Caller: Somebody just got hit…[sobbing] Oh, fuck… we were driving down the road, and this biker, on a pedal bike I think—he passed out or something, and he came into our lane when we were right there. I hit the brakes, and I went off the road a little bit. But I still hit him.

Gretchen Breedlove

Gretchen Breedlove at home in Des Moines, Iowa, August 2006

Dispatcher: OK, does he need an ambulance?
Caller: Yes. Very bad.
—911 call from Joseph Rael, June 23, 2005

Athlete and healer, man of science and sweat, Bob Breedlove knew what his body needed and when. On the fifth day of the 2005 Race Across America, ultracycling's ultimate grind, he wanted three things: water, a PowerBar, and to get the hell out of the mountains, which were killing his time.

He told his crew as much when he caught up with them along the Highway of Legends—the tourist name for Colorado State Highway 12, a dipping, twisting, two-lane scenic byway that follows the Purgatoire River east to Trinidad, a proud but faded coal town 14 miles from the New Mexico state line. Since starting out from San Diego, Breedlove had endured brain-frying desert heat, stupefying headwinds, and endless elevation gain. Now it was time to get back in the race.

A short, stocky ex-wrestler with the thighs of an irradiated superhero, Breedlove figured the worst was over. The Rockies, and three Colorado passes that rise more than 9,000 feet, were behind him. The night before, he'd climbed La Veta Pass in the headlights of his support vehicle, almost making it to the top before collapsing into four hours of sleep.

That was a profligate snooze for a RAAM rider; among the veterans, anything longer than 90 minutes is considered sleeping in. But Breedlove understood what it takes to pedal some 3,000 miles across the United States in eight or nine days: He'd done it five times before. In an endurance contest as punishing as RAAM, the race often goes not to the young and studly but the weathered and crafty. At 53, Breedlove was the oldest competitor in the solo division, running 12th in a starting field of 25, but he didn't see any reason he couldn't finish in the top five. If history was a guide, half the riders would be felled by saddle sores, strained muscles, and exhaustion long before the finish line in Atlantic City.

Breedlove sailed down from La Veta in the early-morning light, huffed up Cucharas Pass, and then aimed his bike toward Stonewall, a rustic settlement tucked among cottonwoods below the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Thirty miles ahead was the time station at Trinidad, and beyond that lay the eastern Colorado grasslands and Kansas. Breedlove was a flatland rider at heart; his home turf stretched between Kewanee, Illinois, where he was born, and Des Moines, Iowa, where he and his wife, Gretchen, had raised four children while he built a thriving practice in orthopedic surgery.

Shortly after 10 a.m., Breedlove took a break. His three-man chase crew was waiting for him at a turnoff from Highway 12. At night, in accordance with RAAM rules, the crew's red Volkswagen van stayed right behind him, but during the day Breedlove and his crew often leapfrogged each other when the road lacked shoulders or a pullout, the van driver letting him get a few miles ahead before catching up and passing him. Flanked by ditches on both sides and no more than 25 feet across, Highway 12 was just such a road.

“We'd see the rookie riders, and their teams would be following them all the time, regardless of what road they were on,” says 65-year-old Reuben Aukee, who crewed for Breedlove during six transcontinental rides. “Bob wouldn't let us do that. He believed it was easier for cars to avoid him than to avoid a slow-moving van.”

Bob Breedlove

Bob in San Diego, before the start of RAAM 2005

By the time Breedlove passed through Stonewall, he'd been iding for close to five hours. He got off his pumpkin-orange Trek Pilot for three minutes, washed down a PowerBar, and saddled up for Trinidad. The crew gave him a 15-minute head start. They were about to leave when a battered white Chevy pickup came barreling in from the east, the driver honking and screeching to a halt. An agitated, heavyset young man in a football jersey jumped out of the passenger side and started yelling.

“We just hit one of your bikers,” he said. “He's dead! He veered right in front of us. Right in front of us!”

The driver, a thin teenager, sat motionless behind the wheel, saying nothing. The truck's windshield and headlight were smashed on his side. Crew member Jerel Merical, 55, asked if the pair had called an ambulance. They hadn't. Cell coverage in the area was terrible, as Merical discovered when he tried to use his own phone. Merical told the young men to go get help. The passenger got back in the truck and the driver peeled off to the west. The crew raced east.

The accident site was less than two miles ahead, a stretch of gently upsloping straightaway just before an S-curve. There was a white church in the distance, and the scene had a lonely, postcard-from-the-heartland quality—or would have, if not for the body in the road. Breedlove was lying facedown in the eastbound lane, his head a few feet from the centerline. He'd bled profusely from his nose and mouth. His cracked helmet and one shoe were scattered on the other side of the highway. His left leg was broken and badly swollen, but most of the damage to his body—skull fractures and cuts, broken ribs, and a shattered jaw—couldn't be seen in his present position. Merical, a medical technician who worked in the same hospital as Breedlove, checked his vitals.

There was no pulse, no sign of respiration. Bob was gone.

Some of Breedlove's support team had gone ahead to a Trinidad hotel to prepare for a crew change. Bob's twin brother, Bill, who'd crewed for him on all his races, was grabbing a quick shower when the call came in. Crew chief Bill Magie answered the phone, and then pulled Bill Breedlove out of the stall to tell him there'd been an accident. He didn't repeat the part about Bob not having a pulse. The two sped to the scene, arriving shortly after the ambulance and two Colorado State Patrol cars. Covered by a blanket, Bob's body was still in the road, traffic creeping around him in the other lane.

Magie stopped close to the body. Shirtless, Bill Breedlove pushed past Sergeant Anthony Mattie, the CSP officer in charge of the investigation, and rushed to his brother, yelling, “Oh, God. What the fuck happened? Who hit him? Oh, no. Fuck, no!”

Mattie ordered Magie to move his vehicle, which was blocking traffic. “The traffic can go to hell,” Magie said. “That's my best friend and his twin brother laying there.”

Bob Breedlove

Sergeant Mattie in his office at CSP headquarters in Trinidad

Another trooper, Jorge Leal, intervened, and the situation escalated into a shouting match. When Leal tried to handcuff him, Magie struggled. Within moments, the 58-year-old Vietnam vet, plumber, and Episcopal minister was tumbling down an embankment with a cop on his back. He landed with one hand impaled on a barbed-wire fence but still managed to kick Leal in the face, breaking his glasses, before he was cuffed and put in a patrol car.

“I'm not usually like that,” Magie says, recalling the day. “The trauma of his body laying there, with a pool of blood streaming across the pavement, it just…I didn't need any authority figures telling me what I was going to do.”

After Magie calmed down, he apologized. Mattie, a 29-year veteran who's seen his share of meltdowns, decided to release him without charges. But Magie is haunted by the possibility that his outburst tainted what followed.

“After that, I don't think they did any real investigation at all,” he says. “They hauled the body off, opened the road, and that was it. It was botched, and I can't help but think that my getting them stirred up may have contributed to that.”

As it turned out, the ugly brawl was only the first round in a fractious battle between Trinidad authorities and Breedlove's family and friends. The official accident report, compiled by the Colorado State Patrol and accepted by the local district attorney, placed the blame for the crash on Breedlove himself, concluding that he'd careered into the truck's lane, making it impossible for the driver, 15-year-old Joseph Rael, to avoid hitting him. Later that day, in a statement given to officers at the scene, Rael described the bicyclist as “slumped over the handlebars” and weaving into his lane. “He looked like he was past [sic] out,” he wrote.

Bob Breedlove

The accident site on Colorado's Highway 12, looking west

Within weeks, Breedlove's camp started challenging that version of events, launching their own investigation into how Bob died. Led by Bill Breedlove, the family soon found themselves at odds with RAAM officials, whom they considered too quick to accept that Breedlove was at fault; with errant media reports; and most of all, with the law-enforcement officials in charge of investigating the accident.

News articles about the crash suggested that Breedlove had fainted or had a heart attack. RAAM organizer Lon Haldeman, a longtime friend of Breedlove's, told The Des Moines Register that “a farmer in the field” had seen Bob weaving, “and it sounded like it was happening for several hundred feet before the accident.” But Haldeman had never talked to the farmer; he says he heard about him from a state trooper who was at the accident scene. No statement from any farmer appears in the accident report, and Sergeant Mattie says the only eyewitnesses he knows about are Rael and his passenger, Michael Ross, 22.

Yet rumors persisted—especially among RAAM buffs who discussed the case online—that Breedlove had somehow gone haywire. “His electrolyte levels were out of whack, perhaps approaching a bonk,” one theorized in a posting on RAAM's Web site.

When the Breedloves hired their own private investigators to look into the matter, they didn't find the elusive farmer—or any physiological reason for Bob's supposed collapse. What they did find were facts and possibilities that Trinidad officials apparently never explored. One mystery concerns the forensic evidence at the crash site. The Breedloves' investigators—and, later, an independent accident-reconstruction expert who examined the evidence pro bono for şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř—looked at the same set of clues and concluded that the accident hadn't happened the way state troopers said it did. Both dismissed the official investigation as sloppy and incomplete.

Another question has to do with the high school student driving the truck. Though it was never mentioned during the initial investigation or subsequent hearing, Joseph Rael had been involved in a previous accident on the same stretch of road. Seven months prior to the Breedlove crash and just two miles away, Rael had rolled a Hyundai sedan 60 feet off Highway 12 and left it there. The car had no vehicle identification number, and authorities couldn't determine whether it had been stolen or simply abandoned.

Contacted by a state trooper at school, Rael gave varying accounts of that accident. He claimed he hadn't called the police because he was scared; he and some friends had just been “messing around” with a car that was no good, he said. He also admitted to drinking a beer before driving. He was charged with reckless driving, failing to report an accident, driving without a license, and failing to display proof of insurance. In a routine deal for a first-time offense, all four charges were dismissed by the local DA's office a month before Breedlove's death. Although Rael didn't have a valid driving permit to begin with, his driving privileges were suspended and he was required to take a driver-education course.

The story was disturbing—but, then, so was much of what the Breedloves discovered as they kept digging. Along the way they rattled cages, pursued their own leads, and bumped heads, because, from their standpoint, there was no other choice.

“We're looking for the truth,” says Bill Breedlove. “Not only to clear Bob's name but for generations of Breedloves who are going to ask, 'What happened to Uncle Bob, the cyclist?'”

Anthony Mattie is a dark-eyed, broad-shouldered man of quiet enthusiasms and emphatic hand gestures. He speaks with pride about his three decades on the Colorado State Patrol and, at 54, just as warmly about his pending retirement. Any suggestion that his investigation of the Breedlove case was skewed is met with a patient but passionate response. “Our job isn't to choose sides,” he says. “It seems like the Breedloves are saying, 'Let's find facts to support what our belief is.' “

Mattie denies that the altercation with Magie had any influence on the investigation, calling the fight “just an unnecessary delay.” It certainly wasn't the only distraction Mattie faced that morning. After calling 911, Rael and Ross returned to the scene about a half-hour after the accident with their employer, a local woman named Sandy DeNinno. But at first the authorities didn't know they were waiting inside her vehicle to be interviewed, and reports that the driver had taken off sent a trooper shooting down Highway 12 in search of a possible hit-and-run.

Bob Breedlove

LaJean and Bill Breedlove in Des Moines

As more RAAM people arrived, Mattie realized this would be a high-profile case, but he also had to keep the traffic moving. With the body in the eastbound lane awaiting the coroner, that meant opening the westbound lane—and compromising the presumed “debris path” of the collision. Charting where objects end up in relation to one another is crucial to figuring out how an accident like this unfolded. Although the troopers photographed the scene and spray-painted the locations of a few pieces of evidence, other items had been moved before they arrived—including the broken remains of Breedlove's bike and, of course, the truck itself.

Even so, after taking photos and measurements, interviewing Rael and Ross, and turning the body over to the local coroner, the troopers thought they had a pretty clear idea of what had happened. Rael was driving down the ten-mile stretch from Weston to Stonewall, where he and Ross did odd jobs for DeNinno. Rael was behind the wheel, despite his age and lack of a license, because Ross had taken painkillers for an injured foot. They were heading west on 12, traveling approximately 55 miles an hour in a 60-mile-per-hour zone. Breedlove was heading east when—”for unknown reasons,” the accident report states—he crossed into the westbound lane. Rael said he hit the brakes and steered right, leaving a skid that stretched more than 100 feet. The bike collided with the front driver's-side corner of the truck, hurling Breedlove into the windshield and knocking him back into his own lane.

“It was just one of those unfortunate things that happen,” Mattie says. “I don't know how else to explain it.”

Other locals, though, have heaped the blame on race planners, Breedlove's crew, and anyone else who thought putting a solo rider on Highway 12 was a good idea. Joseph Rael's father, John Rael, has lived beside Highway 12 all his life. He says it's crazy for RAAM riders not to have a car following them at all times, what with the trucks, the occasional rockslide, and other hazards.

“This is a bad road,” he told me during a phone conversation this spring. “The big trucks don't slow down, and these bikers—they don't care. They go right in front of people or they're in the middle of the road half the time. This guy was left alone. There was nobody with him to see if something was wrong with him.”

John, who says he's unemployed and has been on disability for the past ten years, has not let his son speak to journalists. He claims that Joseph, now 17, is an unacknowledged victim in the case, and that interviews would simply retraumatize him. “It's a screwed-up situation,” he says. “He quit school. I don't know what to do. He won't talk about it. He's been in a lot of fights. Caught drinking. It's just been ongoing, back and forth to the courts.”

From John's point of view, things could hardly be more unfair. First, this bicyclist comes hurtling at your kid. The boy tries to get out of the way, but the bike just keeps coming. The man dies. Your kid has that to deal with. And then court. And then the biker's family, who sends private investigators to talk to your neighbors, ask questions all over the place. Why? Because they want it to be your kid's fault. They don't believe him or the kid he was with. Or the state troopers.

Bob Breedlove

Bill Magie, with one of Bob Breedlove's racing bikes

For their part, the Breedloves found the official story unconvincing on several counts, starting with the description of their guy losing control of his bike. Why would Breedlove, a famously cautious and fit rider, a man who dressed like a human traffic cone, be weaving in the wrong lane?

“I don't believe it,” Bill Breedlove says simply. “To say that he just drifts over to the other lane, on a perfectly sunny morning, for no reason, when his crew saw him 15 minutes earlier and he was fine—none of it adds up.”

Once he read the autopsy report and talked to Las Animas County coroner Robert Bukovac, Bill completely dismissed the stories about Bob weaving for several hundred feet. Pathologists routinely look for other health factors that may have contributed to a death, and the autopsy found no evidence of an aneurysm or a heart attack; in fact, Bob's heart was in exceptional shape for a man in his fifties. A standard drug screen turned up only a trace of caffeine. Bukovac says he doesn't know what caused the collision, but he considers a dizzy spell, seizure, or other medical emergency highly unlikely—almost as unlikely as a cyclist riding uphill while passed out.

“It's hard for me to believe this gentleman was able to balance a bike and pedal if he was unconscious,” he says.

At first the Breedloves were hopeful the autopsy results would prompt a closer look at the crash. But they say they received little additional information about the investigation in the weeks that followed and little assistance from Laurel Byrnes, the assigned prosecutor.

“She refused to meet with the family, she refused to talk to me about additional facts we might have, and she refused to postpone the kid's arraignment so we could get some more facts on the table,” says Shawn Gillum, the Breedloves' Denver-based attorney. “Her whole attitude was completely dismissive.”

Byrnes, who's since left to work in a larger jurisdiction, says her office provided Gillum with copies of all relevant records. She adds that the case was one of dozens of traffic offenses she was handling on a daily basis in an understaffed office.

The Breedloves' frustration boiled over when they learned how the case had been settled. Joseph Rael was issued a ticket for driving while his privileges were suspended and for driving without a valid license or insurance. At a September 2005 court hearing, he pleaded guilty to a single charge of not having a license and was sentenced to six months' unsupervised probation and 24 hours of community service. He was fined $35; with court costs and other fees, the total penalty came to less than $200. Bob Breedlove's name isn't even mentioned in the transcript of the three-minute hearing that took place. The district attorney's office didn't tell the judge, Bruce Billings, that the case involved a fatality.

Shortly before Bob Breedlove's last race, he and Gretchen went to a dinner party in Des Moines. “It's Breedlove, the biking legend,” someone greeted him.

“I think you have to be dead to be a legend,” Bob replied.

Two weeks later, he was. Breedlove's death made headlines in Des Moines and quickly became the talk of the ultracycling world. The initial shock gave way to a flood of memories about an intensely disciplined athlete and gifted physician, one who seemed to have treated every bum knee in central Iowa.

Breedlove had discovered long-distance cycling relatively late in life. He'd been a star wrestler in high school, but then came college and medical school and marriage to Gretchen, whom he'd known from childhood in Kewanee. And then, in short order, three daughters, Molly, Ann, and Erika, and a son, Bill.

In the early eighties, still eager to stay in shape and compete, Breedlove ran marathons, but he threw himself into cycling when he decided it was easier on the joints. In 1988, when he told Gretchen he wanted to tackle RAAM—which had started in 1982 with only four competitors—she was skeptical, but his eventual emergence as one of the race's most durable riders didn't surprise her.

“I can't think of anything Bob put his mind to that he didn't do—and do well,” she says. “He loved to set goals.”

Breedlove finished seventh in his first RAAM. He came back in 1989 to pursue a new objective, one that thrust him into the sport's elite. He rode from St. Louis to Irvine, California, the starting line of that year's RAAM, pushed on to the race's conclusion in New York City, finishing third—and then turned around and biked back to St. Louis. He did it in 22 days, 13 hours, and 36 minutes, shattering Lon Haldeman's double-transcontinental record by a day and a half. In Breedlove's next three RAAMs, he finished first in the tandem division two times and second in the 1994 solo division, a scant 93 minutes behind his perpetual rival, Rob Kish.

Breedlove never dominated the race like Kish, who won three solo titles in the nineties. But he was usually close behind and exhibited an exceptional toughness—always upbeat, always finishing. In 1999, on a tandem, he did a cross-county ride with his son, then 14. In 2002, in the wake of 9/11, he completed a transcontinental ride to raise money for the families of emergency-response workers killed in the line of duty, setting a cross-country speed record for a cyclist over age 50. Each time, he was backed by a seasoned crew, led by Magie and Bill Breedlove, who ran a sporting-goods store in Kewanee and had always been his brother's biggest fan.

During all this—hundreds of thousands of miles on a bike—Breedlove never suffered a serious accident. Stuart Stevens, an şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř contributor who rode with Breedlove for years and helped pay for the family's investigation, says his friend was an “annoyingly safe rider.” The orange outfits were only the most obvious signs of his safety mania, as Stevens saw firsthand in 2003, when the two rode the 750-mile Paris Brest Paris on a tandem.

“Bob wouldn't draft anybody, because he thought the person in front of him wasn't as good a rider as he was,” Stevens recalls. “He's the kind of guy who would brake all the way downhill. It drove me crazy.”

Brian Duffy, editorial cartoonist for The Des Moines Register and a longtime riding buddy of Breedlove's, says he never saw his friend cross the centerline. “Never, ever, ever,” he insists. “He always rode within four or five inches of the edge of the road. Never even in the center of his lane.”

Following behind Breedlove in a van for tens of thousands of miles, Magie never saw him cross the line, either. But he did see him fall over twice as he pedaled toward New York City during the double transcontinental, clearly fighting sleep. “That's the worst I've ever seen him,” Magie says. “At the top of a hill, we put him in a lawn chair and put ice bags on his head.”

Bob Breedlove

A general store in Weston, Colorado

The fact that Breedlove managed to collapse in his own lane on those falls is hardly reassuring. And all his precautions didn't allay Gretchen's fears about what could happen to him. She joined the road crew once, for one of Bob's first RAAMs. It didn't go well; after a couple of days, she called her sister to come get her. “I was a nervous wreck,” she says. “These semis are whooshing by him, and I'm thinking, Oh, my God. That's the love of my life.”

RAAM's reputation for pushing limits encouraged such fears. An experiment in how much agonizing mileage a body can take, RAAM requires its solo riders to cover a third more distance than the Tour de France in half the time. In 25 years of RAAM, a mere 176 solo riders have actually completed the race. There have been a few serious smash-ups—dating back to a 1985 nighttime encounter with a hit-and-run driver in New Mexico, which left a Canadian named Wayne Phillips paralyzed—but Breedlove's death was only the second in RAAM's history. In 2003, in another New Mexico mishap, 30-year-old Brett Malin was killed at night on U.S. 60; while letting another member of four-man Team Vail Go Fast take over his position, he made a U-turn near the crest of a hill, just as an 18-wheeler came over the top.

Living on a bike for eight to 12 days can do obscene things to the body, but the most common problem may be sleep deprivation. After a few days, some riders hallucinate. Jure Robic, the gonzo Slovenian who won back-to-back RAAMs in 2004 and 2005, has reported being shadowed by bears, aliens, and bearded horsemen. Muffy Ritz, who finished second in the women's division three times, has said she saw imaginary flea markets along the roadside for miles.

When something goes wrong during RAAM, it's widely assumed that lack of sleep had something to do with it. More than a year after the accident, VeloNews blamed Breedlove's death on the familiar malady: “It is surmised that he had fallen asleep on his bicycle.” But sleep deprivation usually manifests late in the race. Bill Breedlove doesn't think it was a factor in Bob's death, given the sumptuous nap he took the night before and how fresh he appeared just minutes before the collision. Still, there's little doubt that anyone who enters RAAM is taking a chance just by signing up.

After every RAAM, Bob would declare he was done, but he always wound up racing again. Gretchen was usually the last to find out, through a stray e-mail or chance remark. She wasn't thrilled to discover he was training for RAAM in 2005. But Bob could always come up with a reason to ride; Rob Kish was going to be there, he told her, and he had to defend his over-50 record against Kish and other graying veterans.

To his children, he preached the importance of grabbing life by the horns. In recent years his Christmas presents had tended toward the conceptual, such as challenging his family to read the Bible or keep a journal. One year he gave everyone an empty bag. The point was to take a break from material concerns and focus on who and what they loved.

His gift to himself was one last RAAM. As always, he carried a walkie-talkie during the 2005 race so he could speak to his crew along the way. Over the first four days he used it frequently, and he was in a reflective mood.

“He was remembering all the great rides he had and all the great people he'd met through biking,” Aukee says. “I told Jerel, 'He never talked like this before.' I think he just knew this was his last hurrah. His career was coming to an end.”

“Did you lose something?”

It's a blazing day in June 2006. I'm walking the ditch beside Highway 12, pacing off distances around the accident site, when a bearded man in jeans comes out from his yard. Pedestrians are scarce here, and a person on foot gets noticed.

We talk about the accident. The man introduces himself, and I recognize the name. Someone told me he was the first to reach the scene after the pickup rolled away, and that he voluntarily directed traffic until the police arrived. But today his story is different. No, he didn't see the crash. He was away when it happened. Maybe the people in the next house would know more.

Those people, it turns out, are his relatives. No, they didn't see anything. But the first man—maybe he did.

“He says he didn't,” I reply.

“Is he fried today?” one man asks, his hand tilting back an imaginary cold one. It's a rhetorical question; the man turns back to eating a bowl of something beefy and says no more.

It's roughly 900 miles from a surgeon's life in Des Moines to the Highway of Legends, but the trip requires a few adjustments in psyche as well as time zone. To those just passing through—tourists, truckers, RAAM riders—the town of Trinidad, population 9,078, looms as just another pit stop. Situated halfway between Santa Fe and Denver, Trinidad took off in the late 1800s, when southern Colorado could boast some of the most productive coal mines west of the Mississippi. But the mines played out, and the past three decades have been a long twilight, as the town and surrounding Las Animas County have struggled for reinvention as a locus of tourism and small-town geniality.

Bob Breedlove

Breedlove, dressed to be seen, at a 2002 race in Kewanee, Illinois

Adaptability has been Trinidad's strong suit, but it's been in short supply among the scattering of communities west of town, along the river and Highway 12. What's left of Cokedale, Segundo, Weston, Vigil, and the rest of the old settlements has blurred into a procession of weathered homes and double-wides occupied by second- and third-generation descendants of the original miners. To many folks in Trinidad, these are the “river people,” an insular group that shares few of the townies' concerns about civic improvement.

In recent years, big energy companies have returned to the area, drilling for methane in the coalbeds. The gas boom has brought welcome cash, but it's still a hardscrabble existence for many residents, who keep a few chickens or cows and a wary eye on the heavy-equipment trucks roaring by their front doors. Out here, almost any activity requires driving, and the surge in highway traffic has become a favorite gripe.

On the morning of the accident, Joseph Rael and Michael Ross were on their way to unload building supplies at Sandy DeNinno's place. The Chevy truck belonged to Ross's family and, according to police, was not insured. Rael told troopers he'd never driven it on the highway before, just on back roads. After the accident, Rael and Ross drove nearly five miles to DeNinno's house before calling 911. DeNinno returned them to the scene in her truck, and Sergeant Luke Armstrong, an accident-reconstruction expert for the CSP, went to her house to examine the Chevy.

John Rael rushed to the scene of the accident as soon as he heard about it. His son was “pretty shook up,” he says, but from what Joseph and the troopers told him, there was nothing that could have been done. The way he heard it, his son “had pulled off the road, and the guy more or less ran into him.”

End of story? Not to the Breedloves, who scoured the state patrol's reports, photos, and diagrams of the accident and decided that entire chunks of the narrative were missing. There was no statement from DeNinno or from neighbors who might have witnessed the accident. There was no explanation why neither of the guys had stayed with the body. No drug or alcohol tests were done on the driver or the passenger, despite Ross's admission about having taken pain medication.

To the state troopers, the questions seemed beside the point. They don't perform sobriety tests without probable cause, and Rael wasn't exhibiting any signs of intoxication. As for witnesses not interviewed, Sergeant Mattie says he probably should have knocked on a few more doors. But the investigators had a set of fresh 100-foot skid marks, going from the truck's lane into the grassy ditch beside the road, that matched perfectly with the driver's account of seeing the bicyclist, hitting the brakes, and steering to the right in an effort to avoid him.

“There's no point to further investigation,” Mattie says. “It's not going to change things. All of the evasive action, the tire marks, the debris pattern, and such are in the westbound lane. The skid marks start near the center of the lane and continue off to the right side of the road.”

To Mattie it couldn't have been clearer: “I believe the doctor, for whatever reason, was on the wrong side of the road.”

Tony Becker isn't so sure. Shortly after Rael's sentencing, the Breedloves hired Becker Consulting, an accident-reconstruction firm based in Normal, Illinois, to perform a crash study. A former police officer and deputy coroner, Becker, 47, has been doing such studies for more than 20 years. During a trip to the accident site in November 2005, he took measurements at the scene, then analyzed the troopers' photos and taped together the pieces of Bob's bike (which had been returned to the family) in an effort to determine the path of impact. He didn't have access to the truck.

Becker was intrigued by several discrepancies in the accident report. For example, one trooper stated that Rael had told him he first saw the bicyclist in the eastbound lane, while another reported that Rael first saw him in the westbound lane. He was troubled that so much of the physical evidence had been moved or obliterated and that no scuff marks or paint-to-pavement transfers from the bicycle were found in the reputed debris path. But most of all, he was baffled by the CSP's declaration that the point of impact was six feet from the north edge of the highway. For Breedlove to get in the path of the truck at that point, he would have had to sail across both lanes to catch the left front of the truck as it was already skidding off the road.

The major damage to the bicycle, Becker discovered, had occurred from the front tire to the front fork; the rear tire hadn't even been deflated. The damage to the truck was distributed along a straight line on the driver's side, from the front bumper to the base of the windshield, with several contact areas along the way, including a broken antenna. If Breedlove had been weaving erratically across the path of the truck, the damage to both vehicles would have been quite different—and there would have been massive damage to the right side of Breedlove's body. But most of the injuries were on his left side. To Becker, a soft-spoken, methodical investigator, the physical evidence was thoroughly consistent with a head-on collision with the truck's front left corner.

A head-on doesn't fit with the account of Breedlove weaving on the road, Becker insists, and it couldn't have occurred at the point of impact that the official report indicated. If the collision had been that close to the edge of the road, you'd expect to find the body in the ditch, where the truck came to rest, not in the opposite lane. “If it happened anywhere along those skid marks, common sense and physics tells you the body is going to move in the direction the truck's moving,” Becker says.

Becker went further. What if the skid marks didn't belong to the truck at all? Two of the troopers had seen the bicycle lying on the south edge of the road, adjacent to Bob's lane, when they first arrived at the scene. If bike and body ended up on that side of the road, Becker argues, it's possible that the accident had occurred in the bicyclist's lane.

But there are problems with that scenario, too. Three witnesses who arrived before the troopers say the bicycle was in the truck's lane at that point. Armstrong, the state patrol's reconstruction expert, insists that he measured the width of the skid and matched it to the Chevy tires—even though there's no mention of that detail in his report.

Nonetheless, Becker's central assertion—that the official point of impact is in error—has been seconded by an independent accident-reconstruction expert consulted by şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř: John Smith, of Raymond Smith and Associates, a firm in Parker, Colorado.

“Let's start with what we know is true,” says Smith, 45, who reviewed the investigation file and photos as well as Becker's report. “The story that the bicycle is weaving all over the place doesn't make any sense.”

Smith has reconstructed more than 1,500 collisions. Like Becker, he believes the damage to the truck and the bike reflects an in-line collision. Although Breedlove was hurled to the left of the truck, Smith doubts the body would have enough lateral velocity to propel it halfway across the highway from the indicated point of impact. Because so much evidence was either moved or never located, he says, it's possible the collision occurred earlier in the skid or even before the skid began. “It's hard to explain how the body got that far from the truck,” he says.

A colonel in the Army Reserve whose father was a state trooper, Smith is witheringly critical of the CSP's investigation. The troopers didn't have enough evidence, he insists, to place the impact where they did. If they didn't find even a scuff mark on the road at the point where the bike supposedly hit the truck, or other marks to indicate where the body first hit the pavement, it may have been because they were looking in the wrong place. They failed to interview key witnesses and failed to adequately assess Rael's previous driving record. The evident sympathy for the 15-year-old driver in Mattie's report (“it was clear and obvious that the younger boy who identified himself as the driver was very emotional”) might seem commendable, but to Smith it suggests a bias in favor of the local motorist and against Breedlove and his combative supporters.

“This was a very, very poor investigation,” Smith says. “I get the feeling they were particularly careless. I'd say he got hometowned.”

The CSP's Armstrong says his calculations reflect an “area of impact” rather than a precise location, working from the point where the truck came to rest in the grass—established by mounds of dirt plowed by the skidding tires—and the body's position. Given the differences in mass and velocity, he suggests, it's possible a head-on collision could result in the body ending up on one side of the road and the truck on the other.

“The evidence is the evidence,” Armstrong declares. “He could have landed on the centerline and rolled to where he was.”

Mattie says the laws of physics don't allow for the accident to have occurred in the bicyclist's lane, before the skid begins in the truck's lane. “The kid did everything that was in his power to do,” he says. “He attempted to reduce his speed. He tried to surrender his position on the road by moving to his right. The only thing he did wrong was be there. He shouldn't have been driving. But the circumstances would be no different if you had a carload of nuns in that vehicle.”

Last April 11, members of the Breedlove family, including Gretchen, Bill, Bill's wife, LaJean, and Bob's 26-year-old daughter, Ann, along with attorney Shawn Gillum and Tony Becker, met with officials in Trinidad, hoping to get the case reopened. Bill expected the troopers to be defensive, but their intransigence in the face of the family's material was, in his view, shocking.

He asked Sergeant Armstrong if he'd read the autopsy report. Armstrong told him he didn't need to read it, that the accident reconstruction and the determination of cause of death were entirely separate functions. “He almost got mad at me,” Breedlove recalls. “That guy looked me in the eye and told me he didn't need that information.”

Becker got a chillier reception when he asked for documentation to establish that the skid marks had been matched to the truck. “I got the impression I might as well pack my bags and go,” he says. “They each gave a five-minute spiel about how they got it all right: 'This is the way it happened, and you people need to deal with it.'”

Mattie and Armstrong were adamant. Whatever the investigation's flaws—not that they were admitting any—the skid marks indicated the accident occurred in Rael's lane, and they didn't see any evidence to the contrary. District Attorney Lee Hawke declined to reopen the case.

Hawke tells şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř he would have handled the case differently from the way his assistant did and would have told the judge that a fatality was involved. But he's satisfied that justice was served. “No one has suggested anything inappropriate about the 15-year-old's driving from day one,” he says. “I thought it was an open-and-shut deal. But I'm not an accident reconstructionist.”

Mattie thinks the Breedloves are making too much out of the more cryptic phrases in the troopers' interviews with Rael and Ross. “I think it's just a misunderstanding,” he says. “What the kids meant when they said 'He crossed in front of us' is that he came from his assigned lane. That's all.”

It's a curious line of reasoning. Here's the chief investigator of the accident telling us what the witnesses really meant, when he barely questioned them himself. The written statement of Joseph Rael amounts to 100 words; there's no formal statement by Michael Ross.

Like Joseph Rael, Ross declined to be interviewed by şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř. Among the people living along the river, there's a weariness with further questions about the matter, which many consider closed. Rael paid his fine. What more do the Breedloves want?

“We want people to recognize that there are big holes in this investigation,” Bill says. “I still have people coming to see me, over a year later, asking, 'What ever happened to that case?' It's embarrassing to have to say, 'Nothing, really.' “

The Breedloves have discussed an ever-dwindling pool of options, including offering a reward for new witnesses to come forward. Civil suits sometimes serve to leverage information, but Bill says his family won't consider that. “We're not after this kid,” he says. “The world's going to be uphill most of his life anyway. We want the biking world to know the truth, or at least something closer to it than what the police came up with.”

If Bill could, he'd take anyone interested out to where his brother died, so they could draw their own conclusions. Highway 12 is tattooed with skid marks, thanks to the kind of heavy braking that occurs when a pickup doing 60 or 70 whips around a curve and almost parks in the back of a dump truck doing 35. Most of the heavy truck traffic is several miles east of where Breedlove died, but this stretch has its dangers, too. The curve Rael took just before spotting the bike banks slightly, and fast-moving westbound vehicles have a tendency to drift toward the center of the road. One clear spring afternoon, I watched as roughly every third car rode on or crossed the double yellow.

Fewer than 50 yards from where the body was found, two black stripes scar the north-facing wall of a farmhouse. According to the homeowner, they mark the spot where a Toyota truck came to rest after the driver lost control going around the curve. The truck slid across the road, rumbled through the ditch, and literally tried to climb up the side of the house.

Gretchen Breedlove has driven that curve and felt her car tug to the left. “In my mind, I know what happened,” she says. “When you're going fast, you pull to the center. I will stick by that until the day I meet Bob in heaven and he tells me different.”

Despite two fatalities in three years, RAAM went on in 2006, albeit with notable changes. After Breedlove's death, race director Jim Pitre considered canceling the event, but he and RAAM founder Lon Haldeman settled on a rule change that would require solo riders to take mandatory rest stops totaling a minimum of 40 hours. The idea drew immediate fire from race purists and rankled the Breedloves' supporters, who resented the implication that Bob had died as a result of lack of sleep.

In the end, the opposition to mandatory rest periods forced the organizers to compromise. This year's race offered the traditional solo division and a new Enduro division, with designated rest stops spread along the route. The solution didn't placate the Breedlove loyalists, though. Many of them felt that, instead of changing the race, RAAM's leadership should have been more active in investigating Breedlove's death.

“I am exceedingly disappointed with the way they've reacted to this,” says Stuart Stevens. “They've never made an attempt to find out what happened. It's as if they're protecting the brand—they don't want it associated with a death.”

Pitre seems baffled by such comments. “I've had masses of e-mails criticizing RAAM and me for not taking a stronger position,” he says. “I hesitate to be more vocal when the information I have is piecemeal. I don't guess we'll ever know what went on out there.”

Haldeman, who has kept close track of the investigation, has decided over time that the boys may have been at fault. “All it is is speculation,” he says. “But it's very probable the impact occurred in Bob's lane.”

Overall, organizers considered RAAM 2006 a success. The solo field was divided equally between traditional riders like this year's winner, 36-year-old Daniel Wyss, and those in the Enduro division, which was won by 50-year-old Jonathan Boyer, 21 years after his first RAAM victory. One rider, Daniel Maegerle, was hospitalized in St. Louis with broken ribs and damage to his lungs and liver after a collision with a truck in the rain.

For the most part, the route was the same as last year, traveling many of the narrow secondary roads, with little or no shoulder, that used to worry Bob's crew. The route through southern Colorado was the same one Breedlove had done several times and loved: Wolf Creek Pass, La Veta Pass, Cucharas Pass, Trinidad.

Heading east on Highway 12, near mile marker 42, the cyclists passed a small white cross by the side of the road, marking the last ride of a legend.

The post Wrecked appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Trinidad and Tobago
Language: English • Music: Calypso
Get Down: Join tens of thousands of revelers in Port-of-Spain, where after-hours on February 6 brings J’Ouvert, in which men and women in devil outfits smear each other with mud and oil. For the next two days, parade through the streets with costumed bands. Get Dirty: Catch the 15-minute flight to Crown Point and mountain-bike along seaside singletrack. Sleep: Base at the Coblentz Inn Boutique Hotel, a five-minute stroll from the parades.
Access & Resources
Flights from Port-of-Spain to Crown Point on BWIA cost $35; 800-538-2942, . Mountain Biking Tobago charges $40 per person for guided tours; 868-639-9709, . Coblentz Inn Boutique Hotel: doubles, $120; 868-621-0541, .

Guadeloupe
Language: French • Music: Zouk
Get Down: These isles kick off the festivities with a nationwide pajama party in early February. Things peak in the capital of Basse Terre on February 9, when thousands in wolf costumes lead a processional to the beach for a Burning Man–like torching of wooden Carnival kings. Get Dirty: Scuba-dive in Jacques Cousteau Underwater Park. Sleep: Rent a mountain suite with ocean views at Domaine de Malendure, 45 minutes by taxi from Basse Terre.
Access & Resources
Dive with CIP Guadeloupe, $47 per person; 011-590-590-988-172, . Domaine de Malendure: doubles, $170; 011-590-590-989-212.

Salvador da Bahia, Brazil
Language: Portuguese • Music: AXÉ
Get Down: From February 3 to 8, some two million swingers turn this colonial beach town into a raucous rave. Seek out the rumblings of Afro blocos, enormous drum troupes pounding out soulful rhythms in the Pelourinho District. Get Dirty: Take a 40-minute flight to IlhĂ©us, portal to Brazil’s wild ItacarĂ© region, and raft the Class III Rio de Contas. Sleep: Stay at Hotel Redfish, a groovy guesthouse/art gallery in Salvador’s historical center.
Access & Resources
Ilhéus flights on Varig Brazilian Airlines cost $99 one way; 800- 468-2744, www.varigbrasil.com. Run the Contas with Sul da Bahia, $26 per person; 011-55-73-251-3142, . Hotel Redfish: doubles, from $80; 011-55-71-243-8473, .

Dominican Republic
Language: Spanish • Music: Merengue
Get Down: Here the celebration lasts throughout February, climaxing on the 27th—the nation’s independence day—in the valley town of La Vega, where locals don grotesque demon masks featuring bull horns and dog teeth, then march between the two main parks as the beats blast. Get Dirty: Slip and slide on a canyoneering adventure. Sleep: Natura Cabañas, on the popular north coast, is a blissfully lazy resort and spa.
Access & Resources
Canyoneering with Iguana Mama, $85–$100 per person; 800-849-4720, . Natura Cabañas: doubles, $140; 809-571-1507, .

The post Beat Streets appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

What do you want—a printed invitation? OK, here it is: We’ve scouted the year’s coolest travel offerings—from new classics like cruising the Arctic, exploring the wild Caribbean, and journeying across Russia’s heartland to bold new frontiers like trekking Libya and tracking wildlife (and luxury lodges) in Sri Lanka. Going somewhere? We thought so.

Best Trips of 2005

Smooth Landing: Getting started in California’s Sierra foothills

PLUS:

Mix travel with philanthropy on one of these meaningful adventures

The Caribbean, Mexico, and Central America

Belize

The other barrier reef: Snorkeling off Belize

Panama
Kayaking the San Blas Islands
Price: $3,190
Difficulty: Easy
In 2001, Olaf Malver, the founder of outfitter Explorers’ Corner, kayaked with his family to a remote part of the San Blas Islands, off Panama’s north coast, where he met with a chief of the indigenous Kuna Yala Indians and requested permission to explore. Not only did the sahila agree, but he invited Malver to return with like-minded friends. On this ten-day trip to the Cayos Holandes, accompanied by two Kuna Yala guides, you’ll paddle 60 to 80 miles, tracing the shorelines of mostly uninhabited Caribbean islands, camping on pristine beaches, visiting a Kuna Yala community known for its vivid molas, or tapestries, and tramping through orchid-filled jungles.
High Point: Reaching the uninhabited island of Esnatupile after a mellow, nine-mile paddle across two channels.
Low Point: Being outpaced by local fishermen in low-tech pangas.
Travel Advisory: Don’t touch the coconuts! Your permission to visit—seriously— is contingent upon a hands-off agreement.
Outfitter: Explorers’ Corner, 510-559-8099,
When to Go: December, January

Mexico
Mountain-Biking the Conquerors’ Route
Price: $1,395
Difficulty: Moderate
This two-week mountain-bike adventure traverses the same terrain as the route of the 16th-century Spanish army through the former Aztec empire, wheeling along 200 miles of desert, mountain, and coastal singletrack and jeep roads. You’ll ride about six hours each day, from the outskirts of Puebla to the Sierra Madre hills and valleys near the base of 18,700-foot Pico de Orizaba, overnighting in tents, 18th-century haciendas, and lodges as you make your way to a Gulf Coast beach.
Outfitter: şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍřs SelvAzul, 011-52-222-237-48-87,
When to Go: November to July

Trinidad and Tobago
Caribbean Multisport
Price: $1,799—$2,000
Difficulty: Moderate
Trinidad’s rugged coastline is as wild as its calypso culture, and sleepy Tobago boasts some of the Caribbean’s less-trodden beaches. Explore the best of both islands on this hyperactive nine-day, inn-based tour that takes you mountain-biking through dense rainforests and farmland, hiking amid howler monkeys and macaws, river-kayaking beneath bamboo archways, snorkeling among hawksbill sea turtles and green moray eels, and caving in an intricate system swarming with bats.
Outfitter: REI şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍřs, 800-622-2236,
When to Go: February, April, June, November

Belize
Belize şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Cruise
Price: $2,095—$2,395
Difficulty: Easy
Spend eight days aboard a sweet four-cabin luxury yacht, exploring intimate coves that full-size cruise ships can’t get anywhere near. An onboard naturalist will point out the sea turtle nesting sites and the manatees as you cruise along the Caribbean coastline from Belize City. You’ll take a nighttime walking safari up the Sittee River, past Garifuna villages, visit Maya caves and an excavation site, and paddle kayaks with see-through acrylic bottoms over the world’s second-largest barrier reef.
Outfitter: şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍřSmith Explorations, 800-728-2875,
When to Go: Year-round

Asia

China

Dusk settles across China’s rice paddies

India
Rajasthan on Horseback
Price: $4,800
Difficulty: Strenuous
When film producer Alexander Souri’s first expedition of “Relief Riders” trotted into a remote Indian village last fall, the caravan of nine Marwari horses, four pack camels, 50 goats, and 15 people caused quite a stir. “Across India it became front-page news,” says Souri, 35, whose inaugural Rajasthan Relief Ride delivered supplies like antibiotics and eye drops by horseback to five villages in northwestern India, and had doctors on board for impromptu clinics. Hardy travelers can join the next cavalcade on a 15-day journey carrying goods deep into the Thar Desert. You’ll saddle up in Mukandgarh, about six hours from New Delhi, then ride about 20 miles per day, camping or staying in 400-year-old forts en route to Jaipur.
High Point: Seeing villagers receive knowledge—such as AIDS education—plus food and supplies that they desperately need.
Low Point: Watching people wait in line at the clinics for hours in the midday heat.
Travel Advisory: Three to five hours per day is a lot of time in the saddle. Be sure your skills (and your posterior) are up to the task.
Outfitter: Relief Riders International, 413-329-5876,
When to Go: February, October

Sri Lanka
Wildlife Expedition
Price: $1,099—$1,390
Difficulty: Easy
Sri Lanka is serious about protecting its endangered elephants—the penalty for killing one is death. On this eight-day loop around the island, starting and ending in Colombo, you’ll witness the slow recovery of the species—thousands of these mammoth mammals now roam the jungles of Yala National Park. En route to the two-day park safari, you’ll visit Kandy and Polonnaruwa, two of Sri Lanka’s oldest cities, and an elephant orphanage, and stay at an Edwardian manor house amid the tea fields of a former British hill station.
Outfitter: Big Five, 800-244-3483,
When to Go: October to March

Tibet
Photo Exploration
Price: $4,695
Difficulty: Challenging
Red limestone cliffs front the sapphire-blue surface of Lake Nam Tsho, where Tibetan pilgrims gather at a shoreline dotted with migratory cranes and geese. Any amateur could produce stunning images here, but you’ll have expert guidance from Bill Chapman, whose photographic book The Face of Tibet has a foreword by the Dalai Lama. Starting in Lhasa, the 15-day adventure takes you on a challenging trek over 16,900-foot Kong La Pass. You’ll bunk in nomad camps as you make your way to the riding competitions and colorful dance performances of the Nagchu Horse Festival.
Outfitter: Myths & Mountains, 800-670-6984,
When to Go: August

East Timor
Island Touring
Price: $1,380
Difficulty: Moderate
In the five years since East Timor won its bloody battle for independence from Indonesia, few travelers have ventured into the world’s newest nation, where the tourist-free villages, coffee plantations, and verdant rainforests rival any in Southeast Asia. On this 15-day trip, you’ll hike up the country’s tallest mountain (9,724 feet), sail to a nearby reef-ringed island, watch villagers weave their traditional tais (sarongs), and spend your nights in humble guesthouses and thatched-roof seaside bungalows.
Outfitter: Intrepid Travel, 866-847-8192,
When to Go: May to November

China
Minya Konka Trek
Price: $5,595
Difficulty: Strenuous
In the shadow of 24,790-foot Minya Konka, spend 19 days exploring Tibetan villages, Buddhist temples, and a high-alpine landscape where rhododendrons and wildflowers line paths leading to hot springs and crystalline lakes. The trip centers on a 12-day trek that tops out on a 15,150-foot mountain pass before dropping into the Yunongqi Valley, where you’ll sip butter tea in a village home, then set up camp nearby.
Outfitter: Geographic Expeditions, 800-777-8183,
When to Go: April, September

Africa

Kenya and Tanzania
Safari Through Masailand
Price: $3,750
Difficulty: Moderate
In partnership with the Masai Environmental Resource Coalition, a network of Masai organizations advocating for tribal rights and sustainable use of the great ecosystems of East Africa, this 12-day safari-with-a-conscience combines classic game drives and walks with daily visits to local schools and villages—well off the usual tourist path. The journey begins in the wide, lion-rich plains of the Masai Mara Game Reserve, then heads to the important elephant migratory ground of Amboseli National Park, at the foot of 19,340-foot Kilimanjaro. Tanzania’s rustic tented Sinya Camp, a private Masai concession in the acacia woodlands, is the final stop.
High Point: Searching for game on foot with a Masai warrior in the Sinya bushlands—littered by giant elephant dung.
Low Point: Realizing that for many years the Masai have not reaped equitable benefits from the tourism trade.
Travel Advisory: Don’t expect your guides to drive off-road to get a better look at wild animals. It damages habitat, harasses wildlife, and is strictly prohibited on this trip.
Outfitter: Wildland şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍřs, 800-345-4453,
When to Go: February, March, June to October, December

Libya
Overland Exploration
Price: $4,750 and up
Difficulty: Moderate
On this 17-day expedition from Tripoli—one of the first outfitted trips to Libya since the travel ban for U.S. citizens was lifted last March—you’ll take in all five of Libya’s UNESCO World Heritage Sites, including the ruins of the Roman-walled cities of Sabratah and Leptis Magna; the labyrinthine 2,000-year-old mud-brick western border town of Ghadames, a key stop on the great trans-Saharan caravan routes; and the haunting, desolate Greek temples and tombs of Apollonia and Cyrenaica, on a bluff overlooking the sea. Along the way, you’ll camp in the desert and sleep on beds carved out of rock in the below-ground troglodyte houses of Ruhaybat.
Outfitter: Geographic Expeditions, 800-777-8183,
When to Go: April, September

Botswana
Guiding şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř
Price: $2,700—$3,300
Difficulty: Moderate
Aspiring safari guides, take note. This nine-day educational foray into the wilds of the Okavango Delta—among antelopes, lions, giraffes, Cape buffalo, and zebras—will give participants a strong introduction to the finer points of African bushcraft and survival skills. You’ll be schooled by professional South African guiding instructors in four-wheel driving techniques, navigation, tracking, fire starting, canoe poling, food foraging, rifle handling, game spotting, and (optional) venomous-snake wrangling. Though your graduation certificate won’t qualify you as a professional guide, it will certainly look impressive on the wall of your den back home.
Outfitter: Explore Africa, 888-596-6377,
When to Go: Year-round

South Africa and Mozambique
Fishing and Diving şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř
Price: $4,395
Difficulty: Moderate
This two-week coastal foray starts in South Africa’s Maputaland Coastal Forest Reserve, where you’ll spend five nights in one of Rocktail Bay Lodge’s 11 stilted chalets, tucked behind forested dunes. Between surfcasting for kingfish and snorkeling amid a confetti swirl of subtropical fish, you’ll view freshwater lake hippos and crocs and hit the beach at night to track nesting leatherback and loggerhead turtles. After a quick flight to Mozambique, you’ll board a boat for Benguerra Island, just off the mainland in the Bazaruto Archipelago, and check in to the thatched bungalows of Benguerra Lodge. Here, scuba divers may encounter 50-foot whale sharks and endangered dugongs, and anglers will work some of the world’s best marlin-fishing grounds.
Outfitter: The Africa şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Company, 800-882-9453,
When to Go: Year-round

Eastern Europe and the Caucasus

Siberian Railroad

Back to Go: Start your trip along the Siberian rail at Moscow

Georgia
Trekking the Caucasus
Price: $3,390—$3,690
Difficulty: Strenuous
Rob Smurr, a seasoned expert on the former Soviet Union, is your guide on this 15-day trip, the heart of which is a nine-day trek through the south-central Caucasus, a largely untouristed area of high glaciers, waterfalls, and massive granite peaks. From your first campsite, at the base of 12,600-foot Mount Chauki, you’ll hike eight to 15 miles daily—along the Chanchakhi River and up some of the range’s highest passes, skirting 16,558-foot Mount Kazbek. Camp out or stay with locals in villages where medieval towers mirror the peaks.
High Point: Joining families for lamb and baklava, in their ninth-century villages.
Low Point: Occasional rerouting due to security issues.
Travel Advisory: Corruption can be common, so keep up your anti-scam guard.
Outfitter: Mountain Travel Sobek, 888-687-6235,
When to Go: August

Croatia
Mountain-Biking Istria
Price: $1,325
Difficulty: Challenging
Istria, the sunny Adriatic peninsula in Croatia’s northwestern corner, bordered by Slovenia, is an undiscovered mountain-biking destination. Locally harvested olives, figs, and almonds provide fuel as you pedal 30 to 50 miles a day, through Pazin, the region’s elegant old capital, to the vineyards outside of Motovun and the historic west coast, staying at four-star inns and family farmhouses.
Outfitter: Saddle Skedaddle, 011-44-191-265-1110,
When to Go: June to September

Romania
Walking Romania’s Countryside
Price: $2,895
Difficulty: Moderate
This 14-day romp through Transylvania and the Caliman Mountains is a low-key way to explore Romania’s still intact natural beauty. After gathering in Bucharest, with its belle Ă©poque architecture, hit the countryside for majestic views of giant white cliffs in Piatra Craiului National Park, Bran Castle, of Dracula legend, and the verdant Bucovina region, where valleys are dotted with painted monasteries. Bed down in small hotels, B&Bs, homestays, and, for one night—after a nip of plum brandy by the campfire—a kober, or shepherd’s hillside shelter. Trail tip: “Sa traiesti” (“Cheers”) is the common hiker’s greeting.
Outfitter: MIR Corporation, 800-424-7289,
When to Go: June to September

Russia
Siberian Rails
Price: $8,495—$12,865
Difficulty: Easy
The ultimate classic in Russian travel is the Trans-Siberian Express, a legendary 17-day luxe train journey from Moscow to Vladivostok that rumbles for nearly 6,000 miles. The onboard experts are a font of knowledge, especially during stops at the charming village of Irkutsk and mile-deep Lake Baikal.
Outfitter: American Museum of Natural History Discovery Tours, 800-462-8687,
When to Go: August

Western Europe

Matterhorn

The Middle Earth of the Northern Hemisphere: Switzerland’s Matterhorn

Switzerland
Cycling Camp
Price: $6,500
Difficulty: Strenuous
This first-of-its-kind European offering is the ultimate two-wheeled fantasy: On this nine-day trip, there’ll be seven days of personalized training in Aigle, at the International Cycling Union’s new ultramodern World Cycling Center (WCC), and in surrounding alpine terrain. With your coach, seven-time world track champion and Frenchman Frederic Magne, you’ll train on the WCC’s state-of-the-art 200-meter wooden track and on daily rides ranging from 25 to 75 miles. Base camp is a Victorian-style four-star hotel on Lake Geneva’s eastern shore. From there, ride along Rhone Valley roads and into the Vaud Alps, with views of the Matterhorn and Mont Blanc providing inspiration as you grind up legendary mountain passes. Out-of-the-saddle luxuries include thermal spas, private wine tastings, a trip masseur, and regional specialties like saucisson Vaudois (local sausage).
High Point: Cranking up the famous hairpin turns of the Grimsel and Furka passes before hopping the cable car to the top of 9,603-foot Eggishorn Mountain for a view of Europe’s largest glacier, the Aletsch.
Low Point: Trying to avoid too much pinot noir at the farewell dinner, knowing there’s a timed 91-mile race in Bulle—the Pascal Richard Cyclosportif—still to come.
Travel Advisory: High-altitude climbs combined with August heat can mean easy dehydration, so keep the fluids coming.
Outfitter: Velo Classic Tours, 212-779-9599,
When to Go: August

Portugal
Kayaking the Douro River
Price: $3,590
Difficulty: Easy
On this 11-day flatwater float on the Douro River from Quinta das Aveleiras to Peso da RĂ©gua, through northern Portugal’s fertile port-wine region, you’ll paddle three to five hours daily, stretching out with afternoon hikes across golden-terraced hillsides. In the fall, glide through the grape harvest, feasting on feijoada (bean-and-meat stew) and the ruby-hued regional wines (you can pick tinta amarela grapes off the vine from the seat of your kayak), staying at manor houses and 18th-century blue-tiled quintas (wine estates).
Outfitter: Explorers’ Corner, 510-559-8099,
When to Go: June, September

Italy
Sicily and the Aeolian Islands by Sea
Price: $8,950 and up
Difficulty: Moderate
The intimate 32-passenger Callisto is your luxurious floating hideaway on this nine-day sail through Italy’s southern islands. Begin with an architectural tour of Palermo’s 11th-century splendors, then set sail for the sun-blasted Aeolian Islands, seven volcanic spurs north of Sicily. When you’re not scuba-diving, snorkeling, and swimming in tucked-away coves or hiking up a live volcano, lounge at Lipari Island’s San Calogero, the oldest-known spa in the Mediterranean, or take a siesta deckside, grappa in hand.
Outfitter: Butterfield & Robinson, 888-596-6377,
When to Go: July

Britain
Hiking Hadrian’s Wall
Price: $3,495 and up
Difficulty: Moderate
Follow the winding route of Hadrian’s Wall on Britain’s newest long-distance trail. The Roman-era engineering feat stretches for 70 miles along the Scottish border, connecting two coasts. Start in Bowness-on-Solway, where the wall meets the sea on the west coast, and hike eight to ten miles a day through a magical landscape little changed in 2,000 years: lush hills, heather-covered moors, and rolling dales pocked with deep forests. En route, explore Roman forts, archaeological sites, and the bird-rich tidal estuary of Budle Bay. Your guide, Peter Goddard, has hiked the area for more than 30 years and is a local-history buff, as you’ll learn over family-style dinners at country B&Bs.
Outfitter: Wilderness Travel, 800-368-2794,
When to Go: July

Polar Regions

Antarctica

Ice, Ice, Baby: The mammoth icebergs of Antarctica

Sweden
Skiing the King’s Trail
Price: $2,295
Difficulty: Challenging
Ditch the wimpy groomers at American nordic centers and dig into a real cross-country challenge: The Kungsladen, or King’s Trail—which links Abisko and Sarek national parks, above the Arctic Circle—is Sweden’s crème de la crème strip of snow-covered track. For seven challenging days, you’ll slide your way along a 58-mile section of trail through the Kebnekaise Range, with plenty more payoff than pain. On day three, your dogsled support team will await at a rustic hut with a hefty platter of reindeer steaks and potatoes. After huffing up 3,773-foot Tjaktja Pass on day six, glide into the Tjaktjavagge Valley, stopping to bunk at the Salka Mountain Hut. If cross-country touring isn’t your thing, you can opt to explore the Kungsladen on foot during the summer and climb to the top of Sweden’s highest peak, 6,965-foot Mount Kebnekaise, for views of distant Norway.
High Point: Bringing your core temperature up with a sauna at the Abisko, Alesjaure, and Salka huts.
Low Point: Having your circadian rhythms thrown off by 24-hour twilight.
Travel Advisory: Beware snowmobiles—they are an essential part of life in Lapland but can shatter your hard-won solitude.
Outfitter: KE şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Travel, 800-497-9675,
When to Go: February to April

Norway
Svalbard Photo Expedition
Price: $5,290
Difficulty: Easy
The Svalbard Archipelago is one of the inhabited spits of land closest to the North Pole, just over 600 miles away, but it’s anything but barren—in summer the islands are blanketed with wildflowers, seabirds swirl en masse, and walruses, whales, seals, and bears gorge themselves during the 24-hour days. This expedition is all about capturing it on film—for 11 days, naturalists will help you spot the critters, and one of the world’s top nature photographers, Art Wolfe, will teach you how to take advantage of polar light, among other skills. Each day you’ll load into Zodiacs to shoot the glaciers, icebergs, fjords, and herds of reindeer that catch your interest from the bow of the ice-class ship Endeavor.
Outfitter: Lindblad Expeditions, 800-397-3348,
When to Go: July

Antarctica
Across the Circle for Climbers and Divers
Price: $4,490
Difficulty: Challenging
Why go to Antarctica if you get to stand on solid ground for only a few hours? This cruise gets you some real time on—and under—the great white continent and takes you south across the Antarctic Circle, a feat only true polar explorers can brag about. You and 53 other adventurers will stay aboard the Polar Pioneer, your floating base camp, where you’ll have input in planning the ship’s day-to-day itinerary. Experienced drysuit divers can explore the undersides of icebergs and get a krill’s-eye view of whales; hikers can summit unclimbed mountains on the western side of Antarctica and name them after their grandmothers. Other possibilities include visits to the defunct volcanic crater of Deception Island, the glaciers of Paradise Harbor, and the narrow 2,300-foot cliffs flanking Lemaire Channel.
Outfitter: World Expeditions, 888-464-8735,
When to Go: February

Oceania

French Polynesia
Surfing the Tuamotus
Price: $2,300—$4,717
Difficulty: Moderate
This is the ultimate surf safari in one of the world’s last great undiscovered wave frontiers—the mostly uninhabited, low-lying 78-island Tuamotu Archipelago, 200 miles northeast of Tahiti. Spend seven to 11 days riding clean, hollow three- to ten-foot barrels as you shuttle from one heartbreakingly flawless break to another aboard the 64-foot Cascade, a five-cabin power cruiser equipped with surf-forecasting technology. When surf’s down, fish for abundant black marlin and reef fish, kitesurf, sea-kayak, snorkel the jewel-like lagoons, and scuba-dive the deep “shark alley” passes, where hundreds of reef sharks ride the currents at feeding time. Evenings are reserved for surf videos, surf magazines, Hinano beer, and fresh sashimi and sushi.
High Point: You and your nine surf brahs will have these waves all to yourselves.
Low Point: If you hit it right, the waves can be so consistent you may actually start to get bored. Snap out of it!
Travel Advisory: No need to bring your own surfboard; the Cascade travels with a diverse quiver of more than 60 boards.
Outfitter: Wavehunters Surf Travel, 888-899-8823,
When to Go: Year-round

Australia
Training Ride
Price: $1,310
Difficulty: Strenuous
Join a peloton of serious cyclists for this tough ten-day, 780-mile loop from Hobart that hits both the east and west coasts of the rugged, cycling-mad Australian state of Tasmania. Be prepared for staggering scenery—desolate white beaches braced by sheer cliffs, emerald rolling farmland—and punishing ascents with names like Bust-Me-Gall and Break-Me-Neck. The final day includes a grind to the summit of 4,166-foot Mount Wellington—followed by a 13-mile cruise back to Hobart. On the lone day of rest, you’ll undergo flexibility, strength, and aerobic testing, administered by the Tasmanian Institute of Sport. If this sounds hardcore, take heart: Three sag wagons and two masseurs accompany the trip.
Outfitter: Island Cycle Tours, 011-61-36234-4951,
When to Go: March

Micronesia
Snorkeling Yap, Ulithi, and Palau
Price: $3,890 (airfare from Honolulu included)
Difficulty: Moderate
Twelve days of shallow-water bliss begin on the island of Yap, where you’ll see tide-driven manta rays passing beneath you in the channels. A short flight north takes you to rarely dived Ulithi, a former U.S. military base opened to tourism within the past few years, where a huge population of giant turtles can darken the water and coral walls plunge just 400 feet from shore. The final five days are spent among the green, tuffetlike isles of Palau, famous for landlocked saltwater Jellyfish Lake, where you’ll snorkel among thick, drifting clouds of harmless, if somewhat spooky, pale-pink Mastigias jellyfish.
Outfitter: Oceanic Society, 800-326-7491,
When to Go: April, June

Solomon Islands
Sea-Kayaking Journey
Price: $3,790
Difficulty: Moderate
Spend 18 days exploring the remote string of jungly, Eden-like islands of the nation’s Western Province. You’ll paddle translucent blue lagoons and cool, dark, vine-strung rivers, hike high volcanic ridges, snorkel a shallow-water WWII plane wreck, and discover shrines built partially of skulls—remnants of the headhunters who lived on these Ring of Fire islands about a century ago. Transfers between islands are by motorized canoes piloted by native guides; most nights are spent camping on empty sand beaches.
Outfitter: Mountain Travel Sobek, 888-687-6235,
When to Go: November to December

North America

Hells Canyon

Welcome to Hell…Hell’s Canyon, that is

Texas
Lance and the Texas Hill Country
Price: $10,000
Difficulty: Moderate
What could be better than a long road ride? Try a long road ride interspersed with a yuk-it-up session with Lance Armstrong himself. You’ll be treated to a 20-mile “morning spin” with the six-time Tour de France winner, just one of the highlights of this eight-day whirl through the Texas Hill Country from San Antonio to Austin. You’ll spend 30 to 45 miles a day in the saddle, overnighting at a dude ranch and the Hangar Hotel before settling in at Austin’s superluxe Driskill Hotel. There you’ll join 8,000 volunteers and survivors in the weekend-long Ride for the Roses, a 100-mile Lance Armstrong Foundation benefit for cancer research.
High Point: Spinning wheels with Lance.
Low Point: Parting with a whopping $10K, half of which goes to the Ride for the Roses.
Travel Advisory: You’re in Texas—don’t mess with it. Outfitter: Trek Travel, 866-464-8735,
When to Go: October

Alberta
Royal Canadian Rails Fly-Fishing Odyssey
Price: $5,450
Difficulty: Moderate
Board the Royal Canadian Pacific Railway luxury train for a six-day, 650-mile loop from Calgary to some of the Canadian Rockies’ most pristine rivers. Accompanied by local guides, you’ll float in driftboats down the Elk River and chug through the most scenic rail corridors in Banff and Yoho national parks. Spend nights exaggerating your catch over Scotch and bunking in vintage 1920s Pullman cars.
Outfitter: Off the Beaten Path, 800-445-2995,
When to Go: August

Idaho
River Soul Journey Through Hells Canyon
Price: $1,130
Difficulty: Easy
This five-day, 34-mile raft trip down the Snake River is a Class IV adventure—and an inward journey. Days begin with riverfront yoga, and shore time allows for journal writing, side trips to view Nez Perce rock art, and meditation. But cleansing your mind doesn’t mean you can’t indulge in the arsenal of lasagna, Idaho trout, and double-fudge brownies.
Outfitter: ROW (River Odysseys West), 800-451-6034,
When to Go: September

Oregon
Mountain-Biking the Umpqua River Trail
Price: $925
Difficulty: Challenging
The 79-mile Umpqua River Trail, completed in 1997, is a line of undulating singletrack from southern Oregon’s Maidu Lake to Swift Water Park, perfect for a five-day blast through Douglas firs, cedars, and ferny hillsides. You’ll chase the river along sheer drop-offs and to low points where you can cool your feet—as a chase van ferries your gear to camp.
Outfitter: Western Spirit, 800-845-2453,
When to Go: July to September

Labrador
Hiking the Torngat Mountains
Price: $3,200
Difficulty: Strenuous
Northern Labrador can be as hard to reach as parts of the Arctic, but after 12 years studying caribou herds there, these outfitters have the place dialed. Following a two-day boat ride from Maine to the Torngat Mountains, you’ll carry your own pack off-trail for eight of the trip’s 18 days, camping under the northern lights, crossing river valleys, and absorbing the solitude of this remote coast.
Outfitter: Nature Trek Canada, 250-653-4265,
When to Go: July to August

South America

Rocha On! Hoofing it on a Uruguayan playa.

Peru
Rafting the Lower ApurĂ­mac
Price: $2,500
Difficulty: Strenuous
To reach some hard-won whitewater, this ten-day trekking-and-rafting expedition starts with a six-hour hike down the western slope of Peru’s lush Cordillera Vilcabamba. Follow this the next day with a 5,900-foot ascent to Choquequirau, ruins of one of the most remarkable Incan cities discovered to date. Then make history of your own, on the rarely run, Class IV–V Lower ApurĂ­mac River, home to parrots, monkeys, cormorants, and countless waterfalls.
High Point: Peering into what guides call the Acobamba Abyss and realizing you’re headed for expert-kayaker territory.
Low Point: If water levels are low, portaging a particularly narrow section of the Abyss.
Travel Advisory: This is an exploratory trip, so be prepared for changes and delays.
Outfitter: Bio Bio Expeditions, 800-246-7238,
When to Go: October

Guyana
Wildlife Watching Price: $2,835 (airfare from U.S. included)
Difficulty: Easy
Picture Costa Rica pre–tourism boom—gorgeous, wild, and practically empty—and you’ve got Guyana, a new frontier in South American travel. For ten days you’ll head from lodge to lodge (some run by local Amerindian communities), exploring savannas and jungles and possibly adding jaguar and exotic-bird sightings to your life list. You can kayak lazy rivers to watch giant otters, venture out with flashlights to see black caimans hunting at night, and stand at the rim of Kaieteur Falls, which drops more than 740 feet, almost five times the height of Niagara.
Outfitter: Journeys International, 800-255-8735,
When to Go: April, August, November

Uruguay
Galloping the Deserted Coastline of Rocha
Price: $1,850
Difficulty: Easy
It’s hard to find a beach so deserted you can take a solitary stroll, let alone a weeklong horseback ride like this one, through eastern Uruguay’s Rocha region. On this 140-mile journey, you’ll visit fishing villages atop South American criollo horses, fuel up on lamb and steak, and gaze at capybaras (the world’s largest rodents). Worthy detours include a sea lion conservation area and a botanical garden filled with dozens of orchids.
Outfitter: Boojum Expeditions, 800-287-0125,
When to Go: March to April, October to December

Argentina and Chile
Backcountry-Skiing the Andean Cordillera
Price: $2,000
Difficulty: Challenging
On this ten-day trip, combine volcano climbs with lift-served skiing and snowboarding. In Chile, you’ll ascend the back side of 9,318-foot Volcán Villarrica, where you might see lava boiling below the caldera rim. In Argentina, you’ll ascend the flanks of Volcán LanĂ­n (12,388 feet) and Volcán Domuyo (15,446 feet), recuperating in the area’s łó´Ç˛őłŮ±đ°ůĂ­˛ą˛ő and abundant hot springs.
Outfitter: ATAC (şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Tours Argentina Chile), 866-270-5186,
When to Go: July to October

The Trip of the Year

Machu Picchu

Fly By: Machu Picchu, one of the many stops in the trip of the year

Chile, Brazil, Bolivia, Peru, and Ecuador
Safari by Air
Price: $19,950
Difficulty: Moderate
Forget all that time-consuming land travel: Now you can knock off a slew of South America’s ecological hot spots—the Atacama Desert, Lake Titicaca, Colca Canyon, the Pantanal—in one 19-day extravaganza. The trick is a privately chartered airplane, a 46-passenger Fokker-50 that whisks you from flamingo-flecked salt flats to open savanna to Peru’s magnificent city of Cuzco (for a visit to the Manu Biosphere Reserve or a hike around archaeological wonder Machu Picchu). And thanks to a close partnership between the World Wildlife Fund and Zegrahm & Eco Expeditions, you’ll be introduced to some of these wild places by the people who are fighting to keep them wild—and who know them best. In Chile’s Atacama Desert, you’ll ascend to 14,800 feet in the Andes to walk among spouting geysers and fumaroles, see cool salt formations in the Valley of the Moon, and visit a pink flamingo colony on Chaxa Lagoon. In Brazil’s Pantanal, South America’s largest wetlands, you’ll stalk giant anteaters, armadillos, maned wolves, and jaguars—as well as meet with WWF field staff to learn about conservation projects in collaboration with local ranching communities. On Lake Titicaca, on the Peru-Bolivia border, keep an eye out for the rare Titicaca flightless grebe; in Peru’s Colca Valley, look for condors, Andean deer, and llama-like vicuñas. The place to watch red and green macaws feasting on clay from behind biologist-developed viewing blinds is Peru’s Manu Biosphere Reserve, where you’ll also hike to see five kinds of monkeys—emperor tamarin, black spider, capuchin, squirrel, and red howler—perform acrobatics above your head in the forest canopy, and spy 550-pound tapirs, a.k.a. “jungle cows,” foraging about a mineral lick at dusk. End up in Quito, Ecuador, for a day trip to the famous Otavalo market.
High Point: Seeing the giant, cobalt-blue hyacinth macaw, which measures three feet from tail to beak, high in palm trees on the Pantanal’s savanna.
Low Point: Realizing that at least 10,000 hyacinth macaws were taken for the parrot trade in the 1980s, and that these exotic birds now number fewer than 10,000 worldwide.
Travel Advisory: You’ll be hitting five countries in 19 days: Because this trip is highly scheduled, leave your taste for a moseying, come-what-may pace behind. This is all about getting the most out of your time down south.
Outfitter: World Wildlife Fund, 888-993-8687, ; Zegrahm & Eco Expeditions, 800-628-8747,
When to Go: April

The post The High Road appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

IT USED TO BE ENOUGH FOR TOURISTS staying at hotels in wilderness areas to “do no harm”—that is, to leave the outdoors the way they found it. But since the very existence of a resort operation, no matter how green, can blotto fragile soil and scare off wildlife for days, most eco-lodge operators have tempered their vision to “doing more good than harm.” And as Michael Seltzer, the director of Business Enterprises for Sustainable Travel, reminds us, eco isn’t just about the environment. “Facilities worthy of the term ‘eco-lodge’ should also benefit the local community and economy,” he says. We found quite a few places that fit this bill and offer access to stunning wilds. The choice is yours: Spend your next vacation at a corporate mega-resort or check into one of these ten Edens, and save the guilt for your fuel-guzzling flight home.

Kenya’s Tassia Lodge

1.
The High Life Just Gets Better and Better
2.
Everybody Wings it in This Lush Shangri-La
3.

Join the Griz and Roam a Kinder, Gentler Last Frontier
4.

Visions of Ancixent China in the Snow Peaks of Yunnan
5.

The Amazon Trough the Eyes of the True People
6.

Frodo Never Had It So Good
7.

Step into a Hemingway Story (But Hold Your Fire!)
8.

A Comeback Reef and a Kingdom by the Sea
9.

Dreamtime and Fireflies in Central America
10.

A Getaway to Andean şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř

Turtle Island

The high life just gets better and better

IN 1972, WHEN AMERICAN cable-TV mogul Richard Evanson bought Turtle Island, a 500-acre knob in the South Pacific’s Yasawa Archipelago, it was a barren wasteland that had been overgrazed by wild goats. Using gear he’d brought in by boat and helicopter, the new owner survived on the beach alone for three years while working on the lodge, with help only from Joe Naisali, a Fijian from a nearby island who checked in from time to time on the modern-day Crusoe.
Since then, Evanson, now 68, has restored the island’s ecosystem by overseeing the replanting of 300,000 trees, protecting the mangroves and coral reefs, and constructing new wetlands. The island’s natural springs provide water; a four-acre organic garden keeps the kitchen stocked; and no more than seven couples are allowed to stay in the resort’s bures (traditional thatch-roofed bungalows) at any given time. Which means a well-heeled few can have the saltwater fly-fishing, black volcanic cliff trails, and coral reefs of the Blue Lagoon (yes, the very same one where a teenage Brooke Shields frolicked in the buff) all to themselves.

But it’s not all about eco-hedonism. Turtle Island, with an initial contribution from Evanson of $50,000, also established the Yasawa Community Foundation, which uses donations to support employment, education, and health care on neighboring islands. Every year, the resort shuts its doors for more than a week and invites doctors who conduct free medical clinics.
True to its name, the resort also protects endangered green and hawksbill turtles by “auctioning off” those caught by local fishermen, painting the names of the winning bidders on the turtles’ backs, and releasing the reptiles back into the ocean. The indelible paint doesn’t harm the turtles, but it does make their shells worthless to would-be poachers and evokes puzzled looks from snorkelers wondering just who the hell George is. Contact: Turtle Island, 877-288-7853, . Cost: $1,124 to $1,810 per couple per day; includes unlimited food and alcohol and all equipment use (except boats for fishing excursions).

Asa Wright Nature Centre and Lodge

Everybody wings it in this lush Shangra-La

THE 24-MILE FROM Trinidad’s capital, Port of Spain, up to Asa Wright Nature Centre is not a trip you want to make after dark. The road twists vertiginously around sharp drop-offs, and nighttime is when poisonous fer-de-lance snakes slither across the road. But arrive at Asa Wright’s refurbished plantation house in daylight and you’ll be in time for a nocturnal delight: the nightly flyby of up to 47 bat species.
In 1967, Americans Don Eckelberry, a wildlife artist, and Emma Fisk, a conservationist, led the effort to buy the 200-acre estate and convert it into a community-outreach center. Run on the philosophy that all profits should be used to preserve more unspoiled wilderness, Asa Wright now encompasses a stunning 1,000-acre valley in the island’s northern mountains.
A typical day: Roasted-on-site coffees in hand, guests gather at 6 a.m. on the veranda to watch the sun rise over the Arima Valley and ogle the yellow bananaquits and ruby-topaz hummingbirds. After breakfast, eager bird-watchers, their necks slung with Bushnell binoculars, join guided walks to glimpse the rare ferruginous pygmy owl and 142 other bird species. At sunset, everyone returns to the porch to swill rum punch and wait for the bats to swoop down.

If the atmosphere sounds genteel enough for your grandmother, it is. But then again, Granny probably wouldn’t hammer 22 miles on a mountain bike, climbing 2,000 feet into the Northern Range and back to sea level at Maracas Bay, Trinidad’s most beautiful beach. It’s also doubtful she’d drive 30 miles southeast to the Nariva Swamp to kayak through mangroves and mingle with toothy caimans.
The 24-room lodge is small, and its board of directors intends to keep it that way, recently voting down additional housing in order to minimize guests’ impact on the rainforest. But that doesn’t mean their ethic isn’t spreading: The center recently purchased another 1,000-acre property in the island’s Aripo Valley, which is being developed as the Aripo Forest Lodge. Contact: Asa Wright Nature Centre and Lodge, 868-667-4655, ; U.S. booking agent, Caligo Ventures, 800-426-7781. For mountain-biking or kayaking day trips from Asa Wright, contact local guide Gerald Nichols at 868-623-3511. COST: starting at $90 per person, double occupancy; $120 single; includes three meals a day.

Birch Pond Lodge

Join the griz and roam a kinder, gentler last frontier

ALASKAN BILL ROYCE BOUGHT this secluded 100-acre slice of spruce and birch forest 75 miles north of his home in Anchorage to use as a weekend getaway. But then Royce got eco-religion and decided to build a sustainable lodge. So he enlisted his son, Daryl, to help him dig foundations and post holes (by hand, so as not to disturb the wildlife with bulldozers) for two one-bedroom cabins.
Some of the guests at Birch Pond Lodge, which formally opened in 2000, opt to stay in the original cabin, a comfortable old two-story lodge with overstuffed sofas and an Alaskiana library, where family-style stews are served. The old lodge isn’t completely eco-friendly yet, but Royce is planning to convert it to passive energy next summer by installing solar panels. The more private, one-bedroom Beaver Lodge and Loon Cabin, however, were constructed from Alaskan spruce trees that had fallen prey to bark beetles. Beaver Lodge also has a composting toilet, and both cabins will eventually be fully solar-powered.
In spring and summer, visitors to Birch Pond can canoe or kayak its spring-fed lake, hike along alpine ridges in the Talkeetna Mountains, or commune under the stars (making sure to avoid insomniac grizzlies). In winter, there are miles of virgin snow (22,000-acre Nancy Lakes State Park is right next door) for cross-country skiing and frozen lakes for ice skating. Many Alaskans might be tempted to rip up the abundant white stuff on a snowmobile, but Royce forbids recreational “sledding” on his property. “You can’t appreciate nature if you’re blowing by it at 60 miles per hour on a snow machine,” he says. Plus, there’s nothing like the rev of an exhaust-spewing engine to tarnish the Zen glow of the cabin’s roaring fire and its exquisite view of Denali and the whirling Northern Lights. Contact: Birch Pond Lodge, 907-495-3000, . Cost: $220 per person per day (single or double); includes lodging, three meals daily, guided nature hikes, and canoe and kayak tours.

Wenhai Ecolodge

Visions of ancient China in the snow peaks of Yunnan

EVEN ON A GOOD DAY, making your way from the United States to Wenhai, a rustic community-owned and -operated eco-lodge located at 9,900 feet in the mountains of southern China, is a 24-hour commitment: First you have to fly ten hours from San Francisco to Beijing or Shanghai. Then you continue three hours on to Kunming, the capital of Yunnan province, and catch a 45-minute hopper flight to Lijiang, an aging hamlet with old stone houses and cobblestone streets. And you still haven’t arrived.
“From there, you take a half-hour bus ride up to the village of Baisha, where you start hiking for five hours, first through rural communities, then up through pine trees, then into oak and rhododendron forests,” explains Graham Bullock, coordinator of the Ecotourism Program in China for the Nature Conservancy, which has been sponsoring the Wenhai project. Only then do you arrive at Wenhai Ecolodge, a refurbished log house with sloping roofs and hand-carved window frames. Although the inn has only 20 beds, it is becoming a maverick example of ecotourism in China.
The lodge is owned by a village cooperative of 56 families who bought, renovated, and now staff the property, dishing out rural cuisine in a rustic courtyard. Equipped with solar panels, bio-gas equipment, water purifiers, and a greenhouse, the place proves that small-scale ecotourism can thrive. Plus it donates 10 percent of the profits to conserving nearby Wenhai Lake and its surrounding forests, which are threatened by unsustainable agriculture and illegal logging.
The extreme geography of Yunnan—where Asia’s three great rivers, the Yangtze, Mekong, and Salween, rush among five immense mountain ranges—makes for varied trekking. It also accounts for the region’s wildlife diversity, which ranges from protected black-necked cranes to Asiatic black bears. From Wenhai Ecolodge, visitors can take a three-day hike down to Tiger Leaping Gorge along a difficult, narrow path. But if the long journey to Wenhai has already wiped you out, there’s always the option of chilling on the patio as the sight of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountains, a cluster of 13 peaks that top out at 18,467 feet, unfolds like a private Imax screening. Contact: The Nature Conservancy’s Ecotourism Program in China, 011-86-888-515-9917, . Cost: $20 per person per night, including food; hiking guides extra.

Posada Amazonas

The Amazon through the eyes of the true people

AT THE EDGE OF AN OLD-GROWTH forest the size of Connecticut, Posada Amazonas is run and staffed mainly by members of the native Ese’eja community. Ese’eja means “true people,” and these indigenos are expert river navigators who support themselves by hunting, preparing forest medicines, and gathering wild Brazil nuts to sell to tourists.
Because of the lodge’s community ownership, guests have ample opportunity to “go local.” This might mean taking ethnobotanical walks—during which Ese’eja guides explain which seeds and barks are traditionally used for hammocks, fans, arrows, and medicines—or visiting the neighboring 1.8-million-acre Tambopata National Wildlife Reserve to search for giant river otters and parrots. Those who prefer altitude can climb the lodge’s seven-story, 115-foot canopy tower and stop at each level to observe tanagers, jacamars, guans, and oropendulas in action.

“The low-impact eco-lodge has prompted the Ese’ejas to undertake their own conservation efforts, such as protecting the large eagle nests in the vicinity,” says Kurt Holle, general manager of Rainforest Expeditions, the company that operates the Tambopata Research Center in southern Peru (a 13-bedroom facility dedicated to macaw research). Rainforest Expeditions, also the catalyst for the construction of Posada Amazonas, splits the profits from Amazonas 40/60 with the 400-member Ese’eja community.
There’s no electricity or hot water at Posada Amazonas, but hurricane lamps serve as night-lights and mosquito netting covers the beds. The lodge is constructed from local clay and wild cane and roofed with palm fronds. Each of its 30 bedrooms opens directly onto the rainforest, but the howler monkeys usually refrain from entering the rooms. Contact: Rainforest Expeditions, 877-905-3782, . cost: $95 per person per night; includes three meals a day.

Wilderness Lodge Lake Moeraki

Frodo never had it so good

OWNER GERRY MCSWEENEY, a biologist who presides over the Royal Forest and Bird Protection Society (New Zealand’s biggest environmental organization), and his wife, Anne, created this lodge as a base while lobbying to conserve the adjacent 6.7 million acres of rainforest in the South West New Zealand World Heritage Area on the South Island. The resulting “Place of Green Jade,” or Te Wahi Pounamu Reserve, which includes visitor centers and walking trails, comprises more than 10 percent of the country’s total landmass.
“When we established the lodge in 1989, the immediate concern was to create jobs with ecotourism as an alternative to the timber industry, which was logging 1,000-year-old podocarp trees,” the 49-year-old McSweeney says. “Now we’ve moved on to other conservation efforts. But we’re not too popular with recreational fishermen: We’ve stopped them bringing their dogs to the coast because they kill the penguins.”
Located in a lakeside clearing surrounded by an ancient podocarp forest, the main lodge was once the Red Dog Saloon, a well-loved watering hole for construction workers building the remote Haast Highway back in the sixties. The McSweeneys reused most of the original wood and run the entire complex on hydroelectric power from the nearby Moeraki Rapids. They also built 22 guest rooms in two separate buildings connected by covered walkways.
Staying at a lodge run by naturalists makes for 24/7 activity. Guests can take a guided 1.5-mile trek to the Tasman Sea coast, where fur seals and Fiordland crested penguins roam. Then they can paddle around two-mile-long Lake Moeraki. Or they can do what Kiwis do best: tramp along the ten-mile Moeraki Valley trail system, where wild orchids grow. When midnight rolls around, it’s back outside to gaze at the Southern Cross. Contact: Wilderness Lodge Lake Moeraki, 011-643-750-0881, . cost: From $90 to $160 per person; includes breakfast, dinner, and two guided activities per day.

Tassia Lodge

Step into a Hemingway story (but hold your fire)

IN THE LAST FEW YEARS, indigenous small-scale tourism has been providing an alternative to the traditional luxury safaris run by old colonialists and staffed by underpaid tribespeople. Set on a rocky bluff a bumpy six-hour drive from Nairobi, Tassia is the newest of a growing group of community-founded eco-lodges.
Owned by members of the semi-nomadic Laikipiak Masai tribe, this six-banda (bungalow) open-plan lodge, which sleeps up to 12 people, sits inside the tribe’s 60,000-acre ranch, giving you access to lands that run from the Mokogodo Escarpment across massive plains to the Ngare Ndare River, along which gazelle and buffalo roam. The Laikipiak are renowned for their hospitality—the losers of Survivor Africa were sent here to lick their wounds—and their guest lodge has a laid-back, all-natural vibe: thatch roofs, wood floors, hand-carved furniture, paraffin hot-water heaters, and half walls in the bedrooms, which are designed to let cool breezes in without impeding the views of Lolokwe Mountain.

Visitors can accompany their Masai hosts on game drives to see hyenas, leopards, lions, and waterbuck. Or they can hike up to the 7,300-foot summit of neighboring Mount Lossos and paraglide back down. At the end of the day, Tassia guests usually end up wallowing like happy hippos in the lodge’s stone-floored swimming pool. Contact: Let’s Go Travel, Nairobi, 011-2542-4447-151 or -4441-030, . Cost: $360 per person per day; includes lodging, all meals (excluding alcohol), and all activities.

Chumbe Island Coral Park

A comeback reef and a kingdom by the sea

THE HANDFUL OF SNORKELERS who swim Chumbe Island’s coral reefs will eventually meet Oscar, a three-foot potato cod, and Louise, a hawksbill turtle. Chumbe, the world’s first privately managed marine sanctuary, is an uninhabited 54-acre island eight miles off the coast of Zanzibar that uses the profits from ecotourism to conserve its endangered coral reef and forest reserve. Since 1994, when the Zanzibari government closed the half-mile reef to fishing and officially declared it a protected haven, locals who used to fish the island have worked as park rangers, guarding the reef against poachers.
“The former fishermen, who are now our park rangers and guides, were the key to raising awareness about marine ecology and sustainable management of natural resources,” says London native Eleanor Carter, Chumbe’s project manager. “Local community members, including women from rural Muslim societies, have been given preference for employment. We had some not-so-happy husbands at the beginning, but they got used to it.”

Aside from basking in solitude on the two-mile sandbar that appears at low tide, guests skin-dive among the Indian Ocean’s parrot fish, lobsters, stingrays, dolphins, and unicorn fish; hike past baobab trees and into a virgin coral forest with 15,000-year-old petrified clams and spiky euphorbia; and take nighttime nature walks to look for endangered giant coconut crabs.
The seven triangular thatch-roofed bungalows have solar-powered lighting, composting toilets, and gray-water recycling systems. Roofs are designed to channel rainwater to underground cisterns where it’s filtered, solar-heated, and then hand-pumped by staffers to the bungalows’ showers. The cabins are decorated with African art and textiles and stocked with organic soaps and shampoos made by a local women’s cooperative. The island’s chef cooks up Zanzibari, African, Indian, and Middle Eastern cuisine, all made from local produce and seafood.
Since the island became an official marine sanctuary, fish population and diversity have increased. Contact: Chumbe Island Coral Park, 011-255-24223-1040, . Cost: From $150 per person per day; includes lodging, meals, snorkeling, and guided dives.

Selva Bananito Lodge

Dreamtime and fireflies in Central America

GERMAN EXPATRIATE RUDI STEIN began homesteading this remote 2,000-acre property near Porto LimĂłn and Cahuita National Park, on the eastern coast of Costa Rica, in the 1970s. But when he wanted to start logging some of the rainforest that abuts the Bananito River, his kids intervened.
“We wanted to help my dad find an alternative to logging, so we built the lodge instead of letting him cut trees,” says Rudi’s daughter, Sofia, who owns and runs Selva Bananito with her brother, JĂĽrgen. “The cabins are made out of abandoned mahogany logs that we dragged out of the woods using water buffaloes.”
The hotel, which consists of 11 cabins and a main building—all built on stilts—has serious eco bona fides: It uses oil lamps and candles instead of electric lights, relies on solar-heated water, recycles gray water via water lilies and hyacinths, according to native methods, and stocks organic soaps and shampoos made by a local cooperative. Additionally, the Stein family donates 10 percent of the lodge’s income to a nonprofit conservation foundation.

But don’t get bogged down in the green litany: The lodge borders the 2.5-million-acre La Amistad Biosphere Reserve, the largest protected ecosystem in Central America, providing ample exploratory elbow room. Adrenaline junkies can rappel down 100-foot waterfalls and learn how to climb giant ceiba trees using ascenders and harnesses, while the less adventurous can hang out—binocs in hand—on the lodge’s 100-foot viewing platform and scan the mahogany canopy for toucans, crested hawk eagles, and red-lored parrots.
As the day winds down, guests soak up the evening light from the hammocks crisscrossing their casita decks. “At night, there are so many fireflies blinking on and off,” Sofia says, “that visitors say our place seems like eternal Christmas.” Contact: Selva Bananito, 011-506-253-8118, . cost: $100 per person per night, double occupancy, which includes three meals a day, plus taxes. For visitors who stay for three days or more, the fee also includes a free guided rainforest hike and a tree-climbing intro session.

Black Sheep Inn

A gateway to Andean şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř

WHEN GUESTS ARRIVE at this lodge, tucked in the Cordillera mountain range five hours down the road from Quito, they marvel at the rustic chalet-style lodge and the view over the Rio Toachi Canyon. But they break out the cameras for the facility’s dry-composting toilets. These thrones are stand-alone shacks that include little indoor vegetable and flower gardens and picture windows for enjoying the canyon views.
“Guests always compliment us on the toilets,” says Andres Hammerman, a 36-year-old Chicago native who co-owns Black Sheep with his wife, Michelle Kirby. “But they’re also a really good example of sustainable agriculture, because the compost is used later for planting trees.”
The rest of the lodge may not be quite as eccentric, but it’s equally sustainable. The four outbuildings (which have a total of nine bedrooms, each with its own fireplace) and the dining lodge are built from homemade adobe bricks and roofed with straw and Spanish tile. Hammerman and Kirby travel to Quito to recycle glass, paper, and plastics. Besides donating phone lines to the village school and police station, the couple encourages visitors to get involved in local projects; one recent guest bought books for local schoolchildren.

The seven-mile hike from 12,500-foot Quilotoa Crater Lagoon down to Black Sheep is considered one of the best day hikes in Ecuador (a lodge employee will drive you to the trailhead). Visitors can also climb, mountain-bike, and ride horses along the volcanic walls of Rio Toachi Canyon, trek to pre-Incan ruins, or wander up into the high-altitude cloudforest. In the evenings, guests assemble for family-style feasts of organic veggies from the garden. Afterward, they gather around the fireplace to drink beer, tell stories, and woozily stroll back to their cabins to sink into cozy loft beds. Contact: Black Sheep Inn, 011-593-381-4587, . cost: $18 per person, double; $30, single; includes breakfast and dinner.

The post Resort to Virtue appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Nevis: Uncrowded, Unhurried, Unsung

You have to force the action a bit on Nevis. Oh, there’s everything to do—kayak, snorkel, dive, windsurf—that you’d expect on a lush volcanic knoll in the Caribbean Leewards, but there’s no compulsion to do any of it. Why? With legends of sea beasts and fierce storms lingering in their collective unconscious, most Nevisians are happy to remain onshore. Which is why I felt perfectly authentic the day I toweled off from a morning’s snorkel and spent a few hours in the tiny capital city of Charlestown eating fresh mangoes and watching the St. Kitts ferry come in, the disembarking passengers oblivious to the two large cows strolling through Memorial Square. You can, of course, thwart the prevailing don’t-work-up-a-sweat landlubber mentality at any time and delve into the island’s sugar-sand beaches, secret dive sites, far-out windsurfing, and goat-munched singletrack. And rest assured: Your hammock will still be empty at day’s end.

The Sporting Life
Thirty-six-square-mile Nevis is content to doze beneath the tourist radar. Nevis Peak (3,232 feet) crowns the island—an ascent is a wet grunt, but worth the effort. Go with Linnell Liburd (Sunrise Tours, 869-469-2758) to avoid confusion amid a warren of routes. Nevis’s heritage as a British colony of sugarcane plantations accounts for the grand-manors-turned-hostelries, as well as the network of abandoned roads made to order for fat-tire wanderers. “If you see a trail, follow it,” is Winston Crooke’s advice at Mountain Bike Nevis (869-469-9682). Winston also runs Windsurfing Nevis; sideshore winds at Oualie Beach make it an ideal novice’s venue, but paddle beyond the placid bay and a funnel effect in the two-mile-wide channel between Nevis and St. Kitts creates bump-and-jump stuff not for the faint of heart. Ellis Chaderton runs Scuba Safaris (869-469-9518; www.divenevis.com), the island’s only dive operation. He’s charted 40 different sites, including a favorite called Booby High Shoals, where flotillas of nurse sharks and monstrous lobsters hang out. Two-tank dives cost $80.
The Beach
Oualie Beach, 250 yards of searing white sand, couldn’t be better protected, with headlands at both ends, thousand-foot Round Hill just behind, and the mountainous east end of St. Kitts just across a channel. The water is 81 degrees and virtually all of the island’s water-sports centers are here. For all that, Oualie is perennially serene.

After the Sun Goes Down
Make for Sunshine’s, a sandy shack of dubious but unquestioned legality on Pinney’s Beach that thumps nightly with reggae, blues, and jazz. The gregarious eponymous owner grills the catch of the day along with chicken and ribs, served up with a wicked concoction he calls the Killer Bee (rum being the killer ingredient).

Lay Your Sunburned Head At…
Why choose? Do surf and turf. Golden Rock Plantation Inn lies at the base of Nevis Peak about three miles inland from the windward beaches, at the cusp of the rainforest. Trails lead right out the door into the dense jungle. The stately manor has been converted into a dining room and lounge, and seven stone cottages, scattered about the ambling grounds, have ocean views and private terraces. Be sure to reserve the limestone sugar-mill tower containing an impossibly romantic circular suite. Doubles cost $140-$365 (869-469-3346; ). For surf, head to Oualie Beach Hotel, where 34 gingerbread cottages sit right on the beach. Each has a screened tile-floor terrace with chaise longues and a glorious view of the sunset over St. Kitts. Doubles range from $105-$345 (869-469-9735; ).

Très Nevis
Listening to LaRue the Parrot squawk, “Pretty bird, what a pretty bird,” as you scarf your cornflakes on Golden Rock’s breakfast terrace; joining a group of urchins playing broomstick cricket in the street; testing the mysterious “goatwater” appetizer at Cla Cha Del on Jones Bay while Pas the bartender Osterizes a mango colada.

The Price of Paradise
Nevis needs Lady Bird Johnson. The roads are lined with trash, much of it courtesy of the goats and wild donkeys that upend flimsy trash cans.

Resources: Nevis’s New York tourism office: 800-582-6208;

Grenada: The Life of Spice

A milk cow tethered to a rusting Air Cubana prop plane, a relic from the Cold War, watches with regal boredom as we spin doughnuts on the old airstrip of Grenada’s long-defunct Pearls Airport. The runway stops at the edge of the deep blue Caribbean Sea, where I toss my last bite of lambi roti (a sort of conch burrito) to a foraging billy goat. I’m exploring Grenada with Anna Magni, an Italian expat who has offered to show me around the island for the day. We’ve just come from soaking in a hot spring up in the lush hills near the village of Bylands, having pulled ourselves away from the seductive sands along the tourist strip of Grande Anse Bay just long enough to hike the primeval mountains dominating the 21-mile-long island. At the hot spring, we met a reefer-puffing Rasta man, who thrust his cutlass at the surrounding jungle and told us, “Jes’ look aroun’ you, mon, dis is Greeen-a-da. You got to park de car, hike into de hills, and you will freak.” Taking his advice, we made our way along a one-and-a-half-mile muddy trail in 3,000-acre Grand Etang Forest Reserve through groves of fruit-heavy nutmeg trees and creaking bamboo to visit the Seven Sisters, a series of tumbling waterfalls east of Grand Etang Lake. Swimming in the rushing water, the scent of nutmeg wafting through the air, we got the Rasta man’s gist, and, well, I freaked.

The Sporting Life
The attractions aren’t all topside here—dive the wreck of the Bianca C, an enormous, 600-foot-long Italian cruise liner sunk in 165 feet of water (Ecodive, 473-444-7777; ), swim among nurse sharks, stingrays, barracuda, and moray eels off the scrubby nearby island of Carriacou (Carriacou Silver Diving Ltd., in Hillsborough, 473-443-7882; ), or watch humpback whales cruise by Grenada between December and April (First Impressions Ltd., 473-440-3678; ). Anna Magni of The Wandering Gecko Marketing and Management Ltd. can arrange any number of hiking and diving itineraries (473-444-2662; ).
The Beach
The sweeping sands of two-mile Grande Anse beach are Grenada’s version of Waikiki. Here you’ll find the majority of sun-damage-seeking visitors. Find more space and ditch your tourist stigma at Bathway Beach, on the island’s northeastern tip, an inviting half-mile, palm-lined strip—but beware of dangerous currents out past the reef.

After the Sun Goes Down
Everyone from cabinet ministers to beach vendors dances a sexy little number known as “wining” (imported from nearby Trinidad) at Fantazia 2001, a popular nightclub at Morne Rouge Beach. Brush up on “jamming”—a move as erotic as you’d care to get in public—in your bedroom mirror before attempting it on the dance floor.

Lay Your Sunburned Head At…
It’s hard to beat La Sagesse Nature Center. The small, secluded hotel is tucked away on the southeast coast above a quiet beach with great snorkeling. Stay in a restored manor house or in either of two cottages with wraparound verandas overlooking the ocean (doubles $75Ă�0; 473-444-6458; ). Farther afield on the southeast coast is Cabier Vision, a hip, beautifully designed new ten-room guest house, built on a rock overlooking the ocean (doubles $70; 473-444-6013; ).

The Price of Paradise
Check your brakes and practice blowing your horn, because navigating Grenada’s narrow, winding, guardrail-free roads is not for the timid. “Hit Me Easy” and other evocative local nicknames for particularly hairy bends give you an idea of what to expect.

Très Grenada
Place bets at the Flamboyant Hotel’s Monday-night hermit-crab races; haggle for nutmeg and cloves at the Saturday-morning market in St. GeorgeĂ•s; avoid partying anatomy students from the island’s infamous and very social medical school.

Resources: Grenada Tourist Board, 800-927-9554;

St. John: The Island of Eco-Delights

It’s no surprise that Laurance Rockefeller snapped up most of St. John for his private fiefdom in the 1950s, given the island’s rolling green hills, pristine bays, and Pepsodent-smile-white beaches. What’s surprising—and a boon for the average sun-worshiping schmo like you and me—is that in 1956 he gave 5,000 acres to the National Park Service, which now oversees 7,200 acres of land (about half of the 19-square-mile island) and 5,360 acres of surrounding water. Today, Stanley Selengut, the ecotourism guru who’s developed an enclave of green resorts (Maho Bay, Concordia, Harmony), has replaced Rockefeller as the island’s keeper. Even if you don’t stay in one of his elevated platform tents outfitted with shared bathhouses and recycled everything, you’ll find yourself communing with nature most of the time anyway—hiking, sea kayaking, diving, sailing, and swimming. Although the island is only a short ferry ride from St. Thomas, a cruise-ship mecca the Johnnies would probably love to torpedo, St. John has managed to escape the duty-free-shop/souvenir-stand fate of its buck-churning neighbor.

The Sporting Life
Start high in the hills on one of Virgin Islands National Park’s 22 hiking trails and work your way down to the waves. The scenic Reef Bay Trail (2.2 miles, two hours) descends 957 feet from Centerline Road to the Reef Bay Valley and ends at Genti Bay beach. Reserve a spot on a ranger-guided hike and pay $15 for the boat ride to Cruz Bay; call the Park Service Visitors Center in Cruz Bay (340-776-6201). Arthur Jones will take you sea kayaking to nearby Henley and Lovango Cayes ($75, full day) with his outfit Arawak Expeditions (800-238-8687; ), or to points beyond (some in the British Virgin Islands) on one of his kayaking and camping tours (five days, $995; seven days, $1,195). He also runs a new adventure week with Maho Bay Camps ($1,295 in winter, $1,125 in summer). Sandy West runs six-hour snorkeling trips to Hurricane Hole and other hard-to-reach spots on her 40-foot Lindsey Trawler, the Sadie Sea ($65; 340-776-6421; ). Scuba divers can explore the abundant local waters on both day and night dives with Low Key Watersports, which also offers a three-day PADI certification program ($350; 800-835-7718; ).
The Beach
The snow-white sand of three-quarter-mile-long Trunk Bay, on the island’s northwestern shore, is the most photographed beach on St. John, but it tends to get crowded, thanks to an express shuttle from the ferry dock. Head instead to the north shore, where you’ll find a handful of gorgeous beaches, all part of Virgin Islands National Park. The liveliest is Francis Bay—a great place to spot sea turtles in the shallows, and pelicans, ospreys, yellow-bellied sapsuckers, and banana quits camouflaged by the nearby marsh’s mangroves.

After the Sun Goes Down
Sure, you came here for the peace and quiet, but let’s face it, debating the pros and cons of low-flow showerheads at an eco-resort workshop isn’t nearly as much fun as getting ripped with the local hippies at Skinny Legs—an open-air bar in Coral Bay.

Lay Your Sunburned Head At…
Harmony Studios shares the same stunning location as legendary Maho Bay Camps (Selengut’s original tent-cottage resort). Plus, it has real walls (as opposed to fabric) and you don’t have to share bathrooms. Harmony’s six miniature townhouses, most of which have incredible views of Maho Bay, are solar powered and were built almost entirely of recycled materials (tiles made from crushed lightbulbs, countertops from recycled glass—the works). Each unit has a balcony and a full kitchen (doubles, $110-$210 per night; 340-776-6240; ). For total privacy nothing beats renting a villa. Try Park Isle Villas (340-693-8261; ), on lush Battery Hill overlooking Cruz Bay.

Très St. John
Getting busted by a park ranger for nude sunbathing at Salomon Bay (St. John’s unofficial nude beach); watching baby sea horses frolic among the mangroves at Hurricane Hole; feeling like a crunchy Ăśber-conservationist after checking into your Maho Bay digs.

The Price of Paradise
Thanks to its blue-blood past, St. John has been de-Caribbeanized—if you want cultural attractions and lively local flavor, go elsewhere.

Resources: U.S. Virgin Islands Tourist Information Board, 800-372-8784;

Tobago: The Tranquility Zone

Hey! Let’s stay up all night and parade through the streets nearly naked to the sound of steel-drum music! Oh, sorry, that’s Trinidad. Tobago, the altogether more serene, and green, sibling of the two-island nation of Trinidad and Tobago, has been environmentally conscientious for so long that it established a forest preserve—the oldest in the Western Hemisphere—ten years before America signed the Declaration of Independence. Peace and quiet is so much the draw on this 21-by-seven-mile island, some two-thirds of it still covered by mountainous rainforest, that it has long served as a morning-after decompression chamber for survivors of Trinidad’s annual pre-Lenten carnival. But Tobago’s unique charms draw their own devotees: serious birders, drift-dive scuba enthusiasts, and Robinson Crusoe-caliber escapees from society. To really fit in, though, you have to master one of the cornerstones of Tobago culture—”liming,” lying back and doing nothing at all.

The Sporting Life
Divers can swim through tunnels and drift along canyons near the north end of the island in search of sharks and elusive rays in the nutrient-rich water that’s pushed along from South America by the Guyana Current. Man Friday Diving (single-tank dive $35; 868-660-4676; ) is on the north end of the island. The best of the excellent island-wide snorkeling is among the coral gardens at Buccoo Reef, Speyside, and Mount Irvine Bay. Rent snorkeling gear at Wild Turtle Dive Safari at Pigeon Point Beach Resort ($14 per day for mask, fins, and snorkel; 868-639-7936; ). For birders, hikers, and mountain bikers, trails run like veins across the rugged spines of the 14,000-acre Tobago Main Ridge Forest Reserve. The 15-mile Gilpin Trace trail will lead you to a couple of 20-foot waterfalls in about 45 minutes. Local naturalist David Rooks offers two-and-a-half-hour hikes for $45 (868-639-4276).

The Beach
Avoid the well-lathered crowds between Pigeon and Crown Points near the biggest concentration of hotels. Instead, make your way to the pure white sand, calm water, and satisfying isolation of Englishman’s Bay, near Parlatuvier, on the north coast. If there is anyone else in sight of your beach towel, you are there on a busy day.

After the Sun Goes Down
On Sunday nights head for Sunday School, the high-decibel street dance that invariably gets cranking in the tiny village of Buccoo. The rest of the week, there is more to Tobago nightlife than listening to the tiny forest creatures. But not much.

Lay Your Sunburned Head At…
At Footprints Eco Resort, ease your environmental conscience on 62 acres of a former sugar and cocoa estate overlooking Culloden Bay. Built of local and recycled materials, its main four-room lodge sits on the ocean, while three thatch-roofed cottages, each with its own solar-heated Jacuzzi, have a bit more privacy back in the trees (doubles $95-$300; 800-814-1396; ).

Très Tobago
At Jemma’s, in Speyside, try not to fall out of your chair over the view that comes with your dinner—the restaurant is built in a massive sea-almond tree hanging over the water; make points with the locals by amping up your enthusiasm for their beloved goat and crab races.

The Price of Paradise
Adding to the damage, mostly in the form of coral broken by flippers, already done to Buccoo Reef.

Resources: Tourism and Industrial Development Company of Trinidad & Tobago (TIDCO), 868-623-6022;

Cayman Brac: Where Beauty is Skin-Diver Deep

Looking to open an offshore bank account? Book a trip to Grand Cayman. Dock-flat desolation? Little Cayman. But if you want stellar scuba diving, climbable cliffs, ridiculously friendly locals, a smattering of beachfront resorts, and enough Happy Hours to keep you steeped in a week’s worth of perma-grins, head for cigar-shaped Cayman Brac, about 165 miles northwest of Jamaica. This scruffy, hard-baked, 12-by-two-mile isle is not Bali-Hai beautiful, but it does have some pleasantly surprising topography: A cave-pocked limestone spine runs along the middle of the island, rising to 140 feet on its sheer east end; just offshore, teeming spur-and-groove reefs, coral- and sponge-flocked 3,000-foot vertical walls, and vertigo-inducing water clarity combine to produce some of the planet’s best diving.

The Sporting Life
There are 50 or so mostly current-free dive sites around the Brac, with water temperatures hovering between 75 and 85 degrees and visibility usually to 150 feet. Some sites, including the sponge-heavy Radar Reef, just 150 yards off the boat ramp at Stake Bay, can be reached from shore by strong swimmers. Other notable dives: Tarpon Reef, with deep sand gullies, thick staghorn coral, and schools of nearly unspookable giant tarpon; Rock Monster Chimney wall, with several coral-chimney swim-throughs; and an intentionally sunk 300-foot Russian frigate, home now to barracuda, angelfish, jacks, groupers, and giant jewfish. Call Reef Divers (two-tank dive, $80; 800-327-3835; ) or Dive Tiara (two-tank dive, $60Ă�$90; 800-367-3484; ). Climbers can tackle some 70 bolted routes between 5.8 and 5.12 at seven different locations on the bluff; locals rebolted most routes with titanium glue-ins after stainless-steel bolts began breaking down. There are no climbing outfitters on the island; get detailed climbing-route information from local rock jock John Byrnes, owner of the Bluff View House (970-493-5801; ). Anglers will find bonefish, tarpon, and possibly permit in the flats ($80Ă� $150; Munny’s Fishing Service, 345-948-1228); and marlin, tuna, and wahoo out beyond the reef ($350Ă�$600; Barefoot Watersports Ltd; 345-948-1537).

The Beach
While most of the shoreline is ironstone that will shred your bare feet, there are stretches of sweet sand, especially on the island’s west end, where the Brac’s few resorts are clustered. The best swimming area is in the lagoon at the small public beach on Southeast Bay; it’s protected by a snorkelable coral reef about 50 yards offshore.

After the Sun Goes Down
Head for The Captain’s Table Bar and Restaurant at the west-end beachfront Brac Caribbean Beach Village—just past the 15-foot-high statue of Blackbeard the Pirate—where visitors, divemasters, and expats load up on Coronas and conch fritters.

Lay Your Sunburned Head At…
The Brac Reef Beach Resort (three-night packages with diving cost $528Ă�$686 per person; 800-327-3835; ), on the island’s westernmost point, has a pool, a sandy beach, 40 air-conditioned rooms, and the ubiquitous yet essential tiki bar; the excellent Reef Divers operation is based here. Climbers head for the two-unit east-end Bluff View House (doubles from $80 per night, with full kitchens; 970-493-5801), within easy walking distance of some of the island’s best climbing routes.

Très Cayman Brac
Dive as deeply and as frequently as your divemaster and decompression charts will allow. Take an afternoon jeep ride to the east end and be waved at by every human you encounter. The night before you head home, power down several frozen mudslide cocktails at The Captain’s Table, ask the bartender for paint, decorate a piece of driftwood with witty farewell rhymes, and hammer your sign onto the already jammed post by the pool.

The Price of Paradise
Construction of homes for wealthy foreigners has jacked land prices out of reach for most—1.75 acres of prime beachfront can cost as much as $925,000—and has created potential for reef-wrecking runoff, and an overabundance of know-it-all divers with expensive gadgets.

Resources: Cayman Islands Tourist Board (800-346-3313; ). Cayman Brac info:

The post The Caribbean Defined appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Okay, so you’ve mastered the art of doing absolutely nothing but soaking up the rays, ordered up just one more piña colada, and achieved beached-whale nirvana. Then what? How about one of these seven full-tilt and sublime adventures (plus several more bold diversions) to inject a jolt of adrenaline into your next Caribbean idyll? Because even paradise needs an edge.

Recharge: pulling into a tube at Salsipuedes beach near Isabela, Puerto Rico

BAHAMAS
PUERTO RICO
HONDURAS
DOMINICAN REPUBLIC
GRENADINES
DOMINICA
VENEZUELA
ISLAND HOPS

Bahamas

Nothing but Blue Seas Below

Paddling to remote Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park

THERE ARE TWO imperatives for a successful trip to the Exumas, a mostly uninhabited, 120-mile-long archipelago that stretches in a narrow crescent from southeast of Nassau in the Bahamas to the Tropic of Cancer. First, while in George Town, the capital, stop in to see the Shark Lady, aka Gloria Patience, a legendary septuagenarian who earned her nickname—not to mention an audience with Queen Elizabeth II—by hunting down some 1,500 sharks around Great Exuma Island over her lifetime. Second, ignore her on the subject of sea kayaking, because she doesn’t realize she lives in the best damn place in the Caribbean for paddling.

Here in the Exumas, the sea is like Bombay Sapphire in a bottle—a perfect blue lens for a paddler’s up-close perspective, magnifying yellow coral heads, purple sea fans, and tropical fish aplenty. The 88-degree, unpolluted water offers world-class snorkeling, and there are no fewer than 365 cays to explore. “Most classic sea-kayaking trips—Baja, the Honduran Bay Islands—follow a coastline,” says sea-kayak outfitter Bardy Jones of New York–based Ibis Tours. “In Exuma, you’re tiptoeing across a string of islands. You can look to the left and look to the right and see wide-open ocean. It’s kind of intimidating, and it’s seriously remote.”

If you have at least a week and you arrive during the spring, hop a 25-minute charter flight from George Town to Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park near the northern Exuma port town of Staniel Cay, where two outfitters have been guiding weeklong, 50-mile trips in the park by sea kayak for more than a decade. Established in 1958, the 176-square-mile park is a no-take (i.e. no-fishing) zone that serves as a nursery for grouper, conch, and lobster. Miniscule cays spring up everywhere, home to the white-tailed tropicbird—a smallish bird endowed with a spectacular, three-foot-long white streamer—and the faded ruins of British loyalist plantations.

If you have less than a week, sign up as I did with Starfish, the only Exuma-based outfitter, in George Town. For two days I explored the red mangrove colonies and bonefish flats of the nearly deserted south side of Great Exuma with a taciturn Dutch guide, Valentijn Hoff, and his younger Bahamian sidekick, Philip Smith, who entertained us with his granny’s bush-medicine wisdom: The “juice” from a ghost crab kills an earache, tea from the “strongback” plant increases male virility, and sniffing crushed orange peel dispels seasickness. After a short hike around 18th-century limestone ruins on rocky Crab Cay, we camped on the sand of an unnamed barrier island, uninhabited but for a ravenous air force of mosquitoes and no-see-ums.

But the trip’s standout hour came the next morning. As we coasted back toward George Town, the hot sun splintered through the turquoise sea, casting a brilliant net that scrolled across the white-sand floor—picture an enormous David Hockney pool. Then, from just beyond my right paddle, came a sudden, loud outbreath. Three dolphins leaped among our bright plastic hulls for a moment and then vanished.

Access + Resources

Whether you arrive in Exuma during the dry season, from December to May, or the wet from June to October, which averages six to nine inches rainfall per month, it’s easy to locate an ocean-worthy kayak and all the gear you need to set out to sea.

GETTING OUTFITTED: Starfish (877-398-6222; ) runs trips around the coast and barrier islands of Great Exuma and Little Exuma for $45 (half-day) to $75 (full day) per person year-round; overnight trips, like the 12-mile route I did, cost $150 per person per day for the first two days, and $100 per night for every night after that. If you want to go it on your own, Starfish rents touring kayaks ($30 per day for singles, $40 for doubles) as well as Hobie Wave sailboats ($50 for a half-day), tents, and other camping gear. March through May, Ibis Tours (800-525-9411; ) runs eight-day trips in Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park () in the northern half of the archipelago for $1,595 per person, including charter airfare from Nassau.

GETTING THERE: American Airlines (800-433-7300) flies from New York to Nassau for about $420 round-trip, $360 from Atlanta. Charter airfare from Nassau is included in outfitters’ package prices; or, if you’re traveling on your own, ask at your hotel or the local marina for information on the many private planes that can fly you to Staniel Cay for about $250 one-way.

LODGING: George Town’s Peace & Plenty (800-525-2210; ) is the small town’s clubby social hub. Doubles start at $175.

Puerto Rico

Riders on the Perfect Storm

Tough commute: heading out to a break on Puerto Rico’s west coast

IF YOU HAPPEN to reach for your sheet one night in your cabina in RincĂłn, Puerto Rico, you’ll know the cold front has arrived. No worries: By the time the big lows that rumble out of the Arctic and fling nor’easters at the whole eastern seaboard hit Puerto Rico, they’re feeble, welcome whiffs of free AC. But before you snuggle under your sheet and drift back to sleep, listen close—feel—for the detonations, because cold fronts bring good tidings. Far out in the dark, thundering like a thousand derailing boxcars, is just what you came for, and at dawn, you’ll have your proof: Pools Beach submerged, seawater raging up into the dry streambed, and the surf…humongous.

If it’s early in your trip, congratulations—you’ve won the raffle! The swell will last three or four days at least. And now you’ve got a ton of good options. (As for your surf-swell lotto odds, they’re excellent in February, good for March, but dicey after April Fools’ Day.) There’s surf on the whole north coast of Puerto Rico, from San Juan to the Punta BorinquĂ©n corner, and more along the west coast south to RincĂłn. In fact, the northwest corner of the island is Oahu’s North Shore writ small—OK, miniature—but also minus the ego wars and the raging King Kamehameha Highway.

Start by heading to Tres Palmas, less than five minutes by car from RincĂłn, and the island’s biggest wave. A deep-water reef and a thousand-mile stare across the Puerto Rico Trench mean you see the real fist-prints of the storm from here. To the south it’s all channel, and an easy, if tense and longish, paddle out to the breakers. But unless you’re a badass—and even if you are—beware of Tres Palmas: The sneaker sets are sneakier than you are, and even on a ten-foot day (the minimum for Tres), there’ll likely be a 15-foot set with your name on it.

For a base of operations, it’s hard to top that cabina in RincĂłn, the Capital de Surf on the island’s west end, which has all the amenities of a small resort town tweaked for its surfista clientele. It’s Gringolandia, fer sure, but you can rent anything from a Ted Kaczynski cabin under a palm tree to a villa in the lush hills and be within walking distance of dozens of breaks. RincĂłn is the most bike- and pedestrian-friendly surf destination I know, and the unofficial capital of the Capital, Calypso Bar and Grill, sits within binocular range of Tres Palmas and boasts a commanding view of The Point, arguably PR’s best point break. Restless? Take a quick 300-yard hike from RincĂłn along the tawny, tide-pool-bejeweled beach up to El Faro, a lighthouse atop a grassy bluff where the whale-watchers gather. From there, it’s a quarter-mile or so up a rutted dirt road to Domes, site of a defunct nuclear apparatus and a sliver of beach whose first-rate right point has an inside-bowl section perfect for launching aerials. And don’t neglect Spanish Wall, a few steps farther north, or Sandy Beach, just around another small point and anchored by its own pub, the Tamboo Tavern.

Meanwhile, a case for day trips can easily be made. Get up early to beat the gridlock in Aguadilla and drive 30 miles north of RincĂłn to Wilderness, a series of spacious reef breaks at the foot of the old Ramey military base golf course. With its rugged coast of tall causarina pines, Wildo is lovely. Or venture farther north to the less populous dunes around Jobos, or even remoter spots such as Shacks or Middles. Middles is said to be the best all-around wave on the island, an A-frame barrel on its signature days.
Still can’t quite picture it? Allow me: It’s the third day of a weeklong swell, and you’re at the end of an afternoon session. You’ve been working your way north as the crowd thinned, moving from the overhead right and left peaks of Dogman’s, over the shallow reef at Maria’s for some tuck-in tubes, and now at twilight you’re shading toward The Point itself with just a handful of surfers still out. The sun is slipping down behind Desecheo, the silhouette of the island looking like Captain Nemo’s Nautilus. On shore, the lights of the Calypso are twinkling, music wafting out over the water. You take off on a wave that’s tall, razor-thin, backlit, and burnished by the setting sun, thinking it might be your last wave of the day. But then it lines up so sweetly, section after section, that when you kick, spray slightly chilling you with that faintest hint of winter, you think, well, maybe one more. And here comes a guy paddling out, wall-to-wall grin, who says he just arrived from Maine. “Took off in a snowstorm,” he says. “Man, am I glad to be here.”

Access + Resources

GETTING OUTFITTED: TWA (800-221-2000) flies from New York’s JFK to Aguadilla (30 minutes by car from RincĂłn) for $288; or try TWA from Fort Lauderdale to San Juan (two hours’ drive from the west end) for $285. American Airlines offers Miami–San Juan flights for $350. The major U.S. rental-car agencies have outlets at both Puerto Rico airports.

OUTFITTERS: Best to bring your own board, but there are several surf shops in RincĂłn where you can rent or buy used boards in an emergency. Also, if you stay at the RincĂłn Surf and Board, they’ll rent you one.

WHERE TO STAY: I recommend either RincĂłn Surf and Board (787-823-0610; ), with suites for $85 per night and dorm-style accommodations for $20 per person, or the Lazy Parrot Inn and Restaurant (787-823-5654). Rates at the Lazy Parrot run $85 for a single, $95 for a double, including a pool. For extended stays or more posh spreads, try Island West Properties (787-823-2323), which lists peak-season rentals (lots are oceanfront) from $553 to $3,675 weekly.

Honduras

Tropical Thrilla in Utila

Give me five: reef life in the Bay Islands

TIME WAS THAT on Tuesday nights, everyone went a bit mad on the island of Utila. It was the day when the supply ship made the 20-mile trip from mainland Honduras, bringing oil for the island generators. As a result, the lights stayed on late and the island became one big electric fiesta. The bars—including my favorite, the Bucket of Blood—set up their good sound systems and the dancing and partying (aka “liming”) ripped full tilt. The supply ship comes to the island’s only town, East Harbor, every day now, which doesn’t mean Utilans don’t still know how to throw a good lime. But even during the high season, which sees less than a couple hundred tourists at any given time, the action tends to wind down before midnight. Negril it ain’t. The reason? Everyone gets up early to dive.

The water averages a mellow 80 degrees Fahrenheit and is as clear as any in the Caribbean when the seas are calm—practically all year, from November to September. On the north shore of Utila are walls where the shallows suddenly drop from five feet to 1,500. On the southeast side, near the airport, are magnificent reefs of soft coral and sea fans. The Bay Islands host a wide variety of aquatic life—from sea horses to sea turtles, and corals such as pillar, elkhorn, lettuce, star, and brain—but they’re also a veritable graveyard of ships. The mainland port of Trujillo was once the main shipping point for the Spanish, and Utila and Roatán were the hideouts for 17th-century buccaneers like Captain Henry Morgan. There are regularly scheduled dives to such famous 20th-century wrecks as the Prince Albert off Roatán or the Jado Trader off Guanaja, and I heard it said a dozen times that for the right price to the right pocket, dives can be arranged to some of the old colonial wreck sites.

During the three weeks I spent on Utila, evenings at the Bucket of Blood, followed by early-morning dives, defined my routine. Later each morning, I’d hang out, read, and swim until I washed up like waterlogged detritus on the beach. After a cheap fresh-fish lunch it was time for a hammock nap, and then in late afternoon I’d climb the hill up to the Bucket of Blood for dominoes with Mr. Cliford Woods, the owner, who has since passed away. He’d mutter angrily whenever he saw me in the doorway, so I think he looked forward to it. Still, every afternoon after he’d given me a good whuppin’ at the table, he’d say, “So tomorrow you’ll be going home, eh?”

Islanders’ attitudes—along with a low beach-to-marshland ratio—have so far saved the island from massive tourism development. Twenty-five-square-mile Utila, the islands of Roatán and Guanaja, and some smaller uninhabited and sparsely inhabited cays comprise Honduras’s Bay Islands. (In 1998, Hurricane Mitch devastated Guanaja, doing thousands of dollars’ worth of damage, but left Utila virtually unscathed.) Most of Utila’s 5,000 inhabitants live along Main Street, a narrow road that runs along the crescent-shaped bay of the east side. It’s a bike-and-hike island when it’s not too hot to move around.
But most of all, it’s a dive island. Some of the world’s least expensive scuba certification programs operate out of the dozen or so different dive shops along Main Street.

On one of my leisurely dives just a hundred feet from the tiny airport’s runway, I fell into a trance among the delicate sea fans, letting the schools of parrot fish, indigo hamlets, rock hinds, and the occasional sea turtle circle but otherwise ignore me as they went about their business. Suddenly, a huge dark shadow came toward me and then, in a flash, passed overhead. My first panicked thought, of course, was that it was the Mother of All Great White Sharks. I swam hard and broke the surface a few yards from land. That’s when I saw that the large, looming shadow was in fact a small plane landing at the airstrip.
Afterwards, when I dropped in on Mr. Cliford, I downed a Port Royal and told him of my high adventure. He looked at me as he might a failed vaudeville act. “You know, there’s not a day go by I don’t wish you tourists would stay home,” he said with a long sigh, pausing to move a domino. “Or at least go to Roatán.”

Access + Resources

GETTING THERE: The best way to reach Utila’s waterfront airstrip is by flying on one of the major carriers into San Pedro Sula, Honduras (American Airlines, 800-433-7300, $840 from New York, $420 from Miami), and then connecting to either SOSA (011-504-425-3161) or Atlantic (011-504-425-3241) for the short $110 round-trip to Utila.

DIVING: According to Troy Bodden, owner of Utila Water Sports (011-504-425-3239), the owners of most of the dive shops on the island, such as Cross Creek (011-504-425-3134), Bay Islands College of Diving (011-504-425-3143), and EcoMarine Gunter’s (011-504-425-3350), have cooperatively priced the basic PADI beginner open-water certification—including four to five days of instruction, equipment, and two tanks—at $159 per person.

WHERE TO STAY: There are several clean, basic hotels in East Harbor for under $20 a night, with ceiling fans and occasional hot water. I stayed at the Bayview Hotel (011-504-425-3114) for $14 (ask for the first-floor room facing the bay); I also recommend Hotel Trudy Laguna del Mar ($15, 011-504-425-3103) and Utila Lodge ($75, 011-504-425-3143), which has amenities like air-conditioning and a recompression chamber.

Dominican Republic

The Bigger Island, the Better Ride

Hot Wheels: the Rocky MF trail in the El Choco National Park, Dominican Republic

CONVENTIONAL WISDOM has it that the tiniest Caribbean islands are the most precious and desirable. Think eight-square-mile St. Bart’s, or the newly chic crop of “single-resort islands.” This logic is fine if your idea of dry-land adventure starts and ends with daily barefoot beach strolls. But if you’re a mountain biker seeking enough varied terrain to explore for more than an hour or two, you probably subscribe to that all-American axiom “Bigger is better.” Hence the allure of the 19,000-square-mile Dominican Republic, which occupies the eastern two-thirds of the Caribbean’s second-largest island, Hispaniola. (Haiti lies to the west.) And it’s not just size that appeals: The range and diversity of riding here beat any you’ll find elsewhere in the Caribbean.

Flying into Puerto Plata on the north coast, you immediately see that the country has more to offer than beaches. With tropical bush–covered peaks rising steeply from the cultivated coastline, the Dominican Republic looks like a rugged, misplaced chunk of Central America. Forget the value-priced, all-inclusive resort compounds for which the DR is dubiously famous. Instead, take a 20-minute taxi ride east from the airport to Cabarete, and make it your home base for two-wheel adventure.

A tiny fishing village when wave-craving Canadian and Swiss windsurfers started showing up more than a dozen years ago, Cabarete has quickly matriculated from backpacker’s crash pad to a thriving, polyglot adrenaline-sports colony. A few Cabarete outfitters have turned their backs on the ocean to focus on the region’s river-threaded valleys, limestone caves, misting waterfalls, and twin cordilleras (10,414-foot Pico Duarte, 100 miles southwest of Cabarete, is the highest peak in the Caribbean). Upstate New York native Tricia Suriel is foremost among these inland guides. With her seven-year-old company, Iguana Mama, she’s scouted hundreds of miles of bike routes, on everything from paved roads to goat paths to highly technical singletrack across waist-deep rivers. If you bring your own bike—or rent one of Iguana Mama’s new XT-equipped Specialized RockHoppers and ride guideless—it’s still smart to sign on for a ride or two to get oriented.

One standout trail, the cryptic-sounding Rocky MF, is a remote, seven-mile experts-only ride that climbs up and then careens down jagged, rock-mined singletrack, all beneath the dense shade of mango and avocado trees in El Choco National Park, one of the country’s newest, just outside Cabarete. But most day rides from Cabarete are less technical, rambling forays into the Cordillera Septentrional. As you pedal, the ubiquitous concrete-block shops selling Coke and lottery tickets thin out. Soon you’re passing pink-and-green-painted wooden shacks and hibiscus bushes draped with wet laundry. Uniformed schoolkids rush out to try for rolling high fives; farther outside town, they just stare shyly. Trading dirt road for rutted cow path, you navigate between leafy “living fences”—piñon stakes revivified in the fertile soil. Above shoulder-deep pasture grass, egrets flash white, tending humpbacked Brahman bulls.

Slowly absorbing the way life is lived here is what can make riding in the DR so eye-opening. Curious locals seem willing to entertain the rustiest of Spanish-language overtures. Up for some real immersion? Join one of Iguana Mama’s multiday trips (they’ll design custom itineraries, or you can book ahead for one of their five-day expeditions). During an overnight to Armando Bermudez National Park, near the base of Pico Duarte, my small group enjoyed a vegetarian coconut-milk stew with the park ranger’s family, and then sneaked our sleeping bags inside park headquarters to escape a nocturnal downpour.
All this is not to say you should sacrifice the island’s more traditional Caribbean seductions for mountain biking: They are best enjoyed hand-in-hand, as exemplified by a triumphant return to the beach at Cabarete after a good hard ride. Late afternoons, you can try out everything from Hobie Cats to sea kayaks to kiteboards. Or my personal favorite, a nice long bodysurfing session and a face-in-the-sand nap.

Access + Resources

GETTING THERE: American Airlines (800-433-7300) flies round-trip to Puerto Plata for about $460 from New York, $360 from Miami. An $18 taxi ride gets you from the airport to Cabarete.

OUTFITTERS: Mountain-bike day trips with Iguana Mama (800-849-4720; ) run $40 to $85 per person. The five-day Dominican Alps inn-to-inn trip costs $950 per person, including guides, equipment, hotel lodging, and meals; customized biking and camping trips are also available. Bikes rent for $30 per day.

WHERE TO STAY: The newly renovated Cabarete Palm Beach Condos (809-571-0758) are spacious and homey, with great beachfront balconies. Two-bedroom condos cost $60 to $160 a night, depending on season and occupancy; studios go for $40 to $70. The 60-unit Windsurf Resort (809-571-0718) charges $74 for a one-bedroom poolside apartment.

Grenadines

The Pleasure of a Steady Nine Knots

Rum Runners: sailing near Palm Island

FOR SEASICKNESS, try beer and peanut butter. I hit on this desperation diet my second morning aboard the Boom Shak-A-Lak, a 45-foot Beneteau sloop that three friends and I had chartered for a two-week, early-winter cruise through the Grenadines. As a novice mariner, I’d had visions of a leisurely sail through bathtub-still waters, the moist tranquility of the tropics permeating my vacation-deprived soul. That nonsense was immediately debunked once we left our mooring in Bequia’s Port Elizabeth. After passing the lee of the island, we were borne by a stiff wind to port as we sliced through the steely water—nearly perpendicular to it—at a steady nine knots. Then for two nights we were pounded by unseasonal rain and high winds that left us cranky and queasy; surprisingly, a breakfast of Corona and Skippy calmed my churning stomach, and what had started out looking like a two-week ordeal instead became a promising adventure.

Known for their unblemished white-sand beaches, spectacular reefs, and northeasterly trade winds, the Grenadines, a minimally developed archipelago in the eastern Caribbean, are an ideal place to drop off the map for a while, guided by the whims of the wind and the waves. Our loose plan was to sail from north to south, stopping at Mustique, the Tobago Cays, Canouan, and Union before ending the trip in Grenada.

After the initial excitement aboard the Boom Shak-A-Lak, I expected our focus to be the islands, with the sailing merely the means of getting from one to the next. In fact, for all their splendor, the islands—celebrity-clogged Mustique, low-key Canouan, the uninhabited Tobago Cays—began to blur together in my mind, while the time spent under full sail, surfing the swells as the wind howled around us, made me feel most alive. In contrast to the relative sameness of the closely spaced landmasses, the sea was infinitely variable, hypnotizing me with its shifts of color and light.

Quickly, we settled into an unhurried routine of rising late, breakfasting on board, and then sailing from one island to the next, stopping along the way to dive the region’s many reefs. Evenings, we went ashore to dine and drink and compare notes with other sailors, most of them French or German. After ten days or so, the land had all but ceased to exist—I didn’t care if we ever docked the boat. By the time we anchored in Tyrrell Bay on Carriacou (politically part of Grenada, but geographically a continuation of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines), we were so attuned to the rhythms of the sea that we now felt queasy only when we ventured onto dry land.

A party at Carriacou’s yacht club, the best that we’d found, soon took care of that. In addition to surprisingly good food, something of a rarity in these parts, we were served the most potent rum punch of the trip, heavily laced with Iron Jack, a spirit so strong (190 proof) that its manufacture is banned in most of the Caribbean. Smuggled in from Trinidad, where it’s legal, or brewed in clandestine backyard stills, Iron Jack has a reputation for bringing even the most experienced rum-swiller to her knees. Sure enough, halfway through our dinner of roti and french fries we were barely able to remain upright, the conversation degenerating into uproarious laughter over nothing in particular. And that was after only one drink.

Back on board the next morning, we discovered that our dinghy had disappeared, and no one could quite remember who had been designated to tie it up. In fact, we couldn’t remember returning to the boat at all. As we prepared, somewhat fuzzily, to sail for Grenada, our final stop, we were a somber bunch. Fortunately, beer and peanut butter works for hangovers, too.

Access + Resources

GETTING THERE: There’s no easy way to get to the Grenadines. The most direct route is to fly to San Juan, Puerto Rico, where you can connect to a nonstop flight to St. Vincent on American Eagle ($330). Most of the yacht-charter operations are on St. Vincent or Grenada; Bequia is a nine-mile ferry ride from St. Vincent.

YACHT CHARTERS: We got our boat through Trade Wind Yachts (800-825-7245; ), which also handled our airline tickets and hotel reservations in San Juan. A Beneteau 445 like ours, with three cabins and three heads with showers, rents for $2,065 to $3,458 per week, depending on the season.

Dominica

Moonscapes and Mountain Chickens

Hell of a time: Dominica’s Boiling Lake Trail

DOMINICA ISN’T YOUR typical Caribbean paradise: There are few beaches to speak of, and the snorkeling’s only so-so. But if you’re the kind to go stir crazy after a couple of languorous hours surfside, you’ll agree—this place is heaven. The largest but least populated isle in the eastern Caribbean’s Windward chain, Dominica has 289 square miles of rugged, 4,000-foot mountains, active volcanoes, old-growth tropical rainforest, and more than 300 miles of hikable trails. On my last visit, hoping to spot an exotic bird (Dominica boasts 172 avian species) or a ten-inch crapaud (locals call these big, tasty frogs “mountain chickens”), I followed Glen, my dreadlocked local guide, up the Syndicate Nature Trail, a rocky ten-mile path through stands of gnarled, hundred-foot chataignier trees, to the summit of 4,747-foot Morne Diablotin, the highest point on the island. Not two hours in, a blue-green Sisserou, the largest, rarest Amazon parrot, glided across the clearing on three-foot wings to land just a few feet ahead of us.

The surreal landscape on the eight-mile, eight-hour out-and-back hike to Boiling Lake, a 200-foot cauldron of bubbling, gray-blue water that simmers at upwards of 200 degrees Fahrenheit and recalls Milton’s Paradise Lost, was equally spectacular. The trail winds through Morne Trois Piton National Park, a 17,000-acre preserve just west of Roseau, climbing the 45-degree slopes of 2,700-foot Morne Nichols before dropping into the Valley of Desolation, a half-mile-wide moonscape of sharp volcanic rocks, hissing steam vents, and hot springs, some of the cooler ones ideal for soaking.

World-class hiking in the Caribbean? Jah, mon.

Access + Resources

GETTING THERE: Dominica is a two-hour flight from San Juan, Puerto Rico ($290, American Eagle, 800-433-7300), or 30 minutes from Guadeloupe ($150, LIAT, 268-480-5601).

OUTFITTERS: You will need a guide—the island’s 300-plus inches of annual rainfall means trails are often washed out and difficult to follow. Hire one ($40 a day) through your hotel. Ken’s Hinterland şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Tours (767-448-4850; ) can arrange group hikes or kayaking trips.

WHERE TO STAY: Papillote Wilderness Retreat (767-448-2287;), a cozy inn five miles from Roseau, offers double rooms for $90 a night. Simple, fan-cooled doubles at the colonial-style Springfield Plantation Guest House (767-449-1401), 15 miles northwest of Roseau, also go for $90.

Venezuela

Love on Los Roques

Lean machine: caught speeding near Los Roques National Park

MY PALMS WERE beginning to burn—a sign of the blisters to come—but I couldn’t resist; I pulled hard on the boom and trimmed the sail against another gust. The entire length of the board lifted off the water and shuddered, then settled back on a few inches of fin. I barreled across the channel toward the tiny island of Esparqui, its thick tangle of mangrove trees growing larger by the second, and waited as long as I could before throwing the rig forward and turning sharply through the wind, away from the sandy shore. A huge sea turtle slid beneath me as I headed back to my launch, an empty, salt-white stretch of beach now a good mile away. Except for the masts of a few sailboats shimmering in a distant anchorage downwind, I was the only thing on the water.

Perfect wind, every conceivable sailing option, warm, clear seas, and utter isolation. In 15 years of windsurfing all over the world, I’d never seen anything like this. Just 11 degrees above the equator and 85 miles north of Caracas, Venezuela’s Los Roques National Park is a pristine archipelago of some 350 small islands, cays, and reefs scattered across 15 miles of iridescent turquoise water. First charted by Spanish explorers 470 years ago, it has remained a refuge from time and civilization, with 1,200 or so residents and few visitors save a handful of hard-core yachtsmen and bonefishing addicts, and the 200 or so windsurfers who ride its steady stream of east-northeasterly trades each year. A primitive airstrip near Gran Roques, the collection of empty sand streets and sun-bleached pastel facades that is Los Roques’ only town, is the one link to reality.

Arriving on Francisqui, an hourglass-shaped island less than a mile long, via a fisherman’s small, open peñero several hours earlier, I had trouble taking it all in. To my left was the flat water of the channel, perfect for easy cruising or speed runs to other islands; on my right lay two reef breaks—a left and a right—for shredding chest-high waves and jumping. Beyond them, rolling swells of open ocean. And every possibilityblessed with 13 to 22 knots of the kind of breeze windsurfers dream about. There was only one thing missing.

“What,” I jokingly asked my guide, Elias Pernales, “no point break?”

He gestured over my shoulder toward the tip of the island. “Ten, maybe twelve tacks upwind and around the anchorage. But it’s tricky getting through the reef, so I don’t bring too many people there.”

Pernales, a relaxed, 36-year-old Venezuelan with a body straight off the cover of a fitness rag, manages Vela Los Roques, the only windsurfing operation on the islands. Working alone out of an open, metal-roofed hut stocked with 30 new sailboards and a huge quiver of pre-rigged sails, he spends his days guiding intermediate and expert sailors—rarely more than three or four in a day even during the high season, thanks to Los Roques’ remoteness—as they weave between islands or along the serpentine barrier reefs. We spent the morning gliding between jagged cays and exploring hidden lagoons, and then retreated to the welcome shade of his “office” for a lunch of fresh tuna steaks, cold pineapple slices, and frosty Polars—the light pilsner that’s considered the national beer of Venezuela. Just as I was eyeballing the hammock, Pernales dragged out a two-man kayak. “Time for some snorkeling, eh?”

We did, among waving sea fans and yellowtailed angelfish near yet another deserted cay. By the time we paddled back to Francisqui, the tide had shifted and the swell was up, so it was out to the reef for some five-foot waves. I tacked upwind a few hundred yards and began slicing down the smooth, right-breaking faces, trying to stay focused on the sharp coral just below the surface. As the tropical sky began to grow pink, I spotted the peñero buzzing slowly across the bay to retrieve us, but I couldn’t bring myself to head in. Instead, I turned the board toward the horizon and raked the sail back for speed.

Access + Resources

GETTING THERE: American (800-433-7300) or Continental (800-231-0856) Airlines can fly you nonstop from New York or Miami to Caracas, Venezuela, and book your 50-minute connecting flight to Margarita Island ($800 total from New York, $687 from Miami). Vela Windsurf Resorts will provide air transportation from Margarita to Los Roques (see Outfitters, below).

OUTFITTERS: U.S.–based Vela Windsurf Resorts (800-223-5443; ) runs the only windsurfing operation in Los Roques and takes clients on single- or multiday excursions to the archipelago from its Margarita Island resort, 180 miles west of Los Roques. Trips leave Margarita Island daily and include round-trip airfare (it’s a 60-minute flight) on Venezuela’s Aerotuy Airlines, boat transfers, accommodations at one of several small guest houses in Gran Roques, meals, equipment, and guide service (one day/one night, $185 per person; three days/two nights, $525). The $16 national-park entry fee is not included.

Island Hops

Even more splendid ways to escape from the chaise longue

Guadeloupe: Pedal Like the Pros
Professional cyclists from around the world meet on this butterfly-shaped isle for the annual Tour de Guadeloupe, a 797-mile, ten-stage road race. The race comes to the island in August, but you can ride the circuit any time (call Dom Location, 011-590-88-84-81, for a map and bike rental, $10/day). Or ditch the bike and explore the island’s offroad attractions: black-sand beaches, jungle waterfalls, and the short hike through clouds of sulfur to the top of La Soufrière volcano.

St. Barthélemy: Buff Enough to Surf
The curl at the out-of-the-way (and, unofficially, clothing-optional) Anse de Grande Saline beach is the island’s best for bodysurfing. The half-mile-long stretch of white sand on the south shore is a 15-minute walk and worlds away from the Hollywood types at St. Danjean Beach. Call the St. Bart’s Tourist Office, 011-590-27-87-27.

Cuba: Total Immersion
Wheel through Havana with the local biking club. Hone your underused salsa moves. Debate hot political issues using your newly mastered verbs (like derrocar—to overthrow). All this and more on a two- to four-week crash course in Spanish language, Cuban culture, and island adventure. Call Cuban Outreach Tours, 415-648-2239; .

St. Lucia: Climb the Big Piton
St. Lucia’s lush, volcanic twin peaks tower over sunbathers on the beach below—but why sit around in the shadows? Though local foresters have tagged precipitous and overgrown 2,461-foot Petit Piton off-limits due to falling rock, the summit of 2,619-foot Gros Piton begs to be topped, and the 2.5-mile trek can be done in four hours. Call the St. Lucia Forestry Department, 758-450-2078, for maps and information.

Trinidad: Walk with the Animals
Hike past the Lagon Bouffe Mud Volcano and two miles up a forest path, where howler monkeys, peccaries, and orange-winged parrots await you in the Trinity Hills Wildlife Sanctuary—a private preserve owned, interestingly enough, by a local oil company. To visit, call the Incoming Tour Operators’ Association of Trinidad and Tobago, 868-633-4733.

Jamaica: Raft the (Other) Rio Grande
Play Huck Finn for a day on a guided, seven-mile run down the Class I water of the lower Rio Grande in the jungly Blue Mountains. Your craft: a 30-by-6-foot, hand-hewn bamboo raft. The highlight: chatting with rural Jamaicans—and Red Stripe vendors—along the riverbank. Call Valley Hikes, 876-993-3881.

Martinique: Absalon, Absalon!
Bushwhack through the rainforest, rappel down a 40-foot cliff, navigate a boulder field, and then slip into the 90-degree, orange (from the iron in the rocks below) waters of the Absalon Thermal Spring. Call Aventures Tropicales, 011-596-75-24-24; .

Jost Van Dyke: La Vida Coco
Watch the sun set over White Bay and grab a painkiller (Pusser’s rum, Coco Lopez, multiple juices, and the obligatory nutmeg) at the self-serve Stress-Free Bar (284-495-9358) on Jost Van Dyke, a three-square-mile dot in the British Virgin Islands. Then pick up a guitar, bongos, or an empty coffee can and jam into the night with the eclectic house band. (Bonus: There’s a campground out back.)

The post Life is Way, Way More than a Beach appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

The post In Tobago, It’s All Good appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.