BEST ASHRAM
Sri Aurobindo/Auroville, Pondicherry
Throw a mango anywhere in India—the birthplace of yoga—and you’ll hit an ashram. Officially designated as a place for spiritual striving, these retreat centers range from spare mountain meditation chambers to urban yoga Disneylands. There’s no better representation of ashram life, however, than Auroville, a humming township near the former French colony of Pondicherry, in tropical Tamil Nadu. Spread out along the warm Bay of Bengal, the eight-square-mile town is being built by followers of the famous guru Sri Aurobindo and his French partner, a woman known as “the Mother.” The Aurovillians have constructed an internationally populated utopia of organic farms, holistic hospitals, arts-and-crafts centers, and hatha yoga instruction.

Ease into your tour of all things Auroville with sunrise “integral” yoga—more meditative than stretching—at the original Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry. Catch a hearty ayurvedic meal of rice idlis, coconut chutney, and banana-flower sambar at the Solar Kitchen (run partly by solar energy) and get the best yoga instruction in the state at the Quiet Healing Centre. Finally, try a session on the “sound bed”: an oversize, Indian-style guitar that you lie inside while it’s played—like an iPod for your soul. DETAILS: Accommodations, $35–$50;

Best Pilgrimage

Varanasi

At Manikarnika Ghat, I became so mesmerized watching the fires devouring the human bodies that I was startled when a vagabond approached: “Sir, 150 dead are cremated here every day, and they become enlightened.” Barefoot workers were preparing the pyres, sprinkling incense on the dead, setting them alight. “Sir, you like charas?” he asked, meaning hashish.

Apparently Lord Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction, is an avid marijuana user, so hashish is widely tolerated in India. But I was in town for more temporal allures: to witness some of the millions of pilgrims who pour annually into this 3,000-year-old city. Hindus come to cleanse themselves of sin in the sacred Ganges River. Better still is the prospect of dying in the river, for the City of Light is doubly holy as the only place on the planet where all five elements converge: water, wind, sky, earth, and the “eternal fire” that has been kept lit for 2,000 years. According to Hindu beliefs, passing away in these waters leads to liberation from the cycle of reincarnation.

After dinner on the rooftop restaurant at Palace on the Ganges, a hotel outside the old town, I returned to the fray mid-evening. The pilgrims—women in peacock-colored saris, sadhus in steel chastity belts, the old and the sick yearning for death—cut a timeless scene among the riverfront assembly. Mantras blared from temple loudspeakers, and the streets were choked by homeless pilgrims, aggressive touts, morose cows, and cycle rickshaws. Elsewhere I would have felt overwhelmed by the clamor. But here I was unwittingly infused with the city’s energy of exultation—part of the reason, no doubt, that a trip to India feels incomplete without a visit to Varanasi. DETAILS: Doubles at Palace on the Ganges from $70; 011-91-542-2315050

Best Bike Tour

Leh to Manali, Ladakh

Ladak

Ladak

I mountain-bike for the downhill, which is why I was thrilled when I heard about riding in the Himalayas: 20-plus-mile descents. So I headed for India’s northwestern state of Ladakh, home to some of the most remote bike touring—and biggest downhills—in the world.

At 11,500 feet, the town of Leh—where I met up with a dozen other cyclists on a tour with Aspen-based outfitter KE 国产吃瓜黑料 Travel—sits over 1,300 feet above the highest incorporated town in the United States (Leadville, Colorado). In three weeks, we would cross 480 miles and four high-mountain passes, including two above 17,000 feet, in a traverse to the border town of Manali. First up was the Khardung La, the highest motorable pass in the world. We pedaled our way up the switchbacks and eventually came to a greasy sign: HIGHEST ROAD IN THE WORLD, HT. 18,380ft.—YOU CAN HAVE DIALOGUE WITH GOD. The only dialogue I was having was internal: What were you thinking? I was enduring altitude headaches, nausea, and total fatigue. But that all seemed trivial compared with the scenery. We spun from wide-open desert to high-alpine vistas with receding glaciers and rocky moraines. We passed fantastically eroded mud-and-rock sculptures and cycled along vibrant turquoise rivers. At one point, we zipped through 22 hairpin turns on tight switchbacks, descending more than 10,000 feet—all before lunch!

On our final day, atop a pass overlooking the Kulu Valley in Himachal Pradesh, we ate cheese sandwiches and boiled potatoes with the Karakoram at our feet. Then one last thrill: We mounted our bikes and flew back down to Manali, a final zinging descent of more than 20 miles. DETAILS: Trips cost $2,795, departing in July; 800-497-9675,

Best Icon

Taj Mahal, Agra

I wanted to skip the Taj Mahal—India, with its bustling chaos of people, animals, cultures, and foods, is one enormous, living monument, so why bother with an overcrowded building? On the insistent urging of some fellow travelers, however, my partner, Jen, and I changed our itinerary and veered for Agra.

Passing through the pink sandstone entry gates, all our misgivings evaporated: Clich茅 or not, the Taj Mahal must be seen. Every admiring accolade you’ve read about the Taj—the perfect symmetry of the structure; the way the marble glows rose at dawn and saffron at sunset; the semiprecious-stone inlay fitted so tightly that the seams are imperceptible—it’s all true. Equally inspiring is the story behind the structure: Shah Jahan, crowned king of the Mughals in 1628, at the height of the empire, built the Taj as a final resting place and monument for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, at her deathbed behest. And since the Taj got a face-lift in 2002—with the removal of decades-old stains and grime—it is as sparkly and impressive as ever.

Jen and I had to wait to take it all in. The moment we stepped onto the Taj’s marble platform, a young Indian family approached and asked to take our photo—with them in the picture. Slightly uneasy, we agreed. After a moment, another family approached, then another, until a queue of enthusiastic Indians had formed. A guide later explained that, among some rural Indians, bringing home glossies of themselves with their “Western friends” gives them village bragging rights. One uninhibited group placed Jen and me amid the clan of 16, holding the baby, naturally; seconds before the flash went off, a hand appeared from behind me and pinched my smiling cheek. To this day, I keep a copy of the photo, a souvenir nearly as memorable as the Taj itself.

Best Safari

Kaziranga National Park, Assam

Kaziranga National Park

Kaziranga National Park Rhino

My sweetheart and I had been chasing curves on National Highway 37, in the remote northeastern state of Assam, for five hours when we spotted the first elephant-crossing sign on the edge of Kaziranga National Park. As if on cue, our driver swerved to an overlook, revealing a herd of Indian elephants feasting on a 12-foot-tall stand of elephant grass. It was an auspicious first encounter with the famed megafauna of Kaziranga.

Located on the banks of the Brahmaputra River, the swampy 106,000-acre Kaziranga National Park is home not only to wild tuskers but also to globally threatened species like the majestic Bengal tiger and the Indian one-horned rhino. There is no better place on earth to see the myopic, armor-skinned, minivan-size beasts Marco Polo allegedly mistook for unicorns. In fact, the preserve’s 1,650 rhinos represent two-thirds of the species’s global population.

Touring the park by jeep, not only did we encounter rhinos and elephant herds; we crossed paths with water buffalo and even monitor lizards. On day two of our tour, an outwardly docile ten-foot-long tiger emerged and lay insouciantly on the road. That evening, we relived our sightings over cocktails at a rustic eco-lodge near the park boundary, Wild Grass Resort, which hosted Monty Python alum and world traveler Michael Palin during his research for the 2004 BBC series Himalaya. Owner Manju Barua, an outspoken conservationist, has banned TV at the lodge. But with each day unfolding like an episode of Wild Kingdom, you won’t miss it. DETAILS: Doubles from $60; 011-91-3776-2662085,

Best Trek

Darma Valley, Uttaranchal

Uttaranchal mountains

Uttaranchal mountains

Given the civil war festering in nearby Nepal, and the tourists crowding India’s trekking routes in Ladakh and Sikkim as a result, I opted for a trip in the little-known Darma Valley. Sitting above 10,000 feet, and bounded by Nepalese peaks to the east and the Tibetan Plateau to the north, the valley is one of the subcontinent’s last unexplored trekking alternatives.

It’s also India’s equivalent to Idaho—and home to a population of pastoral mountain people. For centuries, the families of the Darma Valley have made a summer migration from the remote river town of Dharchula to their slate-roofed Himalayan valley homes, where they herd sheep and farm potatoes, buckwheat, and other grains. When the work is done, the villagers make sacrifices to the gods, play music, and toss back rice wine and a tangy wheat beer. We timed our trip to coincide with the festivities.

After the 250-mile bus ride from Delhi, we faced a lung-busting 30 miles of hiking beneath the needle-sharp peaks of the Panchachuli Range, all five over 20,000 feet, to the turnaround at Panchachuli Glacier. From there, we could either double back down the valley or continue over snowy passes: An eastern circuit flanks the holy 22,028-foot peak of Kailas, while the western valleys edge past 25,645-foot Nanda Devi, where British climbing stars Eric Shipton and Bill Tilman staked their claim to fame in 1934. Ill prepared for glacier travel, we turned back at the Stone Age village of Sipu, at 11,280 feet one of the highest Darma settlements, content to tap the local brew. DETAILS: Book May–June or September–November; KMVN outfitter can arrange a seven-day trip for $81; 011-91-5942-236356,

Best Palace Hotel

Fort Tiracol, Goa

The classic 18th-century grand palaces of Rajasthan get all the glory, but a newer noteworthy alternative is Goa’s historic Fort Tiracol, on the Arabian Sea, where Santa Fe styling meets South Indian hospitality. Set on the headlands where the Tiracol River meets the sea, the 16th-century former Portuguese fort was stylishly revamped in 2002 by Hari Ajwani, a Bombay-bred heritage hotelier, and his wife, German stylist Claudia Derian. Built around a small courtyard, the property has seven airy rooms with rustic wood and wrought-iron furnishings, while the vast poured-concrete bathrooms offer possibly the most luxurious toileting experience on the subcontinent. To wit, picture windows overlook the ocean, while the bathrooms themselves are as large as bedrooms in many modern hotels across India.

The property is a good base for exploring the party-hearty beaches of northern Goa. But if you’re sick of rubbing elbows with the hordes of sunbathers, Tiracol also has its very own secluded option: On Querim Beach, a private white-sand cove ringed by palm trees, my travel companion Christina and I had only sea turtles for company. But Goa isn’t all about chilling. Rent a scooter and explore the winding roads of Maharashtra or head to Arambol and try paragliding off the bluffs. Don’t miss the madhouse flea market each Wednesday at Anjuna, which draws merchants selling silk, crafts, and silver jewelry.

After a trip to the market, Christina and I returned to the upstairs lounge at Fort Tiracol, where we snacked on spicy grilled seafood and basked like royalty before another spectacular Arabian Sea sunset. Tiracol hasn’t yet garnered the notoriety of the palaces of the north—and good thing. DETAILS: Doubles from $140, including full board; best season is October–May; 011-91-2236-227631, nilaya@sancharnet.in

Best Hill Station

Darjeeling, West Bengal

Buddhist prayer flags snap in the breeze, while jagged Himalayan peaks play hide-and-seek in the cloudy distance. It’s my second day in Darjeeling, a quintessential South Asian hill station. The colonial British and their Indian counterparts once escaped the scorching summer temps on the plains by heading for this most famous of summer capitals. These days, travelers find respite in these cool hills.

Like generations of explorers, I’ve come to bag a few nearby peaks. First stop is the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, once presided over by the late Everest pioneer Tenzing Norgay, which offers outdoor courses (and has a museum stuffed with alpinism memorabilia). Hoping to follow in Norgay’s bootsteps, I I book a multiday trek and set off into the nearby hills.

Even for those without high-altitude designs, Darjeeling is a worthwhile stopover. The town has a flavor as distinct as the tea grown on its outskirts, seasoned not just by Raj-era architecture, bakeries, and antique shops but also by a heady dose of Himalayan cultures—Nepal, Bhutan, and Sikkim are all next door. In town, the Hotel Windamere, a 19th-century Heritage Hotel overlooking Chowrasta Square, provides local color and great views. DETAILS: Doubles from $145, with full board; 011-91-354-2254041, .

Best River

Brahmaputra, Arunachal Pradesh

River Boat

River Boat

In 2002, Vaibhav Kala, owner of Aquaterra 国产吃瓜黑料s, hatched an audacious plan to offer the first-ever commercial expedition down the 110-mile upper stretch of the Brahmaputra, which flows from Tibet through Arunachal Pradesh, in far northeastern India. Locally known as the Siang, the Class IV+ Brahmaputra rivals the Grand Canyon when it comes to whitewater, with the added attraction of exotic tribes that rarely see outsiders. Today, with other companies looking to follow Aquaterra’s lead, the Brahmaputra float is on the verge of becoming India’s splashiest big-water adventure.

Reaching the put-in remains a challenge unto itself, requiring a 50-mile upstream motorboat transfer from Dibrugarh, followed by a two-day jeep ride into the jungle of Arunachal Pradesh from neighboring Assam. Up next are seven days of wilderness paddling, with the verdant scenery punctuated by huge Class III–IV+ rapids on a scale more reminiscent of The Perfect Storm than The River Wild. DETAILS: For now, Aquaterra offers the only set departures on the Brahmaputra; November 24–December 8; kayaking from $3,100, rafting from $3,600; 011-91-11-29212641,

Best Festival

Pushkar Camel Fair, Rajasthan

You haven’t lived until you’ve communed with camels, which is why you can’t miss the Pushkar Camel Fair, a mind-blowingly biblical convergence of camels, camel traders, mystics, and musicians, all camped out in Rajasthan’s Thar Desert. For centuries, during the month of Kartik (the eighth lunar month of the Hindu calendar, falling roughly around October and November on the Gregorian calendar), Rajasthan’s camel herders have trekked to the town of Pushkar in time for the full moon. This year’s fair (November 2–5) will bring about 200,000 people and 50,000 camels to the desert bash.

At the fair you’ll find a sea of khaki-brown sand dunes pitched with dung-colored tents and entire families camped out: Hindu men in turbans, Rajasthani tribal women in color-drenched skirts and saris, kids hawking everything from camel bells to camel-cart rides. You’ll also find camels—and lots of them: babies with spindly legs and big, goofy heads; teenage camels; worn-out camels; camels standing; camels sleeping; camels adorned with braids, tassels, and tattoos. You can ride camels, watch camel races, or witness the business of camel trading up close. (Want to take home a new pet? A three-year-old camel goes for around 25,000 rupees—or $567.)

Stay at the Royal Camp, upscale tented lodging pioneered by the Maharaja of Jodhpur in the 1990s, just a few dunes from the festivities. Each safari-style, canvas tent has twin beds with crisp white linens, a front porch with teak chairs, a private bath, and buckets of hot bathwater delivered to your door. DETAILS: Doubles from $250, including meals; 011-91-291-2571991,

BONUS: Best Escape from India

Bangaram Island Resort, Lakshadweep Islands

Lakshadweep Islands

Lakshadweep Islands

The battering madness of India’s cultural mosh pit can exhaust even the most seasoned traveler, which is why many Indians advise leaving the mainland to truly appreciate its charms. There’s no better place to get this critical break—without passing through customs—than the isolated, talcum-beached coral atoll of Bangaram, one of 26 tiny coconut-palm islands that make up the Lakshadweep archipelago, in the Arabian Sea.

Of the three islands open to tourists, Bangaram Island Resort—which owns the entirety of the island—boasts the least development, with only 34 teak-and-tile bungalows spread tastefully throughout the island’s 128 acres. After you’ve settled into a private hut, stumble a few feet across the snowy beach to fin through crystal waters. The sea life is so accommodating that the resort asks divers to refrain from riding the massive sea turtles and manta rays that lounge around the house reef.

For more adventurous fauna, house dive masters will take you to deeper reaches, including a sheer limestone chasm known as the Grand Canyon. Deeper still, fishermen will find wahoo and sailfish that are the stuff of Hemingway lore. Or pass on it all and spend an afternoon in a silent hammock for that much-needed perspective on India. DETAILS: Bungalows, $290–$350 all- inclusive; 011-91-484-2668221,

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WHY INDIA? After working and sweating for three months in a village in the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu, I decided to head north for a break. I checked in to a remote guesthouse in the rugged Aravalli Mountains of eastern Rajasthan, where I gorged on fiery curries, fresh vegetables, and chewy parathas, all served on dinnerware made from banana leaves stitched together with thorns. At night, I spread out on the rooftop to sleep. There was no crushing density of bodies, no old men crapping in the street, no tinny loudspeakers screeching Indian show tunes. Instead I stared at the stars while kingfishers settled into the mango trees. Paradise. Except it was 110 degrees at 2 a.m., and I had worms.

India

Travel in India isn’t always easy. Nowhere else is the choreography of humanity and nature more passionate, bewildering, sensorial, and in-your-face extreme. “In India, the easiest and most necessary thing to ignore was the obvious,” wrote Nobel Prize winner V. S. Naipaul on surviving the difficulties of traveling in such an overloaded place. But it is precisely this blaring cacophony聴the technicolor saris drying against clay hills, the sticky aroma of hot fried curry, the insistence of haggling shop owners聴that draws travelers, leaving an indelible, soul-rankling impression. And the appeal is on the rise: India’s Ministry of Tourism reports that 3.3 million foreigners visited the country in 2004聴an increase of 24 percent over the previous year.

On the surface, the lure is obvious. The country is a stuffed geography, from the glacial flanks of 28,169-foot Kanchenjunga聴highest in the nation, third-tallest in the world聴to the overgrown, jungly backwaters snaking through Kerala. This 1.2-million-square-mile landscape is home to 89 national parks and nearly 90,000 species of animals聴including sloth bears, flying lizards, leopards, rhinos, and every variety of monkey.

The country’s true richness, however, comes from its rapidly changing populace聴now bloated to more than one billion. In the chaos of a sultry gray morning in Chennai, I heard at least a dozen languages in the train station, passed a handful of religious rituals on my way to market, and paid a mahout five rupees for his elephant to bless me with a trunk tap on the head. Later that day in the market, I met a man, Edwin Pudatha, who held the Guinness world record for “sitting and standing,” which he earned by going from sitting to standing 4,150 times in one hour. India, it turns out, has the lowest rate of Olympic-medal winners per capita but the highest percentage of Guinness world-record holders. “People aren’t that famous in the Olympics,” Pudatha explained, noting that his stunt was a regional media event and cause for monthlong parties in his village. “Now, I am known.”

India was once a place for smacking head-on into an unchanged heritage; now it’s a curious mix of caste-free middle-class technophiles, high-fashion elite, and entrepreneurs swooning in free-market bliss. You can easily find yourself sharing a plane ride with a software engineer from Hyderabad (known as Cyberabad) or a professor who just rapped with Bill Clinton about watershed management at the Aspen Institute. Across the globe, the permeation of Bollywood, masala dosas, and curly-toed Rajasthani slippers into Western society has helped fuel international interest in the subcontinent.

And travel to India has never been easier. In the past few years, the country has erupted with sparkling five-star hotels, all-inclusive spa resorts, and air-conditioned tour buses. The recent deregulation of the Indian airline industry has given rise to carriers with names like Air Sahara, SpiceJet, and聴my favorite聴Kingfisher Airlines, which offers deeply discounted cross-country shuttles that allow travelers to curtail the grueling long-haul train trips. The Indian government has also relaxed restrictions on international investment, inspiring developers like Alfred Ford聴of Henry Ford lineage聴to break ground on a $500 million Vail-style ski resort in Himachal Pradesh and encouraging cruise lines to add Mumbai, Kerala, and Goa itineraries.

“These days, travelers to India are on a quest for experience,” explains Pamela Lassers, of tour operator Abercrombie & Kent, which has seen a 55 percent jump in India bookings. This is largely due, she says, to the sudden ease in negotiating the country’s famously rugged byways and improvements in domestic air service, as well as the growing availability of guides聴A&K has just opened its second India-based office, in Jaipur; Mountain Travel Sobek leads trips from Rajasthan to the high mountain passes of Sikkim; and veteran operator Cox & Kings still offers more guided excursions than any other company.

Of course, a “guided tour” here is anything but predictable. On a visit to the cool, lush hill station of Kodaikanal, I hired a guide for what was to have been a simple stroll through the woods. A bearded naturalist with a walking stick, hiking boots, and a checked flannel shirt, Arjun became something of an Odyssean guide, leading me five miles up a faint trail to the wooden cabin of a Rastafarian Indian artist, across mossy vistas to the hobbitlike mud-and-dung wattle home of a British ex-schoolteacher, and finally through a grove of banyan trees knitted into a tunnel of living wood. Here we happened upon a grizzled sadhu (ascetic), who slipped Arjun a fat joint as a thank-you for mailing a package for him. “A High Times reporter was my last American client,” Arjun explained sheepishly, wagging his head.

India absorbs all these influences without compromising its mystique. Varanasi pilgrimages and marriages are arranged online, but temples in Kalimpong are lit exclusively by candles. A mega-interstate now stripes the desert plains of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, but drivers go the wrong direction when they feel like it. The country still has tigers, camels, the Himalayas, the paratha wallah on the corner, fresh coconuts and mangoes falling off the trees, sadhus on hiking trails聴and the mystery of how all of it functions with such erratic, spectacular success. “Well,” as Mahatma Gandhi said, “India is a country of nonsense.” And that is exactly why you go.

The post Why India? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

The future doesn’t just happen. The next frontiers of adventure, fitness, gear, and sport are crafted by bold visionaries with world-changing dreams鈥攁nd the minds and muscles to make them real. Behold the 25 all-star innovators leading us beyond tomorrow.

1. Conrad Anker: High-Altitude Altruist
2. Josh Donlan: Jurassic Park Ecologist
3. Cheryl Rogowski: Organic Genius
4. Bertrand Piccard: Capt. Sun
5. John Shroder: Glacier Watchdog
6. Andrea Fischer: Ice Eccentric
7. Jack Shea: Field Educator
8. Olav Heyerdahl: Upstart Mariner
9. Lara Merriken: Raw Food Guru
10. David Gump: Space Pioneer
11. Dan Buettner: Interactive Explorer
12. Fabien Cousteau: Underwater Auteur
13. Jeb Corliss and Maria von Egidy: Wing People
14. Robert Kunz: New-Wave Nutritionist
15. Colin Angus: Epic Addict
16. Kerry Black: Wave Maker
17. New York City Fire Dept.: Escape Artists
18. Pat Goodman: Aerial Innovator
19. Hazel Barton: Medicine Hunter
20. Alan Darlington: Clean-Air Engineer
21. Richard Jenkins: Speed Demon
22. Olaf Malver: Intrepid 国产吃瓜黑料r
23. Al Gore: Media Tycoon
24. Julie Bargmann: Landscape Survivor
25. Daniel Emmett: Hydrogen Hero

Conrad Anker: High-Altitude Altruist

Conrad Anker

HIGHER CALLING: Anker in Bozeman, Montana, where he does work on behalf of the Alex Lowe Charitable Foundation ().

MISSION // IMPROVING THE ODDS FOR SHERPAS

Kicking off our all-stars pantheon, CONRAD ANKER writes that it took the death of his best friend to show him what really counts

ON OCTOBER 5, 1999, THE WORLD AS I PERCEIVED IT CHANGED. I was one of a group of Americans who had traveled to Tibet to ski the immense south face of Shishapangma. As I was traversing a glacier below the 26,289-foot peak with mountaineers David Bridges and Alex Lowe, an enormous avalanche cut loose thousands of feet above us. The churning mass of ice, accompanied by a blast of supersonic wind, swept David and Alex to their deaths. I was thrown 90 feet across the glacier, but by some freak of nature I survived. As I sank into a miasma of guilt, I began to wrestle with the question: Why?

That quickly changed from an analytical evaluation of the avalanche and my actions during the moments before it hit to a more metaphysical line of inquiry. Why had I been given a second chance? And what was I going to do with it? In the wake of the avalanche’s devastation, I realized that I was a different person. I began to ask myself, Who can I help in this new life, and how can I best help them?

These are questions we all need to ask of ourselves—and then turn our answers into action.

Alex had been my closest friend, my climbing partner, my spiritual brother. When he perished he left behind his wife of nearly 18 years, Jennifer, and three young boys: Max, ten; Sam, seven; and Isaac, three. As the five of us mourned our loss, we grew closer. From the ashes of our shared grief emerged an unexpected bond of love like nothing I had ever experienced. In April 2001, Jenni and I were married, and Max, Sam, and Isaac became my sons.

When Alex was alive, he climbed often in the Himalayas, building a special rapport with the Sherpas and other mountain tribes. Inspired by the connections Alex had established in Nepal, and during his other expeditions to Pakistan and Baffin Island, Jenni created the Alex Lowe Charitable Foundation (ALCF) as a way to help indigenous mountain people around the globe. In the spring of 2002, on a trekking trip I’d been hired to guide to Everest Base Camp, Jenni and I would rig top ropes and climb with the Sherpas on nearby boulders and frozen waterfalls. Sherpas have a reputation for being the strongest climbers on Everest—and in fact they almost always are far stronger than any of the foreign climbers who hire them. But most Sherpas have been taught little or nothing about avalanche forecasting, crevasse rescue, or even such rudimentary skills as how to tie into a rope properly. And as a consequence, too many Sherpas die in easily preventable accidents. It occurred to us that one way to make their work less dangerous would be to create a climbing school funded by the ALCF and taught by American mountaineers. Thus the Khumbu Climbing School was conceived.

For two years, our vision guided us through countless hours of planning and fundraising. The passionate commitment of our Bozeman, Montana, community and the outdoor industry came through. In February 2004, Jenni, the boys, and I trekked with fellow ALCF board member and friend Jon Krakauer and six volunteer mountain guides to the Nepalese village of Phortse, a day’s walk above Namche Bazaar, for the inaugural session of the Khumbu Climbing School. We taught our students—many of them high-altitude porters who had completed multiple ascents of Everest and other 8,000-meter peaks—how to inspect equipment, tie knots, place protection, manage ropes, administer first aid, and belay. When that first session concluded a week later, graduating 35 students, our dream was realized.

In the winter of 2005 we held the school again, this time adding an English class to the curriculum; 55 students graduated. In January we expect to graduate more than 100. We anticipate that within a few years we Americans will be able to stay home and let the Sherpas run the school themselves.

Looking back on the avalanche that took Alex from us six years ago, nobody can say for certain why he died and I was spared. The “why” is unknowable. What is important is that out of the tragedy on Shishapangma, I found new purpose. And if one of its results is that fewer Sherpas are likely to perish on the peaks of their homeland—well, for that I would be exceedingly grateful.

Josh Donlan: Jurassic Park Ecologist

MISSION // BRING BACK THE BEASTS

CHEETAHS, MAMMOTHS, AND OTHER LARGE FAUNA once roamed North America, but they disappeared at about the same time humans showed up on the continent. Now, conservationist and Cornell Ph.D. candidate Josh Donlan wants to re-wild the continent—yes, this continent—with their related megaspecies. The 32-year-old former ski-and-climbing bum admits the idea might sound crazy, but he’s not advocating the release of lions—yet. The plan, unveiled in August in the journal Nature and backed by ecology luminaries like Michael Soul茅, Paul Martin, and James Estes, is already under way, with the goal of introducing 100-pound Bols贸n tortoises on Ted Turner’s New Mexico ranches in 2006. Phases two and three are far more ambitious: establishing cheetahs, elephants, and lions on private property, then importing elephants and large carnivores to “ecological history parks” on the Great Plains. Not surprisingly, logistical obstacles like federal and local approval are daunting, and public opinion runs the gamut. “I’ve had people tell me, ‘I’ll quit my corporate job and come work for you,’ ” says Donlan. “And others say, ‘If I see a free-range elephant on this continent, it’ll get an ass full of buckshot, and I’ll kill you, too.’ “

Cheryl Rogowski: Organic Genius

MISSION // REVIVE THE FAMILY FARM

FOR A HALLOWEEN party last year, Cheryl Rogowski got dudded up as Einstein. It was a fitting look for the 2004 recipient of a $500,000 MacArthur Foundation “genius” award. Rogowski, however, is no lab geek—she’s far happier talking apples than atoms. A fourth-generation farmer-cum-agricultural-activist in Pine Island, New York, Rogowski, 44, earned the award for proving that small farms can survive by selling exotic produce to urban consumers with fat wallets and organic sensibilities. The breakthrough idea transformed her family’s 150-acre vegetable farm into an expanding natural-foods empire. “Diversification is the only way we could survive,” says Rogowski. In 1999, she incubated her theories on three acres, planting 15 types of chile and dealing them to New York City’s foodies via community delivery services. The concept took off. She now grows some 250 types of produce. Last year, Rogowski took over the farm and, with money from the MacArthur prize, launched a food label, Black Dirt Gourmet. She’s also begun negotiating a distribution deal with organic-minded supermarket Whole Foods. “We now have the freedom to choose who we sell to, how we sell, and how we grow,” she says. Exactly the way it should be.

Bertrand Piccard: Capt. Sun

MISSION // PILOT A SOLAR PLANE

IN 1999, WHILE DOING THE OBLIGATORY PR prior to his circumnavigation of the earth by hot-air balloon, 47-year-old Swiss adventurer Bertrand Piccard was struck with a radical notion: “I had this idea that the purest way to fly would be with no fuel, no pollution.” Thus began the planning for the Solar Impulse, a plane he hopes will make the first sun-powered round-the-world flight.

It’s an audacious undertaking, considering that the most recent solar aviation milestone was a 48-hour sortie by a radio-controlled craft this past June. To pull it off, he’ll need an extraordinarily efficient plane and a roller-coaster-like flight plan. The single-cockpit, 260-foot-wingspan Solar Impulse, constructed of ultralight carbon fiber, will spend its days climbing to 40,000 feet, then, surviving on 880 pounds of batteries, make slow nocturnal descents to 15,000 feet, just above the cloud layer—any lower and an overcast morning could force a crash landing.

Piccard, whose father took a submersible to the bottom of the Pacific, in 1960, has already raised $15.5 million for the concept. His timeline calls for test flights in 2008, a transcontinental run in 2009, then the four-leg roundabout—with Piccard and two other pilots switching off—in 2010. While the adventure alone is worth the effort, Piccard has a grander vision. “A solar circumnavigation sends a very important message,” he says. “It’s a beautiful symbol for renewable energy and the pioneering spirit of invention.”

John Shroder: Glacier Watchdog

MISSION // ESCAPE THE FLOOD

AFTER 45 YEARS OF TEACHING, most tenured academics are thinking about going fishing. But Shroder, 66, a geography and geology prof at the University of Nebraska at Omaha, is too nervous to slow down. Since 1983, the rock maven has led nearly 20 scientific expeditions to the Himalayas. His frightening discovery? Thousands of the region’s people are living under the threat of imminent global-warming-triggered floods. The danger is caused by “debuttressing,” a process in which rising temperatures cause glaciers propping up near-vertical rock walls to melt until the walls collapse. The resulting domino effect can be lethal: Rockslides dam runoff, forming lakes that swell until they burst and unleash floods on communities downstream. To thwart such disasters, Shroder has set up a warning center in Omaha, where he studies satellite images and alerts Himalayan authorities to coming floods. He’s also coordinating the first workshop between Indian and Pakistani geoscientists. In July, Shroder saw the scenario unfolding near Pakistan’s 28,250-foot K2, where a glacial lake had begun to leak. He says, “Now we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Andrea Fischer: Ice Eccentric

MISSION // INSULATE THE ALPS

THESE ARE tough times for Austrian skiers. Their stranglehold on the overall World Cup title was broken last year by the U.S. Ski Team’s Bode Miller, and glaciologists estimate that within 100 years 90 percent of the Alps’ roughly 4,600 small glaciers, which underlie some mountain resorts, will be gone. Enter Andrea Fischer, a glaciologist at the University of Innsbruck and leader of a project that’s putting the melt under wraps—literally. In 2004, with $435,000 in funding from the government and four ski areas, Fischer’s team began covering sections of resorts in the Tyrolean Alps with a one-to-three-millimeter-thick white, fleecelike material. Their conclusion? It works, at least temporarily. On one test plot, the insulation preserved almost five feet of snow, a result that gives Austrian schussers some much-needed hope. “We cannot stop the melting,” says Fischer, “but we can slow it down.” If only they could do the same to Bode.

Jack Shea: Field Educator

MISSION // GREEN THE KIDS

“EDUCATION WITH NO CHILD LEFT INSIDE.” That’s how Journeys School executive director Jack Shea, 54, describes the Jackson, Wyoming–based pre-K–12 program, which combines traditional subjects with environmental projects to nurture a new generation of eco-conscious kids. Under Shea’s leadership, Journeys—founded in 2001 as an offshoot of the Teton Science Schools—now has a new campus to match its green philosophy. The $23 million project, which wrapped in September, features recycled-tire carpeting, buildings sited to receive maximum solar radiation, and 880 acres of open space. The facility will act as a lab for the Teacher Learning Center, a residential program that trains educators from around the world in Journeys’ experiential curriculum. “Everyone likes to complain about education,” says Shea, “but we enjoy actually doing something about it.”

Olav Heyerdahl: Upstart Mariner

Olav Heyerdahl

RESPECT YOUR EDLERS: Heyerdahl aboard the legendary Kon-Tiki, in an Oslo museum.

MISSION // RAFT THE PACIFIC

IF YOUR GRANDFATHER is one of adventure’s most celebrated mavericks, taking any expedition is perilous for the ego. Such is the predicament of 28-year-old Oslo, Norway–based Olav Heyerdahl. In 1947, his grandpa Thor and five fellow Scandinavians drifted 4,300 miles, from Peru to Polynesia, on the balsa raft Kon-Tiki to prove that the South Pacific could have been settled by pre-Inca mariners. Academics dismissed the stunt, but the 101-day journey ignited a raucous popular debate about Polynesian history and catapulted the amateur anthropologist into the spotlight—exactly where Heyerdahl hopes to find himself next April, when he and five other explorers launch a bid to re-create the journey. What can we learn from the reenactment of a legend? A lot—as DAVID CASE discovered when he caught up with the aspiring mariner.

OUTSIDE: How will your journey differ from the Kon-Tiki expedition?

HEYERDAHL: For starters, we’ll build the raft my grandfather would have built if he was setting out today. We’re adding a system of centerboards that archaeologists now believe the ancient Peruvians used to steer, rather than float with the currents. We’re going to navigate to Tahiti—not just crash into a reef like the Kon-Tiki.

What will you do all day?
I’m the expedition diver, so I’ll be taking under-water photos, plus taking shifts steering and cooking. We’re going to gather data about marine organisms and currents. A slow-moving raft is like a mini coral reef—as barnacles colonize it, the fish come to feed, then come sharks, and so on. So we can really study the life up close and then compare our observations with my grandfather’s. Also, a fisheries biologist will take water samples. He’s researching drifting pollutants that are changing the sex of fish.

How will you get the word out?
We’ll be filming a documentary to alert people to the drastic changes over the last 50 years, both in the ocean and on land. The jungle where my grandfather got his wood for the raft has been overrun by a city of 130,000, and the river he used to float the logs to the Pacific has all but dried up.

So will you still use balsa wood?
Yes, but we’ll have to buy it from a plantation.

Isn’t it a bit flimsy for an ocean crossing?
Actually, it’s virtually indestructible. A fiberglass boat might sink if it gets a hole, but a balsa raft can lose two-thirds of its hull and stay afloat. The biggest threat is an attack by shipworms—they can eat the whole thing.

Six guys on a small raft for 100 days sounds rough.
We’re planning to have a quiet spot—a base where you can just sit there and shut up and no one will bother you.

Do you have any experience building rafts?
No, but it’s the same situation as my grandfather in 1947. At least I’m a carpenter.

Have you ever even been on one?
The Kon-Tiki, but only in a museum. It wasn’t very dangerous.

Lara Merriken: Raw Food Guru

Lara Merriken

MISSION // RAISE THE BAR

A FORMER CHIPS-AND-SODA DEVOTEE, Merriken found the path to enlightened eating when her University of Southern California volleyball coach laid down a no-sugar mandate. “I suddenly had consistent energy and more mental clarity,” recalls the 37-year-old Denver native. “No more of those crazy highs and lows.” In 2000, a decade after retiring her kneepads, Merriken, an avid runner and hiker, had her “Aha!” moment: Apply the same sugar-free strategy to energy bars by concocting an all-natural, raw-food snack with no baking, processing, or preservatives. Three years later—after countless hours whirring dried cherries, dates, cashews, and other raw nuts in her Cuisinart—she shipped her first batch of L盲raBars to health-food stores in Colorado. They were an instant hit with endurance junkies looking for an organic, longer-lasting buzz: In less than two years, her company has become a $6 million business, with sales in all 50 states, Mexico, the UK, and Canada. Says Merriken, “Now I’m thinking about entirely new foods we can create with the same philosophy.”

David Gump: Space Pioneer

MISSION // BLAST OFF ON A BUDGET

“I READ A LOT OF SCIENCE FICTION when I was younger but had no intention of a career in space,” says David Gump, 55, the cofounder and CEO of Reston, Virginia–based Transformational Space Corporation, or t/Space. Today, the onetime railroad lobbyist is blazing a trail to the solar system with a low-cost plan to launch manned expeditions to the moon and Mars. His far-out proposition: a transportation chain that breaks the trip into stages. First, get astronauts into orbit—the most difficult part of any space voyage—with a reusable rocket-propelled capsule. Next, transfer to a parked spacecraft to make the haul to the moon or Mars.

By breaking from the one-ship model, Gump’s strategy makes for a highly efficient R&D process—and saves a bundle. This past spring, his team unveiled a mock-up of their reusable crew-transfer vehicle, the CXV, which can carry four astronauts into orbit for a paltry $20 million per flight (a shuttle flight typically tops $1 billion). Starting in May, he ran a 23-percent-scale prototype through a partial test of the first stage of the launch sequence. (On an actual mission, a jet would release the CXV at 50,000 feet and rockets would then blast the vehicle into orbit.)

Though t/Space now needs to raise $400 million (likely in the form of a NASA contract) to complete a space-ready CXV, Gump is already one giant leap closer to his goal, having demonstrated the potential to get into orbit without breaking the bank. “Once you get off the planet,” he notes, “you’re halfway to anywhere in the solar system.”

Dan Buettner: Interactive Explorer

MISSION // LIVE FOREVER

HE’s BIKED MORE THAN 120,000 MILES around the globe and is considered the father of the interactive expedition, but Dan Buettner may be on the verge of his greatest feat to date: unlocking the secret to long life. In 1992, Buettner and three other cyclists pedaled across the Sahara to the southern tip of Africa to promote racial awareness—posting their travels on Mosaic, an early Internet browser. The St. Paul, Minnesota–based Buettner, 45, has since launched 12 real-time expeditions designed to enlist Web users to help solve some of science’s biggest questions. For his latest Quest (), he has narrowed down the globe’s “blue zones”—hot spots of human longevity—and is working with top demographers and physicians to study diet and lifestyle and create a blueprint for living longer. First stop: Okinawa, Japan, followed by mountain villages on an as-yet-undisclosed island in the Mediterranean. “We know that there’s a recipe for longevity, and that 75 percent of it is related to lifestyle,” he says. “And we’re figuring it out.”

Fabien Cousteau: Underwater Auteur

Fabien Cousteau

DIVE MASTER: Cousteau on board at New York City’s Dyckman Marina.

MISSION // SAVE THE SEAS

FABIEN COUSTEAU IS SUNBURNED. It’s a sultry August evening in Key Largo, Florida, and the 38-year-old grandson of history’s preeminent undersea explorer arrives late for dinner, having just wrapped up a 13-hour day filming coral spawning. He walks across the parking lot of the Italian bistro and extends his hand to shake mine. His wispy brown hair is flecked with gray, a striking contrast to his crimson face. “I’m Fabien,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” With that, he darts across the blacktop highway in his flip-flops and into a CVS pharmacy. Five minutes later, he returns clutching a jumbo bottle of aloe vera gel.

So it goes for Fabien, a skilled underwater filmmaker with ambitious plans for the First Family of the Deep. After about 12 years of career roaming—freelancing as a graphic designer and marketing eco-friendly products for Burlington, Vermont–based Seventh Generation—he’s looking to breathe new life into his clan’s once pacesetting documentary juggernaut and shake up a public that he believes is inured to the rapidly declining health of the world’s oceans. His strategy: Ditch the classic Cousteau marathon approach to filmmaking in favor of fast-moving production teams that can deftly churn out television specials defined by modern visual fireworks and high-paced editing.

If he can shake off his land legs—SPF 40, anybody?—he’s well suited to the challenge. Fabien, who was raised in the States, took his first plunge with a scuba tank at four and began joining family filming expeditions aboard the Calypso at seven. In his teen years he regularly pitched in with documentary crews working for his father, Jacques’s oldest son, Jean-Michel, and his grandfather. But while coming of age in flippers infused him with a profound connection to the sea, adulthood brought with it a craving to venture beyond his family ties. “After college, I went through a rebellious phase and thought I would do something different,” says Fabien. This led him into a spate of business courses, the gig with Seventh Generation, and treks in Nepal and Africa.

His rediscovered commitment to the family legacy grew out of a gnawing sense of responsibility to the seascapes that were once his playgrounds. “I feel an urgency that maybe my grandfather didn’t until his later years,” he says, “to explore faster and faster before the oceans are destroyed so you can then relay the message to the general public and they can influence what’s happening.”

Though his surname provides a leg up in any film project, Fabien faces a ruthless broadcast landscape Jacques Cousteau never could have imagined. “When Jacques was on television, there were fewer than ten channels,” points out Jean-Michel, 67. “In the 1970s, we’d have 35 million Americans watching all at once on ABC. That’s unthinkable today, unless it’s the Super Bowl.”

Fabien also has to contend with a fractured Cousteau dynasty. In 1990, shortly after Jacques’s first wife died, the 79-year-old patriarch confessed to a long affair with Francine Triplet, a Frenchwoman 40 years his junior. Jacques married her a year later, and Jean-Michel was swept aside as his stepmother took over his duties within the Cousteau Society. After Jacques died, in 1997, Francine was named president of the Society, which owns all commercial rights to the Cousteau name and his work; Jean-Michel agreed not to use “Cousteau” to promote his own ventures unless he directly precedes it with “Jean-Michel.” And while he’s released more than 70 of his own blue-chip TV documentaries, he’s never attained Jacques’s megastardom—a fact that’s left the next-generation Cousteaus lingering backstage.

All this means that Fabien is going to have to succeed on his own passions and talent. It does appear that he has plenty of both. His emergence began in 2000, when he joined Jean-Michel on a filming expedition to South Africa. Two years later, National Geographic hired him to host a special on the legendary 1916 Jersey Shore shark attacks. This fall, Fabien completed his first self-produced project, Mind of a Demon, which debunks the notion that great white sharks are ruthless killing machines with a taste for humans. He enlisted Hollywood inventor Eddie Paul to build a 14.5-foot submarine that looks and swims like a great white. Dubbed Troy, it allowed Fabien to capture never-before-seen footage of the predators dueling for territory off Mexico’s Pacific coast. Despite a budget of only $650,000, the one-hour film premiered on CBS in November—the first network airing of a Cousteau documentary in more than a decade.

He’ll be onscreen again next spring in Ocean 国产吃瓜黑料s, Jean-Michel’s new six-hour PBS series, which mixes celebration of undersea beauty with reporting on the plight of marine ecosystems. Fabien plays a starring role in the final two-hour episode, which explores America’s national marine sanctuaries. The series also unites him for the first time on television with both his 33-year-old sister, C茅line, and Jean-Michel; KQED Public Broadcasting in San Francisco, the project’s co-producer, has dubbed it “the return of the Cousteaus.” Fans drawn by that pitch might be surprised by the thumping soundtrack and reality-TV format, with crew members and sea critters getting equal camera time—a result, to some degree, of Fabien’s preproduction suggestions and editing-room tinkering.

Blending environmental gospel with pop entertainment is tricky business, but Fabien argues that it’s essential to jump-start ocean conservation in an era of 400 cable channels and Desperate Housewives. And if you’re going to lure people into caring about the undersea world, it helps to roll out its biggest stars, which is why he’s planning documentaries on blue whales and the giant squid. “The Cousteaus have always been a voice for the sea,” he says. “This is what I’ve inherited: the responsibility of exploring and protecting the oceans.”

Jeb Corliss and Maria von Egidy: Wing People

MISSION // FLY LIKE A BIRD

THE RACE TO BE THE FIRST to jump out of a plane and land safely without deploying a parachute is on. That’s the goal of Malibu-based Jeb Corliss, 29, and South African Maria von Egidy, 41, who, working separately and in secret, say they’ve found a way for humans to leap from 30,000 feet and live—wearing flying-squirrel-like wingsuits that slow free fall to less than 40 miles per hour while propelling you forward at more than 100 miles per hour. This can make for a rough landing, but BASE jumper Corliss claims to have invented a touchdown strategy that “can be done ten times out of ten without breaking a fingernail.” Meanwhile, von Egidy, a former costume designer, says she’s within a year and $400,000 of skydiving’s ultimate prize; now all she needs is a willing test pilot. “Obviously,” she says, “it will have to be someone very brave.”

Robert Kunz: New-Wave Nutritionist

Robert Kunz

MISSION // LAST LONGER

AFTER A DECADE in the endurance-supplement industry, Charlottes-ville, Virginia–based nutritionist Robert Kunz, 36, was fed up with taking directions from boards made up of doughy scientists and following a market-based approach to development, which begins with a price point and ends with a mediocre powder or pill. So in 2002 he launched First Endurance with a revolutionary mandate: Create supplements conjured exclusively by endurance athletes—and ignore the cost. An amateur triathlete, Kunz staffed the company—from the lab geeks to the legal counsel—with fitness junkies, then asked for their biggest ideas. The subsequent brainstorms have produced supplements that deliver on their promise, thanks to clinically proven dosages of endurance-boosting ingredients. Their inaugural Optygen, composed of herbs and fungi that speed recovery, costs $50 for a month’s supply—$10 more than competitors—yet boasts a 99 percent repeat-customer rate. “We know athletes,” says Kunz. “We had a good idea this would work.”

Colin Angus: Epic Addict

MISSION // CIRCLE THE EARTH

IF YOU’RE LOOKIGN TO AMP UP INTEREST in alternative transportation, there are plenty of strategies easier than attempting the first human-powered lap of the planet. Canadian explorer COLIN ANGUS, 34, is aware of this, but he also knows that it might take a remarkable statement to inspire people to reconsider their lifestyles. This recent dispatch sure had us thinking twice about our morning commutes.

FROM: COLINANGUS // TO: OUTSIDEMAG // SUBJECT: EXPEDITION PLANET EARTH // DATE: SEPTEMBER 21, 2005 5:55:18 AM EDT

My travel partner and fianc茅e, Julie Wafaei, and I have just reached Lisbon, Portugal. Time is tight; tomorrow morning, we trade our bikes for a rowboat to commence a 5,200-mile, four-month row across the Atlantic. We’re actually looking forward to relaxing in the boat some, as I’m feeling a little tired.

Circling the globe on human power really drives home just how big this planet is and how important it is to reduce greenhouse emissions. My expedition began June 1, 2004, from Vancouver. Since then, traveling with several different partners, I’ve cycled and canoed through Canada and Alaska, rowed the Bering Sea, and trekked, skied, and biked 14,000 miles across Eurasia. In Siberia, I got separated from my former teammate, Tim Harvey, and spent the night in a snow cave; outside it was 49 below zero with 40-mile-per-hour winds.

Now as I look out at the empty blue sea separating Europe and North America, the world is looking even bigger.
Cheers, Colin

听

Kerry Black: Wave Maker

MISSION // SURF INDOORS

WITH A LEGENDARY point break off his home in Raglan, New Zealand, Kerry Black has little need for artificial waves. But the 54-year-old Ph.D. oceanographer, who’s spent more than 20 years computerizing wave mechanics, is creating a wave pool that could be the biggest development in surfing since the wetsuit. Scheduled for completion in Orlando, Florida, as early as next summer, the Ron Jon Surfpark promises to pump out peaks with the power and shape of natural waves—a major achievement, considering that the hundreds of current wave pools deliver mushy rollers. Black’s design has compressed air forcing thousands of gallons of salt water down a 300-foot-long basin with converging sidewalls, which preserve the wave’s height (up to eight feet), while steel triangles on the bottom can be adjusted to mimic the reefs under 40 of the world’s great breaks. New Jersey–based Surfparks, which licensed the concept, has raised $10 million for the park, while some 4,000 surfers stoked for predictable swells are on a waiting list for annual memberships (up to $2,400). “Surfers will still travel to waves around the world,” says Black, “but I reckon the future of the sport is twice as big now.”

New York City Fire Dept.: Escape Artists

MISSION // STOP, DROP, AND RAPPEL

“THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF YOUR LIFE,” says New York City firefighter Bill Duffy, 40, describing the jump-or-die scenario that inspired a revolutionary new escape device that’s set to become standard issue for Gotham’s hook-and-ladder heroes. “It’s get out the window as fast as you can.” Last January, Duffy was part of a team of FDNYers-cum-designers who set out to make a lightweight system to enable an emergency exit from almost any window. Borrowing a few rock-climbing tricks, the Batbelt-like units, which pack into a bag on a firefighter’s hip, feature a nylon harness, 50 feet of flame-resistant rope, a descender, and a single sharpened hook based on a prototype forged in the FDNY shop. Surrounded by flames, a fireman can slip the hook around a pipe, or jam its point into any solid surface, then roll headfirst out a window. The descender, a modified version of the Petzl Grigri, catches when weight hits the rope, allowing a controlled descent. The city is spending $11 million for 11,500 kits and training, which began in October, but, says Duffy, “hopefully, they won’t ever get used.”

Pat Goodman: Aerial Innovator

MISSION // CRACK OPEN KITEBOARDING

GOODMAN, CHIEF DESIGNER at Maui-based kiteboard manufacturer Cabrinha, was determined to help beginners master the sport’s toughest skills: staying in control during big gusts and relaunching after wipeouts. This past July the 49-year-old unveiled the Crossbow system, which may do for kiteboarding what parabolics did for downhill skiing. The Crossbow pairs a nearly flat kite—more akin to a plane wing than to its U-shaped predecessors—with a rigging that dramatically boosts power and control: Nudge the steering bar outward to slam on the brakes. Tug on a rear line after a fall and the kite fires aloft like a rocket. “I wanted to be able to get my ten-year-old daughter into the sport,” says Goodman. “Now I can—if she’d just stop windsurfing.”

Hazel Barton: Medicine Hunter

MISSION // CAVE FOR THE CURE

SHE MAY SEEM AN UNLIKELY SAVIOR—with a map of a South Dakota cave tattooed on one biceps, a well-behaved women rarely make history bumper sticker on her truck, and a starring role in the 2001 Imax film Journey into Amazing Caves. But Barton, a 34-year-old Northern Kentucky University biology professor, is one of the best hopes for finding new antibiotics that could potentially save hundreds of thousands of lives each year. And she’s searching underground. While the de facto scientific opinion holds that caves are microbiologically barren, Barton’s research, conducted from Central America to Appalachia, has proven otherwise: Most are teeming with microorganisms armed with antibiotic weapons. To harvest them, Barton—who was born and raised in Britain—squirms through shoulder-wide passageways and rappels several stories into black pits, armed with a stash of microprobes, test tubes, and cotton swabs. Back in the lab, it may take months to extract the antibiotic agents, then years longer before effective drugs can be developed. But fortunately Barton—who’s now scouting a secret cave in Kentucky for an antibiotic to knock out a nasty drug-resistant, tissue-dissolving strain of the common staph infection—is in it for the long haul. “Population control should be done through education and policy, not human suffering,” she says. “As long as tools are available to reduce that suffering, I’ll try to find them.”

Alan Darlington: Clean-Air Engineer

MISSION // BREATHE EASIER

THE BAD NEWS: ACCORDING TO EPA estimates, indoor air can be five times more polluted than the air outside—and Americans spend an average of 90 percent of their time inside. The good news: Filters made from plants—which host toxin-digesting microbes—can help create purer air. Canadian biologist Alan Darlington, 46, helped come up with the idea in 1994, at Ontario’s University of Guelph, while researching air-filtration strategies for the Canadian and European space agencies. Nine years later, he built his first commercial biowall—a polyester-mesh structure embedded with plants like orchids and bromeliads—which reduces some pollutants by as much as 95 percent. Now Darlington’s company, Guelph–based Air Quality Solutions, has manufactured eight 32-to-1,500-square-foot walls in Canada and installed the first U.S. wall at Biohabitats, an environmental-restoration firm in Baltimore, this past September. What’s next? Biowalls small enough for private homes, which Darlington hopes to unveil in 2007.

Richard Jenkins: Speed Demon

MISSION // RIDE THE WIND

IF RICHARD JENKINS were a betting man, his trifecta would be 116, 143, 56. Those are the respective wind-powered land, ice, and water mile-per-hour speed records the 29-year-old Brit is on the verge of breaking. For the past five years, Jenkins, a mechanical engineer and amateur glider pilot, has built three crafts—on wheels, skates, and hydrofoils—equipped with rigid carbon-fiber sails. The sails, which can tack 35 degrees to either side, act like vertical airplane wings, providing forward motion instead of lift. They offer minimal acceleration in low winds but a serious speed boost in gusts over 50 miles per hour. The land craft unofficially broke records during testing in the UK in 2002, hitting 125 miles per hour, and Jenkins is planning another run at a dry lake bed in Nevada. This winter, he’ll sail his ice vehicle on frozen lakes in Wisconsin in a bid for the 67-year-old record. But beating a dozen competitors out for the water title may be his most daunting challenge. “If I thought my chances were marginal,” says Jenkins, “I wouldn’t be here. I’m just waiting for that one windy day.”

Olaf Malver: Intrepid 国产吃瓜黑料r

MISSION // GET LOST

“WE DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL WE’RE DOING, so let’s go! Let’s find out what we’re doing!” So says 52-year-old Danish explorer Olaf Malver, of the philosophy behind Explorers’ Corner, his Berkeley, California–based travel company, which guides clients on adventure explorations around the world, from paddling in tropical Indochina to trekking in the Republic of Georgia. While larger outfitters might offer one untested itinerary a year, Malver—a 24-year adventure-industry veteran who speaks six languages and holds a Ph.D. in chemistry and a master’s in law and diplomacy—is convinced that his seat-of-the-pants approach is what travelers now crave. “We’re sharing the exploration with co-explorers, not just dragging them around,” he says. “We don’t cater. We demand involvement. Plus we’ve already told them that we don’t know what we’re doing, so when we get into trouble, they take it with a smile.”

Al Gore: Media Tycoon

MISSION // DEMOCRATIZE TV

AL GORE APPEARED TO BE ON LIFE SUPPORT after his failed 2000 presidential bid: He bounced between jobs teaching journalism and a few fiery speeches before vanishing from the public eye. Now the 57-year-old ex-veep is back, resurrected as the visionary and chairman of San Francisco–based Current TV, a four-month-old cable network that depends on viewer-created content for more than a quarter of its programming. “Current enables viewers to short-circuit the ivory tower and provide the news to each other,” says David Neuman, president of programming. “It’s revolutionary.” Like an on-air blog, Current encourages aspiring Stacy Peraltas armed with digital camcorders and PowerMacs to shoot and edit short videos; then visitors to the network’s Web site vote on what gets aired. Some, like “Jumper,” a fast-paced homage to BASE jumping that mixes helmet-cam footage and interviews with an amped-up soundtrack, are cool; others are predictably awful. It’s a bold idea for the notoriously unhip Gore, but Al (as he’s known around the office, where he has been heard inquiring about the network’s “street cred”) has brought to Current more than an A-list name and access to deep pockets. “He wants to democratize television,” says Neuman. And, in the process, he just may recast himself.

Julie Bargmann: Landscape Survivor

MISSION // RESURRECT THE WASTELANDS

AS ONE OF THE LEADING landscape architects specializing in revitalizing toxic Superfund sites and derelict brownfields, Julie Bargmann is a sort of fairy godmother of industrial wastelands. “Most remediation projects are just lipstick on a pig,” she says. “They truck the dirt to New Jersey and slap a parking lot over the site.” Which is why the 47-year-old started D.I.R.T. (Design Investigations Reclaiming Terrain) Studio, in Charlottesville, Virginia. Bargmann seeks out nasty places from Israel to Alaska, hires scientists to pitch in with the eco-cleanup, and transforms blight into beauty. Results so far include the makeover of a basalt quarry into a thriving vineyard and wildlife habitat in Sonoma County, California. “Postindustrial landscapes are bound to become central to many of our communities,” says Bargmann, “and reclaiming these derelict sites is a way to contribute to communities and the environment.”

Daniel Emmett: Hydrogen Hero

MISSION // FUEL AN ENERGY REVOLUTION

IT’S THE LIGHTEST, MOST ABUNDANT ELEMENT IN THE UNIVERSE, can be derived from a stalk of celery or a lump of coal, is twice as efficient as gasoline, and has only two by-products: water vapor and heat. No wonder hydrogen is the next big thing in alternative fuels—and car-crazed California is its testing ground. Leading the charge is Daniel Emmett, 36-year-old cofounder of the Santa Barbara–based nonprofit Energy Independence Now. In 2001 Emmett partnered with green politico Terry Tamminen to create a network of hydrogen-fuel stations along California’s 45,000 miles of roadway. They pitched the idea to anyone willing to listen; in 2004 Governor Schwarzenegger pledged support, ponying up $6.5 million in state funding in 2005. Now there are 17 hydrogen stations across the state, and Emmett is pushing for a total of 100 by 2010 as part of a larger effort to reduce petroleum dependency and cut greenhouse-gas emissions by 30 percent. It’s a tall order: There are currently only 70 hydrogen test vehicles on California roads (though the major auto manufacturers are racing to develop new fuel-cell technologies), and Emmett estimates he’ll need another $54 million. But the hydrogen revolution has to start somewhere. “If we don’t do something today,” says Emmett, “it’ll always be 30 or 40 years off.”

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Silver City, New Mexico

Bear Mountain Lodge
Back in the early 1930s, Silver City residents would ride horseback three miles to this hacienda to dance the night away in the Great Room. Today, guests arrive in SUVs and are more low-key, cozying up on leather love seats in front of one of two grand stone fireplaces and perusing field guides and natural history books in the library. Owned by The Nature Conservancy since 1999 and renamed Bear Mountain Lodge, the inn sits at 6,250 feet on 178 acres of southwestern New Mexico high desert. And with nearby Gila National Forest, almost the size of Connecticut, the possibilities for hiking, biking, horseback riding, and birding are seemingly endless.
ROOM & BOARD: The 11 rooms, accented with hand-hewn oak beams, contain beds draped with denim comforters, and handcrafted Mission-style furniture. Amble to the dining room to fuel up with a breakfast tortilla espa帽ola—a sliced baked potato with saut茅ed onions and eggs, topped with a red-pepper almond sauce—while a pack of drooling javelinas lurks beyond the eastern porch.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: Take a left out of the driveway, bike 3.5 miles on a dirt road to the Continental Divide Trail in the Gila, and from there you can conceivably ride all the way to Canada. If you prefer skinny tires, follow a leg of the difficult Tour of the Gila—a winding, steep 45 miles from Silver City’s Gough Park to the prehistoric cliff dwellings once occupied by Mogollon Indians.

Bob Marshall Wilderness Range, MT

adventure lodges

Casting into the wilderness surrounding the Bob Marshall Ranch

Seeley Lake, Montana
Bob Marshall Wilderness Ranch
This northwest Montana ranch borrowed its moniker from a famous neighbor: the one- million-acre Bob Marshall Wilderness, which honors the man who created the Wilderness Society. Larger than Rhode Island, “The Bob” is embroidered with blue-ribbon rivers of wild cutthroat and rainbow trout, jam-packed with rugged 7,000-foot mountains, and populated by more than 350 wildlife species, including grizzly bears, wolves, elk, and bighorn sheep.
ROOM & BOARD: Masculine icons—elk trophies, a huge bearskin hanging on the living room wall, and a coatrack made of horseshoes where guests leave their city duds for the week—fill the simple three-story log lodge with four cathedral-windowed bedrooms. Sip a hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps on the deck overlooking the Swan Valley, or elbow up to a polished Douglas fir table for family-style meals of grilled steaks and handpicked-huckleberry pie.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: The best excursion here goes beyond a day trip. For the past 30 years, owners Virgil and Barbara Burns have arranged five- and ten-day deluxe horsepacking trips into The Bob, part of the 2.5-million-acre Flathead National Forest, where you’ll get 360-degree wilderness views that make Albert Bierstadt look like a realist. Even the remotest campsite feels plush, with heated wall tents, padded cots, and homemade fare including roast turkey and sourdough rolls.

Moose Mountain Lodge, NH

Etna, New Hampshire
Moose Mountain Lodge
Though students from neighboring Dartmouth College don’t careen down the meadows of Moose Mountain on rickety wooden skis like they used to, Moose Mountain Lodge—with its corduroy-cushioned sofas, stone fireplaces, and spruce-log beds—still retains the flavor of a 1930s ski cabin. The rope tow has been dismantled, but trails threading through 350 acres of mixed hardwood-and-pine forest are paradise for hikers, mountain bikers, and cross-country skiers. After a daylong excursion, veteran innkeepers Kay and Peter Shumway welcome tuckered guests to their cabin on the hill, where sunsets flood the hundred-mile view of the Upper Connecticut River Valley and Vermont’s Green Mountains beyond.
ROOM & BOARD: The lodge has a comfortable, family feel: Bathrooms are shared, and guests in the 12 rustic rooms sit down to Kay’s robust meals—handmade spinach pasta with straight-from-the-garden pesto sauce, fresh-baked bread, and organic salad greens—at a 22-foot red oak table in the dining room.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: Hop on your road bike for a 25-mile loop along the lush and meandering Connecticut River, north to Lyme and back. Or hike south 6.5 miles along Moose Mountain’s Ridge Trail to rocky overlooks where you might see all the way to 6,288-foot Mount Washington. For water play, drive eight miles down the mountain to the river and rent a canoe or kayak from Dartmouth’s Ledyard Canoe Club.

Retreads with Cred

The North Face Mantel & Reebok Vanta Stripe

From left to right

THE NORTH FACE’s MANTEL combines a climbing shoe with an old-school runner. $70; 800-447-2333,

REEBOK returns to its white-leather roots with the VANTA STRIPE. $80; 800-843-4444,

Hotel de Larache, Chile

San Pedro de Atacama, Chile
Explora in Atacama—Hotel de Larache
Wealthy South American businessman Pedro Iba帽ez built this lodge in 1998, offering guests refined luxury in the middle of the rugged-adventure land the Inca once called home. Set in a 700-mile-long desert amid six soaring volcanoes, the mile-and-a-half-high town of San Pedro de Atacama is close to the driest place on earth—in some parts of the Atacama Desert, it hasn’t rained in more than a century. But there are oases: Guests can take guided excursions to hot springs and boiling geysers, or to the buoyant turquoise waters found at the nearby salt flats.
ROOM & BOARD: The sleek white lines of the hotel blend well with the local adobe architecture. The 50 guest rooms are brightly decorated with yellow, blue, and green wicker furniture, alpaca blankets, and fine linens imported from Spain. Four lap pools and four saunas await you, as does a new relaxation center, Casa del Agua, offering herbal oil massage and herbal baths. In the minimalist dining room, sample French chef Lorenzo Pascualetto’s fire-roasted Patagonian lamb and to-die-for Chilean wines.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: Explora’s bilingual guides offer guests five to seven excursion options per day, including hiking, horseback riding, mountain biking, and visits to archaeological sites. To watch the world’s best sunset, catch a 15-minute ride to Valle de la Luna, then hike an hour and a half through miniature sand mountains. Or if you really want to earn your pisco sour (a favorite Chilean cocktail), top 19,455-foot Volc谩n Licanc谩bur. Rumor has it, there’s a magical surprise in the crater lake at the summit.

Casa Cerro Sagrado, Mexico

Teotitl谩n del Valle Oaxaca, Mexico
Casa Cerro Sagrado
Perched on a five-acre hillside above Teotitl谩n del Valle—a Zapotec Indian village 16 miles east of the city of Oaxaca that’s world-famous for its weavers—this recently opened guest house sits in the striking shadow of conical Guia Betz, a sacred 6,900-foot mountain. The tremendous views from your room’s terrace are especially enjoyable at sunset, with a clay tasting cup of locally produced Del Maguey mescal in hand. If you time it right, you’ll catch one of the village’s frequent fiestas erupting with fireworks.
ROOM & BOARD: Started in 2002 by artist Arnulfo Mendoza and his wife, gallery owner Mary Jane Mendoza, Casa Cerro Sagrado (House on the Sacred Hill) celebrates Oaxacan art, culture, and cuisine in the best possible way—the 12 handsome guest rooms are accented with hand-loomed rugs and rich, intricate wall tapestries. Reyna Mendoza, Arnulfo’s cousin and the resident chef, produces regional specialties like tamales stuffed with wild mushrooms, and teaches cooking classes on-site throughout the year.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: After limbering up in a private hatha yoga class with Mary Jane, head downhill toward the village, link up with ancient cattle paths along El R铆o Grande, and head either to the top of Guia Betz or southeast 15 miles to 2,600-year-old Zapotec and Mixtec ruins. End the day with a purifying and relaxing herbal steam bath in the property’s adobe temescal (a native sweat lodge).

Rifugio Tissi, Italy

Alleghe, Italy
Rifugio Tissi

Forget sipping overpriced cappuccinos in Venice’s Piazza San Marco. The real dolce vita is watching the sun set on the longest rock face in the Dolomites from the balcony of Rifugio Tissi, about a four-hour hike from the village of Alleghe. As day turns to dusk, 10,712-foot Monte Civetta—known as “the climbers’ university”—glows a rosy hue. With its cut-above-the-usual-hut amenities, Rifugio Tissi is the perfect base camp for both rock climbers and hikers.
ROOM & BOARD: The above-treeline chalet, built in 1963, sleeps 64, with bunks for four to eight guests per room. Head to the bar in the main dining room for a frosty pint of L枚wenbr盲u or a German chocolate bar. Dinner—classic Italian fare like pasta al ragu and polenta with wild mushroom sauce—is served on wooden tables in front of a picture window facing Civetta.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: Moderate three- to six-hour hikes, falling and rising 2,000 feet through lunar landscapes and alpine meadows, lead to the villages of Listolade and Agordo, and to other huts. If hiking seems too sedate, climbing in the backyard of renowned alpinist Reinhold Messner won’t. Scale Civetta’s northwest face—Messner made the first ascent in 1967—or explore routes on nearby 7,667-foot Torre Venezia and 8,064-foot Torre Trieste.

The Kuna Lodge, Panama

Sapibenega, Panama
The Kuna Lodge
From 5,000 feet, the 360-plus islands of Panama’s Archipi茅lago San Blas glint like diamonds scattered over the deep-blue Caribbean. Operated by the native Kuna Indians, the lodge and 13 bamboo huts dot the perimeter of Sapibenega, a private island no bigger than a soccer field. The Kuna Lodge is a hideaway camp where extranjeros can indulge their castaway fantasies and still have a thatch roof over their heads and three Kuna-inspired meals a day.
ROOM & BOARD: From any vantage point on Sapibenega, there are surreal 360-degree views of more than a dozen neighboring coconut-choked islands. The Kuna huts sleep up to four and, though sandswept and remote, are relatively luxurious, with solar electricity, composting toilets, and showers. In the main lodge, head chef Onesimo prepares grilled lobster, crab, and tulemasi, a coconut-broth soup with local fish and plantains, and lets the local rum, known as inna in the Kuna language, flow freely.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: From the lodge’s beach, catch a cayuco (a motorized dugout) to nearby uninhabited islands or to snorkeler-friendly coral reefs teeming with aquarium fish—and even toothier specimens, such as great barracuda and dolphin fish. Or head to the mainland for a guided trek to the 15-foot-high Diwar Dumad waterfall and a swim in its freshwater lagoon.

Spring House Farm, NC

Marion, North Carolina
The Cottages at Spring House Farm
When Arthur and Zee Anne Campbell and their 13-year-old son, Cailein, restored the historic Albertus Ledbetter House and built cottages nearby in 1999, their top priority was to preserve the 180-year-old pre–Civil War farmhouse and the 92 acres of surrounding hardwood forest. The five secluded guest cottages share the quiet solitude of these hemlock woods with only the resident turkeys and deer. Explore the mountainous hiking trails of western North Carolina, borrow a canoe and paddle two ponds, and end with a soak in a private hot tub, studying the starry night sky.
ROOM & BOARD: Each of the two-person cottages has a wood-burning fireplace, hot tub, private deck, queen- or king-size bed with a down comforter, gas grill, and kitchen stocked with eggs, bread, jams, and other necessities for a country breakfast. For dinner, cook from your own stash or buy what the lodge keeps in stock, including chicken, pork chops, pizza, baked potatoes, and salad fixings. Flying Bridge cottage has a four-person hot tub overlooking the trout pond. The best cottage for wildlife watching is the Bimini Twist, totally surrounded by forest.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: Hit the farm’s five-mile trail system, kept a comfortable temperature by the canopy overhead, or drive 20 minutes southeast to the 1,000-plus acres of Chimney Rock Park and hike the Skyline-Cliff Trail to the top of 404-foot Hickory Nut Falls, a mile and a half round-trip. If you want to paddle something bigger than the farm’s ponds, go to Lake Lure, near the park, and rent a kayak, canoe, or paddleboat.

Ultima Thule Lodge, AK

Chitina, Alaska
Ultima Thule Lodge
The moment the bush plane brushes the gravel runway at Ultima Thule Lodge, you are officially 100 miles from nowhere. Bounded to the north by the salmon-thick Chitina River and backed by the turquoise glaciers of the Wrangell Mountains, which top out at 16,000 feet, the family-run lodge is all-inclusive in a uniquely Alaskan way. At your disposal: planes, whitewater rafts, kayaks, hearty meals, warm beds, and the 13 million acres of Wrangell–St. Elias National Park and Preserve that surround the lodge.
ROOM & BOARD: The dozen log cabins and lodge, furnished with downy beds and glass-front wood stoves, are clustered along the riverbank. Paths lead to a bathhouse with a wood-fired wet sauna and the dining hall, where a 20-foot pine table showcases steaming plates of local salmon, organic greens harvested from the garden, and microbrews flown in from Anchorage.
OUT THE BACK DOOR: With Alaskan summer days as long as 20 hours, an Ultima Thule “day” trip could mean an expedition to 16,390-foot Mount Blackburn, a walk along the iceberg-calving Gulf of Alaska, or a dogsled ride across the glaciers that embellish the national park—all with the assistance of the lodge’s guides and experienced bush pilot.

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THE NORTH CAROLINA SHORE peters out into the Atlantic in a lacework of inlets, estuaries, sounds, and tannic rivers. It’s a playground for paddlers, with everything from spooky cypress-and-moss tunnels to open water with roiling surf and dive-bombing seabirds. Now a snarl of coastal trails has been linked to form a 1,200-mile network extending the length of the coast. The North Carolina Coastal Plain Paddle Trails, assembled by conservation and paddling organizations with the state’s Parks and Recreation Department, have put-in ramps and are mapped, with difficulty ratings. To sample the best of the trails, head to a spur just south of Wilmington for a two-day, 12-mile trip for intermediate paddlers.

Paddle-tastic in North Carolina’s Atlantic Sounds

On day one, put in at the North Carolina Wildlife Ramp, where orchids and Venus flytraps spring from the marshy forest. Check the tides and launch frin Snows Cut, where the Cape Fear River meets the Intracoastal Waterway. It’s a one-hour straight shot to Masonboro Island, one of the last pristine barrier islands in the Carolinas (preserved by the National Estuarine Research Reserve). Paddle 30 minutes to a buoy marking the broad beach of Dick Bay. This stretch of Masonboro Island’s uninhabited beach is your free campsite. Set up behind the dunes, wait for the sun to set, and watch loggerhead turtles flop to their nests.

On day two, explore the 5,046-acre island. Point the kids to the tidal pools, ringside seats for fiddler crab fights. Hike or paddle to the island’s eastern side for body surfing, then set off north into the Intracoastal Waterway—hug the shore to avoid boat traffic—as you near Wrightsville Beach. After a couple hours of paddling alongside yachts and wooden johnboats, a drawbridge marks your takeout: a ramp tucked under the bridge amid snoozing brown pelicans.

Resources:
North Carolina Coastal Plain Paddle Trails, ; Masonboro Island, 910-256-5777, . Kayak Carolina, 910-458-9111, , has rentals and offers a two-hour guided paddle of Masonboro Sound.

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WARNING: If you are pregnant, or have kids of any age, read on. This report contains information guaranteed to provide you with the premier places to rest you head. Then rip it in the great outdoors with your wee ones.

Cheating on Vacation: Cheat Mountain Club’s lodge

CHEAT MOUNTAIN CLUB
Durbin, West Virginia
Thomas Edison visited the Cheat Mountain Club in the summer of 1918. Old Tom strung up lights on the lawn and slept beneath the stars—he couldn’t get enough of the fresh air and mountain scenery. Your kids probably will want to do the same, and snooze in the shadows of 4,800-foot peaks and the tall hardwoods of Monongahela National Forest—until, that is, they hear the midnight howl of a coyote.

Built as a private hunting and fishing lodge for Pittsburgh steel barons in 1887, the three-story, hand-hewn log building feels as it might have 100 years ago. The great hall, with oversize maple furniture and a stone fireplace, is perfect for curling up with a book or singing songs by the piano. Hearty meals of fish and game, homemade soups and bread, as well as kids’ fare, are served in the family-style dining room. Children can raid the cookie jar—full of chocolate-chip and oatmeal-raisin goodies—at will.
Out the back door, you can fly-fish Upper Shavers Fork River, known for rainbow, brown, and brook trout. When the lines get tangled, take the afternoon to explore the ten miles of trails that wind through Cheat Mountain’s 180 wooded acres. My kids like the nearby Gaudineer Scenic Area, where a surveyor’s error spared a tract of red spruces, some 100 feet tall and 300 years old.
Afterward, it’s fun to goof off on the three-acre lawn, playing horseshoes or flying kites. As the sun sets, sit on the terrace overlooking the river. You, too, might be tempted to sleep outside. Then again, you’ll want to be well-rested for tomorrow’s adventures.

Enchantment Resort

Sedona, Arizona

Sedona at sunset

After two days exploring the Grand Canyon’s South Rim, my husband, two-year-old son, and I were careening around the hairpin turns of Arizona 89A toward Enchantment Resort, wondering if we’d planned our trip in the wrong order. What could top the Grand? But once we headed into thumb-shaped, pinon-and-juniper-filled Boynton Canyon, with its red walls rising 1,400 feet up on three sides, we felt like we had found our own private park. No crowds! No loud buses!
Set on 70 acres about five miles from New Age Central (Sedona), Enchantment is a modern adobe village, its 71 casitas and main clubhouse painted the same ruddy pink as the canyon’s sandstone walls. The indoor wonders rival the spectacular setting: Top on the list is Mii amo, the new, 24,000-square-foot spa, where haunting flute music greets you as you enter the museumlike space (children under 16 aren’t allowed). From a big menu of body wraps and Ayurvedic treatments, I chose Watsu and a custom facial.

Enchantment makes it easy for parents to indulge: Camp Coyote keeps four- to 12-year-olds busy making dreamcatchers and sand paintings and taking nature walks (our son was too young for the camp, but a grandmotherly babysitter was arranged by the concierge).
Despite my spa retreat and one romantic dinner at the excellent Yavapai restaurant, there was still plenty of family time. One afternoon we hiked the five-mile round-trip to the end of Boynton Canyon, but our favorite activity was simply hanging by the pool. One morning, I sat with a mother of three boys from Boston, watching our kids bat around a giant beach ball and soaking in the astounding view of red pinnacles and buttes. “We thought about taking a day-trip to the Grand Canyon,” she said. “But what could be more beautiful than this?”

Point Reyes Seashore Lodge

Olema, California

Olema, California

Ordinarily a downpour on vacation dampens my spirits, but when we awakened to rain at Northern California’s Point Reyes Seashore Lodge, it only made me want to heap more blankets on the already cozy double beds, laze in front of the crackling fire, and let the rain have its way with the bucolic pasture outside the bay window.
Our sons, Will, 6, and Griffin, 4, however, had food on the brain. So we threw sweatshirts on over our pajamas and trooped through the airy lobby with its 30-foot-long Douglas-fir chandelier and down the stairs to sit next to another fireplace, where we gorged on the continental buffet included in the room rate. Being first in line ensured dibs on the bear claws in the pastry basket. By the time we finished eating, the sky had cleared, changing the morning’s equation.

We know our options well—this 21-room inn is a favored family escape for both active and relaxing weekends. For instance, a two-minute walk out the door puts you on the Rift Zone Trail, which wanders through patches of redwoods along the base of the Coast Range, eventually joining more than 140 miles of trails in the area. My husband, Gordon, wanted to go kayaking in Tomales Bay or horseback riding, but I lobbied for something simpler—a visit to Olema Creek in the backyard. Surrounding the inn’s Douglas-fir-planked lodge are two acres of grass and gardens for play. And three and a half miles west is the surf, which crashes onto beaches with 100-foot-high cliffs along Point Reyes National Seashore.
We poked around Olema Creek and then headed for the Bear Valley Visitor Center, the hub of the National Seashore, via a half-mile trail. My children absorbed wildlife and habitat displays but reached saturation at the replica of a Miwok Indian village. So we turned back to the inn just as a gentle rain began falling.
We could have driven to the nearby lighthouse, or gone to see the local herds of tule elk, or tooled down Highway 1 past a couple of miles of cow pasture to the artsy town of Point Reyes Station. Instead, we returned to the inn’s indoor pleasures. We had everything we needed inside.

The Birches Resort

Moosehead, Maine

The moose of Maine

After 20 minutes cruising in a pontoon boat across Moosehead Lake in central Maine, my three-year-old daughter, Cady, spied the payoff: “I see him! I see him!” she yelled, knocking my husband’s Wisconsin Badgers cap into the chilly water. Sure enough, the lake’s namesake mammal emerged from the woods on spindly legs and nosed along the water’s edge, oblivious to the hum of video cameras.
But the loss of a favorite hat was the sole disappointment at The Birches Resort, a 1930 wilderness sports camp that’s morphed from a hunting outpost into an 11,000-acre family retreat. Situated in the Moosehead Lake region on the west side of the water, The Birches consists of a lakeside lodge with an indoor waterfall and trout tank, 15 hand-built one- to four-bedroom lakeside cabins equipped with hot water, kitchen and bath, and a wood stove or fireplace. That cozy heat source is welcome after a day of hiking or cycling the property’s 40 miles of trails, boating on the 35-mile-long lake, or exploring 1,806-foot Mount Kineo, the largest hunk of flint in the country, with an 800-foot cliff that drops into North Bay.
The Birches is home base for Wilderness Expeditions, which will outfit your crew for its Family 国产吃瓜黑料s Camp (rafting, kayaking, hiking, and wildlife-watching for ages 12 and up) or a float trip on the lower Kennebec River (ages 5 and up). Though the cabins are equipped with cookware, we opted for the meal plan so we could feast on pancakes and steak in the atmospheric lakeside dining room with its 35-ton fieldstone fireplace. Cady spent the last night of our getaway dancing to folk tunes while the moonbeams skipped across the lake.

Across the Bay Tent and Breakfast

Kachemak Bay, Alaska

Cutting across the glass-smooth surface of Kasitsna Bay

Rare is the Alaska lodge where a whole family can afford to stay long enough to let a day unfold without a hyperactive do-it-all plan. While other places on Kachemak Bay, near Homer in south-central Alaska, can cost three times as much, Across the Bay is more like a deluxe camping community where families sleep in platform tents and join together for shared meals harvested from the backyard garden—a modern commune.
The lodge sits among giant Sitka spruces before a steep mountain on the edge of Kasitsna Bay, and it’s most easily accessible via a 30-minute boat ride or a float plane from Homer. Accommodations are straightforward: five canvas-wall tents with cots, plus a main wooden lodge, a dining room, two outhouses, and a bathhouse. Those aren’t without comforts or elegance, though—a piano, board games, books, and hot chocolate in the lodge, and framed art hanging near stained glass in the, um, outhouse. There’s also a wood-fired sauna with stained glass by a creek.
On a typical afternoon, my three oldest kids played in the tide pools, collecting mussels and arranging sand dollars into castles. Later, guests gathered at the shore for grilled salmon and vegetables. A more adventuresome day could include renting the lodge’s mountain bikes to explore an abandoned road up to Red Mountain, eight miles south, or going on a guided kayak tour along the shoreline, visiting the Herring Islands to watch sea otters and whales.

The Wildflower Inn

Vermont

In full bloom: former dairy far, the Wildflower Inn

Turning your home into a family resort is not a stretch when you have eight children age four to 21. It certainly helps if that home is a former dairy farm ringed with plush green meadows and mountains in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. Owners Jim and Mary O’Reilly converted their Federal farmhouse and three red barns atop Darling Hill into the 21-room Wildflower Inn, preserving the agrarian feel without tilling the 570 acres. Now in its 17th season, the Wildflower has become the classic outdoor getaway for Boston families who yearn for forests and fields.
A typical day starts with my three-year-old, Melanie, sucking down the chocolate-chip eyes of a teddy-bear pancake, while five-year-old Jake plays air hockey in the adjoining playroom. Then it’s off to the petting barn to frolic with sheep, goats, calves, and a shaggy donkey named Poppy. On summer mornings, a kids’ nature program runs for two hours, with activities like watching beavers on the Passumpsic River. Parents and older children can check out 12 miles of mountain-bike routes that link with the Kingdom Trails, arguably the finest fat-tire riding in the Northeast. Cruise past the barns on smooth singletrack and you’ll soon be lost in the woods, sweeping up and down a serpentine route.

Back on the farm, play a game of horse (what else?) on the basketball courts and then a set of tennis. Kids’ dinner and a movie are waiting at Daisy’s Diner, a converted barn. But after a full day, my little ones are content to lie on the grass and look for Orion—Vermont’s version of nightlife.

Bluefin Bay on Lake Superior

Tofte, Minnesota

I took my family to Minnesota’s Bluefin Bay, ironically, to escape the Midwest. For a group of displaced East Coasters like us, life in the middle can be hard at times. Along with decent bagels and attitude, we miss being on the edge of a continent and looking out. From the deck of our townhouse at the Bluefin Bay, though, we could gaze across the 31,800-square-mile expanse of Lake Superior and leave the prairie far, far behind.
A collection of 70 blue clapboard split-level buildings stacked around a rocky cove, Bluefin Bay recalls the Norse fishing villages that lined Superior’s northern coast a century ago. The airy suites and full-kitchened condominiums have vaulted ceilings and natural wood beams, fireplaces (to take the edge off breezy summer evenings), and stunning lake views that practically pour in through huge picture windows.
Guests are welcome to use the resort’s boats free of charge, and we spent days on the water, paddling over century-old shipwrecks with a certified sea-kayak guide and canoeing the coast on our own. Those willing to tear themselves away from the lake can explore Bluefin’s other backyard: Superior National Forest, a pristine 2.1-million-acre wilderness crisscrossed by more than 400 miles of birch-lined hiking and mountain-biking trails. Your kids will undoubtedly beg for a trip to the luge-course-like Alpine Slide, just up the road at Lutsen Mountains ski area.
At night, should you choose not to use the barbecues outside, take the crew out for mesquite chicken sandwiches at Breakers Bar and Grill, a walk along the lake from the condos. Or take advantage of the on-site kid programs and enjoy a candlelit dinner for two at the Bluefin Restaurant. The ambience and sound of crashing waves will get you in the mood to fire up the double Jacuzzi in your room. But first, stroll under the moon in the chilly night air, which will firmly remind you, lest you forget, that you’re in northern Minnesota.

Ross Lake Lodge

Ross Lake, Washington

Ross Lake Lodge

The Park Service advises visitors to use caution in the glacial meltwaters of northern Washington’s Ross Lake, a 21-mile-long alpine lake hard by the Canadian border, but the three kids cannonballing off the dock where I was sweating in the sun didn’t care. I looked hesitantly at the glaciers attached to nearby 9,066-foot Jack Mountain and then slipped, ungracefully, into the frigid azure water. Cheers erupted. I managed five gasping backstrokes. And then it was time to fish.
My dockmates piled into a wooden skiff with their dad and their fly rods and trolled away from Ross Lake Resort, a string of 15 floating wooden cabins connected by a serpentine dock and parked on the lake’s south end. Founded in the 1950s, the resort is hemmed in by steep, dark evergreen forest and is the only structure in the Ross Lake National Recreation Area, a stretch of wilderness surrounded by North Cascades National Park. Getting to the unreachable-by-road resort is where the fun begins: After a three-hour drive from Seattle along the North Cascades Highway, we had boarded an old-fashioned Seattle City Light tugboat at Diablo Lake—bearded, pipe-smoking captain at the helm—and then chugged 30 minutes to a flatbed truck that hauled us two miles to a small dock on Ross Lake. From there, a runabout shuttled everyone and everything (bring your own food; there’s no restaurant) across the lake to the resort.

We’d settled into our rooms—accommodations at Ross Lake range from two-person cabins equipped with kitchens, wood stoves, and bedding to a modern, nine-person chalet with enormous picture windows overlooking the lake—and rented our own skiff for the weekend ($70 per day). A few easy hiking trails lead to Ross Lake Dam and 6,107-foot Sourdough Mountain, but we fixed on the view north of us and planned to climb 6,102-foot Desolation Peak. So we boated—followed by a family of four traveling in kayaks ($31 per day)—to the trailhead, casting for rainbows and cutthroat en route. At the summit, the kayaking family caught up with us, and the two youngest members of their expedition surveyed the lake for the best swimming holes to test at sunset.

The Winnetu

Martha’s Vineyard, MA

With miles of untrodden island coastline and a web of bike trails, Martha’s Vineyard is the optimal family getaway, but until recently, with area zoning laws limiting commercial construction, there wasn’t a decent family resort. That changed last summer when Mark and Gwenn Snider opened The Winnetu Inn and Resort at the south end of Edgartown. They demolished the shell of a run-down hotel-cum-condo-building and made a grand shingled New England-style hotel in which every spacious suite affords ocean or dune views.
My family first met Mark as he pulled up in his 1945 fire truck, ringing the bell. This father of three will do almost anything to entertain children. He’s organized pee-wee tennis clinics that start in summer at 8 a.m. and activities like scavenger hunts, arts and crafts, sand-castle contests, and bodysurfing on adjacent three-mile-long South Beach. In the evening, kids can go to the clubhouse for food and games while parents opt for fine dining at the resort’s seaside restaurant, Opus, or head into Edgartown, the island’s oldest settlement.
We favored getting on our rented bikes and hitting the trails. One day we pedaled to Edgartown and took the two-minute ferry across to Chappaquiddick, and then rode to the Cape Poge Wildlife Refuge, a stretch of coast that’s home to threatened piping plovers and ospreys. On our final day, we ventured ten miles to Oak Bluffs, stopping at the windswept dunes of Joseph Sylvia State Beach to swim, and ending at the Flying Horses Carousel, the country’s oldest operating carousel, built in 1876. Not surprisingly, Snider picked us up by boat to escort us back to the resort.

Steinhatchee Landing

Steinhatchee, Florida

Cottage industries: Steinhatchee lodging

As we neared the sleepy fishing town of Steinhatchee (pop. 1,100) on the southeast end of Florida’s Panhandle, my family and I half expected to see Tarzan come swinging through the tangle of moss oaks and silver palms. Far removed from Mickey and his perky pals, we’d ventured into what tourism folks call “Old Florida”—a pre-theme-park haven of lush vegetation, snoozing alligators, and wild turkeys.
Our base in this unhurried paradise was Steinhatchee Landing, a 35-acre resort on the Steinhatchee River, built to resemble a 1920s village of two-story vacation cottages, many of them Cracker-style (the term “cracker” refers to the state’s early settlers, who cracked long whips to herd cattle). Each has a tin roof, a big front porch, and all the modern conveniences—microwave, stereo system, washer and dryer, VCR, and even a refrigerator pre-stocked with soda. Though just 12 years old, the place enticed us to savor the syrupy-slow pleasures of past generations: listening to crickets, fishing for shiners off the dock, and watching the sun melt like red sherbet into the Gulf.

When my husband, daughter, and I felt like budging from the porch swing, we found much to do: We swam in the riverside pool, paddled canoes, and rode bicycles on the dirt trails through the resort into town. On a sunset pontoon cruise, our guide pointed out rare brown pelicans guarding their nests. One afternoon we drove 50 miles and soaked, under a canopy of cypress, gum, ash, and maple trees, in the clear, 72-degree waters at Manatee Springs State Park, where an industrious spring churns out 81,250 gallons every minute. Entrance fees at some 30 natural springs and state parks, all within an hour of the resort, are waived for Steinhatchee guests.

Park Places

National parks often get the drive-by treatment: Vacationing families cruise in for the day, climb out of the minivan at a few major vistas, and then high-tail it out for the night. These lodges, in five of America’s most revered parks, will guarentee you linger.

Yosemite National Park

LeConte Lodge
Rugged folks once farmed much of the rocky ground that Great Smoky Mountains National Park occupies, and their abandoned homesteads remain the park’s most popular attractions. But only at LeConte Lodge can you live as the pioneers did. Getting to the lodge requires a 5.5-mile hike to the top of 6,593-foot Mount LeConte, on the Tennessee side of the park. Once you;re there, you’ll find rough log cabins, lantern light, and family-style Southern cooking. The lodge sits at a crossroads of trails, making it an ideal launchpad for day hikes. ($82 per adult, $66 per child, including breakfast and dinner; 865-429-5704; ; open late March to mid-November)
Montecito-Sequoia Lodge
At Montecito-Sequoia Lodge, near California’s Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park, children head off for supervised riding, boating, swimming, hiking, or tennis, while parents are free to enjoy the park on their own—perhaps hiking among the giant sequoias or granite domes. Families rejoin for meals and to sleep in basic rooms in a 24-room pine lodge or one of four cabins, with sweeping mountain views, arrayed between a small lake and a swimming pool. ($760-$855 per week per adult, $690-$800 per child; 800-227-9900; ; open year-round; reserve a year in advance)

Bear Track Inn
At the doorstep of Glacier Bay National Park is the Bear Track Inn. With its huge-log facade and vast fireplace warming the common room, it’s got Alaskan ambiance down pat. It’s also the area’s most luxurious accommodations, offering elaborate meals and 14 high-ceilinged guest rooms with down comforters. Bear Track Inn looks out on a field of wildflowers; beyond lies the ocean and the community of Gustavus—a springboard for sea kayaking among whales, fishing for salmon and halibut, and taking a boat ride into the park to see the glaciers. ($432 per person per night, including ferry from Juneau and all meals; 888-697-2284; ; open May through September)
Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort
Pure bliss is found in the Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort’s marquee attraction after a day of exploring Washington’s Olympic National Park. The three geo-thermal pools are a mineral-water delight following a hike along the Sol Duc River—where salmon jump the crashing falls—and up through mossy forest to tree line and the tiny alpine lakes above. Kids may prefer the freshwater swimming pool to the hot springs. When everyone has reached prune state, retreat to your cabin in the rainforest. ($130 for two people in a deluxe cabin with kitchen, $110 for two without kitchen, $15 per night for each additional person; 360-327-3583; ; open March-October)
Tenaya Lodge
At the southern entrance to Yosemite National Park, Tenaya Lodge offers a national-park experience that’s more like a California resort vacation. The lodge sits like a mansion on land surrounded by forest and park, and its rooms have niceties like plush chairs and Gold Rush脨 heirlooms. Tenaya脮s kid-only activities include a twilight flashlight hike&3151;or take the whole family to ride horses into Mariposa Grove, swim in two pools with underwater sound systems, and cruise on a nearby steam railway. ($209-$299 per night, double occupancy; 800-635-5807; ; open year-round)

Slope Sides

Ski resorts have realized how perfect their alpine playgrounds are for summertime family getaways. They’re opening their slopes to mountain bikers and hikers, ratcheting up adrenaline levels at kids’ adventure camps, expanding day care, and offering lodging deals in the off-season. Here, four of the summer’s best.

Utah’s Wasatch Range

Westin Resort & Spa, Whistler
In summer, Whistler’s still-snow-covered Blackcomb glacier attracts planeloads of serious skiers and boarders, and an equal share of vacationing families who love the novelty of British Columbia skiing in the morning and rafting the Class II Green River撰or hiking in Garibaldi National Park, or soaring in a tandem paraglider脩in the afternoon. The Westin Resort & Spa (888-634-5577; ) offers posh suites with kitchens that start at about $118 (American) a night. Splurge on a body wrap at the hotel’s Avello Spa and Health Club while your children play in the Whistler Kids program (18 months to 12 years, about $43 per day or $25 per half-day, including lunch; 800-766-0449; ).
The Mountain Suites at Sundance Resort
A sanctuary of handsome, weathered buildings in a quiet canyon outside Provo, Utah, Sundance Resort has a mission: to foster creative expression, communion with nature, and environmental stewardship. In that spirit, youngsters at Sundance Kids camp (ages three to 12, $50 per day) begin the day with yoga, followed by photography, jewelry, and pottery sessions. Mom and Dad can take similar classes at the resort’s Art Shack studios. Stay in a Mountain Suite and you’ll be steps away from horseback riding, lift-served mountain biking, and hiking trails in the Wasatch Range. Decorated with Native American textiles, each one-bedroom suite ($450 per night) sleeps four and has a kitchen (800-892-1600; ).

Condos at Sun Valley Resort
Idaho’s Sun Valley, escape of the rich and famous since 1936, becomes a laid-back, family-friendly hiker’s paradise when the snow melts. Eighty miles of trails zigzag through Sawtooth National Recreation Area, and lifts allow even the youngest children to reach the incredible vistas on 9,000-foot Bald Mountain. Parents can go cast on the holy waters of the Salmon River while kids rock climb and ride horses at Sun Valley Day Camp (ages six months to 14 years, $59-$90 per day and $49-$64 per half-day; 208-622-2288; www.sunvalley.com). You’ll have room to spread out when you rent a condo through Sun Valley Resort (800-786-8259; ) or Premier Property Management (800-635-4444; ). One- and two-bedroom units cost $180-$300 per night.
Steamboat Grand Resort Hotel
With 50 miles of steep, boulder-strewn singletrack, Steamboat Springs, Colorado, vies with Mammoth as one of the country’s primo downhill-mountain-biking hot spots. And Steamboat Kids 国产吃瓜黑料 Club’s mountain-bike clinic lets nine- to 12-year-olds get in on the fun. Younger kids are also welcome at the 国产吃瓜黑料 Club (ages three to 12, $48 per day; 970-871-5390; ). For easy trail access, stay at the 328-room Steamboat Grand Resort Hotel. Each luxurious one-bedroom suite sleeps six and costs $225 per night (877-269-2628; ).

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