If it weren’t for travel, Margie Goldsmith, age 80, says she would have died at least three times by now. Ten years ago, the globe-trotting author and travel writer endured a risky surgery for pancreatic cancer. Two years later, the cancer returned. A few years after that, Goldsmith was diagnosed with lung cancer. She survived it all, she is sure, because she’s been a world traveler for 50 years.

You’ll be forgiven if you’re a little skeptical. After all, globetrotting isn’t often a prescription for the ill or infirm. But recent research suggests that travel and tourism could have powerful impacts on your health and even longevity.

How Travel Helps to Slow Aging

According to a this fall by Fengli Hu, a PhD candidate at Edith Cowen University in Perth, Australia, travel could be a powerful tool for slowing down the aging process. Hu’s main theory is fairly straightforward: Many of the lifestyle practices medical and mental-health experts endorse—like social engagement, appreciating nature, walking, and learning new things—are intrinsic to travel.

But the novelty of Hu’s research is that it creates a foundation for thinking about travel in terms of entropy. Travel, she writes, is a way to maintain a “low-entropy state”—in other words, a state of optimal health and efficient bodily function. Since she published the paper, dozens of media outlets have covered her work.

In a video call with șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű, Hu says she didn’t expect so much attention, especially given that the research is only theoretical at this point. She’s just begun to set up the related experiments, which will be completed in 2025. But the interest makes sense.

She says, “Many people are looking for a way to keep young and healthy, and travel can be a cost-effective way to improve their physical and mental health and slow down the aging process.” It’s cost effective, she says, because folks don’t necessarily have to travel to pricey, far-flung locations to experience the benefits.

The theory of entropy comes from physics; it refers to the natural tendency of systems to move from a state of organization and order to one of chaos and disorder. Entropy has also been used as a framework for thinking about aging and disease. When you’re young and healthy, your internal systems run smoothly. That’s order. As you age, cellular mutations and dysfunctions proliferate. That’s disorder—a high-entropy state.

Entropy almost always moves in one direction, Hu says, “but can be mitigated or slowed down with certain measures.” Being a tourist, she says, may be one.

Travel—that is, relaxing, leisure-focused travel—has the power to reduce stress, it encourages exercise, and it forces you to meet and socialize with new people. All of that keeps you sharp and optimizes your body’s performance and efficiency. As a result, Hu says, it could help you stave off physical and mental decline and potentially live longer.

How Travel Relieves Stress

Goldsmith started traveling when she was 32, in the wake of a nasty divorce. She needed something to pull her out of depression, and she’d always wanted to go to the Galapagos. So, she went.

“They say you can move a muscle, change a thought,” Goldsmith says. “Well, it turns out you can also move your location and change a thought.”

The change was exhilarating. Since then, Goldsmith has traveled to 149 countries. Travel has made her a more generous, compassionate person, she says. It’s also made her more resilient.

“I look at people my age, and they look like my grandmother,” she says. “They’re bent over with arthritis and they’re not moving. That will never be me. Travel gives you a more active life, a bigger life. It will keep you young.”

So far, experimental studies seem to support both Goldsmith’s experience and Hu’s research. One of the best-known is the Helsinki Businessman Study, a 50-year experiment involving more than 1,200 Finnish participants who filled out lifestyle and habit questionnaires between the 1960s and 2010s. In a , Timo Strandberg, MD, PhD, found a strong correlation between vacation time and longevity.

Participants in the intervention group—600-plus men who were given a strict health-and-nutrition regimen during the early years of the study—had a 37 percent higher chance of dying before their mid-70s, if they took fewer than three weeks of vacation per year. Those who took more than three weeks of vacation per year lived longer. Why?

“These men who had less vacation were more psychologically vulnerable to stress,” Strandberg said in a video call with șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű. That stress included participants’ family and work obligations, as well as the added pressure to stick to a structured health-and-fitness regime. Taking more vacation seemed to benefit participants in the intervention group, likely by keeping their stress in check, Strandberg says.

Surprisingly, the amount of vacation time participants took seemed to have no correlation to longevity in the control group—those who weren’t given a health and fitness routine to stick to. The upshot? Giving yourself extra rules and routines can be stressful, no matter the intention. And the more stress, obligations, and prescribed regimens you have in your life, the more critical vacations may be. (Fitness fanatics, we’re looking at you.)

The Case for More Frequent VacationsÌę

Stress of any kind can have cumulative negative effects.

“One theory is that your acute stress—which can be good and healthy and help you avoid danger and so on—can turn into chronic stress,” Strandberg said. “Then that will show up in biological terms and in different markers in the body.” A vacation has the potential to act as a reset, chipping away at your total stress load and bringing it back down to healthy levels.

Strandberg adds that while the health benefits of a vacation include stress relief and lower cortisol levels, the effects are only temporary. As a result, he recommends taking several four- to five-day vacations throughout the year rather than a single three-week vacation. That way you’re continually keeping your stress in check rather than saving it all up for a single blow-out.

Kiki Keating, a travel curator and trip guide based in New Hampshire, is a firm believer in frequent travel. Keating, who identifies as “a very young 62,” just hiked 90 miles along the Portuguese coast and has a handful of other trips—including an overseas tour she does every year with her 86-year-old mother—on the docket for the coming year. The travel keeps both active, and it gives them something to look forward to. That sense of purpose, she says, is key to both living long and facing setbacks with determination. She’s watched many people use an upcoming trip as a life ring to pull out of depression or weather an injury or illness.

Goldsmith is one. Her first pancreatic surgery was extremely dangerous, a six-hour operation that only 25 percent of patients survive. But she felt she would make it; she had places yet to see.

As she recovered, dreams of travel motivated her to keep moving. “As soon as I got out of the hospital, the first thing I did was travel,” she says. Likewise, when facing a knee-replacement surgery earlier this year, she booked trips to Ireland and Scottsdale to give her something to look forward to—and motivate her to do everything she could to recover faster.

Travel Keeps Your Mind Sharp

But you don’t have to be in advanced years to benefit from frequent travel. Keating has also seen it impact how her adult children face challenges and deal with stress.

“Travel helps you to be more relaxed when you’re adapting to something new,” Keating says. “When you go to a place with a new culture and a language you don’t speak, it can feel hard at first. Then, after a day or two you’re like, ‘Oh, I take this metro and follow this red line and go to the blue line, and I know how to say hello, and this is where I like to eat.’ You remind yourself you can learn new things and adapt, and that gives you confidence.” Today, she says, her kids—all of whom traveled with her when they were younger—are good at taking adversity in stride. That’s a tool they’ll use for the rest of their lives to minimize stress, and it could pay big dividends in terms of wellness.

It’s not just about stress, either. A small 2018 study by Craig Anderson, a UC Berkeley postdoctoral fellow, shows that experiencing awe can help . Other research, including a that followed more than 6,700 older adults, indicates that travel could also ameliorate cognitive decline. Mental stimulation—including learning new languages and visiting museums—has been shown to help by up to 47 percent.

It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that challenging yourself to navigate a new place or learn new customs would have some of the same benefits.

“Travel is sort of like riding your mountain bike on a technical trail,” says Stephanie Pearson, 54, a professional travel writer who’s been globetrotting for more than 30 years. “You have to be in a similar flow space to navigate foreign languages, customs, and travel logistics. So I really think it does something cognitively to your brain. It also helps you reset and focus and see the world in a different way.”

Pearson adds that she’s felt a similar level of focus and challenge on trips near home as to far-flung places like Bhutan and New Zealand. As long as tłó±đ°ù±đ’s an element of awe, discovery, and getting out of your comfort zone, she says, your mind and body stand to benefit.

“You don’t have to fling yourself across the world to have an awesome adventure. You can drive to a nearby park or city that you’ve never visited and have a rewarding experience,” Pearson says. “The benefit lies in having that curiosity.”

Corey Buhay is a freelance writer and editor based in Boulder, Colorado. She is a member of the U.S. Ice Climbing Team, which takes her to Korea, Switzerland, Czech, and Slovakia each winter. She dreams of one day being able to travel when the weather is actually warm. Her recent stories for șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű range from mountaineering bromance, with “After 50 Years of Friendship, These Alpinists Just Bagged (Another) Unclimbed Peak,” to trail-running records in “Forget Pumpkin Spice Lattes, It’s FKT Season,” to loss in the mountains, with “Years After My Mentor Died in the Backcountry, I Retraced His Final Footsteps.”

The post Can Travel Make You Live Longer? These Scientists Think So.Ìę appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

With all the greenwashing that goes into destination marketing, it can be easy to lose sight of the true meaning of “sustainability.” It’s simple: “Sustainable” travel is travel we can keep doing. And a huge part of that equation is going to places that have are committed to climate neutrality, where you can trust that your behavior upon arrival is sustainable by default.

These destinations have put serious thought and resources into creating sustainable experiences for travelers who want to do better and feel better about how they use their precious vacation days. More than most other places on Earth, there has been significant governmental investment in public transportation, tourist education strategies, environmental rehabilitation, and waste management. They’ve weighed all that behind-the-scenes stuff that you don’t have a lot of control over on a short trip—the environmental overhead, if you will.

To make this list, we looked for cities, countries, and regions that are internationally recognized for environmental innovation. We considered places withÌęimpressive public transportation networks, where you can easily get deep into the backcountry without renting a car. We also looked at rankings of per-capita carbon footprints, which correlates to how sustainable daily life is for the average resident. These destinations stood out for being easy to get around (without cars or commercial airlines), protective of cultural traditions, and sustainable overall by design.

1. Sweden

With one of the lowest per-capita carbon footprints in all of the developed world, it’s no surprise this Scandinavian nation offers perhaps the most guilt-free traveler experience you can find—whether you’re going for urban sightseeing or outdoor adventure. For starters, the country has an incredible waste management system. Earlier this year, Sweden enacted a law that requires everyone—individuals and businesses alike—to separate food waste from regular trash, which is then converted into biofuel. The country also recycles 35 percent of all plastic waste, and 82 percent of aluminum.

About 60 percent of Sweden’s electricity comes from renewable sources, and the country intends to achieve net-zero emissions by 2045. (In comparison, the United States gets only 20 percent of its electricity from renewable sources, according to the Department of Energy.)

More significant commitments to green energy abound in various Swedish cities. The port city of Gothenburg has been ranked the world’s most sustainable city on the Global Sustainable Destination Index for seven years running. Nearly its entire public transit system runs on renewable energy, and over 90 percent of its hotels have been environmentally certified. Stockholm’s whole land-based public transit system also runs on green energy, and the Swedish capital aims to make all of its ferries carbon-neutral by 2030. In the far north, the city of SkellefteĂ„ is currently working on electric snowmobiles to offer visitors a quieter way to spot wildlife in the winter.

Access to nature is ingrained in the country’s ethos, which means tłó±đ°ù±đ’s a broad “right to roam” for hiking and camping pretty much everywhere. Even still, the government has recently started investing more heavily into building waymarked trails in lowland regions. To that end, Sweden has spent about $600,000 on the brand-new , which connects roughly 170 miles of new and existing trails across 22 islands using a series of ferries. As of October 2024, you’ll be able to thru-hike the Archipelago from north to south (or vice versa), starting with a ferry ride from Stockholm itself.

I recently got a sneak peek of the trail on a visit out to the islands of Utö, NĂ„ttarö, Sandhamn, and Ålö, and was stunned by how pristine, quiet, and diverse the land was. Some sections traverse soft, sandy beaches where you can swim in solitude even in mid-August. Others wind through evergreen forests dripping with so much moss and lichen that they seem enchanted. You can backpack the entire trail, camping for free on beaches and in forests, or you can stay in well-equipped inns, B&Bs, and guesthouses on every island.

Flight-free travel is easy across the country. Sleeper trains and overnight ferry services connect the major urban centers in the south to other mainland European cities, and the whole country is well-connected by train. From Stockholm, long-distance trains will take you directly into the Arctic.

Beyond all this, Sweden is helping other countries lower their environmental footprints, too. Swedish companies including Northvolt are . Spending your tourism dollars in Sweden contributes to this green economy.

2. Switzerland

Don’t even think about driving a car in Switzerland. Tłó±đ°ù±đ’s just no need—as soon as you arrive, you can take trains, buses, and trams right into the mountains. And if that’s not enough, gondolas, chairlifts, cable cars, and funiculars can dump you right out onto the trails. The entire nation’s public transportation network is at your disposal with a , which grants you license to hop on and hop off as you please.

Behind the scenes, about 75 percent of Swiss energy comes from renewable sources, and the country has a serious commitment to recycling. 82 percent of PET bottles actually get recycled in Switzerland, compared to about 30 percent in the U.S.

Switzerland is a vocal champion of international climate issues while also putting policies into practice at home. The nation’s tourism board has attempted to make the country synonymous with sustainable travel through its long-running “Swisstainable” campaign, which promotes environmentally-friendly businesses throughout the tourism sector. In order to work with the campaign, partners have to undergo a grading process to prove they meet minimum criteria for sustainable practices.

The national tourism board is also addressing overtourism by touting lesser-known regions eager to welcome visitors. Val Poschiavo, for example, is one of many gateway towns to the , an ancient trade route-turned-hiking-trail. The region has excellent infrastructure but relatively few international visitors, which is an extra bonus for you if you’re looking for a destination where travel feels—and is—easy while also seeming completely different from your everyday life.

3. Costa Rica

Costa Rica has long been synonymous with eco-tourism for the abundance and diversity of wild experiences within its borders. More than a quarter of the country’s land is formally protected, and according to the Global Alliance of National Parks, that makes it the world leader in percentage of land protected.

Over the last few decades, Costa Rica has worked hard to repair the damage of previous deforestation. In 2019, it received a Champions of the Earth award from the United Nations for those efforts—the highest environmental honor the UN awards. In 1987, the nation was only about 40 percent forested, and today that’s increased to over half. But the nation has no plans to stop there. Currently, the country generates about 98 percent of its energy from renewable sources. By 2050, the country hopes to be entirely carbon neutral.

Costa Rica does have some work to do with regard to recycling and waste management. In 2018, it was found that only nineÌępercent of renewable waste was recycled, though the country is now taking measures to address this. Earlier this year, Costa Rica passed laws banning the free distribution of single-use plastic straws and bags at the point of sale. Companies selling single-use bottles also have to agree to at least one of several measures to increase their use of recycled plastic, contribute to waste-management programs, or reduce their use of plastic packaging.Ìę ÌęÌę

4. The Highlands, Scotland

Unlike the rest of the United Kingdom, Scotland has a broad “right to roam” that mimics that of Scandinavian countries. Even on private land, you’re allowed to camp, hike, and paddle pretty much anywhere you like as long as you’re respectful of people’s homes and personal space. Protecting the land is an important aspect of Scottish culture, so you’ll also find a strong bent towardÌęsustainability here. The government has committed to reaching net-zero emissions by 2045.

If you want to take a guided adventure, go with Wilderness Scotland, an outfitter based in Aviemore. They’ve long been a leader in the tourism industry when it comes to building and operating sustainable trips, and I’ve seen first-hand how the company uses sustainable, locally-owned partners to elevate their small group adventures (starting at $1,825 per person). On one trip to Cairngorms National Park, we e-biked through the mountains to the off-grid Loch Ossian Youth Hostel, which can only be reached by foot or bike. The company uses trains where possible and has a fleet of electric vehicles to cart travelers when private wheels are necessary. They’ve also scored every single one of their offerings so you can see how your carbon footprint on, say, an overnight, island-to-island kayaking and camping trip around the Hebrides compares to a trip where you’d stay in local inns and hotels.

Best of all, you can take the swanky Caledonian Sleeper Train straight from London to trail towns like Fort William, a terminus of the West Highland Way, and Inverness, where you can walk to put-ins for the .

5. Kyoto, Japan

Japan is a world leader in public transportation and plastic recycling. But the city of Kyoto wins for more than just environmental sustainability. The city has done an impeccable job of preserving its history and cultural heritage, too. It , like woven and dyed textiles, woodcrafts, and handmade washi paper, to keep them alive. There are also , which have been lauded for their dedication to maintaining their original form even as they age and restoration becomes inevitable.

Kyoto offers a fascinating balance of the new, the old, and the natural, all of which are connected by near-perfect public transportation. Within the city limits but worlds away from its busyness, you’ll find the rural town of Ohara hiding among the foothills. Here, the natural environment blends seamlessly with urban comforts. Enjoy a stay in a ryokan to get a sense for traditional Japanese hospitality. Bathing rituals at onsen, or spring-fed baths, offer a glimpse at traditions that have evolved over more than a thousand years. Several temples in the area provide a quiet place for reflection among well-manicured grounds.

The city is also a leader in sustainable tourism among other peer cities in Asia. In 2019, it was the first Asian city to join the , which measures cities’ progress on various sustainability measures and creates benchmarks for improvement. Of course, tłó±đ°ù±đ’s also ubiquitous public transportation connecting Kyoto to the rest of Japan, offering guilt-free access to adventure and culture well beyond the city limits.

The post 5 Destinations You Can Feel Good About Visiting in These Overtouristed Times appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

I love to travel. I don’t love sleeping on the go. Why? Think about it: the average adult human head weighs roughly 11 pounds—as much as a bowling ball—and balances on the very precious neck. So when you nod off, seated upright, or even reclined, all that pressure dumps into your vertebrae and shoulders causing unwanted kinks and muscle soreness that can make flights, road trips, and train rides a living hell.

Enter: the neck pillow.

I asked șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű‘s travel editors to search long and hard for the comfiest, most supportive, and portable neck pillows for travel—because we like going to cool places pain free. From long-haul and red-eye flights to cross-country and worldwide road trips to train travel, here are the neck pillows that are actually worth bringing along. Plus, one puffy jacket hack if you don’t have space in your suitcase. You’re welcome.

If you buy through our links, we may earn an affiliate commission. This supports our mission to get more people active and outside. Learn more.

Best for the Lightweight Packer

Sea to Summit Aeros Premium Traveller Pillow

As a traveler who prides myself on lugging around the least amount of stuff possible, I’ve always been a neck pillow skeptic. Really—are they absolutely necessary? But recently, I picked up the from REI out of curiosity.

Boom, I was hooked overnight. This inflatable neck pillow blows up for travel with just a few deep breaths, and at only 2.5 ounces, it packs down conveniently into a small, zippered case that’s stuffable into any bag.

When my husband and I tackled a 5,000-mile summer road trip from New Mexico to Canada this summer, it became my napping go-to. I used it daily for siestas in our rig, which was packed to the gills with gear and impossible to recline my seat. It’s a perfect lightweight option for quick snoozes on short flights, and when we take our long-haul to Thailand next year, you can bet I’m bringing this puppy along.

Its soft, comfy polyester knit cover and inflate/deflate options provide just the right amount of pressure and support for serious Zzzs. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m a complete neck pillow convert now. And if, like me, you loathe carrying extra crap, this lightweight option is best for you. —Patty Hodapp, Senior Contributing Travel Editor, șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű

Best for the International Traveler

BCozzy Neck Pillow for Travel

First, an intelligent appeal to commercial airlines: You should offer neck pillows to all passengers, just like you do blankets and pillows. In fact, scrap those sorry excuses for regular pillows you hand out and replace them with the modern kind we all really want. Preferably the , which is soft and supportive and caters to the head nodder and the side angler alike.

Last fall, settling into our seats for our 12-hour flight from Los Angeles to Tokyo, my brother and I pulled out our choice in neck pillows and mocked each other’s briefly. “Nice padded python you’ve got there,” I said. “I’d rather wear this than your rigid medical neck brace,” he countered. But his pick was perfect—the BCozzy—and when he opted not to sleep, I gave it a try and was immediately won over.

The BCozzy was cushy yet not suffocating or overly hot. Its “arms” were long and flexible enough for me to wrap it comfortably around my neck twice and beneath my chin, yet it didn’t feel restrictive. I found I could actually relax in an upright position instead of trying to determine how my seat plus pillow would best support my head without giving me a neck ache.

BCozzy doesn’t pack down as much as some other neck pillows, but it does come with a carrying bag that helps compress it enough to be easily stuffed at the bottom of a daypack. And for its midrange price, it does the job way better than the standard, ubiquitous U-shaped ones as well as the high-end contraption I ended up chucking at the Tokyo airport.Ìę—Tasha Zemke, Managing Editor, șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű

Best for the Traveler Who Hates Neck Pillows

FlyHugz Neck Travel Pillow

I’m a minimalist, carry-on only packer, and I’ve never wanted to lug along a neck pillow on trips. But I’m also always sitting in coach and don’t sleep comfortably on longer flights, so I’ve been on a mission to find a neck pillow that packs down small and actually works.

I kept seeing ads for the FlyHugz travel pillow on Instagram. Their smart marketing campaign sucked me in, so I ordered it. I was going to test it out on a trip back east (I live in New Mexico), but that was canceled. So I tried it out on road trips in my car, where the seat mimics a stiff, upright airline seat.

The pillow, which is made of memory foam, wraps around your neck and attaches with velcro. At first it felt a bit claustrophobic. It took me a while to get the pillow to a comfortable place where it was loose enough and would still support my head. One thing I immediately liked is that the part of the pillow behind the neck has a slim profile and allowed me to lean back comfortably; other neck pillows I’ve tried have been too fat at the back of the neck.

Without a neck pillow, when I’m sleeping on a flight my head generally falls back with my chin up and mouth wide open, snoring. Lovely! This pillow kept my head from nodding backward or forward and supported my chin in a stable position. I also found it really comfortable to lean my head to the left to sleep. For some reason it didn’t support my head as well when I tilted it to the right. I need to keep messing with that position to get comfortable on the right side.

The pillow is lightweight—4.5 ounces—and packs down to about the size of a roll of toilet paper. I will definitely be taking it with me on my next long flight. —Mary Turner, Senior Brand Director, șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű

Best for the Memory Foam Enthusiast

Cabeau Evolution S3 Travel Neck Pillow

I’ll admit it: if șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű hasn’t reviewed something I’m considering buying, I almost always check Reddit before making purchases on gear. I don’t care much about how brands want me to see them; I want to know what real people—who aren’t getting any sponsorship dollars for their opinions—think of things. Multiple Reddit threads brought me to the . It’s made of memory foam, which is great, but the feature that Redditors really seem to love are the two straps that allow you to secure the pillow to your headrest.

I should also admit that I suffer from a serious case of tech neck. I’m stiff and sore and misaligned frequently, so I try to do all I can to counteract the time I spend on computers in both the exercise that I do and the ergonomic support I give myself when I travel.

I put the Cabeau to the test on a 14-hour road trip, and I’ll gladly admit that, yet again, Redditors delivered! This neck pillow is SERIOUSLY comfortable, and it doesn’t move around, which allows you to adjust yourself without having to constantly re-adjust the pillow. I was able to sleep with the pillow, and I woke up without that crunchy, over-exerted feeling my neck can sometimes get when I cram it into the door of the car, using only my arms as support.

The Cabeau bills itself as the “Best Travel Pillow of 2024” according to CNN Underscored, and I can honestly say it gets my vote, too. —Ryleigh Nucilli, Digital Managing Editor, șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű

BONUS: Best for the Low-Maintenance Traveler

The Puffy Jacket Hack

The best story I ever heard about head-tipping, that jolt that startles you awake when you were just drifting off to sleep while upright, was from two climbers on El Capitan who got stuck—ughhh—sitting out the night in their harnesses. One of them got tired of the tilt, pulled out a roll of duct tape, and—kid you not—taped his head to the wall.

I have certainly awoken due to the same movement on a plane, but I’m not going to tape my head to the seat. Nor do I want to carry a neck pillow. I had one once, but gave it away. I’m juggling enough when I go anywhere: I’ve always got my phone out, and a laptop in a carry-on, and am now strict about carrying a water bottle rather than wasting more plastic. No need to be dropping a pillow on the dirty floor.

The perfect trick came from my friend Eliza, an international flight attendant, who over the years tried all manner of neck pillows purchased at home and abroad. And it turns out that her favored method meshes with my habits. If there is one thing I always carry to travel, it is a light, packable puffy jacket, which will save you if you get stuck in an airport overnight or even in cold airplane AC.

I have a , but other kinds would do; I pack it into its own pocket, as intended, while leaving the jacket arms hanging out. Boom, it makes a firm little shoulder pillow. Tie the arms together to hold the padding in place on either side of your neck. —Alison Osius, Senior Travel Editor, șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű

The post The Four Best Neck Pillows for Travelers appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

In my early 20s, I zigzagged across Europe by train. Fresh out of college and pinching pennies on a month-long backpacking trip in Italy and Switzerland, I went by overnight rail, combining the cost of a room with travel to wake up in a new country each morning. It was amazing.

Traveling long distance by train is on the rise again, as adventurers look for an eco-friendly and engaging alternative to flying. In Western Europe, night trains are seeing a post-Covid resurgence, with the new Nightjet network connecting major cities. Here in the United States, Amtrak has purchased 125 new diesel-electric locomotives, most for long-distance use. In the past several years, the company spent $580 million in station upgrades and put $28 million toward upgrading its overnight railcars’ seating, lighting, tables, and bedding, as well as reintroducing dining cars after a pandemic-forced hiatus.

Going by train isn’t about getting somewhere fast, or cheaply either: Amtrak and other operators in the U.S. and Canada can’t compete with the budget airlines. But train travel is more eco-friendly than flying, especially with the new diesel-electric locomotives. Trains, writes Andres Eskenazi of the , “pollute much less than airplanes, sometimes by as much as 73 percent, and they are more easily electrified than planes.”

You can customize a train trip with layover days in any stop along the route, to explore an interim park or town. (Arrange the stops upfront when you book.)

Traveling by trainÌęis fun and relaxing; you can read a book, stare out the window, walk around, play cards, or see a film. Just ask Hartwell Carson, who has ridden the rails with his daughter, 13-year-old Evan, multiple times since she was eight.

“It’s everything that is great about traveling,” Carson says. “You’re forced to slow down and spend quality time with your companions. My daughter and I read books, drew pictures, and went to the dining car. There is nowhere to go, so you slowly watch the landscape change. It takes you back to a time when the journey was as important as the destination.”

We’re all about that. So here are six of the most scenic rail journeys in North America, and great things to do along the way, including in our national parks. (Note that costs given are for one-way trips.)

1. The Vermonter

The Route: Washington, D.C., to St. Albans, Vermont
Duration: 611 miles, 13 hours

Want variety? How about a train that travels through nine states, some of the largest cities in the country, lush farming valleys, and rugged mountains? The connects Washington, D.C., with the villages of Vermont right up to the Canadian border, and stops in Philadelphia and New York City along the way. The trip begins among towering skyscrapers, but once you pass New York City, you hit the estuary of Long Island Sound, with its islands and tall seagrass and the occasional lighthouse. Next come the hills and vineyards of the Hudson River Valley. As you reach New England proper, the scenery cedes to a mix of quaint villages (all those steeples), dense hardwood forests, and the lush Green Mountains of Vermont. The final stop is St. Albans, near Lake Champlain and the Canadian border, but you can end your journey anywhere.

The șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű: Stop at the Waterbury-Stowe station, which is within walking distance of historic downtown Waterbury, a lovely place to stay the night. Stowe, home of the massive ski resort of the same name, is 10 miles away and reachable by bus or bike. Bring your skis in winter or your bike in summer (if a bike is under 50 pounds, with tires under 2”, you can carry it on, but check bigger bikes at $20 per rig). The Stowe Recreation Path is five miles long, connecting various trail systems and more than 50 miles of singletrack from town. Check out the nearby , and opt for the super flowy .

The Fares: This isn’t an overnight route, so there are no sleeper cars. Choose coach (from $81) or go for business class (from $253), with its increased leg room and free non-alcoholic drinks. Amtrak’s CafĂ© has breakfast sandwiches, burgers, salads, and snacks. The food is tasty but pricey. Regular travelers may want to bring your own.

2. The Coast Starlight

The Route: Los Angeles to Seattle
Duration: 1377 miles, 35 hours

If Amtrak has a superstar route, it’s the , which runs from Los Angeles to Seattle along the western edge of the United States, hitting Portland, San Francisco, and Santa Barbara. The train runs daily in both directions, with many adventure-prime stops along the way. If you begin in L.A. and travel north, the journey starts among the rocky outcroppings and farms of the San Fernando Valley before hugging the coast with its constant breakers and tall, rocky bluffs. You sleep through Northern California, and the next day gaze out on the dense evergreen forests of the Pacific Northwest and views of the Cascade Mountain Range, including—if you wake up early enough—California’s Mount Shasta, as seen from Oregon.

The șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű: Just north of Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo is the first stop after the train leaves L.A. (or, if you’re traveling south, the last stop before L.A.), and an ideal spot for a surf break. (Again, schedule any stops ahead of time). Tłó±đ°ù±đ’s no shortage of rental shops, but you can check your own surfboard on the Coast Starlight for just $10. Pismo Beach, 13 miles west and accessible from the station by an hourly bus, has one of the most consistent breaks on California’s Central Coast. The Pismo Beach Pier attracts the most surfers, and hosts a steady clip of contests, but there are several miles of quieter stretches to explore. Pismo’s sloping beach also means a softer wave—better for beginner surfers—than those at some other California places.

The Fares: You can get coach tickets (from $100) or private sleeper cars (from $674). It’s a one-night trip, so you could save some money by roughing it in a seat just for the night. All passengers may use the observation car, with its glass dome ceiling.

3. The Canadian

The Route: Toronto to Vancouver
Duration: 2,775 miles, four days, four nights

VIA Rail, Canada’s national rail service, operates a number of incredibly scenic train routes throughout the country (you can take a train to Churchill, the polar-bear capital of the world), but the is the crown jewel, sampling diverse landscapes from Toronto to Vancouver. The first two days of the trip pass through eastern Canada, known as “the Great Canadian Shield,” a sparsely populated area loaded with thousands of natural lakes and forests full of spruce and pine. East of Winnipeg, the terrain shifts to vast prairie for a day before hitting the jagged, ice-capped peaks of the Canadian Rockies and crossing the Athabasca River amid a dense fir forest. In Jasper National Park, you’ll see the blocky-topped 7,500-foot Roche Miette mountain on the horizon, as well as Mount Yellowhead, Mount Robinson, and Pyramid Falls. Make your way early to one of the glass-dome viewing cars to get a spot.

The train runs twice a week, hitting the towns of Winnipeg, Edmonton, and Jasper. The regularly scheduled stops are short (only a couple of hours at each town), but you can arrange for a multi-day itinerary through VIA Rail.

The șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű: The town of Kamloops sits in the Thompson River Valley, known for its sandstone canyons, rolling hills, and a vast , comprised of both the largest municipal bike park in North America (the Bike Ranch) and lift-served downhill trails at Harper Mountain, a ski and snowboard resort. The trails are fast, flowy, and technical. Start with the Bike Ranch, which has a mix of downhill trails, a massive jump park, and a few intermediate and beginner lines for good measure.

The Fares: Prices for the full trip start at $514 for economy class, but you’ll be sleeping in a reclining seat and eating from a take-out counter. The Sleeper Plus fare (from $1,387) gets you a private cabin, access to the dining car, and community showers. Splurge for the Prestige class (from $6,261) and you get your own shower as well as a concierge, who changes your bedding and helps you with any requests during the trip.

4. The Denali Star

The Route: Anchorage to Fairbanks
Duration: 356 miles, 12 hours

Alaska Railroad operates a handful of train routes throughout the Last Frontier, but the is the flagship, running daily during the summer (May 9 to September 19), connecting Alaska’s two biggest cities and hitting Denali National Park along the way. The scenery couldn’t get more Alaskan: the train crosses the Knik River, which forms a broad valley full of alpine meadows that stretch to the bases of glaciers and the Chugach Mountains, then picks up views of Denali above the Susitna River before dipping into the roadless backcountry, where you look out on the Alaska Range and Healy Canyon. The route stops for 30 minutes at Denali National Park and Talkeetna, but if you really want time to explore around the tallest mountain in the U.S., turn this into a multi-day trip with overnights along the way.

The șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű: Sure, you might want to climb the 20,310-foot mountain for which Denali National Park is named, but that adventure isn’t for everyone, especially on a whim during a train trip. Instead, you can hike up 4,400-foot Sugarloaf Mountain. The Sugarloaf Mountain Trail begins behind the Grande Denali Lodge and ascends 2,700 feet in two miles to the above-tree line summit with views of Mount Fellows and Mount Dora, two peaks in the Alaska Range. You could also sign up for a , a full-day adventure led by a park ranger. The location changes daily, but a Discovery Hike day is typically eight to ten hours and includes off-trail trekking.

The Fare: Choose from șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű class (from $215) and Goldstar class (from $432). If you opt for Goldstar, you ride in glass-dome cars and have access to an outdoor viewing platform. The price also includes meals in the dining car and two free cocktails per day.

5. Rocky Mountaineer: Rockies to the Red Rocks

The Route: Denver to Moab
Duration: 375 miles, two days with an overnight in Glenwood Springs

Amtrak isn’t the only company running trains in the U.S. The Rocky Mountaineer, a luxury train service formerly used for scenic routes through the Canadian Rockies, debuted its first U.S.-based trip in 2022. The connects Moab with Denver in a two-day journey along the Colorado River, passing remote, roadless canyons only visible from the train. You see the 25-mile-long Ruby Canyon, winding through towering sandstone cliffs on the Utah-Colorado border, and watch the lights flicker off the rock walls in the 6.2-mile Moffat Tunnel as the train cuts through the Continental Divide. The trip takes two days, but instead of offering sleeper cars, the Rockies to Red Rocks puts you in a two- to three-star hotel (the specific hotels change) within walking distance of the Glenwood Springs station. On board, you receive a three-course breakfast and lunch each day.

The șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű: You’re staying over in Glenwood Springs, so soak in one of the town’s developed hot springs; Glenwood Hot Springs Resort has a big lap- and crowd-sized pool kept at 90-93 degrees, and a smaller pool that stays at 104 degrees (day passes start at $32). Iron Mountain Hot Springs has 16 geothermal pools of varying temperatures (passes start at $40). Further, in Moab, Arches National Park is a must. Hike to Landscape Arch, at 306 feet the longest natural arch in the country, on the 7.6-mile . This trail is a gem even among great hikes in our national parks.

The Fares: Prices start at $1599 per person, and include on-board meals and your hotel room in Glenwood.

6. The Empire Builder

Route: Chicago to Seattle
Duration: 2,206 miles, 48 hours

Think two full days on a train is too much? Not when you’re traveling through eight different states, tracing the U.S./Canadian border, and hitting Glacier National Park. The begins with views of Chicago’s skyline, and then crosses the Mississippi River, which is surprisingly wide (several hundred feet) even though you’re close to the headwaters. You’ll see the bright lights of Minneapolis and St. Paul, enter the Great Plains at night, and wake up in North Dakota looking out on pastures of wheat shimmering gold in the sun. Make sure to be in the glass-domed lounge car as you approach Glacier National Park, the train winding along the Flathead River with views of snowfields clinging to the steep granite peaks of the Lewis Ranges. Before the final destination of Seattle, you can detour into Spokane and head south into Oregon and the Columbia River Gorge, where you’ll get views of Mount Hood.

The șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű: The climax of this trip is Glacier National Park. If you time a spring trip perfectly, you can pedal Going-to-the-Sun Road after it’s plowed but before it opens to vehicles. offers rental bikes and shuttles to the start of the ride (from $45). Your other best bet is to hike. Check out the 10.6-mile out and back , which passes waterfalls and backcountry lakes before delivering you to the glacier of that name, one of the few in the park you can actually walk across.

The Fares: This train has a number of options. Coach (from $160) will get you a doss in a reclining chair, while First Class fares with private rooms start at $979 and include all meals on board and access to the lounge and communal showers. For $3,405, the First Class Superliner Bedroom Suite includes a full bedroom with its own bathroom. Amtrak also offers a comprehensive, 10-day package deal ($3499 per person) with multiple days in Chicago, Glacier, and Seattle, and activities and lodging planned for you.

Onboard with all of that? Pick your route, plan your stops, and ride the rails to adventure.

Graham Averill is șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű magazine’s national parks columnist. He loves the idea of being able to drink a beer, eat snacks, and play poker while traveling from point A to point B.

For more by the same author, see:

The 10 Best Backpacking Trails in Our National Parks

How to Score the Best National Park Campsites for Summer

The Best Budget Airlines—and șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Locales They Go To

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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As I write this, the Delta variant is raging through the U.S., and here in New Mexico, another mask mandate has gone into effect, requiring everyone to once again cover their faces in public indoor spaces. Like most of you, I was vaccinated last spring, and afterward I enjoyed a summer in which the world reopened and seemed to return to a blissfully abnormal sense of normalcy. Now it feels like we’re back where we started. In fact, a colleague recently posed a question that gave me an immediate—and depressing—sense of dĂ©jĂ  vu: Should we still go ahead with this issue’s annual Best Trips of the YearÌęcoverage, considering everything that’s happening in the country and around the world?

The first time we wrestled with that question, in March 2020, I recall several weeks of hand-wringing with senior editor Erin Riley and deputy editor Mary Turner, who have deftly handled șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű’s travel coverage during the pandemic. This time, though, the right answer feels immediately clear: of course we should. It’s true that a resurgence of COVID-19 will force all of us to make difficult decisions about whether to travel in the months ahead. It’s also true that the pandemic hasn’t dulled Americans’ desire for adventure—if anything, the longing to explore the world again when it’s safe has intensified. We saw a glimpse of this pent-up demand over the summer, in the form of overflowing crowds at our national parks, record-breaking airline bookings, and twice as much travel-related search traffic on Google. Travel may be on pause again, but our collective need to plan epic trips will never let up.

That explains why we decided to move forward with this idea-laden travel feature, with 30 awesome trips around the globe.ÌęIt also explains why, despite the pandemic’s return, we’re excited to announce a new 2022 partnership with Modern șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű,Ìęa company run by a savvy team of travel veterans who design unique itineraries around the globe. We’ve joined forces to offer four classic, life-list trips—in Alaska, the French Alps, Chilean Patagonia, and Everest Base Camp in Nepal. Each inaugural departure will be accompanied by an șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű editor. That’s good news for me: I’ll be heading to Katmai National Park and Preserve in Alaska with some of you next August for seven days of backpacking. And it’s great news for șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű+ members, who get a $200 discount on booking. (Scroll down or go here to read more about the trips and for information on how to sign up.)

Meanwhile, don’t worry: if you miss out on these four inaugural expeditions with our editors, Modern șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű is also offering additional departure dates for Alaska, Chilean Patagonia, and Nepal in 2022 and 2023. After all, no one knows what the travel outlook will be next year, but that shouldn’t stop us from dreaming big. —Christopher Keyes, editor in chief

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In Switzerland, you can board a train and ride it from the powder haven of Zermatt to the alpine resort town ofÌęSaintÌęMoritz. The Glacier Express,Ìęnamed after the train, from apparel company ,Ìęfollows riders , ,Ìęand as they shred huge lines, usingÌęthe train as their home base.
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In his former life, Olympic gold medalist Björn Ferry was a frequent flier.ÌęHe traveled 180 days of the year between training and competitions, armed with the cross-country skis and rifle characteristic of theÌę, a sport that orignated in Scandanavia and combines nordic skiing with target shooting. In all, Ferry estimates that he traveled around 25,000 miles per year by plane and another 25,000 by car or minibus. “Back then I emitted 16 tons of CO2 per year,” he says with dismay. “[The] average in Sweden is eight. That doesn’t look so good.”

After breaking down his carbon footprint with an online carbon calculator, and realizing just how much air travel factored in, Ferry and his wife, world-champion arm wrestlerÌę, decided to change their ways. In 2015, they committed to stop flying and built a greenhouse toÌęgrow most of their own food. “Potatoes, berries—and we have a lot of elk, so we stopped buying meat in the store,” Ferry explains. “AltogetherÌęwe’ve cut our emissions by 70 to 75 percent.”

Ferry and Andersson have beenÌę—or blamed, depending on who you ask—with provoking the feeling of flygskam, which translates to “flight shame.”ÌęThe two went public with their commitment not to fly in a they coauthored in a Swedish newspaper in 2017 with eight other people, including youth-climate activist Greta Thunberg’s mother, the opera singer Malena Ernman. Thunberg herself stopped flying in 2015.ÌęAt approximatelyÌę of CO2 emitted per passenger mile traveled, flying outpollutes all other modes of transit, compared with nineÌęounces of CO2 emitted per passenger mile by carÌęand 0.79 ounces by train. Furthermore, plane emissions are releasedÌę into the upper troposphere and lower stratosphere, where they alter the composition of atmospheric gasses that contribute to climate change. According to the independent organization Climate Central, every round-trip transatlantic flight emits enough CO2 to meltÌę of Arctic sea ice.

Ferry says that while the term flygskamÌęis associated with his name, he committed to stop flying before it was coined last year. The term has since been employed colloquially by Twitter users in various countries who areÌęlooking for help with train itineraries, coming clean about upcoming plans to fly, or calling out high-profile frequent fliers. Ferry says he thinks this social pressure has led Swedes to be more low profile in their travels. “People used to go on vacation and come home, post pictures, and say, ‘I’ve been to Egypt with my family, and I’ve seen these big stone pyres, and it was so great,’” he explains. “Now they go, but they don’t even say that they’ve been abroad.”

Traveling is a status symbol that people don’t know how to separate themselves from, says Maja RosĂ©n of Sweden,Ìęwho has been working on a more targeted campaign to get people to abstain from air travel, calledÌę. RosĂ©n made a quiet commitment to stop flying a decade ago, after facing what she refers to as a long, difficult “climate depression,” once she realized how much damage human-induced climate change has already made. She and her friend, graphic designer Lotta Hammar,Ìęare aiming to get 100,000 Swedes to commit to being flight-free in 2020. Last year they convincedÌę14,500. Now their campaign hasÌę to Belgium, Denmark, France, and the United Kingdom.

We Stay on the Ground isn’t pushing people to stop traveling. “But I think it’s important to change this norm that you have to go far to have a good life,” says RosĂ©n. Since committing to not flying, sheÌęand her family have begun visitingÌęone of Sweden’s northernmost islands, Nordkoster,Ìęeach summer. “You take a train and then a ferry. And that islandÌęis so beautiful,” she says. Going there only emits 22 to 26 pounds of CO2 per person, as compared to approximately 2,200 pounds if they were to travel to Spain, or 6,600 pounds if they visited Thailand. If Nordkoster was situated somewhere more “exotic,” like the South Pacific, RosĂ©n says she thinks it would be a more attractive travel destination for Swedes, who take an average of 1.2 international trips per year, putting its citizensÌęfourth on the list of the world’s (Americans take an average of .2 trips a year).Ìę“It’s a bit ironic that more Swedes have been to Thailand than have been to that island,” she says. “We have paradise just around the corner, but it’s not something to talk about…. soÌęmany people just take it for granted.”

In addition to flight shamingÌęonÌę, tłó±đ°ù±đ’s also a rising culture of making flight-free travel both retro and contemporary. Signs posted by climate-focused accounts like @theclimatecards (“”), and random users’ hometown portraitsÌępaired withÌęÌęto look more locally for adventure,Ìęchallenge people to flaunt the decision to travel by rail or bus. Calls to action and messages like #smarterliving and #lessismore accompany theÌę of Instagram posts, with hashtags like #flyless, #flyfree, and #nofly.

Although this degree of pressure around not flying has seen more social traction in Europe, the climate conscious in the U.S. have been flying less for just about as long as their European counterparts. Over the past decade, thought leaders like NASA climate scientistÌę have given up flying altogether, and others, like climate scientists Katharine Hayhoe of Texas Tech University and Kim Cobb of Georgia Tech, have drastically reduced the number of flights they take each year.

That’s more difficult in some parts of the U.S. “California is currently building a high-speed line, but I’m stuck in the Southeast with really old rail infrastructure and crumbling Amtrak service,” says Cobb. The U.S. doesn’t currently have the market to support continuous, affordable train travel in North America, she says, but it is essential to demonstrate the demand. In 2017, passengers loggedÌę miles on air carriers, in comparison withÌęÌęmiles on commuter or light-rail means. “We need to look across the ocean on that,” Cobb says. In Sweden, to continue with the leader in the trend,Ìęa cultural shift has resulted in one out of six Swedes opting to take trains over planes. As The GuardianÌę, train-centric travel companies like Centralens Resebutik announced an eightfold increase in sales in January 2019, as compared to two years ago.

In the U.S., websites dedicated to public commitments to cut down on air travel, like Kalmus’sÌę,Ìęhave targeted climate scientists across the world. But they’ve also attracted fly-less commitments from academics and average citizens, like Ken Garber, a 61-year-old science writer and rock climber based in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Garber says traveling has actually gotten more exciting since he’s ditched air travel. Last summerÌęhe took a train from Michigan to Sandpoint, Idaho. After hopping off, he hitchhiked into British Columbia and made it most of the way to itsÌęSelkirk Mountains. “I never expected, at my age, to find myself pitching my tent by the side of the road when I couldn’t get a ride, or hopping on a train at 3 A.M. and trying to find my way to a place where I could sleep,” he says. “But I’ve met a tremendous number of local people who are fantastically friendly that I wouldn’t have met if I had been traveling in the conventional way.”

Despite the name of the movement, those committed to no flying insist they don’t actually mean to shame people. “I don’t write every day, ‘No one should fly!’ I just do it,” Ferry concurs. Part of the puzzle is to get others to believe there is a sustainable lifestyle that is also desirable. “If the answer is no, then we have no chance to curb emissions,” he says.

“We still travel, we still enjoy life,” Ferry says. It just takes more planning and patience. A recent work trip from his hometown of Storuman, Sweden—just south of the polar circle—to Antholz, Italy, took him about 50 hours by train. The trip was long, but it allowed him time for reading, listening, and thinking, time he never found as a frequent flier. And he says that his commitment is not a sacrifice. “I don’t dream about Mount Everest or anything,” he says. “I just put on some glasses,Ìęand I go to my neighborhood. I study the birds, I study the forest. Tłó±đ°ù±đ’s a lot to see.”

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We love sharing our favorite places in the world with you. But it’s been a while since we gave you advice on planning trips and preparing for travel, like how to find the best airfares, fly with large gear, sail through customs, seek outÌęlike-minded people on the road, maximize your airline credit-card miles, get off the beaten path, and other tried-and-true recommendations. So we mined tips from our most active travel writers and other experts to bring you these new rules. All you have to do is read them and go.

Find Your Crew

It’s never been easier to engage with other like-minded travelers, thanks to apps and active social-media groups with extensive reaches.

With the help of Facebook groups, you’llÌęnever have to travel alone if you don’t want to.ÌęPost that you want to ride the Whole EnchiladaÌęin Moab, Utah, with someone, and you’ll likely find a riding mate quickly.

Make the Most of Our National Parks

A national park advocate shares his advice on how to avoid crowds, get off the beaten path, see wildlife, and find adventure.

We asked David Lamfrom, director of the wildlife program for the National Parks Conservation Association, for his advice on how to do national parks while still avoiding crowds and steep entrance fees.Ìę

Eat Healthy in Airports

It’s almost time for summer travel. We reveal some of our favorite airport restaurants plus tips on how to avoid loading up on junk food as you fly off on your mountain and beach adventures.

Some people get the munchies while high. șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűÌęwriter AC Shilton gets them while physically high—say, at 30,000 feet. HereÌęshe provides tips on how to eat healthy while traveling.Ìę

Cruise Through Security and Customs

With these tools, tłó±đ°ù±đ’s no reason to wait in long lines.

You know all those people you see heading for the lanes that say Global Entry and Clear? ±á±đ°ù±đ’s what they know that you need to know.

Travel Alone at Least Once a Year

For this veteran journalist, the intoxicating freedom of traveling solo outweighs the risks every time. Here are her life-on-the-road strategies.

It’s a good thing to go it alone on occasion, whether camping in the wilderness, road-tripping cross-country, or flying across the world. Just do it safely and strategically.

Invest in Long-Haul Flight-Survival Gear

These bags, clothes, tools, and, yes, drugs make regular long-haul flights survivable.

Getting to faraway places requires sturdy and functional gear.ÌęWes Siler, a writer forÌęșÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűÌęand frequent traveler, lists his must-pack gear itemsÌęfor long flights and big adventures.Ìę

Score Deals on Airline Tickets

Whether you’re headed for California or Costa Rica, these tips will save you money and minimize hassle.

Getting a cheap airline ticket comes down to the right timing, airport, and season. Don’t get caught paying extra just because you bought your ticket on a Friday instead of a Tuesday.Ìę

Get Your Gear There Affordably

Traveling with large gear can get pricey. ±á±đ°ù±đ’s how to bring your mountain bike or surfboard along without going broke.

Flying with gear can be downright expensive, and some airlines charge gear-specific baggage fees in excess of $200 one-way. Then again, some of them let you fly with your oversizeÌęgear for free.Ìę

Use a Travel Agent

Yes, you can try to book your epic adventure by spending hours searching the internet. Or you can save time, money, and hassle by using a travel agent.

The next generation of world travelers is using travel agents more often. Maybe you should, too.

Explore a State Park

There are more than 10,000 different state parks across the country, many of which have terrain that rivals any national park. These are our fiveÌęfavorites.

The busloads of tourists crammed into the designated scenic overlooks at national parks can be overwhelming. If you want a truly wild experience this summer, explore our underrated state-park system.

Pack Smart

Technically advanced outdoor gear can make traveling on your next business trip easier, more comfortable, and more efficient.

Do you really want to be that person in the aiport lugging around a 40-pound backpack? Or worse,Ìęchecking your luggage? We’ll answer for you: you don’t, soÌęłó±đ°ù±đ’s how to not be.Ìę

Maximize Your Airline Credit-Card Miles

Credit-card mileage programs are as confusing as they are enticing, with rules, add-ons, and fine print that’s always changing. ±á±đ°ù±đ’s how to score lots of free tickets with them.

Airline-mileage expert Scott Keyes has 84 credit cards. Maybe you don’t need that many, but you do need to know his tips on how to basically fly anywhere for free.Ìę

Get Travel Insurance

And everything you need to know before you purchase a plan.

If a travel disaster does strike, you could be out thousands of dollars. The question is: How much risk can you live with?Ìę

Let These Stories Inspire You

From SUPing down the Colorado to hiking the Appalachian TrailÌęsolo, these features explore and revel in the adventures our country has to offer.

±á±đ°ù±đ’s a (noncomprehensive) list of the best travel stories we’ve ever told. Find some inspiration to pack your bags and hit the road.ÌęÌę

Don’t Recline Your Airline Seat

You heard us. On cramped flights, the person who reclines their seat in front of us really chafes.

If tłó±đ°ù±đ’s one thing we hate about flying,Ìęit’s not the overpriced tickets or the baby crying three rows aheadÌęin economy class. It’s the people who recline their seats with total disregard for theÌęperson behind them.

Own Your Layover

Frequent fliers spend a lot of energy trying to avoid long layovers. But with these tips, the right attitude, and a bit of ingenuity, you can turn your layover into an adventure.

A seven-day layover in Iceland? Yes, please.Ìę

Chill Out

One final piece of advice: You’re on vacation, people. Drink the tequila! Eat the pasta! Sleep in! And yes, lounging in a hammock on a beach is a legit adventure. Bon voyage.

The post The New Rules of Travel appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

These are the tools you need to see more, do more, and have more fun.

Baggage

Patagonia 60L Black Hole Duffel Bag ($129)

Everyone should own this indestructible, water-resistant gear hauler, and the 60-liter size is perfect for just about any trip.

Eagle Creek Tarmac Carry-on ($299)

This roller has burly oversize wheels and integrated straps for attaching extra bags and outerwear, which makes navigating crowded airports a breeze.

Gregory Border 25 Day Pack ($120)

Access to this pack is easy, thanks to a clamshell opening, designated laptop and tablet sleeves, a hidden security pocket, and an internal mesh divider.

FjĂ€llrĂ€ven Pocket Cross-body BagÌę($40)

The Pocket is large enough for essentials like your phone, wallet, and passport but slim enough to be worn out of sight under your jacket.

Digital Tools

Ultimate Public Campgrounds App ($4; Android and iOS)

This app has over 39,000 campsites across the U.S. and Canada, so if you can’t find one you like, it probably doesn’t exist.

Ìę

Guides by Lonely Planet App (Free; Android and iOS)

Classic Lonely Planet insider information combined with beautifully designed maps that you can download to your phone for offline use.

Ìę

Booking.com

stands apart by letting you book bus and train rides with your accommodation in certain European cities, plus make reservations for restaurants and airport taxis. It also has dedicated sections for campgrounds, tiny homes, and farm stays.

Wardrobe

Rainbow Single Layer Premier with Arch Support Sandals ($54)

Flip-flops that actually stand up to abuse, with premium nubuck leather, triple-glued midsoles, and double-stitched straps.

Ìę

Untuckit Millbrook Shirt ($98)

Meant to be worn untucked, this button-down wicks moisture and stays wrinkle-free even on lengthy plane rides.

Lululemon Vinyasa Rulu Scarf ($48)

A clever snap closure means the Vinyasa Rulu transforms easily from a shawl to an infinity scarf to a shrug, making it perfect for the plane, trail, or pub.

Olukai Pehuea Leather Women’s Slip-on Shoes ($100)

Smart looks, a breathable upper, and an incredibly comfortable washable footbed make this shoe perfect for the long haul.

Gadgets

Uncharted Supply Co. Zeus Portable Battery Jumper ($150)

A lightweight car-battery jumper that doubles as a USB charger and flashlight, so you’re always prepared.

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LifeProof Slam Phone Case ($50)

The company’s slimmest case protects your phone from drops of up to six and a half feet.

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Garmin Fenix 5 Plus Smartwatch ($650)

Color topographic mapping and navigation, 12 days of battery life, a heart-rate monitor, and Spotify built in make this the perfect smartwatch for traveling athletes.

Goal Zero Flip 30 Power Bank ($40)

Enough juice to recharge your GoPro five times means you’ll never miss a shot.

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The post The Best Travel Gear Every șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍűr Needs appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.