THE ART OF GETTING LOST

NOT EVERYONE HAS A MONTH OF VACATION every year. Not everyone can take two consecutive weeks off work whenever they want to. Sometimes obligations other than work squeeze our schedules so it’s hard to even take a whole week off. But almost everyone has a weekend, and even if you can’t take a whole weekend off of work, family, and housework all at once, hopefully you can take a weekend off every once in a while (if you can’t, this book may turn out to provide joy only vicariously). So what can you do with 48 hours? You can climb Oregon’s Mount Hood, or Mount Whitney, the tallest peak in the Lower 48. You could spend the night at a mountain hut in New Hampshire or Colorado or trek to Havasupai. You could also clean your garage and/or mow your lawn, but those things aren’t covered in this book, because although they are somewhat fulfilling and—let’s face it—sometimes necessary on weekends, they’re not adventures, or at least not in the sense we’re going for here. So set your sights on something a little bolder.

#25 Climb Mount Hood, Oregon

DESCRIPTION: If you want to see what it’s like to climb a big, snowy, glaciated peak, start with Mount Hood at 11,240 feet. It’s low altitude (compared to other snow climbs like Mount Rainier and higher US mountains like Mount Whitney), it has a very short technical section, and with a guide, a climb to the summit via the standard route only takes 1 day (following 1 day of learning climbing skills).

Hood, the high point of Oregon, is visible from plenty of spots in the city of Portland, above the downtown skyline. Thankfully, you don’t have to climb all that elevation in one day—the parking lot at the starting point for Mount Hood climbs sits at about 5,900 feet. Summit day with a guided group covers 5,300 feet of snow climbing, the majority of which gradually ascends parallel to the Mount Hood Meadows ski resort, before tackling the final, steeper Hogsback formation through the Pearly Gates to the summit—a pitch that requires crampons and an ice axe, as well as roping up if you’re in a guided group.

From the top of Mount Hood, assuming a good weather forecast, you’ll see most of the famous Cascade volcanoes—Mount Rainier, Mount St. Helens, Mount Jefferson, Mount Adams, and the Three Sisters—as well as the city of Portland, far below to the west.

#26 Climb Mount Whitney, California

DESCRIPTION: The summit of the highest peak in the Lower 48 doesn’t come easy. Even by its most straightforward route, the Mount Whitney Trail is 22 miles round-trip from the trailhead to the summit, and it climbs 6,100 vertical feet, which is roughly equivalent to climbing all 1,576 stairs in the Empire State Building seven times. Oh, and you have to descend all that elevation to get back to your car at the trailhead.

By the numbers, it’s quite obviously worth it at that viewpoint on the crest of the clean white granite of the Sierra Nevada, the highest you can get in the United States without going to Alaska (and climbing in crampons). Otherwise, the Forest Service wouldn’t have to limit the climbing permits to 195 per day between May 1 and November 1. This brings us to the second crux of the climb, aside from the physical fitness—getting a permit. Permits are distributed through a lottery system, starting February 1 of every year, and are difficult to get. To increase your chances, apply for weekday dates instead of weekends, which are the more popular.

When applying, you’ll decide whether you want to tackle the whole thing in 1 day or backpack in and break the climb into 2 days. Both are tough—day hiking the trail is a very long, strenuous day, but you have a light backpack. Backpacking means you’ll climb a few miles of the trail with all your camping gear for the night, then have a head start on your climbing the next morning. Either way, it’s a big challenge with a big reward.

Don’t Let Your Suitcase Become a Ball and Chain

YEARS OF BACKPACKING AND CLIMBING have taught me many things, but maybe most of all, they’ve taught me efficiency. Just like the saying “The things you own end up owning you,” packing for a trip can give you a hard-to-admit dose of reality: The things you bring can end up bringing you down.

Packing is an exercise in restraint. If you’ve ever packed for a few days of living with a backpack on your back, you know on the first day whether or not you’ve succeeded. Picking up a backpack and walking the first few steps on a trail can be a very unforgiving reality check: Man, this is heavy. Maybe I could have gone without the (a) 10-ounce flask of whiskey, or the (b) 12-ounce extra camp shoes, or the (c) 12-ounce camp pillow—or all of the above, because that’s 2 pounds of extra weight!

There’s another saying common to backpackers: Ounces equal pounds, and pounds equal pain. Or: All those little things add up when it comes to carrying everything you need for a week, so watch yourself when you’re packing at home and not worrying about the weight on the trail.

The same is true when traveling, even if you’re not walking on trails with all your gear on your back. A big suitcase can be a major pain to handle, especially if you’re going to more than one destination and using public transit. A few times pulling your giant rolling suitcase out of the back of a taxi or the baggage hold on a train, or trying to hurry across a street or through a busy market, and you might find yourself wishing you had not brought those four extra pairs of shoes or that you had cut the number of shirts and pants in your luggage in half—and just brought a smaller bag.

One of the worst things you can do when you travel is try to re-create all the comforts of your home environment in a new place. If you travel enough, you’re probably going to realize they don’t have your favorite moisturizing lotion halfway around the world, and with any luck, they won’t have your favorite restaurants from back home, either (and you’ll get to try something new). You can probably live a few days without some of the “necessities” you always have at home.

If you remember that you don’t need to bring your entire house with you, you’ll avoid turning your suitcase into a burden during your trip. Moving efficiently, whether on the trail or between trains, can take a lot of the stress out of the adventure, and going without a few comforts can teach you a lot about yourself and open you up to new experiences in new places.

#27 Run a Trail Ultramarathon

DESCRIPTION: What’s the difference between a marathon and an ultra-marathon? In the purist’s definition, a few feet—an ultramarathon is any distance longer than a 26.2-mile marathon. That said, you probably won’t find many 26.3-mile “ultramarathons.” If you poke around the Internet looking for ultras to sign up for, you’ll notice that the shortest-distance ones are the 50K distance, or 31 miles. Could you run an ultra-marathon? Well, it’s only 4.8 miles longer than a marathon, so if you’ve ever run (or considered running) a marathon, you can probably handle a 50K.

A few things you should know about 50Ks: Trail running is different from road running: You’re on a rougher surface with plenty of roots and rocks to watch out for as you run. If you haven’t done much trail running before signing up for a trail ultramarathon, include some trail runs in your training to get used to the uneven terrain. In ultramarathons, walking is a part of the race: Many ultrarunners walk all the uphill sections of the trail and run downhills and flat sections. And last but not least, you’ll need to eat. Aid stations in ultramarathons are stocked with food—actual food, often including burritos, sandwiches, chips, candy, and lots of other stuff you’d never see during a road race.

Most runners start at one of the lower-distance ultramarathon races before graduating to the 100-mile distance. There’s no hard-and-fast rule that says you have to do that, but it is helpful because you’ll learn lots of things in the shorter distances you can apply to a 100-mile race. Unless you have a gift for long runs, most 100-mile races will take 20 hours or more, up to 36 hours for mountain races with lots of elevation gain.

#28 Climb the Brigata Tridentina Via Ferrata, Italy

DESCRIPTION: If you’ve always wanted to try outdoor rock climbing but have been intimidated by all the specialized knowledge and gear required, you’ll probably love via ferratas—mountaineering routes equipped with ladder rungs and cables to secure yourself to where ropes might otherwise be required for safety.

Via ferratas, which means “iron ways,” are most famous for their use in World War I, when troops from Italy and the Austro-Hungarian Empire fought fierce battles in the rugged northern Dolomites and needed safe methods of transporting troops and equipment around and over the steep limestone peaks. Plenty of sources say via ferratas were “invented” by the Italian army during those battles, but several routes built in Germany, Austria, and Italy were installed before the war, from 1899 to 1911.

There are more than 200 via ferrata routes in the Italian Dolomites, and the Tridentina is the most popular for good reason: It’s more than 1,000 feet of vertical gain, and the climbing would be mostly 4th- and low-5th-class on the Yosemite scale. The end is a 40-foot suspension bridge from the Exner Tower to the main plateau, hanging over a 60-foot drop. The Tridentina is doable in a day but is even better as a weekend trip—climb the via ferrata one day, continue a few hundred more feet to the Rifugio Pisciadu, and stay the night, descending one of the trails the next day.

Rent a Car You Can Sleep In and Save $$

IN 2007, MY FRIEND AND I WANTED TO SEE ALASKA. We didn’t have much money, but we had 9 days. Boat rides, sightseeing flights, and the train all cost money—and at the time, it seemed like a lot of money.

So we rented a station wagon, which, to our delight, was just long enough for both of us to lie down inside. We could camp wherever we could find a quiet spot to park for the night, and my friend would feel more comfortable sleeping in bear country with a sturdy vehicle separating her from Alaska’s wildlife (somewhat more comforting than a tent wall).

Here’s one of the oldest “dirtbag” traveler tricks ever: If you can sleep in your car, you can save a ton of money. And here’s a contemporary secret: It doesn’t have to be some fancy camper van with a full bathroom and kitchen inside. Plenty of station wagons and SUVs have fold-down rear seats that make enough room for two average-sized people.

Yes, hotels are nice, and it’s nice to shower every few days, but if you can avoid them, you don’t spend as much money. Just say for a 9-day trip like we took, we had spent $100 per night on a hotel room in a different town—that’s $800.

If you’re sleeping in hotels, you’re also beholden to a schedule—especially in places where open hotel rooms are hard to find during the busy seasons. So you make reservations in advance to make sure you have a place to sleep, and then your whole trip is structured around your hotel reservations—we have to be in Town X on the first night, Town Y the second night, Town Z the third night, and so on. There’s no room for improvisation unless you want to spend more money by canceling your reservation and finding a hotel room that works with your new destination.

You don’t necessarily have to have a full camping setup to sleep in a rented station wagon or SUV—a couple sleeping bags and sleeping pads are really all you need. Of course, if you have a small backpacking stove and cook every night, you can save money and have dinner in a scenic location (like the oceanfront city campground in Seward, Alaska, for example). On the other hand, if you’re saving money by not sleeping in hotels every night, that’s a lot more money you can spend sampling the local restaurants for breakfast and dinner.

Check your car rental rates next time you’re booking a trip. Is it worth spending a couple hundred dollars more to get an SUV you can sleep in a few nights of the trip? I’d guess it might be. Just make sure you can fit most of your luggage in the front seats so you have enough room to sleep in the back.

#29 Spend a Night at a 10th Mountain Division Hut, Colorado

DESCRIPTION: Ski vacations are great, but when you get there, you might realize you weren’t the only one who had an idea to spend a weekend or a week skiing. Colorado’s 10th Mountain Division huts provide real winter solitude and can only be accessed by skiing or snowshoeing.

Like that ski chalet you rented a few years ago, you’ll have great snow-covered mountain views; but unlike that ski chalet, you won’t have to wait in line with hundreds of other people when it’s time to stop for lunch in the middle of your ski day. Also, unlike that ski chalet, you will have to bring everything you need in a backpack (so you’ll probably be leaving behind that 12-pack of microbrews, or at least switching it out for a small bottle of whiskey). Once you’re there, you’ll have the place relatively to yourself—the 10th Mountain Division huts are reservation only and small capacity. If you can find 15 friends to join you for the night, you’ll fill the entire hut; otherwise, you might be sharing it with one or two other parties.

The average route to a 10th Mountain Division hut is 6 miles long and gains 1,500 to 2,500 feet on the way, so you’ll need backcountry skiing skills, and at least one member of your group will need to have route-finding skills and avalanche awareness. You can also hire a guide to take your group to the hut. Reservations fill up quickly and early, so start planning in summertime for a winter trip.

#30 Trek to Havasupai, Arizona

DESCRIPTION: Whether you know it or not, you’ve probably seen a photo of Havasupai Falls somewhere: long cascades of water emptying into emerald pools in the middle of towering red and brown canyon walls.

There’s a reason you don’t see crowds of hundreds of people in all those photos: To reach the waterfalls, you have to walk 10 miles each way. Supai, the village near the waterfalls and the capital of the Havasupai Indian Reservation, has no road to it and can only be accessed by foot, mule, or helicopter (it’s the only town in the United States where mail is still delivered by mule).

From the trailhead, hikers descend 2,300 feet over 10 miles to get to the falls, walking in full sun a lot of that time. (Of course, you’ll have to reverse your route and climb all that on the way out.) After 8 miles, you’ll arrive in the town of Supai, where there is a lodge, convenience store, and café. The final 2 miles to the campground access three waterfalls, and below the campground are two additional waterfalls: Mooney Falls (the tallest of the five waterfalls) and Beaver Falls (the last waterfall that requires more adventurous hiking and scrambling to access).

Campground reservations (or reservations at the lodge) are required, and day hiking to the falls from the trailhead is not allowed. Truthfully, this is not a trip you’d want to cram into a single day anyway. Two days is the minimum you’ll want to spend, and 3 days is better.

The 3-Day Rule

EVER HAD THAT FEELING WHEN YOU GET AWAY for a weekend that you didn’t really “get away” from anything? Like you barely got to where you were going and got your stuff unpacked before it was time to pack up and travel back home again?

It’s not just you, and it’s not just a feeling. You actually do need a few days just to get into a different state of mind on your vacation, something that’s been theorized by guides and adventurers for a long time and that’s more recently been studied by researchers. As writer Florence Williams discusses the Three-Day Effect in her book The Nature Fix, two studies showed improved creative thinking and insight problemsolving among subjects who had been on 4- and 6-day wilderness trips.

If you’ve ever been on a long trip away from “the real world,” you probably don’t need too much scientific proof to notice there’s a difference in your thinking during that trip. I’ve experienced it on a 28-day raft trip and multiple 7- to 10-day backpacking and kayak trips. On the first day, it seems like my brain goes back and forth between what I’m saying goodbye to (did I make my mortgage payment, did I throw out those leftovers in the fridge, did I remember to put my car keys somewhere safe so when I get back to my car I will be able to drive home, have I absolutely taken care of everything I needed to work-wise before I left?) and my new reality (where did I pack my toothbrush, did I bring enough calories for this many days out/this much mileage, is my headlamp in the top of my backpack?). On the second day, the thoughts of “home” and “work” seem to decrease to almost nothing, and on the third day, I’m able to concentrate fully on where I am and what I’m doing—not to mention I have my routine dialed in and know exactly where my toothbrush and headlamp are in my backpack.

From Day 3 onward, I’m fully engaged in the new environment. I’ve forgotten about my “real job,” and my new job is to do all the things I need to do to make the trip a success: get up early enough to get packed and hike to the next campsite before afternoon thunderstorms roll in, take care of my feet and gear so they’ll last the entire trip, pack my backpack so it’s evenly weighted and everything I need is where I can find it.

After Day 3, I couldn’t be less concerned with work. The questions like “What if something comes up and my coworkers don’t know what to do without me there?” fade into shrugs of “They’re smart; they’ll figure it out.” A few days later, I’m so happy with my adventure life that I wonder if I even need to go back to work at all. But then, of course, the trip ends, and I remember I get fulfillment from other things besides tramping around in nature. Back to work I go, refreshed.

If you’ve never experienced it, I can’t recommend it enough. Give yourself a weeklong vacation—a full week, not including your travel on either end of those 7 days—and you’ll see. Especially since it’s scientifically proven.

#31 Overnight at a White Mountain Hut, New Hampshire

DESCRIPTION: How does this sound: backpacking into the White Mountains without having to carry a tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, stove, pots, dinner, or breakfast? Sounds like you’ll have a pretty light backpack, doesn’t it? If you book a night at one of the Appalachian Mountain Club’s White Mountain huts, that’s exactly what will happen: You’ll sleep in a bunk with a roof over your head, have a hot breakfast and dinner served to you, and enjoy great views of some of the proudest mountains in the Northeast.

Most of the White Mountain huts are a short hike from the trailhead, the longest being 4.6 miles, but they’re often steep, gaining a couple thousand feet of elevation. They’re all fully staffed during the summer and early fall. Two hiker shuttles run the length of the Whites during high season, and the only gear you’ll need for sleeping is a lightweight sleep sack. There’s also running water at the huts (although it’s not heated), but as “roughing it” goes, the White Mountain huts are pretty cushy.

An overnight at a hut is a great way to spend a weekend, but if you can, a couple nights are better so you can enjoy hiking from the hut or just sitting on the porch while reading a paperback and enjoying the view. The more adventurous might consider a full traverse of the hut system over 56 miles of trail for a once-in-a-lifetime week on top of the White Mountains.

WEEKEND-LONG ADVENTURES