Think you got what it takes to do the three-day trek through Canada’s Golden Triangle? Maybe, just make sure to double bike-short it, things are about to get a little bumpy.

By Jon Wick

Last week, I embarked on a new chapter in my life: bike touring. More appropriately, epic bike touring. I spent three days pedaling through the beautiful Canadian Rockies along the Golden Triangle Route.

The Golden Triangle is a popular cycling route, connecting Lake Louise in Alberta with the namesake city of Golden, and Radium Hot Springs in British Colombia. Pedaling 100 km (60 mi.) each day, crossing the Continental Divide twice, with three different national parks unfurling around each bend in the road, is reason enough to don the spandex, chamois butter your personals, and get behind the handlebars for a few hours. Bicycling mountain terrain that gruelingly spectacular, and you’ll deserve margaritas at the end of the day.

For this trip, I was a bogey, a Klingon, basically a puppy that followed the crowd. I received little more information than an e-mail asking if I was free for the weekend, and a follow-up packing list. All I was supposed to do was prepare for a trip lasting a week, and get to my brother’s house in Calgary by Friday afternoon; didn’t know where we were biking, how long, with whom, etc . . . I dig the prep part of any trip, the anticipation, the running in circles, the uncertainty. Putting this much faith in people I didn’t know was new to me, and maybe the way I go from now on.

I’m a first-year roadie, making the leap from the mountain single tracks to the open road with some trepidation. Too many Gear Heads, tights, and people in full racing kits judging my rusty ’86 Schwinn Caliente. So this year, to reward myself for not getting killed during my past year rambling through Asia, I bought a new bike, a bike jersey, and yes, bike shorts. It became official, I’m a roadie — with my spandex-clad balls out there for everyone to see. (more…)

Even though a walk around any of the famous sites in New York City show that tourist season is already in full swing, we’re offering up anyway some free ideas of things to do in a town where free is normally very hard to come by.

By Matt Stabile

1) Street Fairs

It’s guaranteed that whenever you’re in New York, there’s going to be a free street fair happening somewhere in one of the five boroughs, much to the consternation of the locals whose parking spots are taken over by vendors. There are neighborhood fairs, fairs for Bastille Day, Italian feast fairs — pretty much any excuse to get outside.

Time Out has this comprehensive list updated every week.

2) Live Music At South Street Seaport

New Yorkers avoid the outdoor mall/tourist trap that is South Street Seaport like the plague. But come summer, the pier hosts some of the best indie rock shows of the season, all for free. This year’s shows include performances from Bear in Heaven, Free Energy and YACHT, with others to be announced.

(Tip: Avoid the tourist-priced drinks at the show and buy a 32-ounce, portable Styrofoam cup from Jeremy’s Ale House nearby for a fraction of the price.)

The full list can be found at the River To River Festival’s page.

3) Shakespeare In The Park

Okay, this one’s not exactly a revelation. Shakespeare in the Park has been attracting crowds for over half a century, and a look at the number of people that line up every day is proof it’s as popular as ever. You could line up like everyone else at the theater in the morning, hoping to snag a couple of tickets as they’re given away at 1 p.m.

But, for those in the know, those days of line waiting are a distant memory. Now you can simply get in line virtually, signing up here on the day of the show. If you’re picked, you’ll get an e-mail telling you about your free pair of tickets. Not picked, just try again the next day. (more…)

Rising from the plains of Wyoming, Heart Mountain has stood for eons, witnessing everything from the formation of the Great Plains to the internment of thousands of Japanese Americans during World War II. Trek to its peak for a view millions of years in the making.

By Thomas M. Hill and Scott D. Slothower

Jutting out from the floor of an otherwise dry and desolate stretch of plain lays Heart Mountain in northwest Wyoming. Juxtaposed between the Absaroka Range to the west and the Big Horn range to the East, the sole mountain outcropping is a bit of an anomaly. Its commanding presence over the landscape of nearby towns, like Cody and Powell, is etched into billboards and street names. Renditions of its limestone surface are slapped onto buildings, and it shares a name with a Japanese internment camp, which used its lowlands to house over 11,000 detained Japanese Americans during World War II. This does not take away from the awesome beauty that one encounters on the Heart Mountain Ranch, which houses the mountain, nor does it demystify the meandering switchbacks of its trail leading to the top.

How this towering edifice was able to push its way nearly 3,000 feet into the air has been a bone of contention to geologists for years. Of the limestone and dolomite that make up the mountain’s body, those whom scientists say were formed somewhere between 350 and 500 million years ago, the strata of its lower elevations are only a mere 55 million years old. Adding to the mysteriousness of an already rare geological wonder is the fact that somehow the older rock managed to do something of a geological role reversal. Anyone who has had an introductory class in geology can tell you that rock stratification seems to support the idea that older rocks are found at the bottom.

The native inhabitants and past residents of this area must have marveled at this mountain, perhaps considering it one of the holy places for retreat, solace, and wonderment. Telltale signs of their dominance over these lands can still be found dotted throughout this extent of country. The great tribes of the Crow, Cheyenne, and Sioux told their stories on rock faces and left behind remnants of dwellings, ceremonial talismans, and roads on which they traveled. John Coulter, once a member of the Lewis and Clark expedition, was honorably discharged from the expedition and explored the sweeping vistas and valleys to the west of this location in what would eventually become the rauche jaune, the “yellow stone,” and the national park from whence its name originates. (more…)

Already broke your budget just staying in New York this holiday season? Try these 10 tips to enjoy the city for free.

By Matt Stabile

MUSEUMS

1) MoMA

Normally a steep $20, MoMA (Museum of Modern Art for you acronym-hating readers) is free every Friday from 4:00 – 8:00 p.m. Just head to the front desk and pick up a free ticket for admission then check out Van Gogh’s Starry Night, Monet’s Water Lilies, and Dali’s The Persistence of Memory all for nothing.

TIP: If you plan to check out the Tim Burton exhibit going on right now, head there right at 4 p.m. due to the limited number of entries.

2) The New Museum

With its irregularly stacked white box frame, The New Museum is in fact, literally new (a $64 million renovation was completed in December 2007), and is free on Thursday from 7:00 – 9:00 p.m.

TIP: Grab you iPod and download these free podcasts for the heavily promoted Urs Fischer exhibit. This may help explain all those tongue advertisements you’ve been seeing on the subway.

3) The Metropolitan Museum of Art

They won’t actually tell you this right out in the open, but it’s true: admission here is only recommended. They ask for $20 for adults and $10 for students, but no one’s stopping you from forking over your pocket change. Stingy? Perhaps, but remember, they’re also working with one of the largest endowments for a museum in the world (well over $2 billion dollars). Want to really help? Hit up the gift shop on your way out or at one of the many stores around the city.

TIP: Ever wonder what graffiti looks like through the ages beginning from about 10 B.C.? Head to the reconstructed Temple of Dendur for a good overview. (more…)

A night out on the town in Granada, Nicaragua, with a Canadian, a Rastafarian painter, and an ex-revolutionary. Does it get any better than this?

By Luke Armstrong

España was beautiful, young, Argentinean, and when she came up to talk to me on a bus heading towards the Costa Rican-Nicaraguan border to ask if I knew of any cheap lodging places in Granada, her destination as well as mine, I tore out my Lonely Planet “Central America on a Shoestring,” and together we looked at the budget hostel listings. According to guide, Hostel Oasis had a pool, free Internet and a lush courtyard. At $6 a night, the cockroaches that would later accost me in my sleep were tolerable. España and her travel companion María checked in with me the next day into one of the hostel’s spacious dorm rooms.

So I arrived in Granada, Nicaragua, like I’d been arriving everyplace since my starting point of Valparaiso, Chile: hitchhiking and haphazardly hopping northbound buses. Each day involved a new unknown with new people.

I envisioned that this intrepid trekking from city to city, country to country, and culture to culture coincided with some bohemian ideal of ruthless adventure. But mostly, I am just lazy when it comes to advance planning, and whimsically making my way north across South and Central America was just easier.

Tired? Hungover? Sick? Diarrhea? No problem, just camp out in this hostel bed for three days reading. So you’ve made a drunken fool out of yourself last night? No problem, just move on to the next city where you are a tabula rosa. Someone looked at you funny? Fine, leave the country and never come back. (more…)

Some come for the peaceful beaches, others for the pristine landscapes, but what most people remember most from visiting Assateague are the wild horses — sitting right next to you on the beach.

By Elaine Casarella

It was ironic that I was visiting Assateague Island National Seashore and Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge when Ken Burns’ six-part series, “The National Parks: America’s Best Idea,” happened to be airing on PBS. As I was watched, I couldn’t help to marvel at how he was once again opening our minds and hearts to a part of American that many of us take for granted. Just as he did with the Civil War and baseball, Burns was making an often overlooked feature of American heritage come alive by focusing not just on incredible visual images, but by breathing real life into the people who made it all happen.

Assateague, where I began my trip, is a barrier island that stretches 37 miles along the Maryland/Virginia shore, and was very close to not being a national park at all. In 1962, after being pounded by days by the infamous “Ash Wednesday Storm of 1962,” the island was a complete loss for the scores of developers hoping to turn the pristine coastline into valuable vacations estates. The federal government soon took the land over from the bankrupt speculators and designated the entire area a national park. Today, sitting on an undeveloped beach where wild horses and deer roam freely, a visitor can look north into the distance beyond the park’s borders and make out the towering hulks of hotels and resorts in nearby towns, grateful that someone had the foresight to protect the space.

Following Labor Day, the ocean waters are still warm but the summer crowds have long departed. Camping is allowed on the Maryland part of the island, and it is probably one of the few places in the world where travelers have the chance to be woken up by one of the wild horses that roam freely, scratching themselves — and often relieving themselves — against your shelter. The island is famously home to a feral population of horses. Descendants of 17th-century domesticated stocks, the National Park Service manages the Maryland herd while, curiously enough, the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company owns and manages the Virginia herd. (more…)

A traveler’s thoughts on the strangest and most unfamiliar part of any trip: coming home.

By Alexandra Bregman

A Traveler’s Guise

Outside my hometown, Connecticut was a dirty word. I never wanted to tell anyone I was from Westport, Connecticut, the original location of the “Martha Stewart Show,” of the original film “The Stepford Wives,” the stuff of headbands and sailboats. To me, telling a New Yorker of my Connecticut origins was like stamping a “spoiled” sign on my forehead and trying to explain to foreigners where Connecticut was usually boiled down to a brief “it’s near New York.” Admitting the truth conjured images of pastels and cold blondes, not of a welcoming home.

It’s important to note that despite my connotations, I always knew Connecticut was not exactly Dante’s “Inferno.” The contradiction, whether I admitted it or not, was that I resented having so much to appreciate as a rambunctious adventurer. Connecticut may be lovely, but my great fear was of getting too comfortable, without ever seeing the world.

A Traveler’s Eyes

Like many angst-ridden suburban youths eager to renounce a Lexus-packed hometown, I went to Europe for a year. The exercise of fleeing to a more cultured continent is an age-old ritual. Before I left, every PTA mom and college student was spilling stories of their big trips, recollecting everything from a few weeks in Spain or a questionable fling with some Swedish girls in a tent. Every story, every “Europe will change your life” comment, all felt just as false as my disillusionment with Connecticut. I had the idea that if I went to Europe, I could sincerely define myself and escape the mundane clichés for good.

I stayed with a very kind host family in Paris for a year, and with a traditionally light French academic schedule — fraught with university strikes — I traveled extensively, profiting from all that Europe had to offer. I ate baguettes and fancy cheese, I took long walks along the Seine, I went to museums for free. Basically, I lived the glamor I’d always aspired to. It was wonderful. (more…)

In this video I travel to Montréal, the second-largest French speaking city in the world, where I grab some food at the Jean-Talon market, hike to the peak of Mont Royal, and join in on a drum circle at the Tam-tams.

How much about Cuba can you discover by traveling through the Viñales Valley on a bike? Turns out, quite a lot.

By Luke Armstrong

Moments before my plane touched down in Havana, an Australian had turned to me to ask me why I was going to Cuba. I guess I was not exactly sure myself. As an American, I am not supposed to travel to Cuba, but there is something about a forbidden fruit that makes it tastier than the stuff you can buy at the grocery store. Remember how drinking alcohol lost something once we became of age? Exactly.

After a short stay in Havana, gravitation and my Lonely Planet guide lead me to the relaxed town of Viñales. My guidebook tells me that in 1999 the valley was declared a Unesco World Heritage Site. I make a mental note to Google what such a declaration actually entails.

Walking through the slow streets as I make my way to the Cubanacán travel office to rent a bike, a young man rides up flashing me his yellow bike. “You want to rent my bike?” he asks. “Best bike in all of Cuba. Try it out if you don’t believe me”

I give his bike a spin around the block. The gears change and the brakes squeak to an eventual halt. It seems as good a bike as I will find anywhere else and the fake shocks give the impression that the rider means serious bike riding business. I give him five pesos to use it for the day and he tells me to look for him around town when I come back to return the bike. “If you can’t find me just ask anyone where José is.” (more…)

With spectacular ancient ruins, underwater caves and some of the world’s best snorkeling, you better believe there’s more to do in the Mayan Riviera than sunbathing and sipping tropical drinks.

By Alexis Korman

This time of year, some big city folk like myself are not only pasty, but content with staking out a small stretch of sun-drenched sand and doing little else while on holiday in Mexico. But, no matter how relaxing, laying on the beach in a rum-induced coma is difficult to justify when traveling in the eco-oasis known as the Mayan Riviera.

I knew I’d be considerably more active than usual on my trip even before my plane landed in Cancun this January. Flying over the region, you can’t help but marvel at the miles of practically uninhabited dense, green jungle that borders the turquoise Caribbean Sea (and Cancun’s notoriously party-friendly Hotel Zone).

Of course, this region of Mexico offers much more than drunken frat dudes, oversized all-inclusive resorts and perfect, powdery white-sand beaches. The expanse of jungle glimpsed from the plane plays host to a variety of exotic flora and fauna indigenous to the Yucatan Peninsula, including saraguato monkeys, crocodiles and endangered jaguars. The area is also home to the Mesoamerican Coral Reef, second only in size to Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, not to mention some awe-inspiring pre-Hispanic ruins.

With a dedication to preservation, the Mayan Riviera offers plenty of opportunities to see these and other treasures of the land and sea firsthand, with limited environmental impact. Here are 10 unforgettable eco-friendly adventures that can be experienced in a day’s time. (more…)

This Is L.A.? Just a short trip from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, Catalina Island seems like it’s worlds away.

By Laurel Busby

Except for a hectic trip to New York City, I hadn’t left California for a vacation in over four years. Needless to say, I desperately needed to get away. Unfortunately, I only had one day to try to fit in two weeks worth of relaxation. Spending Easter Sunday on Catalina Island almost achieved the impossible.

I’d been pestering my husband about visiting Catalina Island ever since we had moved to L.A. two years before, but he was not particularly excited to go. Finally, on the day before our first open Sunday in three months, I convinced him to make the trip. Knowing almost nothing about the island, I spent the night before we left scouting Catalina.com for tips on how to get there and what to do once we arrived. I love ferry rides, snorkeling and animal life, so my imagination was in heaven as I navigated the Web site and saw that Catalina had all three.

The next day my stomach was not acting as thrilled as I was. In New York City I used to relish the cold, open air on the Staten Island ferry as it would plod across the calm Atlantic waters towards Manhattan, but the speedy Catalina Express was giving me the beginnings of seasickness. The high-speed ferry takes 1 1/4 hours to make the 22-mile trek from the California coast, but those prone to queasiness are encouraged to book a trip with the slightly more sedate ferries that make the trip in 2 1/4 hours for a cheaper price. (more…)

Still recovering from that bender known as Katrina, a road trip to the Big Easy reveals how New Orleans isn’t letting a little hangover prevent it from enjoying life, just like it always has.

By Ted Hesson

We decided to take a road trip for several reasons: moving, freelance work, sightseeing, hell-raising, escapism, rock and roll — the usual motives. Since it was freezing cold in New York, the three of us thought it would be smarter to move southerly before hanging a right towards the West Coast. While my two friends ventured on to California, though, my final stop on the trip would actually be New Orleans, a city that I had always wanted to visit. I expected to find, among other things: heaps of spicy seafood, Bayou-tinged blues, unparalleled architecture, non-stop debauchery and the remnants of one of the worst natural disasters in the history of the United States. For better or for worse, it was all there.

From Atlanta, we took the slow road to the Big Easy, making a few stops along the way. We spent an hour in Montgomery, where we discovered a Disney-esque downtown devoid of inhabitants, save some chatty pharmacy workers, with whom we talked about New York, Alabama’s quiet capital and, eventually, New Orleans. “Y’all goin’ to New Orleans?” one worker said. “Na, I wouldn’t go if I were you. Y’all gonna get boogled.” Our Yankee ears must have translated it poorly, because I’m sure what she meant to say was that we would get “voodooed,” but either way, I got the point. She thought New Orleans seemed pretty freaky, and as a childhood fan of Anne Rice, I didn’t disagree. But, to put things in perspective, it was rush hour in Montgomery, and I hadn’t heard a honking horn or shouting pedestrian yet. Seemed to be just as good of a chance of getting boogled here as anywhere else. We hopped back in the van and decided to take our chances with whatever witchcraft might lay in wait. (more…)

How the little island of Dominica has embraced its reputation as the “real” Caribbean.

By Manda Spring

Imagine a unique and unspoiled land, free of pollution and overdevelopment and full of natural beauty. Many of the islands in the vast Eastern Caribbean archipelago display a sense of modernized atmosphere and they are driven by the new ways and are somewhat spoiled by the need of convenience. However, one island stands alone and is spectacular in its natural and unhampered form. The lush and fertile island of Dominica is exactly this: a true paradise for all to enjoy. But what makes this island so different than all the others in the Caribbean?

It’s almost unreal how many natural wonders can be found on Dominica Island. Arienne Perryman, an expert on Dominica, described what makes the island so unique from its Caribbean sisters. “Dominica has many natural wonders, including the Boiling Lake — the second largest of three such lakes in the world; as well as scores of sulfur hot springs comprised of hot mineralized water that many say has medicinal healing properties.” (more…)