I have a secret fascination with the (MWOB), the weather station situated atop America’s windiest mountain.

Every few days, the scientists living inside the MWOB publish an or an about the extreme conditions on the , and the photos or videos always boggle my mind. Plunging temperatures mixed with fog will occasionally transform the peak into a hockey rink, and wind-whipped blizzards will make the observatory tower look like a The Empire Strikes Back. Last week, two interns saved a that landed on the observatory after its eyes froze shut (they warmed it up, named it , and released it back into the forest).

But the big story at MWOB this winter has been the wind. According to a by weather forecaster Charlie Peachey, the observatory was battered by gusts over 100 miles per hour for 39 consecutive hours in late February. During this stretch, the weather station recorded one gust of 161 miles per hour. This was the second-strongest gust recorded at the station since 1994 and the 20th strongest听gust ever recorded.

“For all but two staff members at the observatory, that was the highest wind gust that any current staff has ever experienced,” Peachey wrote. Peachey added that the observatory staff often brag about the wind events they’ve personally experienced at the station. The handful of meteorologists and forecasters who man the station are split into two crews, and each crew lives in the station for one week at a time. Alas, Peachey was offsite when the 161-mile-per-hour gust hit, so zero bragging rights for him.

Peachey was confident that the windy conditions in February would continue when he and his crew returned in early March. And when Peachey began crunching weather data collected from other stations across the Northeast, he predicted that another major wind event would batter Mount Washington on Friday, March 7.

He was right. As the day unfolded, the gusts returned, first topping 120 miles per hour before they increased. A gust knocked out electricity to the MWOB offices at the base of Mount Washington while atop the peak, blowing debris and gusts battered the observatory.

Now, here’s why Peachey and the other MWOB forecasters are a different breed. My assumption is that most rational human beings would happily stay in a warm and cozy office and simply listen to the building creak and groan under the force of the violent gusts. But MWOB workers, of course, want to know what a 130-mile-per-hour gust actually feels听like. So, Peachey and his crew zipped up their parkas and wind pants and walked out into the melee. You can check out their hijinks below.

They sat on the frozen concrete and allowed the gale to push them across the ground like sticks blown across your patio by a leaf blower. Yep鈥攊t’s like a Buster Keaton scene, just add the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme music.

Of course, then the team had to army crawl back to the observatory doorway, which wasn’t easy.

“After a few seconds of crawling, I realized that my 20-foot journey might not be possible,” Peachey wrote. “Wind gusts of 120 mph+ were attempting to pick me up and blow me across the deck at every chance they got, so I had to begin army crawling with my chest to the ground to make it to the starting line.”

I may not be part of the MWOB staff, but I believe Peachey and his cohort officially earned their bragging rights, even if the gusts they surfed only topped 138 miles per hour.

Predicting the weather on Mount Washington during transition seasons is famously tricky due to the topography and the swirling weather along the east coast. Models can only tell a meteorologist so much, and Peachey and his team had to rely largely on their own intuition to predict the storm. This鈥攁nd many other reasons鈥攊s why educated human beings will always be needed to forecast the weather. “As meteorologists, it is our job to interpret when these errors exist in the model and then use our judgment to think of what will happen,” he wrote. “It is one of the reasons why a knowledgeable human forecaster will always be better than a single computer model.”

That, and a computer is far less graceful at butt-sliding.

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On a Sunday afternoon in October, I snuck out for a run. It was tank-top weather when I left my house in downtown Durango, Colorado, and I expected it to hold. I drove north into the mountains, and as I crested a hill 15 minutes in, the sky turned gray and cracked with lightning. The temperature reading in my car dropped 20 degrees, and the rain hitting the windshield was so thick I could hardly see the road. My phone buzzed in the cupholder. It was a text from the friend I was meeting: 鈥淲TF, DWG.鈥�

DWG stands for , the nom de plume of Jeff Givens, a local real estate agent turned amateur meteorologist who has much more power over my life than anyone running a WordPress blog should. His website offers weather forecasts, blow-by-blows of storms, and roundups of precipitation totals鈥攚ith a heavy dose of personal opinion. Sometimes the posts are excited updates: 鈥淪aturday 4:30 am: It鈥檚 not over yet! The closed low-pressure is spinning over Arizona early this morning.鈥� Sometimes he鈥檒l take a deep dive into the variability of La Nina, the cooling pattern in the Pacific Ocean that tends to bring dry winters to the Southwest, or the difference between Canadian and European forecasting models. Sometimes he鈥檒l answer requests from fans who ask for specific forecasts within their individual microclimate. In the forecast the day after my Sunday soaking, Givens walked back what he鈥檇 posted the day before, responding to the razzing he鈥檇 received from readers. You don鈥檛 get that from the Weather Channel.

Followers who subscribe to his email list might get three updates a day when storms are firing, sometimes time-stamped 3 A.M., 9 A.M., then noon. I read every one. And I鈥檓 not alone. Givens has 19,100 subscribers. The local population is about 19,500, and that includes children.

Givens is more accurate than any other weather source around here, and that makes him arguably the biggest celebrity in my smallish town. Our collective excitement crescendos with his forecasts, and whether they lead to joyful or disappointing experiences outside, we piece together a postmortem in the days that follow. Sometimes he sends the whole town into a spiral. Like any forecaster, occasionally he鈥檚 wrong. I鈥檓 on multiple ski-planning text chains that dissect his accuracy. 鈥淗e never admits when he鈥檚 wrong,鈥� one friend complained. 鈥淚 just don鈥檛 like his syntax,鈥� another told me, while her husband admitted to obsessively reading every post. 鈥淭oo many emails!鈥� several others said. 鈥淗ow can you get mad at him, he鈥檚 doing it for free,鈥� someone countered.

He is a common denominator: a folk hero and a prophet and the person to blame when your plans go to shit. Everyone I know has an opinion about his forecasts. And I mean literally everyone.

Yesterday at the doctor, as I shivered in my gown, the nurse asked me how the weather had been on the way over. 鈥淒urango Weather Guy says it鈥檚 supposed to get bad this weekend,鈥� she said, unprompted.

I needed to understand how this faceless man had become a ubiquitous and mercurial guru鈥攁nd wormed his way into the brains and hearts of my community. So I emailed Givens and asked him to meet up.

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Over the centuries, people have pressed all sorts of creatures, from cows to frogs to crickets, into the service of meteorological forecasting. Some instances of animal-aided forecasting are truly bizarre: In the 1800s, two British meteorologists created a complex instrument called a Tempest Prognosticator, which relied on .

Thankfully, much of that folklore and leech-keeping has given way to modern forecasting algorithms, radar, and satellite imagery over time鈥攂ut not everyone is willing to leave the old methods behind. Here are a few of the strangest ways in which people still forecast long-term weather鈥攔anked from least to most weird.

10. The Tanana River

The tiny town of Nenana, Alaska, is home to one of the longest-running gambling events in the United States. The game? Watching ice melt. Every year since 1903, locals have placed a wooden tripod in the center of the frozen Tanana River. A cable affixed to the tripod runs across the surface to a clock on the bank. When the river ice breaks up enough for the tripod to fall in, the cable yanks on the clock, stopping it. People from around the world place bets on when this will occur, and the jackpot often surpasses $300,000. The time of breakup is considered the end of winter and the beginning of spring, and avid bettors use all kinds of homespun algorithms to predict the time of breakup, incorporating such data as annual snowfall, temperature patterns, and even train schedules.

Our take: This is the least-weird method, since melting ice definitely means warm weather. Hard to argue with that.

9. Sunspots

The Old Farmer鈥檚 Almanac has been one of America鈥檚 most trusted sources of long-term forecasting for decades. Since the 1700s, it has predicted the weather by . As the theory goes, more sunspots are correlated with more solar activity and stronger magnetic storms, which could in turn affect the temperatures here on earth. For a long time, this seemed pretty out there. But more recently, research has started to back it up. As it turns out, , albeit mostly in northern Europe and in parts of the northern U.S. In years where solar activity is calmer, pockets of cold air form high in the atmosphere, which results in colder winters and stronger easterly winds over northern Europe and the northern U.S.. When solar activity is high, those areas see milder winters.

Our take: It鈥檚 unique, but there鈥檚 some scientific backing. Not that weird.

8. Foggy Days in August

Appalachian Folklore suggests the more foggy mornings you see in August, the more days of snow you鈥檒l have over the winter. The traditional way to keep track is to put . End your August with ten beans, and you鈥檙e likely to see an identical numbre of days of deep snow over the winter. Unfortunately, there鈥檚 suggesting any truth to this. Though, it鈥檚 nice to have an excuse to keep your beans organized.

Our take: There鈥檚 no science behind it, but at least it doesn鈥檛 involve a captive live animal. Only a little weird.

7. Live Groundhogs

Puxatawny Phil is only one of dozens of groundhogs around the world that are kept under close watch in early February. If the groundhog sees its shadow, six more weeks of winter are said to follow. Of course, all the groundhogs have different predictions, and their rates of accuracy are . The idea of Groundhog Day came from a German custom, which had to do with a badger seeing his shadow. We think that swapping in the ferocious and unpredictable carnivore would liven up what鈥檚 become a somewhat sedate tradition.

Our take: We love to hate on beloved family pastimes. As popular as this method is, it鈥檚 still pretty weird.

6. Dead Groundhogs

In researching this story, we discovered that not only are there dozens of live forecasting groundhogs, but .听Example A: a stuffed groundhog in Pennsylvania named Uni. Every year, Uni is lashed to a tiny raft and floated down Tulpehocken Creek for a while before he鈥檚 fished out. An official interpreter leans down to listen to Uni鈥檚 supposed prediction, and delivers the prediction in Pennsylvania Dutch. A second interpreter stands by to translate this prediction into modern English.

Our take: Uh huh. Weird.

5. Persimmon Seeds

Another gem from the American South: If you cut open a persimmon seed in the fall and find a spoon shape inside, expect snow. If you see a knife shape, the winter will be bitter cold. And if you see a fork shape, . While the seeds do contain shapes that resemble these three utensils, there鈥檚 no scientific basis for their correlation to weather conditions. But the fruit is still delicious, so we can鈥檛 not recommend trying.

Our take: It鈥檚 cute, but what do fruits know about weather? We鈥檝e never met a persimmon that passed a third-grade science class. For sure weird.

4. A Desert Tortoise

No weather-telling groundhogs live in Palm Springs, California. There is, however, a highly respected tortoise. Every year, Mojave Maxine emerges from her burrow sometime in February, and her sighting heralds warmer weather to come. Like the Nenana Ice Classic, this one , though the gamblers are mainly children, and there鈥檚 no money involved.

Our take: She鈥檚 cute, but, like the persimmon, not likely to possess knowledge of basic math. Plus, she鈥檚 been asleep all winter. What could she possibly know? Real weird.

3. Wooly Worm Caterpillars

In the town of Banner Elk, North Carolina, thousands of people gather every year to . The strongest, fastest caterpillar is used to predict the weather. As the legend goes, each segment of the caterpillar corresponds to a different week of winter. The color of that segment tells you what the weather will be for that week. Every year, the festival鈥檚 official worm reader (which has, for years, been ex-NBA basketball player Tommy Burleson) hands down the forecast. He claims his predictions are up to 90-percent accurate.

Our take: We admire the organizers鈥� ability to get thousands of people excited about keeping worms as pets. But still pretty dang weird.

2. Pig Spleens

For decades, a family in Saskatchewan, Canada, has butchered a pig every six months and . The organ is split into six different segments, and sections of thickened tissue are said to correlate to spells of colder weather. Some years, Jeff Woodward, the current 鈥減ig spleen prognosticator,鈥� analyzes several spleens and . He鈥檚 not the only such prognosticator in Canada, but he has among the largest followings.

Our take: The amount of training this requires is admirable. But the amount of dead animal handling is significantly more than that of the stuffed groundhog phenomenon. And again, there鈥檚 no scientific basis. We鈥檙e calling this one pretty out-there.

1. A 93-Year-Old Alligator听

In Texas there lives a named Al. Every spring, handlers offer Al a large piece of chicken. If Al swallows the chicken, spring has arrived. If Al refuses the chicken or spits it out, six more weeks of winter are to follow. Al has now clocked about 18 years of service in his current role, but there鈥檚 no evidence that he has any idea what he鈥檚 doing.

Our take: No big decisions should be based upon a geriatric gator鈥檚 indigestion. Most weird.

The post 8 Weird Things We’re Still Using to Predict the Weather鈥擨ncluding Some That Actually Work appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Joe Buffalo Child grew up beneath the northern lights, but one starry winter night in particular remains etched in his memory. He was six years old and camping with his grandparents to monitor the family trapline, a 50-mile stretch of snares set for rabbits and muskrats in the snowy boreal forest outside Yellowknife, the capital of Canada鈥檚 Northwest Territories. Slipping out of the cozy tent, his breath fogging as he gazed skyward, it wasn鈥檛 long before Buffalo Child found what he was seeking: 鈥淚t was stars, stars, stars, then鈥�boom! The aurora鈥檚 there,鈥� he told me, his eyes sparkling at the flashback.

On trapline trips like these, learned about the many ways nature was tied to the traditions of his people, the , who have inhabited central and northwest Canada for over 30,000 years. By day, his grandfather took him hunting or fishing鈥攐utings that came with important lessons, like how to predict an approaching storm by studying the movement of the clouds or the height of a seagull鈥檚 flight. Come dusk, bathed in the gas lamp鈥檚 honey glow, his grandmother shared spiritual beliefs, like how Buffalo Child鈥檚 beloved tie-dyed sky dance, known in the Denesuline language as ya鈥檏e ngas (鈥渢he sky is stirring鈥�), carried messages from his ancestors.

鈥淚 was on the land under the aurora even as a baby,鈥� he said. 鈥淭he aurora鈥檚 always been part of our life.鈥�

This deep knowledge of nature and cultural connection to the night sky were foundational to his future as a professional northern-lights chaser and guide for his company . Now 60 years old, Buffalo Child has spent nearly two decades sharing his aurora-tracking abilities with those willing to make the journey up to Yellowknife. He is considered one of the most well-known aurora hunters in North America.

The post Northern Lights Hunting with This Indigenous Tracker Was the Most Moving 国产吃瓜黑料 of My Life appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Camping in 120 degree heat can be deadly. But can it also be beautiful? What started as a lark鈥攁 road trip in search of very, very hot weather鈥攂ecame an exercise in humility for writer Leath Tonino and his buddy Sean when they spent a night out in the desert. Their mission was to find the hottest patch of sand they could drive to, camp out, and survive. But as the mercury climbed and the sun obliterated their minds, their Mad Max adventure started to look more and more like a window into something amazing鈥攁nd terrifying.

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The Storm Hits 听

I wake up at dawn on Friday, September 27, because the wind is howling around my house and trees are snapping at their trunks and being pulled out of the ground by their roots. From the window I watch the treetops sway and listen for the crack of wood. I hope I can echo-locate the snap so I know where the giant timber is going to fall. At every sound, I worry something will land on my house.

Two large white oaks, one of which is at least a hundred years old (I count the rings later) are pushed over by a massive gust and careen towards my neighbor鈥檚 house, where three little girls under the age of 10 live. As one barely misses the walls and crushes a trampoline outside, I slump in relief.

Rain is coming down in a steady stream. The power goes off a few minutes after I wake up. Water is the next to vanish, an hour later. Cell service disappears in the early afternoon. Asheville has wind gusts of 46 miles per hour.

Nobody expected a storm like this in western North Carolina. Hurricanes usually hit the state鈥檚 coastal regions, not the mountains. We knew there would be rain and flooding, but nothing at all as catastrophic as what came. My wife and I lived through Asheville鈥檚 last hurricane flood, in 2004, when the French Broad River surged into low-lying parts of town. Meteorologists called that event a one-in-100-year flood. They鈥檙e saying this storm is a one-in-1,000 year event. I don鈥檛 know a single person who evacuated, nor did I ever hear any calls from officials to do so.

When the worst of the storm abates, around noon, I walk into the street and gather with neighbors to make sure everyone is O.K. Kids are crying. People have huddled in their basements. A neighbor who鈥檚 a doctor walks up saying a woman at the bottom of our hill has a gash in her neck that won鈥檛 stop bleeding because the roof of her house fell on her in bed. Trees are down all over and there鈥檚 no clear path to get the woman to a hospital, so I run around looking for a way that a vehicle could get through the carnage. So many power lines are down, so many cars are smashed, so many trees are leaning on homes, and stunned people are standing in their yards. My neighborhood of 19 years feels foreign.

I find the safest way to walk the woman with the neck wound to a point where I think a car could meet us, and I reach a friend who鈥檚 headed into my neighborhood with a chainsaw, already out trying to cut through the madness, and have just enough service to tell him where to go before my phone dies. I walk the woman up a hill, with the doctor who鈥檚 telling her not to remove the bandage from her neck because you don鈥檛 mess with neck wounds, and the woman is crying. She鈥檚 afraid of the wind and the trees鈥攁fter the roof of her house just fell on her.

My friend with the truck and the chainsaw is there, exactly where I told him to meet us, and the woman enters the vehicle and they head towards the hospital. I don鈥檛 hear how she is for another three days because there鈥檚 no cell service, and nobody hears from anyone unless in a face-to-face conversation.

I go back to my own house to assess the damage and hug my wife and children.

By the end of the day, a crew of men in a truck I鈥檝e never seen before have chainsawed their way through half of the downed trees in the neighborhood. These aren鈥檛 city crews or electric-company employees. These are dudes in trucks doing what they can to help.

This is just day one.

The Aftermath of the Storm

Hurricane Helene hit western North Carolina, turning the city of Asheville, the South鈥檚 greatest outdoor-adventure town where I have lived for 20 years, and the surrounding mountain communities into a federal disaster zone. The French Broad River crested at more than 24 feet, wiping out the entire River Arts District, a collection of restaurants, breweries, hotels, and art studios a mile west of downtown. Biltmore Village, a hub of higher-end hotels and restaurants and shops, is similarly trashed, whole buildings gutted by the force of the river. Entire neighborhoods have been washed away, with houses and trailers floating downstream and piles of broken lumber everywhere.

I鈥檓 incredibly fortunate. Our basement flooded, but no trees hit our house. Nobody in my family was hurt. We live in higher terrain and not along the river corridor, where the worst flooding occurred. So many people are in far worse shape. As I write, 71 people have been confirmed dead across the county. Search and rescue helicopters and ATVs are still looking for missing people every day.

The first few days after the storm were isolating. Navigating the roads was tough because of the downed trees. Nobody had cell or internet service, so we couldn鈥檛 check the news or message anyone. I didn鈥檛 know the extent of the destruction beyond my own neighborhood. Eventually, we learned to get in the car and listen to the city鈥檚 press conferences at 10 A.M. and 4 P.M. every day to grasp the context of the storm. I worked on cleaning up my neighbors鈥� yards and some trees in the road.

I was lucky in another way, too. We have an old hot tub in our backyard that became our sole source of gray water, and remains so. I used five-gallon buckets to move water from it to our bathtub so we could flush toilets. I cooked meals on our propane grill, pulling food from the fridge before it went bad.

At some point, I learned that the Chamber of Commerce a mile up the street had power and their WiFi was radiating into the parking lot, so twice a day I walked up there to send messages and check the news. I started a fire in the wood stove in our basement to try to dry the water out. Of all the damage Hurricane Helene caused, this is as minor as it gets.

In talking with neighbors, we heard there was no gas for cars because the stations had no power, and that none of the interstates or highways were letting vehicles in or out. We heard other towns鈥擟himney Rock, Burnsville, Spruce Pine, more鈥攄eeper in the mountains fared even worse than Asheville. We learned that the city had organized points of distribution for water and food.

Besides the destruction, mostly what I saw is people taking care of each other. The guy who owns the trendy cafe on the corner a few blocks from my house cranked up his giant pizza oven and served free burgers and chicken sandwiches, feeding 1,500 people. Other neighbors chipped in, setting up stands with free stew and hot dogs.

We were all walking all over the neighborhood and town, asking people we didn’t know if they needed anything.

Almost two weeks after the storm, we still have no power, internet, or running water. I鈥檓 still moving water to flush toilets, getting drinking water from distribution points, trying to keep a fire in the basement stove. Cell service came back about six days after the storm.

Every state and federal agency is on the ground. Cops, firefighters, and search-and-rescue teams have come from Indiana, New York, Ohio. There are well-organized official disaster-relief stations and smaller stations set up by civilians. There鈥檚 a hard 7:30 P.M. curfew. I鈥檝e heard isolated events of attempted muggings, but mostly it鈥檚 peaceful.

Unable to work as a writer without internet or power, I spend my days volunteering. One day I鈥檓 cooking burgers at a community center, the next, knocking on doors around Buncombe County doing wellness checks. If you can鈥檛 reach a cousin or aunt or spouse in Asheville, you call and ask for someone to check on the person. Volunteers go out to people鈥檚 last known addresses and see if they鈥檙e OK.

Most of the people I check on are OK. I work on developing the friendliest of door knocks,听 something that says, 鈥淚鈥檓 here to help.鈥� Only one person answered the door with a gun in a holster.

I鈥檓 having a hard time putting this into words, but in the midst of all of the destruction and despair that I鈥檝e seen, I鈥檝e also been overwhelmed by a sense of hope and gratitude. Is it cheesy to say this disaster has renewed my faith in humankind? Probably. But that鈥檚 fine.

Without water and power, schools are closed, so my kids spend their days volunteering or helping friends clean up their yards. They have sleepovers and walk a mile into town together, just for some semblance of normalcy.

Grocery stores opened on a limited basis a day or so after the storm. One person in, one person out, long lines. Cash only because there was no internet. Now the stores are taking cards again, and you can get much of what you need or want. Most gas stations are open again. The two coolers on my back porch are full of food, and I am still cooking all meals on the propane grill. I鈥檒l need to find more propane soon.

Downtown is a ghost town. Asheville is a tourist draw and obviously there are no tourists right now. A lot of people have left town temporarily as well. Some businesses have boarded up, and only a few shops are open.

My hot tub is almost empty, which means I鈥檒l have to figure out another source soon for non-potable water. I saw the destruction to the reservoir system. It鈥檚 extensive; the transmission lines, which carry the water out of the reservoir, were washed out after more than 30 inches of rain fell. The bypass line, which was built as a redundancy measure, also washed out. That particular line was buried 25 feet deep, but the land eroded so much that the pipe was carried away. Crews are working on rebuilding that pipe right now.

The Outdoor Community Steps Up

The day before the storm, I went to to drop off a couple of things for resale. Second Gear is a consignment outdoor-gear shop that gives gently loved items like camp stoves and fleece and tents a second life, an effort in sustainability and in making things affordable to people who want to go outdoors and may lack good gear and equipment. It has a great location in the River Arts District, about 100 yards from the French Broad River.

The next time I saw Second Gear, it was in a video on social media, being swept away by the river. The entire building.

A number of guide services, like paddle-board rental shops and shuttle operators like French Broad Outfitters and Zen Tubing, that were located on the river suffered similar fates. Wrong Way Campground saw massive damage, the river breaching several of their cabins.

The local climbing gym, Cultivate Climbing, closed their flood doors, which would typically keep water out of the building. The river level was so high the waters crested the flood doors, poured in, and turned the building into a swimming pool.

Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests are closed. There鈥檚 no telling what sort of damage those mountains have suffered, because all resources right now are still dedicated to helping people in need. I鈥檝e heard of groups of mountain bikers from the local bike club, called SORBA (for the Southern Off-Road Bicycle Association), hiking into small, isolated communities and chainsawing a path for those residents to get out to the nearest fire station.

I鈥檝e heard of fly-fishing guides leading search-and-rescue efforts in the steep mountain hollers where they typically head up fishing adventures.

Several small towns, such as Barnardsville and Spruce Pine, in western North Carolina are isolated, the roads covered in mud and a tangle of pines and hardwoods. Nonprofits and small-town fire departments have been organizing groups of hikers to take supplies into people deep in the mountains who are cut off from the outside world. Volunteers with ATVs are incredibly sought after because they can get into remote places that normal vehicles can鈥檛 access.

The French Broad River Keeper, Hartwell Carson, who spearheads stewardship when he鈥檚 not assessing storm damage and reports of toxic sludge, mobilizes a crew of volunteers to cook burgers and hot dogs for various communities throughout the region. He鈥檚 lobbying for millions of dollars to be allocated to the area specifically to put out-of-work river guides on the job of cleaning up the French Broad.

Astral, an Asheville-based shoe brand that makes popular water shoes and hiking boots, is focusing on supporting remote mountain communities that saw severe hurricane damage. This week, Astral will take a van load of six generators to the tiny town of Buladean, which sits below Roan Mountain in North Carolina鈥檚 High Country.

The director of North Carolina Outdoor Economy, Amy Allison, is trying to coordinate coat donations from gear companies outside of the region. It鈥檚 warm today, but the temperatures are dropping next week. Many families here don鈥檛 have adequate winter gear, and will need coats, hats, and gloves as they navigate the new reality of going to distribution points for drinking water and moving flush water into their homes.

What鈥檚 Next for Western North Carolina听

Almost two weeks later, I still try to turn the light on when I walk into a room. According to local press conferences, we鈥檒l probably get power back some time this week, which is great. I鈥檝e heard that the city is sending trucks to take out household trash. There鈥檚 no timetable as to when water will be restored. It could be weeks.

Living without running water for a couple of months is hard to fathom, largely because our kids can鈥檛 go back to school without it. Schools must have working sprinkler systems in case of fire.

Several families we know have already moved temporarily to other cities and enrolled their kids in schools. My wife is looking into home-school scenarios.

For a couple of days right after the storm there was a constant stream of sirens and chainsaws, but that stopped. Now it鈥檚 silent at night. It鈥檚 the kind of quiet you get camping in the middle of the woods, but I live on the edge of downtown Asheville. With no lights in my neighborhood, I can see the stars at night. I don鈥檛 think any of us will begin to understand the impact of what鈥檚 happened for months, when it鈥檚 safer and the destruction and loss of lives isn鈥檛 so palpable.

In the meantime, we carry on. I have a wood stove. I鈥檝e hooked up a solar shower. I鈥檓 trying to work again. Tomorrow I鈥檓 cooking burgers for the small town of Barnardsville, 45 minutes north of Asheville. After that I鈥檒l help a friend salvage the fence on his farm, then later in the week help another friend repair his campground. I think I鈥檝e come up with a solution for water to flush my toilets, too. There鈥檚 a creek at the bottom of my neighborhood. I鈥檒l put my cold plunge tub in the back of the truck and fill it from the creek with five-gallon buckets, then drive back up to my house and put the water in the hot tub.

It feels good to have a plan.

Graham Averill is 国产吃瓜黑料 magazine鈥檚 national-parks columnist. He鈥檚 lived in Asheville for more than 20 years. If you want to help locals, lost its warehouse in the flood, and is still distributing food to those in need.

For more by this author, see:

9 Beautiful Mountain Towns in the Southeast

9 Most Underrated National Parks for Incredible Fall Foliage

The post This Is What It鈥檚 Like to Live in Asheville After Hurricane Helene appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Brad Smith hiked into Damascus, Virginia, on the Appalachian Trail just as the rain from Hurricane Helene thickened into a torrent.

鈥淭he last 6 miles was the worst weather I鈥檝e been outside in, and I鈥檓 49鈥 could have kayaked off the mountain if I had one,鈥� he wrote in a message. 鈥淭he trail was a small river. Guessing I was one of the last customers at the Damascus Diner before Laurel Creek took it and the street over.鈥�

More than are dead and many more are missing after Helene carved a 500-mile-long path of devastation through the southeastern United States with 30 people losing their lives in North Carolina鈥檚 Buncombe County alone. Among the hardest-hit communities were trail towns in Tennessee, North Carolina, and Virginia that some of the AT鈥檚 best-known businesses and trail angels call home.

Drew 鈥淏irdman鈥� Glines, an Appalachian Trail thru-hiker, rafting guide, and North Carolina local told Backpacker that the 鈥渄evastation鈥� inflicted on riverside communities was hard to describe.

鈥淩oads and bridges have been completely destroyed, making some areas still completely inaccessible to even emergency vehicles,鈥� he wrote in an email.

While destinations like the Nantahala Outdoor Center, the Western Smokies, Gatlinburg, and Pigeon Ford escaped major harm from the hurricane, other areas were not so lucky. Glines rattled off a list of landmarks affected by the hurricane.

鈥� in Roan was flooded. Hot Springs was hard hit鈥s was Hartford,鈥� he wrote. 鈥� is devastated.鈥� The majority of western North Carolina is out of cell service, water, and power, although 鈥榙isaster roaming鈥� has allowed locals to connect to any functioning network in the wake of the tragedy. The town of Asheville is still largely isolated due to infrastructure damage and washed-out roads.

On Trail When the Hurricane Hit

Smith wasn鈥檛 the only hiker caught in the weather. Lisa Woodward was hiking through Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee when the hurricane struck.

鈥淸We] experienced torrential downpours and wind gusts of up to 80 miles per hour or so at almost 6,000 feet elevation,鈥� she wrote in a message. 鈥淗ad to take a zero on Fri. at TriCorner Knob Shelter to wait out the worst of it. Made it out on Sunday via the Low Gap Trail to Cosby CampGround, where Ken from Discerning Hiker Hostel 鈥榬escued鈥� us.鈥�

Mollie Dembek was on trail near Hot Springs when the weather turned.

鈥淚 was at Flint Mountain Shelter, north of Hot Springs, NC when it started raining HARD on Tuesday,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淚 decided to hike the next day to Hemlock Hollow Hostel and Campground in Greeneville, TN the next day to get out of the rain. I am SO GLAD I did. I stayed the night there, warm and dry, but was watching the weather and news the entire time growing more and more anxious,鈥� she said.

Dembek was able to make it to Asheville to stay with a friend. On Saturday, they decided to leave the area. Strangers lent her gas money at a station in Weaverville that was only accepting cash. (鈥淭hey said it was 鈥榯rail magic,鈥� she recalls. 鈥淚 absolutely started crying.鈥�)

鈥淭hey ended up following us over the mountains because we were able to get turn by turn directions from my friend using my Garmin InReach,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淚 was able to communicate with friends and family using my Garmin and got seven people to safety because of the technology. I was never so grateful to get to Maryville, TN and get a cell signal.鈥�

Hot Springs, North Carolina. My grandfather鈥檚 summer mountain pasture was over on Spring Creek, near this lovely little town.

鈥� Anne Margaret Daniel (@venetianblonde)

While locals are still fighting for their lives, other members of the trail community are rallying to support them. Trail Angels like 鈥溾�� Hensley of Erwin, Tennessee are scrambling to support flooded communities in the wake of the tragedy. Matthew 鈥淥die鈥� Norman, a thru-hiker, trail angel, and former owner of the Hiker Yearbook, was in New Jersey for the hurricane but is preparing to drive south to support local trail communities.

Trail Organizations Warn Hikers to Stay Away for Now

Determining when hiking should resume in the southern part of the Appalachian Trail is a sensitive topic. Norman said that 鈥渕ost hikers should not attempt to hike in the south at this time.鈥�

In a statement, the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) warned visitors to stay off trail between Springer Mountain (NOBO Mile 0) and Rockfish Gap (NOBO Mile 864.6).

鈥淥ver the coming weeks and months, the ATC will be working with the National Park Service, U.S. Forest Service, and state and local partners to inventory the damage to the treadway, trailheads, bridges, overnight sites, privies and other A.T. features,鈥� the organization said. 鈥淟andslides and falling trees could continue for some time, so we ask volunteers and trail crews to pause work on this section of the Trail and to coordinate closely with regional ATC teams.鈥�

Hensley said that the devastation in trail communities like Damascus and Hot Springs is 鈥渄ire.鈥�

鈥淭hese communities are asking us to please stay away鈥hey cannot handle the infrastructure or any people walking into town,鈥� she said. In the event that hikers choose to continue hiking through southern Appalachia and they get into trouble, she adds, emergency services are unlikely to be able to help in a timely fashion.

Hensley said that hikers should stay informed and start making plans once they reach Virginia.

鈥淲hen people come through the Shenandoah they need to be deciding what they鈥檙e going to do,鈥� she said. 鈥淏ut hiking through this area would be ridiculous and it鈥檚 going to put lives on the line.鈥�

Norman said he recognizes that as the weeks stretch on, deciding when it鈥檚 the right time to hit the trail again could pose a difficult question鈥攁nd that different hikers could have different answers.

鈥淭he hiking community will be walking a tightrope in the next few months. Should hikers continue their hike? Would it be detrimental to the trail towns? What if there鈥檚 an emergency and emergency services are already stretched thin?鈥� he said. 鈥淏ut there are other questions: what if hikers have nowhere to go? What if they鈥檙e hiking off war, drug addiction, any number of traumatic events? What if they鈥檙e hiking to help?鈥�

One thing Norman is certain of: When hikers are able to come and help, they will.

鈥淚 can tell you for a fact that I watched hikers assist trail towns in 2020 and they will do it again in 2024,鈥� he said. 鈥淚t will not be publicized on Facebook, it will not be filmed, it is not done for recognition, it is done because that鈥檚 what hikers do.鈥�

Readers looking for guidance and direction around post-hurricane support can find more information from the . Official trail closures are available on the .听

The post AT Hikers Rally Support As Trail Towns Recover From Hurricane Helene appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

鈥淢ore than a third鈥� of the Appalachian Trail is currently inaccessible to hikers as the southeastern United States recovers from the devastation of Hurricane Helene, the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) said in a statement on Saturday evening.

In a , ATC Executive Director Sandi Marra said that the organization believed some sections of the trail could be closed for an extended period of time 鈥渂ecause of bridges that have washed away and downed trees and mudslides obstructing the treadway鈥�

鈥淎.T. Communities such as Damascus, VA; Erwin, TN; and Hot Springs, N.C. have been devastated,鈥� Marra wrote. 鈥淎ll national forests in Georgia and North Carolina are closed as is Great Smoky Mountains National Park. And access to and from Asheville, home to ATC鈥檚 Southern Regional Office, is extremely limited due to the destruction. Needless to say, it will be weeks, months, and even years to see recovery from this event.

In an update on Saturday morning, Great Smoky Mountains National Park said that while a handful of roads had reopened, Newfound Gap Road remained closed from Gatlinburg and Cherokee, as did Balsam Mountain, Cataloochee, Roaring Fork, Greenbrier, Foothills Parkway East, and Rich Mountain Road. The park received heavy rain, measuring 9 inches at Newfound Gap, while Cataloochee flooded to 9.5 feet, breaking a record set in 1963.

The also remains closed as the National Park Service (NPS) assesses storm damage and conducts cleanup.

Some state-managed lands along the trail have announced their own closures. In a post on Friday, in Virginia said that there was no access to the park 鈥渄ue to road closures from downed trees, mudslides, and significant flooding,鈥� and that campgrounds in the park would remain closed until at least Monday, September 30.

Helene鈥檚 impact on trail communities and their residents has been equally devastating. The Virginia Department of Emergency Management told , that Damascus, the home of Appalachian Trail Days, was the most-damaged town in the state. So far, officials have confirmed 60 deaths across the hurricanes path.

How Hikers Can Help

Towns along the Appalachian Trail host thousands of hikers a year; the worst-affected trail towns will need our support for months or even years to come as cleanup and rebuilding efforts progress. Here are a few ways to give back to the region鈥檚 recovery post-Hurricane Helene.

provides direct cash grants to individuals and groups affected by U.S. domestic hurricanes.

Donations to the fund its relief efforts across the area impacted by Helene and beyond.

feeds survivors of disaster and conflict around the world. The organization was on the ground distributing food and water in affected communities within 12 hours post-Helene.

is a grassroots initiative that leverages its network of volunteers to give directly to survivors of climate-change-driven and -worsened disasters.

The post 鈥淢ore Than a Third鈥� of Appalachian Trail Closed Due to Hurricane Damage appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

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

1. Yosemite, California

Why Now: Summer鈥檚 sweltering temps turn blissfully mild here in October, or 鈥淩ocktober,鈥� as climbers sometimes refer to it. The cooler, dry conditions are just right for scaling the park鈥檚 world-famous granite walls. Warm days (which can see temperatures from the high sixties to the low eighties) also make hiking idyllic, and crisp nights (from the fifties to the low thirties) allow for comfortable camping.

Fall is a photographer鈥檚 dream as well. Yes, most of the trees are evergreens, but the aspens in the high country on Tioga Road and across Tuolumne Meadows turn golden, and the maples in the Valley and around Yosemite Chapel glow a brilliant red. Cloud formations soften the light for optimal shooting at midday, not just twilight. The waterfalls will be trickling rather than gushing the way they do in spring, but you still have a strong chance of spotting the park鈥檚 iconic black bears鈥攁nd even better hopes of seeing mule deer, coyotes, and bighorn sheep.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: has been operating since the 1960s. Climbing lessons (from $205) cater to all levels, and guided climbs (from $400) include various options, among them ascending El Capitan (from $7,000). The outfit ends its climbing season October 27. runs half- and full-day rock-climbing outings on Fresno Dome through October 1 (from $425).

Anglers can fish the park鈥檚 trout-rich lakes, rivers, and streams through November 15. The pros at Yosemite Fly Fishing Guide can help you hook a brownie in the Merced River (half-day from $500; ). Get a California fishing license first ($62, ).

Pro Tip: Foresta Road, which leads into Yosemite from the west, is the favorite e-bike ride of Chris Van Leuven, founder of Yosemite E-Biking. 鈥淚t鈥檚 also amazing hiking for families who want to see Foresta Falls and dip into swimming holes,鈥� he says.

Where to Stay: Your chances of scoring a site in one of the park鈥檚 13 campgrounds dramatically increase in fall, but you鈥檒l still need to make a at least a week in advance. Camp 4 is coveted by climbers for its history and proximity to El Capitan, and for bouldering routes like world-renowned Midnight Lightning and nearby Bachar Cracker. The new glamping retreat Wildhaven Yosemite (from $139) is located in the charming town of Mariposa, 34 miles from the Arch Rock entrance to the park, and offers safari-style tents and cabins, live music, and yoga classes.

2. Puglia, Italy

Why Now: My first trip to Puglia, which forms Italy鈥檚 boot heel, was in early November, and in packing I made two mistakes: I left out a bathing suit and bike shoes. I didn鈥檛 anticipate that the southern latitude would bring late-summer temperatures. I arrived to see umbrellas shading folks on the rocky beaches and bicycles outnumbering cars. I chose the region hoping it would deliver the food, wine, and culture of Tuscany, but with fewer crowds and better prices. So it did, and also surprised me with a bounty of outdoor playgrounds, including two national parks, 16 state reserves, three marine protected areas, many fantastic cycling routes, and an incredible network of limestone caves.

In early autumn, Susumaniello grapes are plucked from the vines; toward the end, olives get harvested from ancient, gnarled trees. Attractions, like the whitewashed city of Ostuni, are quiet, and there鈥檚 rarely a wait at popular restaurants like Il Cortiletto this time of year. Be warned, though: after trying the region鈥檚 famed burrata cheese, you鈥檒l never settle for mozzarella again.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: rents out carbon-fiber road bikes (from $38) and e-bikes (from $49), and offers one- and seven-day guided trips (from $429) and five- and ten-day self-guided trips (from $1,169). During a of the Caves of Castellana ($27), you鈥檒l don a helmet and headlamp to visit parts of the grotto system that are off-limits during the day.

Pro Tip: Antonello Losito, founder of local tour operator Southern Visions, says that 鈥渙ne of the most exciting ways to view Alberobello, home to 1,500-plus Unesco-listed trulli, is via a tandem paraglide flight with Aeroclub FlyWay.鈥� The 15-minute excursion costs $130.

Where to Stay: Tucked away in the hamlet of Pezze di Greco, less than ten minutes from Torre Canne beach, is an ancient cave settlement turned 15-room, family-run eco-hotel (from $235). At , just outside the village of Locorotondo, you can sleep in the trulli the resort is named for, 18th-century conical-roofed stone huts (from $249).

3. Mad River Valley, Vermont

Why Now: Vermont lives up to its reputation as the quintessence of fall-foliage perfection. The state鈥檚 diverse hardwoods create a dazzling autumnal palette. Leaf peepers from Boston, New York, and elsewhere rubberneck on the easily accessible roads to the south, but Mad River Valley, in the heart of the Green Mountains, is worth the travel time. The 36.5-mile Mad River Byway, a Norman Rockwell鈥搘orthy section of various state routes, winds past showy maple, ash, and birch trees, as well as covered bridges, country stores, and storybook towns like Warren and Waitsfield.

I prefer to ditch the car and cycle for stretches, or take in the colors while hiking or running the trails. The valley is nirvana for mountain bikers, who can ride singletrack at Sugarbush Resort or trail systems like the . Need a down day? The Mad River Glen ski area鈥檚 famed single chair is open for foliage rides three weekends in September and October, or grab a sandwich at the historic Warren Store and visit the region鈥檚 celebrated microbreweries.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: Hikers after a rewarding challenge should trek the , an 11.6-mile slice of the from Lincoln Gap to Appalachian Gap with 8,000 feet of ups and downs.

Pro Tip: Sean Lawson, founder of Lawson鈥檚 Finest Liquids, a brewery in Waitsfield, recommends exploring the trails of Stark Mountain. From the Mad River Glen base area, a 2.5-mile work road climbs 2,036 feet to the summit. Back at the base you can enjoy a good meal and frosty beer at Stark鈥檚 Pub, open Wednesday through Sunday in the fall.

Where to Stay: , a new 24-room base camp with a flow trail off its doorstep, has a bike shop for mountain and gravel rentals and repairs, and sauna huts to soothe weary legs. Creekside tents are available through October. (Rooms from $139 and tents from $99.)

4. Northern Michigan

Why Now: Michigan has the longest freshwater shoreline in the world, and its beaches are prized summer destinations. When the water gets chilly, vacationers leave, but the cool months are a local secret: prime time to hike, pedal, and paddle in Petoskey State Park and Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. With the leaves ablaze, the 20.3-mile Tunnel of Trees Scenic Heritage Route, from Harbor Springs to Cross Village, is at its most spectacular, and best appreciated by bike.

Harvest season in the region鈥檚 bucolic interior means pumpkin patches, , and corn mazes at family-run spots like Friske Farm Market. Time your visit during Traverse City Beer Week, typically early November, or register for the Iceman Cometh Challenge, a 30-mile cross-country mountain-bike race through Pere Marquette State Forest, held the first Saturday of November.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: in Glen Arbor rents bikes (from $32), kayaks (from $68), and paddleboards (from $76), and will deliver equipment for $20.

Pro Tip: From downtown Traverse City, bike seven flat miles along the paved to Farm Club, a massive, cedar-clad barn housing a bakery, market, restaurant, and brewery that pours excellent lagers.

Where to Stay: Located along the Tunnel of Trees, on a hillside above the waters of Lake Michigan, the recently renovated (from $275) has 31 mid-century-modern rooms and a general store stocked with picnic supplies. The rustic , in the northern district of Sleeping Bear Dunes, has 23 tent sites available until the last Sunday in November; reservations are required until October 15 (from $10; park fee also required).

5. Hokkaido, Japan

Why Now: Most people associate Hokkaido, the northernmost of Japan鈥檚 main islands, with the mythic dry, deep snow known as Japow. While skiing and snowboarding still reign supreme here, cycling is fast catching on. Spring through fall, resort towns like Niseko open their trails and lifts to mountain bikers. The region鈥檚 roads, which have wide shoulders for all the great snow, make for roomy road riding once it melts. And Japanese drivers are remarkably courteous to cyclists, giving them a wide berth and passing slowly with a wave.

Routes wind through a changing landscape of sparkling lakes, fertile farmland, rugged coastline, and high mountain passes. Hokkaido鈥檚 six national parks are laced with trails, and I submit that the amber gingkoes and crimson maples are just as pretty as Japan鈥檚 famed cherry blossoms. Steamy onsens abound for soaking sore muscles, and local kaiseki meals and savory bowls of ramen feature seasonal ingredients like salmon, long yams, and pumpkin.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: runs six-, seven-, and nine-day hiking trips among caldera lakes, alpine wetlands, and the dramatic peaks of Daisetsuzan National Park (from $2,197). Last year I joined Cycling Japan guides on a four-day tour from Lake Toya to the Sea of Japan (from $1,130) that was just as delicious as it was scenic, with stops at out-of-the-way restaurants like Udon Nonosan that I鈥檇 never have found on my own.

Pro Tip: All cyclists must stop at intersections with stop signs, and before any designating lines there, notes Ayaka Yoshikawa, cofounder of 国产吃瓜黑料 Hokkaido. According to police, penalties range from up to 50,000 yen ($320) to a three-month prison sentence.

Where to Stay: Set at the foot of Mount Yotei (Hokkaido鈥檚 Mount Fuji), 24-room (from $210) has both Western- and Japanese-style accommodations, some with private saunas and tubs that feed from hot springs. There are also communal soaking baths, a terrace with a foot bath, and multiple dining options, including a teppanyaki counter.

6. Churchill, Canada

Why Now: Known as the polar bear capital of the world, this northern Manitoba port town attracts earth鈥檚 largest concentration of the massive white bruins each fall. From mid-October through November, an estimated 1,000 bears congregate along Hudson Bay, waiting for the ice to form so they can use it as a platform for seal hunting. The tundra takes on vibrant crimson and golden hues鈥攁 striking backdrop for photographing the majestic mammals, along with Arctic foxes and snowy owls.

You also have a strong chance of catching the natural world鈥檚 best light show: Churchill averages more than 300 nights of auroral activity throughout the year.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: The carbon-neutral travel company has been running polar-bear-viewing tours here since 1989. Groups of up to 16 visitors join biologists, climatologists, and other experts in custom Polar Rover vehicles to explore the full range of the Churchill Wildlife Management Area (six-day trips, from $7,795). Seeking something slightly less involved? offers day tours in 40-seat Tundra Buggies ($400).

Pro Tip: While onshore, 鈥渢he bears are really active, as they know it鈥檚 not much longer before they return to the sea ice,鈥� says Court Whelan, chief sustainability officer of Natural Habitat 国产吃瓜黑料s. 鈥淭hey prowl and interact with one another鈥攁 rare occurrence anywhere else.鈥�

Where to Stay: For a DIY trip, the simple, 31-room (from $349) is conveniently set in the heart of Churchill, and its pub has a sensational menu; try the veggie burger with yam fries.

7. Grand Valley, Colorado

Why Now: Located on the Western Slope of the Rocky Mountains, around 230 miles west of Denver, the Grand Valley is the ultimate autumn playground. Both an agricultural haven and a geological anomaly, it has vineyards and farmland reminiscent of those in Sonoma, California; storied singletrack to rival Moab, Utah鈥檚; and the second-largest concentration of natural arches in the world, behind that of Arches National Park. Moreover, it鈥檚 home to Colorado National Monument, often heralded as a mini Grand Canyon.

In fall, the vistas glow with gold, the broiling summer heat (average daytime temperatures in July and August are in the nineties) subsides, and with school back in session, you might not pass another hiker or biker on the trail. After a full day outdoors, I like to hit the funky towns of Fruita, Palisade, and Grand Junction for a delicious meal at locavore-focused spots like Tacoparty and Cruise Control.

I was once skeptical of the Colorado wine scene, but it鈥檚 legit, and this area is the epicenter. Harvest gets underway in September and coincides with the Colorado Mountain Winefest, a one-day event (this year on the 21st) that will school you in high-elevation varietals like viognier, Riesling, and mourv猫dre.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: One of the country鈥檚 longest and gnarliest singletrack trails for downhillers is the . The route, considered challenging, starts at the top of Grand Mesa and descends 32 miles and over 6,000 feet. offers drop-offs through October 8 ($38) and rents mountain bikes (from $90).

For something mellower, the East Orchard Mesa Loop between Grand Junction and Palisade is a 25-mile cycling path that passes a dozen wineries (like Colorado Cellars) and farm stands while offering views of the Grand Mesa, the world鈥檚 largest flat-top mountain. (Located within 60 miles of Grand Junction, it has great hiking.)

Pro Tip: Patric Matysiewski, winemaker at Sauvage Spectrum Estate Winery and Vineyard, loves the carrot margarita at Fidel鈥檚 Cocina and Bar in downtown Palisade. 鈥淚t鈥檚 the best way to end your day,鈥� he says.

Where to Stay: The biking- and food-obsessed owners of the 17-room in Palisade (from $144) are happy to recommend their favorite singletrack trails, tasting rooms, and restaurants. In Grand Junction, 鈥檚 tiny homes, Airstreams, and RV hookups are steps from the Colorado River within Las Colonias Park (from $35).

8. Costa Rica鈥檚 Southern Caribbean Coast

Why Now: Fall is widely considered the rainy season in Costa Rica. Don鈥檛 be put off. These are the greenest months, when the jungle is lush (in the dry season, from December to April, it can look withered and brown), the rains (heaviest from May to November) fade, and travelers can score serious deals on hotels. On the Caribbean coast, which is less trodden than the Pacific side, September and October are the driest months.

Head to the province of Lim贸n to discover the region鈥檚 rich Afro-Caribbean culture and protected natural areas鈥攊ncluding Gandoca-Manzanillo Wildlife Refuge, a rainforest-meets-beach setting with rare mangrove oyster beds and endangered manatees and ocelots. The nearby Cahuita National Park is home to the largest coral-reef system in the country, and in autumn the waters are calm and clear for diving and snorkeling. By November the surf picks up, and Salsa Brava, arguably Costa Rica鈥檚 biggest barreling wave, becomes a proving ground for skilled wave riders.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: In addition to offering surf lessons and hosting surf camps, guides SUP and kayak trips on the Punta Uva River (from $65 for 2.5 hours) and boat trips to snorkel the reef of Cahuita National Park ($90 for three hours).

Pro Tip: Spend some time at the in Puerto Viejo; it offers classes in numerous styles, and has a vegetarian restaurant with jackfruit tostadas and beetroot-hummus toast.

Where to Stay: The mother-and-daughter-owned has 15 boho-chic rooms nestled on a forest-fringed beach in Puerto Viejo (from $287). I鈥檓 a fan of the free bikes and snorkel gear, and applaud the property鈥檚 commitment to hiring and sourcing locally.

9. Tasmania, Australia

Why Now: About half of this island province is reserved land, including national parks and a Unesco World Heritage wilderness, rich with distinctive flora and fauna and webbed with more than 1,700 miles of trails. Down Under, September ushers in spring, which means Tassie鈥檚 daffodils, cherry blossoms, and tulips are popping, and wombats and pademelons may be active.

Longer daylight hours combine with milder temperatures to provide optimal conditions for hiking the many coastal trails, such as the Bay of Fires, a 31-mile, multiday route in the northeast that runs from Binalong Bay to Eddystone Point. And austral spring marks the annual and biannual migration of southern right and humpback whales, respectively, so keep an eye out for spouts and breaches.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: Tasmania has 19 national parks and countless bushwalking options. Off the east coast, Maria Island is nicknamed Tasmania鈥檚 Noah鈥檚 Ark, due to its astounding diversity of wildlife. On a four-day trek with , I ticked off sightings of kangaroos, Tasmanian devils, wallabies, and wombats, and stayed in the company鈥檚 private bush camps just steps from the beach (from $1,940).

Pro Tip: Hobart鈥檚 Sunday Farm Gate Market is a must. At its center, you鈥檒l find a collection of street vendors serving everything from Chinese bao to Sri Lankan curries.

Where to Stay: , one of Australia鈥檚 most famous bush treks, finishes on the doorstep of , a 1930s hydroelectricity station turned adventure base at the southern end of Cradle Mountain鈥揕ake St. Clair National Park (from $402). Choose from stylish bell tents or bunk rooms at , which is minutes from surf breaks and mountain-bike trails (from $150).

10. The Scottish Highlands

Why Now: Tourist season here ends with summer, and in the fall you鈥檒l find solitude on the trails and stellar lodging deals. In September, the hillsides are still carpeted in lilac-hued heather, and the pesky midges are withdrawing. By October, the deer grass on the moors turns a moody russet, and the glens echo with stag calls and the clatter of antlers amid the annual rut. The Cairngorms, which make up the UK鈥檚 largest national park, are similar in latitude to Alaska and Norway.

In late September and October, reduced daylight combined with the park鈥檚 clear skies increase the chances that the aurora will be visible. In the pubs, menus showcase the seasonal bounty: lamb, beef, and venison, damsons (plums), and native Scottish oysters. Fall鈥檚 best pairing, however, is a roaring fire and a dram of local whisky.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: Offered in September and early October, 鈥檚 ten-day Highlights of the Highlands group hiking trip averages two to four hours of hill walking per day around Glencoe鈥檚 glacier-scoured peaks and the silvery moors of Cairngorms National Park (from $7,335). Guests stay in cushy accommodations, like lochside Monachyle Mhor, and a boat trip up the west coast promises minke whale and porpoise sightings. October is prone to cold spells and rain, so pack layers and rain gear.

Pro Tip: In Cairngorms National Park, indulge at a locals鈥� favorite: Nethy House Caf茅, with its locally sourced seasonal menu and homestyle baking.

Where to Stay: The maintains a network of these traditional bare-bones lodgings for adventurous hikers. Check for closures in hunting season, much of which typically wraps up in mid-October.

11. Shenandoah Valley, Virginia

Why Now: Once the summer humidity subsides, Shenandoah National Park becomes a paradise for hikers, who have more than 500 miles of trails鈥攊ncluding 100 miles on the Appalachian Trail鈥攖o explore. The fall colors are truly mesmerizing. Most leaf peepers ogle the views along Skyline Drive. This sole road through the park can be driven or biked, and spans 105 miles from Front Royal in the north to Waynesboro in the south, with 75 overlooks along the way. Fair warning, traffic can be bumper-to-bumper, so hit the road early.

Some of the best treetop panoramas are found along gravel-bike-friendly fire roads in the George Washington and Jefferson National Forests on the sides of the valley and on farm roads heading out of the towns of Luray and Stanley. The farms sprout pumpkin patches and corn mazes, and orchards sell freshly pressed apple cider.

国产吃瓜黑料 Intel: 鈥檚 five-day gravel tour of the valley bases out of the hip in downtown Harrisonburg. On day four, you鈥檒l climb nearly 4,000 feet in 23 miles to reach Reddish Knob, one of the highest peaks along the Virginia鈥揥est Virginia border. From the summit you鈥檒l enjoy 360-degree vistas of foliage (from $1,999).

, founded over 30 years ago, takes newbies up climbs on crags set 3,000 feet above the valley floor (from $140).

Pro Tip: 鈥淭he park鈥檚 best-kept secret is its South District,鈥� says Andy Nichols, director of programs at Shenandoah Mountain Guides and School. 鈥淭he mile-loop is one of the best sunset hikes in all of the East.鈥�

Where to Stay: Page Valley is nicknamed the 鈥渃abin capital of Virginia.鈥� Some gems on Airbnb include three-bedroom Whispering Woods (from $328) near Luray, just a half-hour from Skyline Drive, and Bearloga, a four-bedroom cabin with a sauna and hot tub set on 75 acres in Stanley (from $400).

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Let me acknowledge, right up front, that in this ghastly era of anthropogenic global warming I combusted a whole bunch of fossil fuel in order to descend from the cool green sanctuary of the Colorado Rockies, where I鈥檓 blessed to reside, and cross the hot, dry, fiercely sunburned interior West. My destination was the kiln of the Mojave Desert and, sequestered within that immensity of thirst, a line on the thermometer: 120 degrees Fahrenheit.

Or perhaps worse. It depended on where my best friend Sean suggested we camp.

Was this a vacation? A gross display of privilege? According to the CDC, extreme heat waves cause . Granted, I do not belong to the especially endangered demographic groups: infant, senior, unhoused, impoverished, employed outdoors. The list is tragic and long. But trust me, the trip wasn鈥檛 idle amusement. I felt compelled to make raw somatic contact with our new and thoroughly dismaying climate regime, to face the faceless temperatures of the 21st century.

Sean is a social-studies teacher in Las Vegas who spends much of his summer break driving random dirt roads, exploring the desiccated, dust-choked hinterlands of Nevada and California. His style is the opposite of athletic, unless geography paired with existential contemplation constitutes a sport. He pokes around, parks the Hyundai, plants a parasol, eats and drinks, hikes a mile or three at dusk, counts shooting stars, sleeps, moves on. The very emptiness and quiet are his activity, the elemental place鈥攐verwhelming in a dozen different ways鈥攈is passion.

Chatting on the phone in early July, he informed me that the mercury in his apartment in North Vegas was registering 120 degrees, a record for the city. 鈥淎/C shut off yesterday,鈥� he said. 鈥淜icked back on this morning. The grid鈥 surge鈥y unit鈥 dunno. In any case, I鈥檓 heading out for 24 hours.鈥� Air temps at Furnace Creek, in Death Valley National Park, were approaching the world鈥檚 highest reliable measurement of 130 degrees, made there in 2021. 鈥淚 bet it鈥檒l only be teens in the Mojave Preserve,鈥� he continued. 鈥淎nd single digits or lower at night.鈥�

This omission of the 鈥渉undred鈥� prior to 鈥渢eens鈥� and 鈥渟ingle digits鈥� reminded me of how folks at Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, where I once worked, eschew the phrase 鈥渂elow zero鈥� because, quite simply, 鈥渁bove zero鈥� doesn鈥檛 occur in that part of Antarctica. I鈥檇 confronted (negative) 80 degrees during my stint on The Ice and handled it pretty well. In fact, I鈥檇 relished the challenge of strenuous labor, the steady, drudging effort that pumps blood to fingers and toes, lungs and brain. Our apocalyptic present is another matter. Strenuous labor is potentially lethal and the steady, drudging effort is that of patience: hunkering in the shade, trying your damnedest not to budge.

Sean isn鈥檛 exactly a fan of the heat, but he accepts its authority, and this allows him to briefly sneak outside even when doing so is deemed reckless, or at least exceedingly unpleasant. We decided I should visit him ASAP to join one of his 24-hour excursions into the reality that almost nobody is eager to embrace鈥攃all it our current and future home.

I wrote an email to my parents in Vermont after hanging up the phone, explaining the plan, tacking on a paragraph about anxiety and electrolytes. My dad replied: 鈥淒o be careful as we bubble at 108 degrees.鈥� I was unfamiliar with the verb 鈥渢o bubble鈥� in the context of human physiology, but caught his drift. My mom, whose hairdresser claims I am responsible for the grays she is paid to dye blond, cut to the chase with her usual no-nonsense wisdom: 鈥淵ou鈥檝e never experienced that kind of heat. I don鈥檛 think we are meant to experience that kind of heat. I鈥檒l just say this鈥攕how it the utmost respect.”

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