biking nearby, and desert singletrack radiates in every direction, including the 16-mile Molino Milagrosa Loop east of the city, which climbs up the side of Mount Lemmon. Hikers can choose from more than 165 miles of trails in nearby Saguaro National Park.Ìę

Best AprĂšs-șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Bar

Montanya Distillers, Crested Butte, Colorado

, which opened a rum distillery and tasting room in Crested Butte in November, has notably upped the standard for ski-town cocktails. They craft their Platino and Oro rums from spring water, Hawaiian sugarcane, and local honey, and have snagged an impressive amount of gold hardware at spirits competitions in the past three years. Order the Freestyle (lemon juice, basil leaves, clove syrup, pineapple, and Oro, with a turbinado-sugar rim) or the Teocalli Martini (lime, mint, cucumber-infused Platino rum, and honey-lavender syrup) at an antique bar under the 40-foot ceilings of a former powerhouse that has hosted mountain folk for over a century.

RUNNER-UP
The Rhum Bar, Beaufort, North Carolina
At the Rhum Bar, at the , it’s all about the waterfront deck, which is perched over the Beaufort Inlet. The bartender whips up an awesome mojito—then kick back for killer sunset views. Come by car or boat.

Best Deal

șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Camping Safaris in Kenya

Skogafoss waterfall, Iceland

Skogafoss waterfall, Iceland

Hiking north of Reykjavik

Hiking north of Reykjavik

Gamewatchers Safaris’ new six-night have all the trappings of an expensive tour—highly trained guides, Land Cruisers, chef-cooked meals—with two notable differences. Instead of swanky lodges, guests stay in simple Coleman tents (patrolled by armed watchmen at night), and instead of paying up to $4,200, clients pay $1,550. See the rare African wildcat and gerenuk, a long-necked antelope, in the Selenkay Conservancy, and watch a pride of 25 lions on the hunt in the Ol Kinyei Conservancy in the Masai Mara. Come evening, sit next to a campfire and watch the sun set behind Mount Kilimanjaro.

RUNNER-UP
Iceland
If there’s a silver lining to the 2008 implosion of Iceland’s banking system and the devaluation of the krona, it’s that the famously expensive country is now vastly more affordable for travelers—prices are down as much as 40 percent. Rent a car in ReykjavĂ­k and circumnavigate the island on the 830-mile Ring Road, stopping to dive the ultraclear Silfra Ravine between continental plates; hike over glacier-carved valleys to hot springs and waterfalls in the Skaftafell area of Vatnojökull National Park; ; ; or fish for salmon on the newly opened ($4,000 for seven days).

Best Himalayan Trip

Trekking the Tsum Valley

Most trekkers don’t stray far from Nepal’s obvious routes, like the Annapurna Circuit and Everest Base Camp, which might explain why the Tsum Valley, a remote north-central region nine hours by bus from Kathmandu that opened in 2008, sees fewer than 500 travelers annually. That could change quickly as word trickles out about a region where women spin wool by hand, men in Tibetan hats ride jangling horses on centuries-old paths, and many households still brew homemade raksi, a local moonshine. You need a permit to trek on your own here, and local guides and porters can be found at . Or go with ’s new 27-day trip and trek with a local lama through valleys dotted with monasteries and surrounded by 18,000-foot peaks (Nov. 6–Dec. 2; $4,900). ’s Tsum Valley Research Trek is another good option, a 21-day trip that passes hot springs, peaks, waterfalls, and hamlets (Oct. 7–27; from $2,495).

RUNNER-UP
Mountain-Bike the Himalayas
This year, introduces a novelty: a 25-day Himalayan mountain-bike expedition between Lhasa, Tibet, and Kathmandu (May 6–30; $4,890). Riders cover as much as 56 miles per day on remote four-wheel-drive roads and singletrack under the shadows of the tallest peaks on earth, including a three-day side trip to Tibet’s Everest Base Camp to see the North Face of the famed mountain. Camp and stay in guesthouses in tiny, seldom-visited Buddhist villages, ascend three passes over 16,000 feet, and top it off with a screaming 11,000-foot descent from the Tibetan Plateau to Kathmandu.

Best New șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Hub

Lake Wanaka, New Zealand

Paddling Vallecito Creek, Durango, Colorado

Paddling Vallecito Creek, Durango, Colorado

When tourists in New Zealand want adventure, they go to Queenstown. When Kiwis want to escape, they head an hour north to tiny Lake Wanaka, a town of 5,037 right next to Mount Aspiring National Park that’s emerging as the country’s Jackson, Wyoming. Lake Wanaka is surrounded by the Crown Range and the Southern Alps, and sits on the shore of New Zealand’s fourth-largest lake. There are two ski resorts, Treble Cone and Cardrona, roughly 20 miles away; more than 20 mountain-bike trails in Sticky Forest, five minutes north of town; endless mountainous road cycling; and 74-square-mile Lake Wanaka for sea kayaking, sailing, fishing, and swimming. The (doubles, $143), just a few hundred feet from Lake Wanaka, has an alpine-lodge feel and is an easy walk to town. Or splurge at the (doubles from $1,158), an elegant lodge on the edge of Mount Aspiring National Park that offers everything from backcountry heli-skiing to fly-fishing. Cyclists: sign on to ’s eight-day Zone ($2,999), a challenging trip that starts in Christchurch and crosses the South Island’s two major passes: 3,018-foot Arthur’s and 1,850-foot Haast. The last two days, you’ll bike the 40 miles from Wanaka to Queenstown.Ìę

RUNNER-UP
Durango, Colorado
Durango an adventure-sports capital? Go in April and you’ll see why. Within an hour of town, you can ski spring corn, nordic-ski around an alpine lake, kayak the Animas River, catch fat trout, hike a thirteener, ride 10,000-foot passes on a dizzy-making scenic byway, and mountain-bike blue-ribbon singletrack. Packed with college students and young transplants, the populace is uniquely devoted to the pursuit of fun, which might explain the four microbreweries and outsize nightlife for a town of 16,000 three hours from an interstate. Stay at the , a historic hotel that has a full breakfast and free cruiser bikes for guests (from $129). Large groups can base-camp at , a downtown vacation rental with a hot tub, views of the mountains, and singletrack right out the back door (from $1,400 per week for up to ten).

Did we mention the 300-plus days of sunshine?

Best Travel Investment

Travel Guard

More than 1,200 travel companies sell insurance to their clients. Here’s why: the insurer, which has been in business for more than 25 years, has a base policy that includes vacation and trip cancellation, travel interruption and delay, emergency medical and health expenses, lost baggage, and more. It also offers two important add-ons: hazardous-sports protection of up to $25,000, with coverage of injuries incurred while high-altitude trekking or bungee jumping, among other pursuits; and evacuation coverage of up to $1 million. Policy costs vary depending on age and the length and price of the trip, but are far less than chartering a helicopter should things go drastically wrong.

RUNNER-UP
Global Rescue
The official emergency-response service for the U.S. ski and snowboard teams and the American Alpine Club, has saved a woman gored by a Cape buffalo in Africa and climbers caught in a violent miner’s strike in Indonesia. Its medics are largely military-trained former Special Forces, and they’re like having a Navy SEAL team at your disposal. They’ll not only get you out of danger, but they’ll also deposit you at the hospital of your choice (wherever that may be). Individual memberships, $329 per year for medical only and $655 with security.

Best New Hotel

Treehotel, Sweden

A room at Sweden's Treehotel

A room at Sweden’s Treehotel

A room at Sweden's Treehotel

A room at Sweden’s Treehotel

A lot of great hotels have opened in the past couple of years, but we have a thing for treehouses. ’s five surreal “rooms” sit as high as 18 feet off the ground in a 100-year-old pine forest with views of the Lule River near the village of Harads (pop. 600), roughly 600 miles north of Stockholm. Choose from a flying saucer, a mirrored cube, a bird’s nest with a retractable staircase, the Blue Cone (which is actually red), and a futuristic “cabin” with a rooftop deck that looks as if it’s floating in the canopy. Then there’s the Tree Sauna, a traditional wood-fired Swedish steam room with a hot tub out the door. Guests eat in the 1950s-era Britta’s Pensionat, a five-minute walk away, or order “tree service.” Doubles from $590 per night.

RUNNER-UP
Washington School House, Park City, Utah
Park City is a mecca for winter fun, with average annual snowfall of 360 inches. But few know that come summer, the crowds thin and the locals have excellent mountain biking and hiking on more than 150 miles of Wasatch trails practically to themselves. The , an 1889 National Historic Registry icon just two blocks from the town lift, is in the center of it all. Last summer the building was gutted, and it reopened in December with 12 spacious rooms and suites, a fireside lounge, a private chef, and a heated pool and spa terraced into the hillside out back, making it difficult to motivate for a ride but all the sweeter when you return. Doubles from $400 per night.

Best Surf Trip

From Cape Town to Durban, South Africa

The stunning 1,000-mile coastal drive between Cape Town and Durban offers more consistently uncrowded waves than anywhere else in the world. Why? Southern Ocean storms produce southwest waves that start as raw, monster swells in spots like Dungeons and Sunset Reef near Cape Town, then mellow out along the coast at Mossel and Victoria Bays, ultimately feeding one of the best right-hand point breaks in the world at Jeffrey’s Bay, 423 miles east of Cape Town. Past Jeffrey’s Bay, there are ridiculously empty spots, like Seal Point and East London, all the way to Durban. Rent a VW bus in Cape Town through (standard two-berth bus from $80 per day), which will drop off the vehicle at the airport, then check in at on Big Bay for surf reports, shark reports (attacks are a real threat in places), and last-minute necessities. Before hitting the coast-hugging N2 Highway, have a beer on the Bikini Deck at the Brass Bell and watch surfers take on sketchy Kalk Bay Reef. Then stop wherever the waves look good. Roughly halfway up the coast at Jeffrey’s Bay, take a break from the van and rent a room at the , a surfer’s hangout that overlooks the famed Supertubes and offers B&B rooms, self-catering digs, or an entire house (from $54 per person per night including breakfast). Splurge at die Walskipper for some of the best seafood in South Africa. In the unlikely event that you hit a bad day—hey, you’re in South Africa. Go see the Big Five.Ìę

RUNNER-UP
Pavones, Costa Rica
Pavones’s location—far down Costa Rica’s Pacific coast, a jostling two-hour drive from the nearest airstrip—keeps its waves uncrowded. Services in town are limited to a couple of mini-marts, a handful of guesthouses, a beach bar, and one glorious half-mile-long left surf break called Rio Claro. Though most surfers come between March and September, when South Pacific storms bring swells across the ocean, it’s rare that the surf falls below waist-high at Rio Claro or the half-dozen other point breaks in the area. Rent one of four artfully simple stucco cabinas at ($25–$35 per person), run by a laid-back American surfer and his Costa Rican wife, who offer lessons on blissfully empty breaks.

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The best travel tools to get your trip dialed

Twitter Feed:
George Hobica, the founder of Airfarewatchdog, has by-the-minute scoops on fare sales, tips for maximizing frequent-flier miles, and hints for sleuthing airfare deals.Ìę

Travel App:
Tell Localscope your need, from an ATM to a beer, and the magic app will search Google, Twitter, Facebook, Bing, YouTube, and other social media to turn up the best options and map them in seconds. $2

Outdoor App:
Accuterra Unlimited downloads detailed topo maps of five million square miles of recreational terrain in the continental U.S. and Hawaii. It also triangulates your location with cell service, all at a fraction of the cost of a map-loaded GPS. $30

Voluntourism Vetter:
The problem with voluntourism trips: you don’t know how effective they are. GoVoluntouring painstakingly vets and catalogs effective and ethical trips from a variety of outfitters.

Travel Site:
Local Guiding connects far-flung travelers with guides around the world. Most are licensed, some are private citizens, and the majority have been rated and reviewed by the site’s users. The result: authentic travel experiences at prices that are usually cheaper than those charged by big companies.

The post The 2012 șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Travel Awards appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

On November 10, Slovenian alpinist Tomaz Humar died while attempting a solo ascent of Nepal’s 23,711-foot Langtang Lirung. To his supporters, he was a folk hero and an alpinist with unique vision. To his critics, who found him reckless and cavalier, Humar’s death came as no surprise. On an expedition to Annapurna in 1995, he made a name for himself by disobeying the team leader’s orders to retreat and tagging the summit alone. The next spring he was back in Nepal, establishing a new route on Ama Dablam. It won him mountaineering’s highest award, the Piolet d’Or. Yet even as his legend grew, so did his flair for controversy. In 1997, he and Janez Jeglic climbed the west face of Nuptse. Jeglic disappeared from the summit; Humar barely made it down. In 1999, he self-extracted an inflamed tooth after summiting Dhaulagiri. And in 2005, he came under fire after getting stranded during a solo attempt on Pakistan’s Nanga Parbat and blogging while he waited for a daring heli-rescue.

In November, though, rescuers couldn’t reach him in time. (He’d fallen and likely broken his back.) The Tomaz I remember was always full of life eyes wide open and a trademark handshake that felt like a vise. It’s been said that if you have to ask an alpinist “Why?” you wouldn’t understand the answer. As a climber, I’ve quit asking that question, because I don’t want to know the answer. Each year, another member leaves the tribe, and I miss each one of them.

The post In Memoriam: Tomaz Humar appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Well, I thought the Man Who Swam the Amazon was stripping down to nothing. So despite the throngs of people strolling beside Lake Bled, in northwestern Slovenia, I followed suit, hurriedly ripping off shirt and jeans to catch up. It was only after he silently handed me a towel to finish my costume change more modestly that I realized my error. Ever prepared, the world's greatest endurance swimmer had been wearing a Speedo underneath his khakis all along.

Martin Strel

Emerging from the Serpentine, in London's Hyde Park: “Mind is power, believe me,” Strel says. “Fat is power too”

Martin Strel

Swimming in the rain: Day 41 of Strel's 2007 Amazon Expedition

Ìę

I should have known. This was, after all, , the man who, at age 55, has never seen a body of water he didn't want to swim. In 2000, he established his first long-distance-swimming world record by descending the 1,867-mile Danube River in 58 days; in 2002, he swam all 2,350 miles of the mighty Mississippi in 68 days; in 2004, he slogged 2,487 miles down the vile Yangtze in 51 days; and in 2007, he conquered 3,274 miles of the 4,000-mile Amazon, the world's second-longest river, in 66. I'd naturally assumed that a guy who'd spent much of the past decade in a dripping banana hammock wouldn't think twice about disrobing in public. But apparently skinny-dipping in one of his country's most popular tourist sites was out of the question.

A quick glance confirmed that Strel was still the world's heaviest elite endurance swimmer, all barrel chest and belly. The proud, famous tummy jiggled and bounced—one, two, three times—as we jumped in together. The glacial lake's unexpectedly warm waters felt good, and I smiled with anticipation as we placed our first strokes together: Martin Strel and me, embarking on an epic journey! But moments later, as we stopped to adjust our goggles, he pointed out a not-so-distant float as our destination.

I had been hoping for something a bit longer. Strel usually trains five hours a day, and as a lifelong competitive swimmer I was expecting to understand the man by the way he swam. It turned out, though, he wasn't training. He was mostly swimming to promote the documentary of his Amazon swim, Big River Man, which wowed audiences at Sundance and the rest of the film-festival circuit, and premieres January 9 on Discovery's Planet Green. The week before I arrived, Strel was swimming and speaking in Norway; the day after I left, he was inspiring them on the Thames; and a week later, he was in Texas answering the age-old big-belly-man question: over or under the Speedo?

But Strel didn't disappoint me. O Homem Peixe (“the Fish Man”), as the Brazilians worshipfully call him, eventually emerged in full force. Strel has a natural, rolling stroke that recruits his entire body for each long pull through the water. It's the kind of stroke one might employ to be the first person to swim all the way from Africa to Europe—which he was, in 1997. The farther we swam, the more his hips gracefully rolled from side to side, driving him forward with ease.

“You cannot do fancy high-elbow swimming for 50 miles, Hodding,” Strel said, in the way one might tell a five-year-old that, no, his umbrella wouldn't break the fall from a two-story roof. “Swimming the Amazon. It wasn't the hard part. Not about technique. It was about staying alive. You must be different when staying with the animals so long. You have to change your mind. You have to be part of jungle.”

This is the kind of unorthodox mind-set that allows one man to swim the earth's longest rivers while someone like me splashes around in a pool. A light wind rippled across Lake Bled, bringing with it a slight chill, so we headed back. As we neared the shore, gray-haired Strel sped ahead, ostensibly to be the first to touch land.

“I SWIM FOR PEACE, friendship, and clean water,” Strel likes to tell people, and, while that's not the entire story, it's all true. Strel wants to save the world, by swimming it.

In the beginning, though, he swam to escape his father. Young Martin was a normal child growing up in Mokronog, a small town 40 miles outside the Slovenian capital of Ljubljana, then part of Yugoslavia. He broke rules, things, and body parts (like his nose, when another kid sucker-punched him), and his father beat him for it. Strel would run away whenever he could; he slept in the family barn so frequently that his mother took to leaving food and clothes in it. One day, Strel says, his father was chasing him when a stream cut off his escape. He jumped in and, with Dad pursuing on foot, ended up swimming for miles. It was his first long-distance race. He also learned a very valuable lesson: Swim downstream.

Strel's childhood is full of fabulous tales like that. He learned to swim, he says, in a pool he made by damming the Mirna River, not far from his home. Evidently he did a good job, because when he was ten a troop of soldiers decided to race one another in his river-made pool. The winner got a crate of beer. Strel joined in and, although he was half their size and age, won the race, leaving with the beer. He's been swimming and drinking, the story goes, ever since.

Strel escaped to Ljubljana as a teen, working an assortment of odd jobs, including paper boy, mechanic, and bricklayer. It wasn't until he was 24, on vacation on the Adriatic after graduating from the music academy where he learned to teach flamenco guitar, that Strel began to fulfill his aquatic destiny. He was swimming long stretches along the crowded seawall, day after day, when one afternoon a man called him over. What followed was like a scene out of Hollywood, only one that would never happen in the U.S.

“You could be a good swimmer, maybe,” the man said. He was the Yugoslavian national long-distance-swimming coach. “You train every day?”

“No,” Strel responded.

“You want to be a professional marathon swimmer? Race in lakes and oceans around the world?”

“Yes.”

This was in 1978. Strel signed the requisite papers that day and, less than three months later, completed his first 20-mile race. From that day on, aside from a one-year stint in the Yugoslavian army—from which he went AWOL 42 times but was usually let off, he says, thanks to his swimming and because he agreed to teach his superiors to solve a Rubik's Cube in less than a minute (Martin's best is 46 seconds)—Strel has been a professional swimmer and guitar instructor, with a sideline in gambling on sleepless nights. He got married (he and his wife, Nusa, an architect, are now separated) and had two children: Borut, 28, who lives near his father in Ljubljana and serves as his project manager, publicist, and head cheerleader, and Nina, 24, a student in Monte Carlo.

Strel performed well enough on the race circuit to maintain a comfortable lifestyle. But open-water swimming is an invisible sport, and Strel wasn't the best. So in 1992, a year after Slovenia seceded from Yugoslavia, Strel left racing behind and swam the 63-mile-long Krka River in 28 hours, nonstop. It was a cold, miserable ordeal, but he emerged with a mission: to swim the longest distances ever while saving the planet on the side. His M.O. has been the same ever since: Spot a river on the map, gather sponsors, plan the expedition, swim. Repeat.

LOOKING BACK, BORUT says that perhaps Martin had grown weary of his obscurity in an obscure sport. Strel himself cites the environmental concerns he'd developed over more than a decade of swimming in dirty water. Either way, he attacked his mission with relish. He tackled the Kupa, which forms part of Slovenia's boundary with Croatia, in 1993, and has since swum every river the young nation has to offer except one. His first foray outside his country's borders, his 1,867-mile descent of the Danube in 2000, set the world record for distance. The next year Strel went back to the Danube and set the record for nonstop swimming, covering 313 miles in 84 hours.

When I asked if he slept on his back during this swim, perhaps kicking to maintain his momentum, he laughed and explained, “No, no. Not possible. I slept only when doing the crawl—only way. First night, no sleep. Second night, slept five, six times, less than ten minutes total. Third night—again, ten minutes, maybe. This shows how strong mind is. Mind is power, believe me. Fat is power, too. You wouldn't last one week on the Amazon.”

It's hard to overestimate the physical toll Strel's swims take on his body. It's not just the actual swimming, which is plenty grueling, but the isolation and the environment. He celebrated the end of his swim down the Mississippi—which flows so thick with agricultural runoff and heavy metals that it has created a more than 5,000-square-mile dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico—with a three-day stay in the hospital. On the Yangtze, Strel told me, doctors gave him daily transfusions of new, clean blood for the last ten days. “The Yangtze almost killed me,” he said. “Too much dangers and chemicals. Almost destroyed liver. It was black by end of swim. I swim next to dead bodies—human bodies—every day. Men facedown, women breast up. Many dead bodies.”

The Amazon too claimed its pound of flesh—42 pounds, actually. As the mileage piled up and momentum grew and thousands of fans in Slovenia, Brazil, and around the world tracked his daily progress, Strel lost both his strength and his mind. In the final weeks, Borut, in addition to running the expedition, dealing with the global media, and translating for his dad, had to feed Martin his meals and carry him to and from the water.

“It was like taking care of a baby,” Borut says in the film. “Except the baby is your father, swimming the Amazon.”

HANGING OUT with Strel, I could quickly feel in my bloated belly exactly how he puts that lost river weight back on. My wife, Lisa, and I were tagging along for a day in the life, which included the presence of ever-mindful Borut as we drove all over New Jersey–size Slovenia in Martin's sponsored Mazda 6. Borut is Martin's Everything Man and, indicative of their close working relationship, calls his father by his first name. We ate and ate and ate—and drank and drank and drank. Strel fervently believes not only in being overweight but also in the replenishing power of the vine. On his swims, he drinks two bottles of wine, made from his own grapes, every day—and even more when he's home on dry land. Soon enough, I lost count.

First stop was a lakeside cafĂ© for aprĂšs-swim cappuccinos and hot chocolate. Strel is a star in his native Slovenia. Women of a certain age blush and giggle at the mere mention of his name. He is a heroic national treasure, sought after for endorsements and advice. He judges national beauty contests. Appears in Slovenian movies. Meets with heads of state. Basically he can do whatever he wants: Swim and sauna free at the country's biggest pool complex. Double-park in front of swanky hotels. And dine and dash—as I discovered when he walked out on the tab. Not understanding Slovenian, I had assumed that either Martin or Borut had beaten me to the check when we abruptly left.

“They know me there,” Strel said later, explaining to his concerned son. “Not possible to pay. Besides, we swam. We put on a show. The people, they stopped to watch. Good for business.” I hadn't noticed anyone so entranced, but then, I'd been watching Strel.

This is the Strel that shows up in the first few minutes of Big River Man. Producer and director John Maringouin—the director of Running Stumbled, a 2006 indie documentary about his drug-addicted father—starts off with a feint: a funny intro painting Strel as a friendly Slovenian Borat. We see Strel flub his lines, drive drunk, steal bread from a U.S. embassy function, ride a kids' water slide, and strut around Hollywood in the ever-present Speedo—until February 1, 2007, day one of the Amazon swim. Then the movie turns furiously dark and the real Martin Strel—the man who sacrifices his entire being and sanity to win records and bring attention to the earth's filthiest rivers—takes over.

It's a huge, choreographed undertaking, swimming the world's largest river. There was a mother ship that housed the cooks, guides, boat crew, guards (due to death threats, drug runners, and pirates), medical team, and assorted local reporters. Then there was the camera boat for Maringouin's film crew and the much smaller pilot boat that served as Strel's link to the world during his ten-hour, 50-mile daily swims. Strel's trusted guide was Matt Mohlke, a 35-year-old country-club bartender from Fountain City, Wisconsin, who was one of the safety boaters when Strel swam the Mississippi. Mohlke—who wrote his own lively account of the expedition, The Man Who Swam the Amazon—was the other half of Strel's psyche on the river, tasked with the job of feeding him, keeping the piranhas away, and, most important, finding the current. While previous swims might have included Borut, a river captain, and maybe somebody like Mohlke to help find the good water, the Amazon was a full-blown Fitzcarraldo-esque production, costing $1 million and powered by a crew of 20 or more.

This put even more pressure on Strel. Unable to land a solo sponsor, the Strels had cobbled together more than a dozen, many of which could be seen on his wetsuit. Half of the budget came in the form of material and technological support from outfits like the Peruvian navy and the Slovenian armed forces. Father and son have an undisclosed percentage in the film, but everybody's livelihood, to some degree, depended on Strel's swim—the longer and farther he could go, the longer they'd be employed. The combined psychic and physical stress was enough that at one point Strel and Mohlke disappeared from a mid-expedition fete, only to be found more than a day later and dozens of miles downstream, naked, muttering to themselves, and staring into the roots of an overturned tree.

Unlike those of the Yangtze or the Mississippi, the Amazon's threats were of a more natural variety. The river is home to piranhas, electric eels, and candiru, those terrifying barbed fish that can swim up a urine trail into your penis. But the world's most dangerous river's critters left Strel alone. This was because, he believes, he paid them proper respect. Before he dipped a toe into the Amazon, Strel met with elders and shamans, asking for their permission to swim sacred sections of the river. For his animal diplomacy, he touched a crocodile and held a 100-pound anaconda. He talked aloud to the Amazon's animals throughout the swim and was escorted nearly every day by a cadre of the river's endangered pink dolphins.

But Strel didn't escape unscathed. The sun blistered his skin until he had to swim all day in a homemade mask that made him look like a drenched Klansman. The heat brought on dehydration (not helped by his insistence on maintaining his daily wine intake) that contributed to his life-threatening elevated blood pressure. Microscopic parasites attacked him subcutaneously, driving him to clamp jumper cables to his soaking-wet head in a misguided effort to zap them out of his brain. By then, his doctor had made him sign a waiver admitting that he'd continued to swim against her advice.

Why did he press on? Any normal person would have stopped a thousand miles back. Mohlke attributed Strel's dogged perseverance to unsettled issues with his abusive father. I wanted to ask Maringouin, but he never responded to my questions. For Borut, the answer was simple. “The rainforest was not the number-one reason for him to swim the Amazon,” he told me. “It was about Martin himself—to prove who he is and what he can do. 'This is who I am. I did it first. I put my life on the edge.'”

DRIVING AROUND Slovenia, past the surprisingly metropolitan city of Ljubljana and into the nearby countryside, we continued to replenish body and soul. At a butcher shop/bar/restaurant near Strel's boyhood home in Mokronog, we downed heaping plates of roasted pork, vegetables, and bread. Two bottles of cvicek—the light, vinegary local red wine—helped wash it all down.

The feast then moved to the Strel family homestead, a scattering of Swiss-chalet-style buildings surrounded by rolling hills and small vineyards. It's here that Strel retreats to recover from his swims. The farm felt especially ancient to us Americans—with a roughly 1,000-year-old shrine to a woman who gave birth on her pilgrimage to Rome—and it was immediately clear why it restores him.

The surrounding quiet enveloped us, and we ate pears canned from Strel's own trees and drank bottles of his own cvicek, the label heralding Strel and his Amazon swim. He played his flamenco guitar and talked about previous swims. He stayed tight-lipped about any future conquests, only hinting with a broad smile that it was going to be big.

Lulled by the quiet, the wine, and our endlessly fascinating discussion of all things aquatic (those of us engaged in marginal sports love moments like these), I was under Strel's spell, pushing aside some nagging concerns, like the strange numbers he'd shown me beside Lake Bled. After our swim, he'd taped two white patches to his chest. They looked like hastily prepared bandages, and when I asked about them, Borut quickly looked away. Strel, however, excitedly peeled them from his chest and turned them over, revealing a series of digits. “These were given for me to wear by my doctor—a very famous scientist,” he said. “He chooses these numbers for me. If you wear these numbers, you cannot get cancer. It is impossible.”

Strel had other health tips. The prodigious amounts of wine were necessary, he explained, since wine “helps diabetes, dissolves harmful substances in digestive tract, gallbladder, kidneys.” This I could buy: Hadn't many modern scientists toasted wine's cardiovascular benefits? But he lost me when, as we ate sliced tomatoes just picked from his garden, he brought out a special drinking glass embedded with “information and energy” that can both repel and cure cancer and other illnesses. When he kept insisting that “information” was built into the attractive blue glasses, even Borut raised an eyebrow.

We learned more about these special properties the next day, when we set off to meet Strel's physician, biotherapist Vili Poznik, at his home and clinic outside Ljubljana. Regrettably, we couldn't ask Poznik what a biotherapist is because, although the doctor's specialty is harnessing cosmic energy capable of warding off illnesses even modern medicine has failed to tame, he was in the hospital with an upset stomach. But his daughter, Mojca, gave us a quick tour.

The clinic's rooms overflowed with Seussian machines, all humming with comforting activity. These, I later learned, were inspired by earlier devices called orgone energy accumulators, invented by Wilhelm Reich, a colleague of Sigmund Freud. Before he went to jail in 1956 for disobeying a court order against the distribution of his machinery, Reich had allegedly discovered this cosmic energy, which he named orgone, and built machines to transmit it to his patients as they sat in specially built chambers, fighting cancer and improving their “orgiastic potency.”

When we returned to the car, my wife asked Strel again how it all worked. We had drunk some bottled water being sold by the Pozniks—a product Strel is hoping to market in the U.S. It had tasted like chlorine and had special numbers stamped on its label.

“But how does the information get in the glass?” Lisa asked. “How is it captured?”

Strel had grown weary of our ignorance. “You are a simple woman, Lisa,” he said. “It would take days to explain this to you. It is not possible.”

SO, YES, MARTIN STREL can be an ass. And, yes, I found plenty of his countrymen, especially among the younger set, who were sick of seeing him touted as Mr. Slovenia and embarrassed by his drinking. The nation, after all, has one of the highest alcoholism rates in Europe. They even call him Plavni Les—Slovenian for “Driftwood.”

And yet, when you really look at Strel's feats and the waters in which he's immersed himself, you're left with the fact that he alone has put himself in harm's way, again and again. The Yangtze, littered with rotting bodies and dying species, is one of the most polluted rivers in the world. He swam it for 51 days, ten hours a day. He did the same for the toxic Mississippi. And then we have the Amazon. I don't care how great a swimmer you are or how much of a jerk he might be; anybody has to look on those 66 days with awe and respect.

Somewhere thousands of miles downstream, thanks to Strel's real suffering and Maringouin's useful juxtaposition of his journey into despair with images of a destroyed rainforest, the Fish Man becomes King Lear, blind in the storm but finally able to see. He swims on—despite all attempts to stop him—to save the river. This is what he does, who he is, and his insistence on continuing despite being struck mute, unable to feed himself or even walk, is the only chance he and the river have.

It's difficult to gauge Strel's impact on the waters he's out to save. Raised awareness is not, after all, a measurable commodity. The Amazon swim didn't get a lot of mainstream coverage in the U.S., so we didn't see the adoring crowds cheering him down the Amazon, from village to town to city, for thousands of miles. We didn't see the swelling interest around the world when his attempt went from joke of the week to triumph of the spirit. We weren't constantly reminded that the rainforest needed our help by a solitary, ungainly man doing the impossible, living where all had bet that he would die, inching inexorably closer to the mouth of the Amazon.

But everyone in Slovenia was. And thanks to frequent updates on BBC TV and other media outlets, most of Europe knew about Martin Strel.

So when I heard that Norway had recently committed $500,000 a year to rainforest preservation, I had to wonder. A highly placed official in Norway's foreign ministry denies any connection, of course, saying that the swim “has had no effect on the Norwegian decision.” For many months, however, Strel was the rainforest zeitgeist. His swim was on Norwegian television, in their papers, and he's been front-page news there, swimming Norway's fjords. They saw what we in America missed: Martin suffered, the forest suffered. The forest suffered, Martin suffered.

Norway is helping save the rainforest. Martin Strel got them to do it.

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