I’M TALKING TO Pavlo the Sailor in a back-alley Piraeus café, where mustached old men sip Greek coffee each morning under blueing Titanic posters and generic wall murals of the Acropolis. It’s two days before I’m scheduled to sail the Greek islands, and this has proven my favorite way to kill time in Athens’s old industrial port town. The harbor sits just three blocks away, and apart from the café, every shop in the alley sells buoys, rope, or life preservers.

sailing the Greek Isles

sailing the Greek Isles

GRECIAN FORMULA: Motoring around on the island of Sifnos; below, scenes from the Cyclades.

sailing the Greek Isles

sailing the Greek Isles

ODYSSEAN DISTRACTIONS: The village of Oia, on Santorini; right, Swimming in Santorini's sunken caldera.

sailing the Greek Isles

Though he tells me he has plenty of experience at sea, Pavlo doesn’t look much like a sailor: no wool cap, no bristly beard, no faded tattoos. His appearance is closer to that of a scientist: slight of build, clean-shaven, with graying hair and an intense gaze. When I tell him about my plans, he nods approvingly and lights a Marlboro. “If you’re going to write an article about sailing in Greece,” he says, “you must mention Odysseus.”

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“I don’t want to write about myths,” I tell him. “I want to see the Greek islands as they are today. Besides, Odysseus sailed to Ithaca; I’ll be sailing in the Cyclades.”

Pavlo puffs on his cigarette and thinks this over carefully. “I have seen the Cyclades many times,” he says. “Each visit to each island depends on when you go, who you go with, and how long you stay.”

“Exactly,” I say. “It’s subjective. That’s why Odysseus has nothing to do with me.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong.” Pavlo’s eyes glitter through a cloud of smoke. “That’s why Odysseus has everything to do with you.”

THREE DAYS later I find myself in eight-foot seas off the coast of Serifos Island, trying not to vomit as I wrap the mainsheet onto the winch of a 55-foot sailboat. The boat’s skipper, an unflappable 34-year-old Californian named Max Fancher, comes over to assess my work. “You almost got it,” he says diplomatically. “Only you should probably wrap it clockwise instead of counterclockwise, since the winch only goes in one direction.”

Nodding at my own mistake—a blatant flub, akin to putting on underwear over the outside of my pants—I unwrap the winch and start over.

In spite of my seasickness and nautical ineptitude, I’m happy to be sailing into the heart of the Cyclades—a stunningly beautiful archipelago of some 30 major islands southeast of the Greek mainland in the Aegean. Indeed, when most people envision the Greek islands, the Cyclades are what they see: dramatic cliffs and golden beaches; ridges crowned with blue-domed churches; harbors clustered with whitewashed cubical houses. To glimpse these islands from the seat of a plane or the deck of a commercial ferry is no doubt a thrill, but I’ve resolved to explore them in the purest sense. Just as the Sahara is best seen by camel and Machu Picchu is ideally approached on foot, I’m wagering that the Cyclades are best experienced from the deck of a sailboat.

The only problem is that I know very little about sailing—which is why I’ve joined an eight-boat flotilla organized by Berkeley-based OCSC Sailing. Our goal for the next two weeks is to island-hop through the Cyclades to the gorgeous volcanic crescent of Santorini, then loop our way back to Athens—a journey of 300 nautical miles. Some of the 46 sailors in our flotilla are folks who’ve trained for months on San Francisco Bay specifically for this kind of experience; others, like Gar Duke and Nicole Friend, at the helm of the Dafne, are sharpening their skills in anticipation of buying their own boat and sailing it around the world.

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My boat, the Assos, consists of Captain Max, his fiancée, Maggie Holmes, a first mate, a photographer, and five female novices ranging in age from 25 to 36. Like me, my fellow novices have come here to mix a hands-on vacation in the Greek islands with informal sailing instruction. Unlike the lessons OCSC offers on San Francisco Bay, this experience does not involve book study or comprehensive training. Rather, those who want to get a taste of sailing are invited to learn the ropes (which, Max informs me, are called lines) by helping with the day-to-day operation of the boat.

Amid the learning, Max continually reminds us we’re on vacation, and the atmosphere on board the Assos is fun and relaxed. Most of my boatmates are friends of Maggie’s, and they all share her insouciant intelligence, a predilection for wearing bikinis, and the tendency to giggle whenever they hear the name Assos. I have a boyish crush on every one of them, despite the fact that most of them have thrown up at least once today.

Rewrapping the sheet, I grind the winch and adjust the mainsail. The Assos pitches in the waves and sea spray whips across the cockpit. As we clear the lee of Serifos Island, the wind edges up past 25 knots and Captain Max decides our crew has had enough drama for one day. Sheeting in the sails, we motor across the channel to the island of Sifnos, where we moor for the night. We awake the following morning to angry whitecaps churning the channel and reports of 60-knot gusts along the 53-mile route to Santorini. Until these winds let up, Max tells us, we’ll be marooned on Sifnos.

COMPARED WITH THE MARQUEE islands of the Cyclades—Santorini, Ios, Mykonos—Sifnos doesn’t have much of a reputation. According to Herodotus, the gold and silver mines on this 30-square-mile island made it the richest in the Aegean in the sixth century b.c. Two hundred years later, with its wealth exhausted, it collapsed into insignificance. Since then, Sifnos (pop. 2,500) has existed as a nondescript outpost, known more for its poets and pottery than politics or geography.

Despite the island’s lack of distinction, however, the Assos (as my boatmates and I have taken to calling one another) immediately fall in love with Sifnos. The tourist crowds have left with high season, and we have the island mostly to ourselves. Renting motorcycles, we cruise up intricately terraced valleys to the central plateau, where the houses of Apollonia lie scattered like big white dice among blue-domed churches and olive groves. We wander out to the far coast and swim off empty beaches under ridges dotted with almond trees and clumps of wild juniper. We explore the mazelike alleyways in the hilltop fortress of Kastro, with its bright-pink bougainvillea creeping over shuttered windows and stray cats blinking in the sunlight. In the evening, we sit outside at wooden restaurant tables and dine on tzatziki, olives, stuffed peppers, lamb, and local white wine. After dark, we hike up to the empty monasteries overlooking the harbor, where we listen to the wind and the tinkling of goat bells. One day on Sifnos stretches into two, two days stretch into three.

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Our talk of winds and weather has given way to sunbathing and cliff diving, and we spend most of our time swimming in a turquoise cove under the cliffs of Kastro. As the sun sets, I stroke slowly along the cliff’s edge, disturbing schools of fish that dart beneath me through big beams of late-day sunlight. I flip over onto my back and watch butterflies skim the water as doves dart in the sky above. If the lotus eaters of Odysseus’s day had it any better than this, I’d be surprised.

After three blissfully indolent days on Sifnos, Captain Max reports that the winds have calmed; we raise anchor and our casual crash course in sailing resumes. As I practice tying soggy half hitches and sheet bends in a rainy stretch of sea near Folegandros Island, Max assures me that the willingness to make mistakes speeds the learning process. “Sometimes you learn best by just going out to sea and having things happen,” he says.

The more time I spend aboard the Assos, the more I appreciate the way sailing connects me to the rhythms of the weather and the water. Away from land, moment-by-moment life is less of an abstraction, and the sea gradually reveals itself as an intricate and powerful wilderness. Moreover, I’m discovering that so many of the metaphors one uses to describe life on land originated from the rituals of the sea. Many times—when asking if we’re “making headway,” for instance, or offering to “batten down the hatches”—I find myself using correct sailing terminology entirely by accident. With each day at sea, through trial and error, I get more and more comfortable with my role on the boat.

TWO DAYS OUT OF SIFNOS, the rain clears and we sail into the caldera of Santorini under brilliant blue skies. Often associated with the lost city of Atlantis, this caldera dates back to around 1500 b.c., when one of the biggest volcanic eruptions in recorded history collapsed the middle of the island and sent deadly tidal waves surging out across the eastern Mediterranean. More than 3,500 years later, the dramatic, red-veined cliffs that rim the caldera are studded with elegant churches, flagstone paths, and pastel-hued houses. It’s a singularly gorgeous sight, and we trim in our sails and drift around the 32-square-mile caldera to take it all in.

Later, when my boatmates and I dinghy in to the Santorini shore, we discover an island snarled with rental-car traffic jams, high-tension power lines, and billboards for places like Señor Zorba’s Mexican Restaurant. After the sleepy anonymity we enjoyed on Sifnos, this comes as a letdown.

We make our way to the clifftop village of Oia, which proves more authentic, with its twisting alleyways, cave houses, and grand Orthodox churches, though visitors from places like Houston, Helsinki, and Hong Kong easily outnumber the 500 or so locals. The time-honored tradition here is to photograph the sunset as it glitters over the waters of the caldera below, and the crew of the Assos is not to be left out. Brandishing our digital cameras, we position ourselves among hundreds of fellow tourists at cliffside, each of us trying to catch the perfect angle of sunlight on the whitewashed mansions and church domes—without getting one another’s arms and heads and cameras in the frame.

Of course, Santorini isn’t the goal of our flotilla as much as a pivot point. After two nights anchored off the volcanic crescent, we begin our journey back to Athens.

As we follow the winds home, each new island yields humble discoveries. On Sikinos, I dine on wild rabbit and hike at night under the stars; in the marble-studded mountains of Naxos, I talk politics and drink Nescafé with Greek shepherds; on Paros, I eat ice cream along the harbor while a film crew shoots scenes for a Greek soap opera. Not the stuff of Odysseus, perhaps, but I find charm in the buzz of each little adventure.

On our final day at sea—the 39-mile leg from Kea to Marina Alimos, outside Athens—a pod of dolphins begins to flirt off our port bow. We fire up the engine and weave along with the gray creatures for the good part of an hour before running out of fuel. In an instant, the dolphins are gone and the Assos is left bobbing off the Greek coast.

We have only a hint of wind for our sails—and the port is still more than ten miles away—so Captain Max has us haul out a colorful spinnaker. With two weeks of experience behind us, we rig the downwind sail with cheerful efficiency.

For a moment, we roll with the waves as the spinnaker hangs limp at the bow. Then a slight breeze billows the sail, and we witness a phenomenon as elemental and bewitching as a bolt of lightning or a spark of fire: Wind and boat connect, lines go tight, and we surge forward.

As we slowly float toward Athens, I again think back to Pavlo the Sailor. Nearly 100 years ago, the Greek poet Constantine Cavafy also used the example of Odysseus to downplay the importance of one’s final destination. To paraphrase his poem “Ithaca”: Don’t expect Ithaca to give you riches. It has already given you this journey.

THE GREECE FLOTILLA was organized by Berkeley-based OCSC Sailing (800-223-2984, ), with boats chartered from the Moorings. In addition to offering vacations, OCSC Sailing runs a school that offers a wide range of courses and activities for all skill levels. Lessons fulfill the requirements of the U.S. Sailing certification system, feature a low student-teacher ratio (three students to one teacher is the maximum), and take place in the scenic and challenging conditions of San Francisco Bay. Flotilla sailing is a great hands-on alternative to traditional cruising, and OCSC Sailing can accommodate novices, in addition to those qualified to skipper and crew their own charter boat. Prices are approximate, since final rates depend on the size of boat, quality of boat, and number of participants. All flotillas run between $150 and $200 per person per day. The prices for Caribbean and South Pacific flotillas include meals, which are not included for Mediterranean flotillas (since great restaurants abound onshore). The Tahiti and Croatia trips do not include hotels (many people sleep exclusively on the boats); and international flights are not included with any of the following trips. 2006 OCSC SAILING SCHEDULE:
Tahiti, July 20–30; $1,800 per person (based on six people per boat); Croatia, September 9–23; $2,200 per person (based on six people per boat); Turkey, June 10–25; Multisport ¹ú²ú³Ô¹ÏºÚÁÏ, $3,500 per person. BOOKS:
The Rough Guide to the Greek Islands ($22) proved to be the most detailed and useful for the Cyclades. Lonely Planet’s Greek Islands ($22) is a dependable (if less detailed) guide. DK Eyewitness Travel Guides’ The Greek Islands ($25) has terrific photos and illustrations to whet one’s appetite for a Cyclades sojourn.

The post Cycladian Rhythm appeared first on ¹ú²ú³Ô¹ÏºÚÁÏ Online.

Carpe Weekend!
There’s a lot to be said for the easy get-out-of-town escape: You roll out a map at five o’clock on Friday, choose a point an hour or two away, pack the ice chest, and throw everything in the car with the dog. Sweet freedom. But be honest: You keep going back to the same spot, don’t you? This summer, break out a bigger map, one that has all your dream getaways on it. In the pages that follow, we present a varied menu of tasty adventures, whether you’re looking for epic bragging rights, a quiet escape for two, an easy-to-reach nexus for a group gathering, or a wild road trip. With the Internet awash in last-minute-travel sites and package deals, the choice is yours. All it takes is two or three days to kick the lazy-summer habit, so extricate yourself from that inflatable pool toy and let the weeds live another day: Now’s your chance to steal away to someplace completely different.

» Extreme Relaxation: When nothing but epic downtime will do

» The Road-Trip Cure: Because sometimes you’ve just gotta roll

» The Group Dynamic: Amazing places for a harmonic convergence

» Wilderness Therapy: Lose (and find) yourself in the great wide open

» Just Hit Escape: Point, click, go. Plotting a last-minute getaway is almost that easy.

» The Hub Club: Where you can find the season’s best airfares

» Fast Cultural Fix: Go international without going far

» Bragging Rights: Be the hero of your Monday-morning meeting

» Saturday-Night Special: Even when you’re short on time, you can go long on adventure

» Romantic Hideouts: Feel the love, without the heart-shaped bathtub

The Road-Trip Cure

Because sometimes you’ve just gotta roll

a. Connecticut River Byway, New Hampshire and Vermont
Set your watch to Norman Rockwell time on back roads along the Connecticut River that were designated a 500-mile national scenic byway last September. Starting in Brattleboro, Vermont, two hours from Boston, trace the river north along the Vermont–New Hampshire state line while hiking in numerous state parks, fishing, and exploring historic towns. Stopping points are the Lauren, a Woodstock, Vermont, inn that opened in May, and, farther north, the 14-room Inn at Mountain View Farm, in East Burke, Vermont. GREAT ESCAPE: Paddle a section of the placid Connecticut near Lancaster, New Hampshire, that’s part of the 740-mile Northern Forest Canoe Trail, inaugurated in June. DETAILS: Connecticut River Scenic Byway Council, 603-826-4800, . The Lauren, doubles from $210; 802-457-1925, . Mountain View Farm, doubles from $155; 800-572-4509, .

b. Red Rock Country, Utah
Ditch the Vegas neon as fast as you can jump into a rental car: It’s only two and a half hours from the Strip to the iconic red-rock cliffs and canyons of Zion National Park. Make yourself at home at the stylish Desert Pearl Inn, in Springdale, and spend a day hiking the park’s 120 miles of trails. Then head 90 minutes southeast to explore Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, a little-visited gem in northern Arizona, before looping back to St. George to climb Sticky Revelations, a classic three-pitch 5.10, at Prophesy Wall. GREAT ESCAPE: The Red Mountain Revitalizer—a full-body treatment—at Sagestone, Red Mountain Spa’s new facility, which opened in January. DETAILS: Desert Pearl Inn, doubles from $133; 888-828-0898, . Red Mountain Spa, doubles from $478, all-inclusive; 800-407-3002, .

c. The Wild Coast, Oregon
For a quick dose of rugged Pacific shoreline, drive northwest from Portland to Astoria, on the mouth of the Columbia River, and stay at the new 46-room Cannery Pier Hotel, set on 100-year-old pilings. Then round Oregon’s northwest corner and hug the coast for about 200 miles on U.S. 101 to Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. En route, stop for surfing near the Columbia River and deep-sea fishing off Newport. Just south of the dunes, head east to I-5 to return to Portland. GREAT ESCAPE: Watch storms roll in from the six-room Heceta Head Lighthouse Bed & Breakfast, near Yachats, 172 miles south of Astoria. DETAILS: Cannery Pier Hotel, doubles, $269; 888-325-4996, . Heceta Head Lighthouse, doubles, $251, including breakfast; 866-547-3696, .

Wilderness Therapy

Lose (and find) yourself in the great wide open

a. Canoeing on Attean Pond, Maine
This is the kind of isolation you fantasize about when you’re stuck in traffic: More than 15 uninhabited islands break the cool, black waters of Maine’s Attean Pond, where you’ll find 28 miles of spruce-and-maple shoreline. Launch a canoe from Attean Landing, three and a half hours north of Portland, and paddle west about four miles to Hodgeman’s Beach to pitch a tent on a broad and sandy strand just west of a small bay popular with moose. Don’t miss the 1.5-mile hike to the top of nearby 2,200-foot Sally Mountain for views west into Holeb Pond, or drift out to cast for salmon and trout. ACT OF NATURE: Get up early and float a quarter-mile from Hodgeman’s to Supper Island, a rocky, uninhabited 200-by-80-foot speck perfect for catching the sunrise. DETAILS: Cry of the Loon Outdoor ¹ú²ú³Ô¹ÏºÚÁÏs, in Jackman, offers canoe rentals ($20 per day) and can outfit you with food and most camping gear for a self-guided tour; 207-668-7808, .

b. Bear Valley Hot Springs, Boise National Forest, Idaho
Not so secret that they’re hard to find, not so popular that they’re overrun, Bear Valley Hot Springs consists of seven glassy pools set amid lodgepole pines and burbling creeks in Idaho’s Frank Church–River of No Return Wilderness Area. Hike through elk-and-moose terrain for 3.5 miles along the Bear Valley Creek Trail, near Fir Creek Campground, 30 miles northwest of Stanley and three hours from Boise. Your reward: a grassy meadow and choice base camp for round-the-clock soaking. The first pool is practically scalding (about 130 degrees), but they cool as you move toward the creek. A mile’s hike farther downstream will bring you to the headwaters of the Middle Fork of the Salmon. ACT OF NATURE: Most folks day-hike to the pools and leave by dusk. Come nightfall, soak the evening away with only Orion’s gaze to keep you company. DETAILS: Salmon-Challis National Forest, Middle Fork District, 208-756-5100.

c. Badlands, South Dakota
The joke says if you’ve seen one tree in South Dakota, you’ve seen them both. And that’s a great thing. About 40 miles east of Rapid City, the storied American plains funnel into Badlands National Park, a sea of overwhelming emptiness punctuated by bizarre earthen pinnacles. From primitive Sage Creek Campground, within a 64,000-acre wilderness area about 21 miles northeast of the town of Scenic off Route 44, blaze your own trail along the dry Sage Creek and pitch your tent in the shade of a cottonwood (there are actually plenty). ACT OF NATURE: Wake up one morning and you may find that the park’s herd of 800 buffalo has moved in; they, along with blue herons, coyotes, and pronghorns, frequent the area. DETAILS: Water is scarce in the park, so pack it in; no permit required, but check in at the visitor center if you plan to overnight in the backcountry; 605-433-5361, .

Just Hit Escape

Point, click, go. Plotting a last-minute getaway is almost that easy.

travel websites

I’m sitting in my office on a Thursday afternoon when I suddenly get the urge to see water. Immediately. An ocean, a harbor, some whitewater—anything to contrast with the Kansas prairies outside my window. Last-minute-travel Web sites tout tantalizing possibilities, but now I need to know: Is it truly possible for me to be in Miami or Cancún or Ibiza by this time tomorrow—even out of a small-market airport like Wichita? Ahead on my deadlines and feeling adventurous, I open a browser and begin to investigate.

Keying in Site59.com, which specializes in turning unused flights and hotels into last-minute bargain packages, I imagine myself surfing the waves of Mazatlán, paddling around the San Juan Islands, hiking to the remote hot springs of Iceland. Perplexingly, however, my initial search yields a string of Site59 bargains to places like Omaha and Grand Rapids and Moline, Illinois. Do people really take last-minute vacations to Moline, Illinois? An ironic part of me wants to fly there for the novelty of visiting a place that sounds less interesting than where I live.

Before long, I find two promising leads for a last-minute three-day weekend, including hotel—San Francisco for $386 and Portland, Oregon, for $389. I ponder the happy prospect of swilling beers and sailing the waves of San Francisco Bay or kayaking and sleeping under the stars along the Oregon coast. Unfortunately, last-minute online travel planning is a fickle game: The San Francisco ticket automatically doubles in price if you’re traveling solo and don’t want a red-eye flight; the Portland ticket is gone before I can even check the details. My best bet, it turns out, is a $511 flight to Oakland, including three nights in a hotel.

Since I’m just getting started (and since Oakland doesn’t feel quite as sexy as San Francisco), I try out the comparative-airfare search tool at Mobissimo.com. Punching in a few international destinations, I discover that Reykjavík and Dublin are out of my price range, but Belize is doable, at $730. With visions of scuba splashing in my head, I click through to Orbitz.com (Mobissimo doesn’t sell tickets directly), where I discover the dark side of the Belize ticket: two 15-hour overnight layovers at the Atlanta airport. I calculate that I’d end up spending more time in airports and airplanes than in the water. Suddenly, Oakland doesn’t seem all that bad. Returning to Site59, I discover that the $511 fare to Oakland has expired. Such is the hard lesson of spur-of-the-moment travel planning: Don’t let a deal sit.

By this point I’m dead-set on going somewhere for the weekend, even if it has to be Moline. Trying not to panic as afternoon stretches into evening, I surf over to Travelocity.com’s Last Minute Packages link (which is operated by Site59 but sometimes posts better deals). Here, I find a $323 flight to Albuquerque, including a three-day car rental. Unfortunately, Albuquerque doesn’t have much in the way of water—that is, unless you count the three-day rain forecast from Weather.com (always a useful tool for researching your last-minute destinations). Expanding my search criteria, I discover a $422 flight to San Francisco, returning Tuesday, including a four-day car rental. Chastened by my earlier hesitation, I brandish my credit card and book it.

A day and a half later, after some frenzied packing, I spend a gorgeous afternoon sailing out under the Golden Gate Bridge with some old friends on a 36-foot sloop chartered from OCSC Sailing, in Berkeley Marina. The following day, I meet up with my cousin to see her new baby; in the evening, I take my rental car for a spin and meet friends for dinner in downtown San Francisco.

Was it worth it? On the one hand, this is not the easiest way to travel: I had to wake up at 5:30 in the morning and spend much of Friday (and Tuesday) in transit. On the other hand, it’s not every weekend that I get to enjoy sea breeze in my face as I round Angel Island in the late afternoon and catch sight of the San Francisco skyline.

Fast Cultural Fix

Go international without going far

a. Azores, Portugal
A four-hour flight from Boston puts you in the middle of the Atlantic amid the whitewashed walls and stone-trim houses of São Miguel, the largest of the Azores’ nine islands. A Portuguese protectorate and stopover for Columbus, the Azores teem with rolling green hills and throwback coastal villages. Base yourself at the Hotel São Pedro, a 19th-century colonial Georgian manor house built on the water in Ponta Delgada, the island’s largest town. Rent a bike for a ride along the wave-whipped southern coast or make the five-mile hike from Vista do Rei to Sete Cidades, a small village at the base of a volcanic crater about 40 minutes outside of town. SHOCK IT TO ME: In Furnas, an hour east of Ponta Delgada, order cozido, a meat-and-veggie dish slow-cooked in a geyser. DETAILS: Azores Express flies to Ponta Delgada twice a week; 800-762-9995, . Hotel São Pedro, doubles from $150; 011-351-296-301-740.

b. Quebec City, Canada
There you are fingering a plate of poutine in the Quartier Vieux-Port, watching ships slip past the châeau, when—Sacré bleu—it hits you: You’re practically in Paris, and you haven’t crossed the Atlantic. Reserve a 19th-century suite at the Auberge Saint-Antoine, a 94-room boutique hotel, shop for Charlevoix cheeses on the Rue Saint-Jean, then cycle to the Plains of Abraham, the fields where the Brits beat the French in 1759 during the “conquest” of Canada. By the feel of this city, you might wonder who really won. SHOCK IT TO ME: Once dodgy, the Saint-Roch district is on its way to becoming Quebec City’s hippest ‘hood. Check out the Boudoir Lounge, a locals club near Rue Saint-Joseph, and you might be the only é³Ù°ù²¹²Ô²µ±ð°ù there. DETAILS: Auberge Saint-Antoine, doubles from US$124; 888-692-2211, . Rent bikes from Cyclo Services, US$45; 418-692-4052, .

c. Guadalupe Valley, Mexico
Mexican wine? Yup. Head two hours south of San Diego into Baja’s green Guadalupe Valley to find a dozen boutique wineries with shady patios for sipping blends of nebbiolo, syrah, and mourvèdre. At 1,400 feet in the cool Sierra de Juárez, the Moorish-style Adobe Guadalupe is a cheerful hacienda with six guest rooms, a brick wine cellar, and a working vineyard. From there you can set out on horseback through the hacienda’s 60-acre vineyard to Monte Xanic, a neighboring ±¹¾±Ã±±ð»å´Ç. Back at the inn, get a grape-skin massage before a four-course meal that includes salmon and stuffed pears. SHOCK IT TO ME: Try a shot of Mezcal Lucifer, made in Oaxaca exclusively for the hacienda. DETAILS: Doubles from $168, including breakfast and wine tasting; 011-52-646-155-2094, .

Bragging Rights

Be the hero of your Monday-morning meeting

a. Laurel Highlands, Pennsylvania
From afar, these western-Pennsylvania highlands look like wimpy rows of 3,200-foot mountainettes. From the saddle of a road bike, they are impossibly steep hills that inflict a crippling lactic burn. Spend a weekend conquering two 75-mile rides on quiet country roads too skinny for centerlines, muscling your way up 12,000 vertical feet on a dozen hills, some as steep as 15 percent. From the town of Ligonier, an hour southwest of Pittsburgh, you’ll spin past dairy farms and knock out no fewer than six 500-foot climbs before finally wobbling back to town to cool your quads in a rustic cabin overlooking Mill Run Creek. Set out again in the morning for another 75 miles and another half-dozen climbs. YOU DID WHAT? Release the brakes and you’ll top 60 miles per hour on the two-mile descent off Chestnut Ridge. DETAILS: Laurel Highlands Cycling Tours offers custom weekend packages for about $375 per person; 724-261-7797, .

b. Mount Jefferson, Oregon
Here’s a little 10,495-foot secret: About two and a half hours southeast of Portland, in the shadow of Mount Hood, sits Oregon’s second-highest volcano, Mount Jefferson. One of the state’s most remote wilderness peaks—it’s an eight-mile hike to the base—Jefferson is still within reach for time-strapped mountaineers, offering five glaciers, airy ridges, and sections of vertical rock that make the climbing far more thrilling than the standard slog up Mount Rainier. Set out early to make camp at 7,800 feet on a rocky bench overlooking the Jefferson Park glacier; the next morning’s alpine start puts you on slopes that gradually increase to 65 degrees or more, as you traverse the gaping bergschrund to the bottom of the summit pinnacle. From there, you’ll have three to four pitches of 5.5-rated rock climbing to the top. YOU DID WHAT? Go ahead and snap your glory shot, but don’t jump for joy on the summit: It’s barely wide enough for one person. DETAILS: Timberline Mountain Guides runs three-day trips for $600 a person; 541-312-9242, .

c. The Crestones, Colorado
Seventy-five miles southwest of Colorado Springs, the Sangre de Cristos boil up into arguably the state’s most impressive—and technically challenging—14,000-foot peaks. Your mission: Climb the daunting 14,191-foot Crestone Needle and 14,294-foot Crestone Peak in one day, via a classic mountaineering traverse. Set out from the South Colony Lake Trailhead, about ten miles southwest of Westcliffe, for a two-mile tromp to your backcountry camp near the South Colony Lakes. (If you don’t have a 4×4, you’ll have to park at the lower trailhead, for a five-mile approach.) Get an early start on the Class III scramble to the Needle’s summit, then downclimb 500 feet along Class IV rock (rappel it to be safe) and work your way up another couloir to the summit of Crestone. YOU DID WHAT? On Sunday, hike 14,064-foot Humboldt Peak, about a mile northeast of the lakes, for a trio of fourteeners in one weekend. DETAILS: Pick up a copy of Gerry Roach’s Colorado’s Fourteeners (Fulcrum, $20) for maps and route descriptions. San Isabel National Forest, 719-553-1400, .

Saturday-Night Special

Even when you're short on time, you can go long on adventure

Clifton Inn

Clifton Inn's Main House

Weekends are like brain cells: You only get so many in this life, and none should be wasted. My two-year-old son is not quite potty-trained, but he’s already mastered the philosophy. Ask him to choose between going to a party or going camping on Saturday and he responds, as should we all, “Can’t we do both?” On the day in question, we hit a lunchtime birthday barbecue at a local park, then drove to a campground in New Mexico’s Pecos Wilderness in the afternoon. By sunset our tent was pitched, the kids exhausted, the wine opened. And in the morning, I went for a trail run through the aspens instead of sifting through a week’s accumulation of junk mail. We were home 24 hours after leaving.

Naysayers will advise against such overnight adventures, claiming the drive is too far, the time too short. Ignore them. While they head to Blockbuster on Saturday night, you’ll be stoking the campfire, soaking up the starlight, and planning a Sunday morning you’ll rave about all week.

Follow this three-step plan for perfect overnight getaways: (1) You must spend more time at your destination than you spend getting there and back. Break this rule when the road trip is the destination. (2) Keep your bags packed. Nothing kills a quick escape like spending half the morning digging through gear. Store camping equipment in one place so you can grab and go and unpack just as quickly. (3) Plan time to relax. Don’t let the compressed schedule make you feel harried. The best weekend trips even short ones should leave you feeling exhausted and rested all at once. To help you achieve the feeling, we’ve gathered our top five overnight escapes from big cities.
Dennis Lewon

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From New York City
Cold Spring, New York (60 miles north)
Paddle the Hudson River to the ruins of a 1901 Scottish-style castle on Bannerman Island, with Hudson Valley Outfitters ($120; 866-865-2925, ). The Pig Hill Inn (doubles from $150; 845-265-9247, ) is a short walk from both the river and the train station.

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From Boston
Woonsocket, Rhode Island
(52 miles southwest)
Cycle historic tow paths along the Blackstone River, and back roads through mill country, in northern Rhode Island’s bucolic Blackstone Valley as part of a two-day, 70-mile self-guided bike trip mapped out by Cycle New England (from $149 per person; 508-868-9056, ). The trip includes route maps and a night at the Pillsbury House (800-205-4112, ), a Victorian bed-and-breakfast.

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From Washington, D.C.
Charlottesville, Virginia (115 miles southwest)
Go for a trail run beneath the oaks and tulip poplars of the 20-mile Rivanna Trail, which wraps around this town, home to the University of Virginia. The fern-flanked path feels like wilderness, and you’re never far from a bookstore or a cappuccino or a clear mountain swimming hole. Stay at the newly restored 14-room Clifton Inn (doubles from $295; 888-971-1800, ), on 100 riverside acres.

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From Seattle
San Juan Island, Washington
(102 miles northwest)
From the Zen fountain and kimono wall hangings to the Asian-fusion breakfasts (try the orange-blossom scones), the new Dragonfly Inn (doubles, $195, including breakfast; 360-378-4280, ) owes its inspiration to Japan’s traditional ryokans. Set on 15 wooded acres, the inn is four miles from Roche Harbor, where San Juan Safaris ($75; 800-450-6858, ) starts its orca-watching kayak trips. To save time, take the 30-minute flight on Kenmore Air ($221 round-trip; 800-543-9595, ) from Seattle to Friday Harbor, a few miles from the inn.

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From Chicago
Delafield, Wisconsin (115 miles north)
Ding your bike bell at sandhill cranes on the 52-mile-long Glacial Drumlin State Trail ($4; 262-646-3025, ), a rail trail that meanders through rural Wisconsin’s wetlands. Hybrid bikes rent for $20 a day at the Bicycle Doctor (262-965-4144), in Dousman. Stay at the red-brick Delafield Hotel (doubles from $250; 262-646-1600, ), a 38-suite luxury inn that opened in April.
Kimberly Lisagor

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Romantic Hideouts

Feel the love, without the heart-shaped bathtub

a. Kamalame Cay, Andros Island, Bahamas

For high-powered lovebirds who want to elope on Friday but be back for their conference calls on Monday, the ultimate unforgettable pleasure-jaunt is east of Miami at Kamalame Cay. The collection of 19 perfect villas and rooms occupies its own 97-acre isle off the Bahamas’ least populated island, Andros. Hang out on your shady veranda or stroll to the new over-water spa, with massage rooms open to sea breezes. And if you decide against casting on Andros’s famed bonefish flats or diving the nearby 140-mile-long barrier reef, call it fodder for the anniversaries you’ll inevitably come back for.
TIME FOR TWO:
Borrow a pair of snorkels and trek inland to one of the island’s many blue holes.
DETAILS:
Twenty minutes from Nassau, which has daily flights from many East Coast cities. Doubles from $561, all-inclusive; 242-368-6281, .

b. Huelo Point Lookout, Paia, Maui

Maui and romance are practically synonymous, but take the seclusion factor up a notch at Huelo Point Lookout’s Rainbow cottage, on the island’s north shore. The entire first floor is encased in glass, with views out to the Pacific and gardens of coconut and papaya, and a spiral staircase leads to the loft, with its king-size bed under skylights. While holing up may be tempting, pry yourself away for a hike around 10,023-foot Haleakala or for windsurfing at Hookipa Beach, a 20-minute drive west.
TIME FOR TWO:
Come dusk, take to the hot tub, surrounded by heliconia, wild ginger, and night-blooming jasmine.
DETAILS:
Seven major airlines fly into Maui’s Kahului Airport; from there, it’s a 45-minute drive to Huelo Point Lookout. Rainbow cottage, from $285; 800-871-8645, .

c. Fincastle Vineyard & Winery, Fincastle, Virginia

Heading north out of Roanoke on Route 11, lined with up-and-coming vineyards and sporting vistas of the Blue Ridge Mountains, you’ll be charmed even before you arrive at Fincastle. This white-clapboard farmhouse-turned-winery, which started commercial bottling in 2001, opened its tasting room two years later and debuted two English-country guest rooms in May. Spend the day canoeing the nearby James River, hiking the Appalachian Trail, or biking the Blue Ridge Parkway.
TIME FOR TWO:
Before breakfast—local free-range eggs and bacon—stroll through the vineyards, when the sun has just risen over the trees.
DETAILS:
Three hours from Richmond. Doubles from $125, including breakfast; 540-591-9000, .

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