Into the Outer Banks
Living not far from the Outer Banks, my wife, Sandy, and I have visited there often--and each time, as we glided farther and farther into the Atlantic Ocean, I was stirred by the strange sensation that I was navigating a boat rather than a car. Maybe not so strange, actually, when windswept waves stretch for miles on either side.
July and August are peak season for surf and sun. A family playground, the islands hawk all the expected beach amusements: parasailing, waterskiing, Jet Skiing, canoeing, kayaking, sailboarding, deep-sea fishing, and horseback riding. But any time of year is fulfilling. I've gone in midwinter to hike miles of empty beaches, watching the spindle-legged shorebirds probing the sand for lunch.
Day one: Norfolk to Kill Devil Hills
The drive from Norfolk, Va., passes through mostly flat coastal farm country, and in mid-summer roadside stands sell fresh corn and other produce. After the flatlands, the lofty sand dunes of the Outer Banks seem almost like mountains. At their widest, between Kitty Hawk and Nags Head, the Outer Banks expand to about a mile. This is where you find the most popular beaches--the ones that draw the summer throngs. In the heart of the bustle, little Kill Devil Hills, a family resort town, provides the beach time you crave plus a look at one of America's most historical spots.
Check into the tidy 54-room Cavalier Motel, which nudges right up to the beach dunes. Soak up some sunshine at the pool or the beach, but save time for a visit to the Wright Brothers National Memorial, just a few minutes away.
On a sand-covered site at Kill Devil Hills a century ago, Orville and Wilbur Wright launched the first manned heavier-than-air craft to leave the ground by its own power. The flight lasted all of 12 seconds, and the plane, with Orville at the helm, covered less distance than the length of a modern airliner. But air travel was born. Markers indicate the takeoff and landing spots--so close together that it seems the brothers might more easily have jumped. The visitors center displays a replica of their aircraft; atop Big Kill Devil Hill, an impressive granite monument pays tribute to their achievement. Rising to 90 feet, the hill is one of the highest spots in the Outer Banks--make the climb for a 360-degree view.
Afterward, join the crowds at Pigman's Bar-B-Que, a no-frills joint. You can't go wrong with the messy pork ribs, which are served with coleslaw, baked beans, and plump hush puppies.
Day two: Kill Devil Hills to Manteo
Today's drive temporarily leaves the Atlantic shore for 13-mile-long Roanoke Island, behind the Outer Banks in Roanoke Sound.
Start the morning by testing your courage. See that line of folks on the high dune in the distance? They're waiting for their Wright moment. Hang-gliding lessons are a major activity at Jockey's Ridge State Park. The fragile aircraft are launched from 80-foot-high sand dunes. Kitty Hawk Kites, the world's largest hang-gliding school, has a three-hour introductory course (including five solo flights). You can expect to cover up to 75 yards. Some gliders, maneuvered by confident, well-coordinated students, float gracefully back to earth. Others plummet with a seemingly painful thud into the not-so-yielding sand. Too scared? Stop by anyway to watch the often comical antics of the first-timers. You'll want to hike the dunes to the launch area for a close-up look. An exhibit in the park visitors center notes that the surface of the sand here can exceed the air temperature by 30 degrees. Take heed: Wear shoes.
On to the waterside village of Manteo, where Sandy and I check into the Dare Haven Motel, about 10 minutes from the beach. We head first for the harbor on Shallowbag Bay. Sailboats drift over the sound, and just across an inlet rests the 69-foot Elizabeth II. The featured attraction at Roanoke Island Festival Park, this replica of a 16th-century sailboat represents the type of ship that carried English colonists to the New World during the reign of Elizabeth I. Onboard, costumed interpreters answer our questions, speaking with Old English accents. Questions, naturally, tend to be about the Roanoke mystery. In May 1587, three British ships carried 117 settlers to Roanoke.
A week later, the colony's governor sailed back to England for supplies. The threat of the Spanish Armada delayed his return for three years. When the governor finally made it back in 1590, the colony had vanished. Historians can only speculate on what happened.
There are re-creations of the first settlement site (talk to the "colonists") and an Algonquin village, and at the Roanoke Adventure Museum youngsters can don Elizabethan garb or learn about Blackbeard's visits to the Outer Banks. Nearby, Fort Raleigh National Historic Site marks the location of the ill-fated colony. The formal Elizabethan Gardens memorialize the colonists.
Adjacent to the fort, the mystery is dramatized in an outdoor theatrical spectacle, The Lost Colony, with clashing swords and fireworks; it's presented nightly (except Sunday) in the summer (May 31-August 20). Kids might find it tedious, but I, a history major, was interested.
Grab some dinner at Big Al's Soda Fountain and Grill, a '50s-era café with an all-American menu; fresh seafood dinners with fries and slaw cost about $14.
Or ditch The Lost Colony and go howling with the wolves. It's one of the offbeat nature programs sponsored by the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge, west of Manteo. Until the 18th century, red wolves roamed the area, but then they disappeared. Eight wolves were reintroduced onto the 152,000-acre refuge in the late 1980s; the population has since grown to more than 95 and has spread throughout the refuge and beyond. Children love to howl, and parents aren't shy about joining in. If everybody gets the sounds right, the wolves usually howl in reply. Two-hour "safaris" begin at 8 p.m. on summer Wednesdays.
Day three: Manteo to Buxton
This is the Outer Banks I like best, the quiet southern end. The islands narrow considerably here; at their skinniest, only a few hundred yards separate the rough Atlantic from calm Pamlico Sound. Much of the seashore is protected, either as Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge or Cape Hatteras National Seashore. You'll find miles of nearly desolate beaches, their wild beauty mostly untouched except by wind and sea. Towering dunes topped by wind-stunted trees frequently block sight of the ocean. But there are stairways at the many pullouts along the way. Keep your swim trunks handy.
The 156-foot-high Bodie Island Lighthouse serves as a visitors center for the Cape Hatteras National Seashore. Exhibits illustrate the early seafaring dangers in the area. As many as 600 ships have wrecked on the shifting coastline since 1526, earning it the unhappy nickname Graveyard of the Atlantic.
South of the lighthouse, the road hops from Bodie Island to Hatteras Island over an arched bridge and long causeway. At the end, stop at Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge. Nearly 400 species of birds have been identified here, including odd migrants blown off course by fierce Atlantic storms. Learn also about the Oriental, a Civil War steamer that struck a sandbar and sunk. The ship's boiler is visible in the surf.
At either visitors center, be sure to check out the ranger-led activities, which are free or minimally priced. Canoe on the sound, take a bird-watching walk, learn how to catch crabs, build a kite, or go snorkeling or fishing.
South of Avon, a small day-use park called Canadian Hole draws windsurfing throngs, who flit like butterflies across the flat waters of Pamlico Sound. The steady winds and shallow water are said to be ideal for novices.
At Cape Hatteras, test your leg muscles by climbing the 268 steps to the top of the still-operating Cape Hatteras Lighthouse--at 210 feet, it's the tallest brick lighthouse in the U.S. Built in 1870, it was threatened by erosion for many years--until 1999, when it was moved a half mile inland.
Spend the night in the sound-side village of Buxton, a mile from the lighthouse, Dine across the highway at the Diamond Shoals Restaurant, named for a bank of shifting sand ridges hidden in the treacherous waters off Cape Hatteras. On the family-friendly menu, try the catch of the day, usually sea trout ($13.95). And then return next morning for one of the famous hearty breakfasts.
Day four: Ocracoke and Back to Norfolk
In the morning, we catch the free car ferry to Ocracoke Island. The road to the landing passes through one of the areas hit hardest by the hurricane, and you're still likely to see some damage. Waves briefly washed out the road between Frisco and Hatteras, creating a temporary inlet between the Atlantic and the sound. But the road has since been reopened.
The ferry takes 40 minutes. On Ocracoke, Highway 12 continues for another 13 miles through the mostly untouched seascapes of Cape Hatteras National Seashore to the village of Ocracoke and the Ocracoke Lighthouse. (The highway is sometimes closed during bad weather, so check with the highway department.) En route, stop at the Pony Pasture, a 100-acre field nurturing a small herd of the island's unique ponies, possibly descendants of Spanish ponies that survived a shipwreck. Unlike other horses, Ocracoke ponies have one fewer rib--17 instead of 18.
Then ferry back to Hatteras, Buxton, and the beach. After the history lessons, you've earned more playtime.
Finding your way
The closest major airport to the Outer Banks is in Norfolk, Va., about 70 miles to the north. Southwest Airlines provides service from most of the country. A car is essential; at summer's peak, expect to pay $130 to $140 for a week's rental of a compact with unlimited mileage. The Outer Banks Visitors Bureau (877/629-4386, outerbanks.org) distributes a 112-page travel guide. Call for a copy, or pick one up at the visitors bureau. It's a mile past the Currituck Sound Bridge (U.S. 158), in Kitty Hawk.
1. Norfolk to Kill Devil Hills
From the Norfolk airport, take I-64 south to Virginia State Route 168 south. In Barco, N.C., pick up U.S. 158 south via Kitty Hawk to Kill Devil Hills. U.S. 158 is the speedier bypass to Kill Devil Hills, ending a few miles beyond the town. Along here you'll find many restaurants, service stations, and other tourist facilities. Paralleling it is Highway 12, the old beach road, which runs the length of the Outer Banks from Corolla in the north to the southern tip (via ferry) of Ocracoke Island. On Highway 12, the slow road, you're finally at the beach.
2. Kill Devil Hills to Manteo
Continue south on U.S. 158 to U.S. 64/264 west across Roanoke Sound to Roanoke Island and Manteo.
3. Manteo to Buxton
Double back to U.S. 158/Highway 12, continuing south on Highway 12 to Buxton.
4. Ocracoke and back to Norfolk
From Buxton, follow Highway 12 to the end of the pavement and the dock for the Ocracoke ferry. The 30-car ferries operate year-round; in summer, they depart to and from Ocracoke every 30 to 60 minutes. On Ocracoke, pick up Highway 12 and follow it to its end in the village of Ocracoke. Then retrace your route back to the mainland and Norfolk.
Hudson Valley Revisited
The Hudson River, once America's central transportation artery, tends to be overlooked nowadays. Weekenders from New York City and upstate residents choose the efficiency of the New York State Thruway and the Taconic Parkway over the Nines (as I like to call the various branches of Route 9 that ramble along both sides of the Hudson River Valley). This just means less traffic for the rest of us. Day one: New York to Fishkill Trying a new route out of New York City, I actually get lost in Yonkers. The mini-detour allows me to enjoy the back roads that hug the Hudson, which I can see through the trees, flowing on my left. Back on Route 9 proper, I decide to stop at Sunnyside, the home of writer Washington Irving. (The town of Sleepy Hollow is up the road.) Guides in period costume offer tours of the house, a quaint cottage on the riverbank; it's where the well-traveled author spent his final days. A quarter mile north I also pop in to see Lyndhurst, the grand Gothic Revival mansion of Wall Street tycoon Jay Gould, who traveled by yacht from his waterfront property to New York City. The railroad would have been quicker, but it was owned by his archenemy, Cornelius Vanderbilt. Highlights of the daily tour are Gould's Renaissance-art collection and the fine stained-glass windows. I stop in Tarrytown for lunch: a Portuguese feast at Caravela. Grilled octopus melts in the mouth, just as it should, and the codfish croquettes are rich yet fluffy. Heading north up 9, I decide to keep Kykuit, John D. Rockefeller's expansive family home, for another trip and move on to Croton Gorge Park, a favorite local picnic spot. The park sits at the base of the Croton Dam, which holds most of New York City's drinking water. It was built in 1842; until 1955, the water was transported to the city via the Croton Aqueduct. Just past Peekskill, Route 9 splits into two parts. I take 9D, which runs along the river, rather than 9 proper, which takes a faster inland path north. Where's that Beatles CD when I need it? I'm on a long and winding road, beside granite cliffs. With a bit of imagination, this could be the Italian Alps. The tricky part ends at Bear Mountain Bridge, which crosses the Hudson at the place where American Revolutionary forces blocked the path of the British fleet with a giant iron chain. From here it's only a half-hour drive to Cold Spring. I putter in and out of the knickknack shops of a Main Street that runs steeply toward the river - it really should be turned into a giant skateboarding park--and I take stock of the Lower Hudson's east side over farfalle al limone and a glass of Cabernet at Cathryn's Tuscan Grill. Cold Spring has a number of B&Bs, but the Courtyard by Marriott, a few miles north in Fishkill, puts me closer to Beacon, the next day's first destination. Day two: Fishkill to Rhinebeck "This place is changing overnight," says the teenager in the Chthonic Clash Coffeehouse as he fixes me a latte. "Some locals don't like it, but I say the quicker the better." Named after Mount Beacon, where colonists lit fires to warn of British troops during the Revolutionary War, the town of Beacon has been reborn thanks to the opening last year of Dia:Beacon, one of the most impressive art galleries in the country. Inhabiting a sprawling 1929 Nabisco factory, the airy 240,000-square-foot space (much of it lit by skylights) is perfect for viewing large art installations. The museum is home to pieces by 22 artists, including Andy Warhol, whose 1978 Shadows is a single work on 72 canvases, and Richard Serra, represented by seven gorgeous sculptures. You do a lot of walking at Dia, and by the end I'm hungry. I head into town for a taste of the old Beacon--bacon and eggs at the wonderfully gaudy Yankee Clipper Diner, a recently renovated downtown institution. Browsing the galleries and antiques shops that are contributing to the town's renaissance, I have no luck in my perpetual search for vintage gas station signs. But there's consolation in the excellent apple pie at the Upper Crust Café and Bakery. Up next is Hyde Park. The town is dominated by the 290-acre National Historic Site built around Franklin Delano Roosevelt's family house and the separate house built for Eleanor Roosevelt a few miles east of Route 9. FDR's father bought the family home, Springwood, in 1867. Visitors can view the house, FDR's grave site, and the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library and Museum, which includes some 44,000 books along with his White House desk and chair. The late-afternoon light is fading slightly as I drive out of the Roosevelt site, so I put my foot to the floor. There's a piece of Hudson Valley history that I really want to catch - the ostentatious estate of Frederick William Vanderbilt, also in Hyde Park. Built in 1899, the 54-room Vanderbilt Mansion was meant to evoke European nobility, and the approach certainly feels like you've entered a royal estate. I'm too late for the house tour, but the grounds are lovely. As the sun begins to set over the western banks of the Hudson, the light casts an orange glow all around. After so much local history, a motel really won't cut it. Nearby Rhinebeck, a sophisticated town in its own right, is home to the Beekman Arms, a favorite resting place and watering hole for the weary traveler since 1766. The smell of cooking food and a roaring open fire greet you on arrival. Day three: Rhinebeck to New Paltz It's time to cross the river. The Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge offers clear views both north and south-this far upstream, the river is still over half a mile wide. Saugerties is another of those cute antiquing towns that seem to pop up every 30 miles along this part of the valley. It also has an excellent little café and deli called Ann Marie's. But Saugerties' most extraordinary attraction, Opus 40, is a few miles outside the town limits, in the foothills of the Catskills. Harvey Fite, a devotee of Mayan architecture, spent 37 years working with hand-powered tools to create a six-and-a-half-acre composition of bluestone ramps, terraces, pools, and fountains, with a nine-ton monolith as its centerpiece. He died in 1976, but the sculpture and a museum dedicated to his work are open from Memorial Day to Columbus Day. The road down from Opus 40 is narrow and winding, so it comes as some relief to get back on 9W, on the western side of the Hudson. At Kingston, I cut inland on Route 32. I'm headed to New Paltz and one of the region's most impressive landmarks. A 251-room Victorian castle on Lake Mohonk in the Shawangunk Mountains, the Mohonk Mountain House was a getaway destination for Teddy Roosevelt and Andrew Carnegie, among others. Today it's an exclusive retreat far beyond my budget. But you can buy a day pass to the grounds for $15 ($11 for kids) and spend the afternoon wandering. Day four: New Paltz to New York It takes about 25 minutes to get back to 9W from New Paltz, but from that point on, the road is right by the river. This part of the valley is wine country - at least six vineyards lie between New Paltz and Newburgh, and most offer tours and tastings. I turn right off Route 9 just south of Marlboro and head up a steep hill to Benmarl Winery, site of America's oldest vineyard. A rugged driveway leads to the main house, also the home of owner Mark Miller, who in the '50s and '60s was an illustrator for romance magazines and novels. Miller offers a lively narrative as he guides you through the cellars and a gallery devoted to his former profession. He might even join in a tasting of his trademark Chardonnay and Zinfandel. Leaving Benmarl, I drive into Newburgh, toward the newly renovated waterfront. Newburgh Landing is part of a $1.8 million state-funded scheme to tidy up the Hudson River. It's home to a number of cool cafés and restaurants. I choose Café Pitti, a brick-oven pizza joint with outdoor seating and a fine view of Dia:Beacon across the river. An espresso and some raspberry gelato make the afternoon even more enjoyable and prepare me nicely for the final drive back into New York City. I make quick time through West Point, hop on to the Palisades Parkway, and zip back down to the George Washington Bridge and New York City, stopping just once more to marvel at the tall, sheer vertical drop of the ancient Palisades cliffs that tower over the Hudson below. Finding your way From JFK airport, head north on the Van Wyck Expressway to the Bronx-Whitestone Bridge. After crossing, take 678 north to the Cross Bronx Expressway west; exit at Route 9 north. From LaGuardia, take the Grand Central Parkway to the Triborough Bridge. Go north on the Major Deegan (I-87), then west on the Cross Bronx Expressway to Route 9 north. From Newark, drive north on the New Jersey Turnpike (I-95). Cross the George Washington Bridge and exit at Route 9 north. 1. New York to Fishkill, 64 miles If you're driving from Manhattan, take the Henry Hudson Parkway to Route 9 north. Continue through Yonkers, Tarrytown, and Sleepy Hollow. At Peekskill, switch to 9D north, which leads to Cold Spring. Continue north on 9D. At Beacon get on 82 north to Fishkill. 2. Fishkill to Rhinebeck, 28 miles From Fishkill, get on I-84 north and take it to Beacon. After Dia:Beacon, continue north on 9D, which rejoins 9 just north of Wappingers Falls, then skirts Poughkeepsie, before winding up at Hyde Park and Rhinebeck. 3. Rhinebeck to New Paltz, 50 miles In Rhinebeck, take 9 north to 9G north. Go west on Route 199 over the Kingston-Rhinecliff bridge; 9W north leads to Saugerties. For Opus 40, from the New York State Thruway at Saugerties, get on Route 212 west toward Woodstock. From the light at the Hess gas station, go 1.6 miles to a fork; turn left onto Fishcreek Road. After 2.4 miles, turn right at the stop sign onto Highwoods Road. After a half mile, turn right onto Fite Road; it ends at Opus 40's entrance. Leaving, take Glasco Turnpike east to 9W south. At Kingston, go south on Route 32 to New Paltz. Stay at the Econo Lodge. 4. New Paltz to New York, 95 miles From New Paltz, take 299 east to 9W south. It goes through Marlboro to Newburgh, and eventually to the Palisades Parkway south to the George Washington Bridge into Manhattan.
Fill'er Up, Mate: Australian Road Trips
What you'll find in this story: Australia travel, Australia culture, Australia attractions, Australia itineraries, Australia lodging, Australian dining Our intrepid reporter takes us into the red centre, down the great ocean road, and to the remote southwest corner. 1. Into the Red Centre If Australia were folded in half like a book, the Stuart Highway would be its spine, forging through emptiness for 2,000 miles. Driving half of it is plenty, so I've flown to the dead center: the desert town of Alice Springs. North of "the Alice" there's barely a stoplight for 1,000 miles--about the distance from Dallas to Chicago--until the asphalt meets Darwin, on the Timor Sea. Like Germany's autobahn, the Stuart has no speed limit; unlike the autobahn, it's virtually barren. Every 45 minutes or so, a roadhouse appears mirage-like on the horizon, offering gas, beer, motel-style lodging, and a little "Where ya from, mate?" Aside from that, the land presents itself the way God made it. Hour by hour, sandy red earth gives way to spindly trees, brown escarpments, termite mounds as tall as kindergartners, and not much else. No cell phone coverage, no radio stations. There's nowhere else on earth to be so isolated while on good roads in your average rental car. A drive on the Stuart Highway evolves slowly, with developments marked by the odometer. Kilometer 36 north of Alice Springs: cross the Tropic of Capricorn. At 54: spot two wedge-tailed eagles feeding on kangaroo roadkill. At 83, 443, 906, and 1,222: nearly hit a kangaroo myself. At 142: tank up beside a "road train," Australia's superlong tractor trailers that pull three or four long trailers. At 202: Ti Tree, "the most central pub in Oz." No one blinks when truckers drain their beers and get right back in their cabs. Periodically, I pull over and cut the engine, just to feel the nothingness. I consider walking deep into the scrub but never make it more than 20 feet without worrying about snakebites--and being picked clean by wedge-tailed eagles. The pleasure of a Stuart drive is partly in stumbling across artifacts from man's attempts to make use of the bush. Beside the gas station in Barrow Creek (kilometer 294), a wooden telegraph repeater station from the early 1870s stands abandoned but perfectly preserved by the dry desert air. There's another in the expanse north of Tennant Creek (541). Barely rusted bits of telegraph wire and antique bottles still litter the grounds of both. The eerie ruins at Gorrie Airfield (1,103) once housed 6,500 personnel in World War II. Today, there are ghostly scraps of gray bitumen leading to an old fighter runway that's over a mile long. The walls inside most of the bush pubs along the highway are stapled over with bras, underwear, foreign currency, and business cards--a few of mine included--left by visitors from around the world. Basic rooms cost about $35; given the volume of cold Victoria Bitter on tap, by bedtime most customers aren't in a state to quibble over thread counts. Just about every pit stop is run by someone who could pass as the main character in a novel. The proprietor of the roadhouse at Wycliffe Well (393) has lined the walls with newspaper reports of local UFO sightings. The owner of the Wauchope Hotel (411) abandoned a 35-year career as a firefighter in Adelaide. The night before I arrive, 40 guys from a remote cattle station drove two hours over a dirt track to have a birthday party there; it lasted until dawn. At the pub inside the Daly Waters Historic Hotel (986), road-trippers gather nightly to be entertained by 14-year-old singer Patrick Webster, who brazenly flirts with waitresses 10 years his senior, and by Frank the Chook Man, who does renditions of folk songs as live chickens roost on his hat. Even the highway's banner sights seem like something a science-fiction writer might have cooked up. The two big ones are the rock that looks like Winston Churchill's head (652) and the Devil's Marbles, huge, rounded boulders jumbled together improbably in the desert (422). The wildlife is similarly otherworldly. Some visitors think, at first, that the stirring in the cabbage tree palms and paperbarks above the turquoise Mataranka Thermal Springs (1,220) comes from a bird of some sort. In fact, it's the squabbling of hundreds of thousands of flying foxes, big as beagles and hanging upside down while flailing their leathery wings. The gassy creatures poop everywhere, but that doesn't stop people from jumping in the water beneath them (750 miles of desert scrub will make anyone desperate for a soak). Around kilometer 1,575, the world comes sufficiently alive enough to drizzle. By the time the Stuart Highway terminates in Darwin (1,646), the humidity edges toward 100 percent, and I'm confronted with Internet cafés, traffic lights, and too many people for my Zenned-out brain to handle. Lodging Wycliffe Well south of Wauchope, 011-61/8-8964-1966, from $30 Bluestone Motor Inn Paterson St. South, Tennant Creek, 011-61/8-8962-2617, from $75 Wauchope Hotel Wauchope, 011-61/ 8-8964-1963, from $55 Daly Waters Historic Hotel Daly Waters, 011-61/8-8975-9927, from $38 Barrow Creek Hotel Barrow Creek, 011-61/8-8956-9753, from $55 Food Ti Tree Roadhouse Ti Tree, 011-61/ 8-8956-9741 Attractions Devil's Marbles north of Wauchope, free Mataranka Thermal Springs Mataranka Homestead Tourist Resort, east of Mataranka, 011-61/8-8975-4544, free 2. Great Ocean Road In the convict days, ships from Europe shortened the five-month journey to Sydney by sailing along Australia's southern coast, threading between Tasmania and the mainland near Melbourne, a perilous route through the rocky Bass Strait. The irony is that many ships went for months without seeing anything but water, only to literally crash into Australia. Just south of Melbourne, where I start my road trip, is enormous Port Philip Bay, which has 161 miles of coastline but a mouth that's only two miles wide. The channel roils with so much tidal water that seamen dubbed it the Rip. The area is notorious enough that when Australia's Prime Minister Harold Holt vanished while taking an ill-advised dip nearby in 1967, the government didn't launch so much as an inquiry. A few years later, the parliament did feel inspired to take action of a different sort a few miles south, at Bell's Beach, designating it a national surfing reserve. From a bluff I watch surfers in wet suits doggedly bob and paddle the same waves that host the annual Rip Curl Pro competition. The Surfworld Australia museum is in the adjoining town of Torquay. In front of the building, teenagers slam the pavement on beat-up skateboards, aware that this is one property they won't be chased off of. Inside, there's a hall of fame, a meticulous history section, and a continuous film festival of classic documentaries. The Great Ocean Road begins in Torquay and swerves along forested cliffs and swirling waters for 200-plus miles. I quickly learn that meals will be nothing fancy; the staple of the road's bakeshops is the meat pie (I like to dip them in tomato sauce like the locals do). Against my better judgment, at the Louttit Bay Bakery I try the Mitey Cheese Scroll, a platter-size swirl of cheese and moist bread that leaves me yearning for greens. My favorite stops for grub are at the pubs, where entire families hang out together. In an Airey's Inlet pub, I order a gin and tonic (it comes premixed in a can) and spot a boy no older than seven. He's perched on a bar stool, eating cheese puffs and chatting with the bartender like one of the gang. Cimarron, a B&B high above the town of Airey's Inlet, was designed and built in 1979 from native eucalyptus wood by Wade Chambers, an American-born professor. Scanning the thousands of books that line the walls, I tell Wade that I could get into the idea of moving, like he did, to this peaceful Aussie Malibu. Wade is an eager talker, and before we know it, it's past midnight. I switch on the TV--you can learn a lot about a place by what's showing late at night--and catch ads for livestock sales and lungworm poison. In the morning, wild parrots and white cockatoos peer into the windows. As I pull out of Cimarron, three bemused kangaroos blink at me before hopping into the trees. Several miles past Apollo Bay, another tiny vacation town, there's an easy-to-miss signpost: mait's rest. A path leads to a rain forest gully, trickling with streams, layered with ferns as big as beach towels, and pierced by shafts of sunlight. Australia is 70 percent arid, and it's shocking to see how much vivid green the other 30 percent of the land is able to muster. After an hour, an elderly couple appears. "Never seen anything like it," the woman says, craning her neck. It's a sight that would be famous elsewhere. Next stop is Otway Fly, one of the world's tallest treetop walkways, which opened in September 2003. Its steel catwalk system is 2,000 feet long, rising as high as 147 feet into a rain forest canopy of beech, blackwood, and ash. Seeing centuries-old forests from above, at bird's-eye level, is surprisingly compelling. Back on the coast, the Twelve Apostles finally come into view, like great sailing ships returning from a voyage. Fat, beige limestone pillars in the slate-blue water, the Apostles are worthy of their postcard fame. Crowds gather for the sidelong photo op from a promontory at Port Campbell National Park. A plump Australian blows cigarette smoke out his nose and says what we're all thinking: "They're so beautiful I could look at them all day." Meanwhile, hornet-like helicopters incessantly chop through the air. They're less annoying the minute I actually get in one. A 10-minute ride costs $58, and seven minutes after laying down my credit card, I'm snapping photos of the rumpled sheet of ocean below. The walking trails at Loch Ard Gorge, a mile or two on, explore the land above sea-worn tunnels, blowholes, and arches that have wrecked many a luckless ship. The gorge is named for its most infamous disaster--the Loch Ard went down in 1878 with 52 out of 54 passengers, even though it came to grief only about 20 feet from land. The air wheezes with sea mist as waves pummel the rocks and splash skyward. You can actually feel the earth tremble when the surges strike land. Lodging Cimarron 105 Gilbert St., Airey's Inlet, 011-61/3-5289-7044, cimarron.com.au, from $115 Food Louttit Bay Bakery 46b Mountjoy Parade, Lorne, 011-61/3-5289-1207 Attractions Surfworld Australia Surf City Plaza, Beach Rd., Torquay, 011-61/3-5261-4606, surfworld.org.au, $5.60 Otway Fly Lavers Hill, 011-61/3-5235-9200, otwayfly.com, $9.30 Port Campbell National Park 011-61/13-1963, parkweb.vic.gov.au, free PremiAir Port Campbell National Park, 011-61/3-5598-8266, premiairhelicopterservices.com, flights from $58 Great Ocean Road Tourism 011-61/3-5237-6529, greatoceanrd.org.au 3. The remote southwest corner I'm as far away from home as I can get without swimming--on the opposite end of the planet, with New York City somewhere beneath the soles of my feet--yet few places on earth seem more American. Driving south out of Perth, a city of skyscrapers, suburb tracts, car dealerships, and gas station mini-marts, things rhyme far more with Houston or Miami than with the pseudo-British settlements of eastern Australia. After a bland 100 miles or so, just below the town of Bunbury, the southwest tip of Australia juts into the Indian Ocean and the landscape bursts into a thousand shades of green. In the 50-odd miles between the northern and southern capes of the bulge is Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park, a coastline of thundering waves, untouched beaches, and death-wish surfers who brave curls with names like the Gallows and the Guillotine. In Yallingup, I check in at Caves House, amid gardens high above the moody sea. It's a creaking manor with a sweeping veranda, antique white-tiled bathrooms, and dark hallways lined with 1930s photographs of the staff dressed for tennis. I'm so enraptured by the time warp that in the morning I can't help gushing to the desk clerk. She nods sadly. "Glad you liked it," she says. "We got the word last week that we're all getting the boot." In a month, Caves House would be handed over to a company for conversion into a luxury resort. I drive to the coast's far southern tip, near Augusta, where the Indian and the Southern Oceans meet and chew furiously at the shoreline. Humpback and southern right whales are known to frolic in the foamy waters beneath the Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse. When I ask about the seas, the lighthouse's middle-aged, cardigan-wearing ticket attendant mistakes me for a surfer. "Redgate Beach is going off today," she reports. "Be careful. There's a nasty rip." This remote corner of Australia is home to more than 60 wineries, which flourish thanks to sunny summers and surrounding waters that ward off frost and drought. It's called the Margaret River Wine Region, and the town of the same name is a laid-back artists' retreat of coffeehouses and galleries. Encouraged by raves from several people at a coffee shop in town, I lunch at VAT 107, which uses local organic ingredients for dishes like spicy quail, honeycomb ice cream, and grilled marron--a cobalt-blue freshwater crayfish that is native only to southwest Australia and can grow to more than a foot long. I rent a cottage for the night at Burnside Bungalows and Organic Farm. It's run by Jamie and Lara McCall, who fled Perth for the wine country a few years ago with their three young sons. Guests stay in airy, hand-built cottages with kitchens, woodstoves, and views over the paddocks, and they're even welcome to help themselves to food from the harvests--olives, macadamias, avocados, apricots, and mulberries. What really drew me to the region are the ancient, mammoth trees. The pale-bark karri trees are 150 feet tall, as big around as foldout couches. I cruise along on empty roads that undulate over hills, around pastures dotted with contented cows, and into miles of forests that feel as sacred as Gothic cathedrals. Now and then, brief bouts of rain appear, and the clean scent of wet soil pours through the open windows. It's car-commercial good. The forest hides some cozy lumber hamlets--toy-town-like and tinged with the aroma of freshly cut timber, where chimneys smoke and carpenters deal in exotic woods such as jarrah. Many village names use the Aboriginal suffix -up, which means "place of," lending the vicinity an endearing, fairy-tale euphony: Nannup, Manjimup, Balingup. Then there's Pemberton, home of one of the area's most prized attractions: the enormous Gloucester Tree, which for years served as a lookout tower for firefighters. Anyone may climb to its platform, which is 190 feet up, but the means of ascent is a helix of slippery metal pegs spiraling perilously into the branches. As evening sets in, I check into a two-room bungalow at Pump Hill Farm Cottages, stoke its potbellied stove, and uncork a bottle of Margaret River red. Out my back door, in total darkness, a cool rain rustles the leaves. I may be far from where I live, but I'm utterly at home. The chatter of the forest is a little unsettling at first, but by the time the fire dies out, I'm fast asleep. Lodging Burnside Bungalows 291a Burnside Rd., Margaret River, 011-61/8-9757-2139, burnsidebungalows.com.au, from $125 Pump Hill Farm Pump Hill Rd., Pemberton, 011-61/8-9776-1379, pumphill.com.au, from $82 Food VAT 107 107 Bussell Hwy., Margaret River, 011-61/8-9758-8877, vat107.com.au, tasting plate for two $22 Attractions Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park 011-61/8-9752-5555, calm.wa.gov.au, free Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse Quarry Bay, Augusta, 011-61/8-9757-7411, lighthouse.net.au, tours $6 The Gloucester Tree Burma Rd., Pemberton, 011-61/8-9776-1207, calm.wa.gov.au, $6.70 per car Pemberton Tourist Centre 011-61/8-9776-1133, pembertontourist.com.au
Driving Mendocino County
What you'll find in this story: California travel, Mendocino culture, Mendocino County attractions, Mendocino County lodging, Boonville San Francisco travel As most people who live in San Francisco will tell you, there are an infinite number of things to love about the city. What they might not say is that one of the reasons they love it so has nothing to do with the city proper. It's the easy proximity to the stunning terrain to the north. Not Marin County--which is nice but no surprise--but Mendocino County, where in a matter of hours you can be zooming back and forth between the dramatic coastline and rolling inland hills. Day one: San Francisco to Boonville The first tunnel I come to after crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge, five minutes into Marin, is framed with a rainbow painting, nicely reflecting the region's laid-back, eco-friendly leanings. I breathe a little deeper, relaxing to the scent of wildflowers and sage that seeps in through the car windows. In Calistoga, famous for its mineral water and mud-bath spas, I pick up a friend, and we head west on Highway 128. In true Sunday fashion, the drive is glorious. It's sunny, the hills are deep green, and the curves in the road are just sharp enough to keep me engaged but still allow for satisfying speed. Our first stop is blink-and-you've-missed-it Jimtown. The Jimtown Store, with its vintage Ford ornamentally parked out front, is an endearing pit stop both for road-trippers like us and spandex-clad bicyclists hydrating with fresh lemonade on the benches out front. A tiny counter doubles as a gourmet deli and wine bar, and a tastefully eclectic array of objets de kitsch, craft, and nostalgia are scattered around for sale. Healdsburg, not far west, is far more developed--wineries with boutique-like storefronts, upscale clothing stores, and a tree-shaded town square that's often the site of alfresco art fairs. We have a lunch of fancy sandwiches and strawberry aguas frescas at the Oakville Grocery. Once home to apple orchards, the area is equally suited to grape growing, and the linear rows of vines appear with greater frequency the deeper we venture into Anderson Valley. It doesn't take long to reach Boonville, our first overnight stop. In fact, we arrive so soon that we haven't quite gotten our fill yet, so we forge ahead a few miles to Philo (population 400) for a bit of wine tasting. In contrast to the larger, corporate-owned Napa vint-ners, the wine business here is in the hands of families and individual owners, and we're pleasantly surprised when the proprietors don't charge us. We begin with reds at Brutocao Cellars, and then at Navarro Vineyards--highly recommended by a sommelier-wannabe friend--we expand to include whites. The pourer is approachable and knowledgeable, and the patio has a fantastic view of the flourishing vines. I'm so impressed that I buy three bottles. Outside the entrance to Hendy Woods State Park, we encounter a cluster of buildings called the Apple Farm. There's a stand selling ice-cold organic apple juice, three rustically chic cottages (they rent for a little more than we want to spend), and a cooking school headed by Don and Sally Schmitt, the former owners of the famous French Laundry restaurant in Yountville (which they sold to Thomas Keller in 1994). The Boonville Hotel, run by the Schmitts' son Johnny, is a tasteful update of an old roadhouse. The fresh touches in the room include geometric-print bedspreads, designer mint-green walls, and aromatic lavender in a vase on the side table. After a few glasses of wine in the flower garden, we're happy to discover that the hotel has a well-regarded restaurant on the ground floor. We're less happy that the three-course prix fixe and a glass of wine cost almost as much as the weekday rate for one of the rooms. But we enjoy our dinner just the same, and the quiet of the evening allows for a night of uninterrupted sleep. Day one Lodging Boonville Hotel14050 Hwy. 128, Boonville, 707/895-2210, boonvillehotel.com, from $100 Food Jimtown Store6706 Hwy. 128, Healdsburg, 707/433-1212, lunch $10 Oakville Grocery124 Matheson St., Healdsburg, 707/433-3200, lunch $15 Attractions Brutocao Cellars & Vineyards7000 Hwy. 128, Philo, 707/895-2152 Navarro Vineyards5601 Hwy. 128, Philo, 800/537-9463 The Apple Farm18501 Philo-Greenwood Rd., Philo, 707/895-2333, cottages from $200 Day two: Boonville to Mendocino The road toward the Mendocino coast winds through the lush forest of Navarro River Redwoods State Park, where the air develops a chill. As in San Francisco, the climate is generally cool but punctuated with rare crystal-clear days that are close to perfection. (I'd find it significantly more refreshing if I weren't wearing flip-flops.) Our first sight of the Pacific Coast is when it's blanketed in atmospheric fog. What we can see: steep, craggy cliffs, crashing waves, and Victorian buildings with shingles hung out offering respite from the bracing outdoors. Here, B&Bs have their own official highway markers--with a little icon of a house--to help travelers find their way. We drive past entrances to numerous state parks and beaches, misty views lending a bit of drama. Twenty minutes past the turnoff to Mendocino--we'll come back to that later--is Fort Bragg, a working-class coastal town with a remarkable array of musty shops selling 20th-century bric-a-brac. This is also the place to board the Skunk Train, a logging railroad turned into a tourist attraction. On the main drag, we stop at a hole-in-the-wall called Eggheads. Omelets, appropriately, are the highlight of the menu; less appropriately, the room is done in an elaborate Wizard of Oz theme. Still, I can't resist ordering the Wicked Witch Burger, which lives up to its name in spiciness. Having been sequestered in the car long enough, we switch to exploring on foot. Our first stop is Glass Beach, a former city dump, where broken bottles have been worn down by the sea into glistening, colorful, translucent pebbles. We hike a few short trails at MacKerricher State Park, three miles north of town, then return to Mendocino. Mendocino is a quaint mass of old Victorian-style buildings perched on a cliff. We arrive just as the sun is setting, and the early evening streets bustle with visitors of all ages and styles. At MacCallum House, a stately hotel, it's possible to people-watch in the bar/café while having a dinner of tasty appetizers. We're staying at the Sweetwater Inn & Spa. Rooms at the inn and the spa include use of a communal hot tub, which we learn is clothing optional. After spending an hour or two in this New Agey town, frankly, I'm not surprised. We upgrade to a private tub. By 10 p.m., the streets are deserted. I sleep like a baby--that is, until I'm awakened in the middle of the night by the exotic beat of bongo drums thumping in the distance. Day two Lodging Sweetwater Inn & Spa 44860 Main St., Mendocino, 800/882-7029, mendocinoinn.com, from $85, private tubs at the spa, $15.50 per hour per person Food Eggheads Restaurant326 N. Main St., Fort Bragg, 707/964-5005, lunch $10 MacCallum House Inn & Restaurant45020 Albion St., Mendocino, 800/609-0492, maccallumhouse.com, dinner $20 Attractions Navarro River Redwoods State ParkHwy. 128, two miles east of Hwy. 1, 707/937-5804 Skunk TrainFoot of Laurel St., Fort Bragg, 800/866-1690, skunktrain.com, tickets from $35, kids $20 Glass BeachElm St. at Old Haul Rd., Fort Bragg MacKerricher State ParkHwy. 1, north of Fort Bragg in Cleone, 707/964-9112 We grab sandwiches at the Little River Market (which, for some reason, is attached to the post office) and take them to one of the tables in the back, where there is a splendid ocean view. A couple of minutes south is Van Damme State Park's Pygmy Forest, a romantic name for a natural aberration. Here, cypress, pine, and other trees only grow to a stunted height, due to the mineral-challenged soil. It's a bizarre, understated spectacle. Trees that look like they should be towering above us are just my height. Next stop, Gualala--pronounced "wah-la-la," FYI--and the St. Orres hotel, where we're staying. It's difficult to miss, as the building looks like some kind of Russian Orthodox fantasy, all cedar and stained glass. Deer and wild turkeys peacefully graze on the hillside nearby. The main structure has eight rooms and a restaurant, but we're issued a spacious and secluded cabin a few hundred feet up the road. Tuckered out from canoeing, we stick close to home for dinner. The restaurant's menu, which we thumbed through in the cottage, suggests you can order hearty pastas and appetizers, but the actual experience is more formal--and pricey-- than we were bargaining for. So we make do by ordering an assortment of light appetizers--tiny morsels of baby abalone with seared scallops, a savory wild mushroom tart, garlic flan, and a salad. It's delicious and just about enough to tide us over for the night. Day three Lodging St. Orres36601 South Hwy. 1, Gualala, 707/884-3303, saintorres.com, rooms from $90, dinner $40 Food Little River Market7746 North Hwy. 1, Little River, 707/937-5133, lunch $6 Attractions Catch a Canoe & Bicycles, Too44850 Comptche-Ukiah Rd., Mendocino, 707/937-0273, canoe rental $20 per hour, two-hour minimum Van Damme State ParkPygmy Forest, three miles south of Mendocino, Hy. 1, 707/937-5804 Which is not to say we don't make a few more stops. The upscale Sea Ranch resort community has award-winning '60s modernist architecture by William Turnbull and others. The houses are clustered in private enclaves with no-trespassing signs, but there are public walks along the beach at the Sea Ranch Lodge. In Bodega Bay we veer inland, passing the locations for Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds and then the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Running Fence Historic Park, a tiny spot of green that commemorates the artists' 1976 art installation. (The 24.5-mile-long curtain of fabric wound its way from Cotati down to the sea.) As parks go, it's not much. But it drives home the point that this area is full of lovely surprises. Day four Sea Ranch Lodge60 Sea Walk Dr., 800/732-7262, searanchlodge.com Christo and Jeanne-Claude Running Fence Historic Park15000 Bodega Hwy., Bodega, 707/565-2041 Day oneSan Francisco to Boonville, 136 Miles Follow Hwy. 101 north across the Golden Gate Bridge. At Santa Rosa , take the Guerneville/River Rd. exit. Turn right on Mark West Springs Rd., left on Petrified Forest Rd., and left on Hwy. 128. Jimtown is 18 miles up. Just past Geyserville, 128 meets back up with Hwy. 101. They separate again just before Cloverdale; stick with 128 north. Boonville is 26 miles past that break.Day twoBoonville to Mendocino, 39 Miles Continue north on 128. Navarro River Redwoods State Park is two miles before the point where 128 meets Hwy. 1, at the coast. If you reach the water, you've gone too far. The town of Mendocino is 10 miles past the junction of Hwys. 128 and 1. To get to Fort Bragg, pass through Mendocino and keep driving north on Hwy. 1 for 10 miles. Backtrack on 1 to return to Mendocino for the night.Day threeMendocino to Gualala, 49 MilesVan Damme State Park is in the town of Little River, three miles south of Mendocino on Hwy. 1. Gualala is 46 miles farther south.Day fourGualala to San Francisco, 115 Miles Jump back on Hwy. 1 to leave Gualala. At Bodega Bay, Hwy. 1 leads past Hitchcock's The Birds site. Continuing south 68 miles past Bodega Bay, the road drops you right back onto the Golden Gate Bridge and into San Francisco.
Road Trip: The Arkansas Ozarks
In the Arkansas Ozarks, every new place you come to seems to be the capital of something. Newton County is the state's elk capital; Mountain View is its folk-music capital. Even most non-capitals have a claim to fame. (See: Altus, Ark., "Home of the First Season of Fox'sThe Simple Life.") But don't make too much of all the big talk-one look and you can tell that these are tiny towns from another time. To my mind, however, it's the meandering roads between them that deserve all the acclaim. The mountains are crisscrossed with two-lane roads-most of which weren't paved until after World War II-that wind through oak forests to uncover sweeping views along ridges, and then dip into valleys along the Buffalo and White Rivers. Sleepy and slow, they force you to take your time getting from one town to the next, which is truly the point. 1) Little Rock to Jasper I met my sister Maggie, who flew in from Savannah, Ga. We set out for lunch at one of Little Rock's famous hamburger joints, the Purple Cow. The burger was good, the milk shake better; the combination, in hindsight, was probably not the best way to start a long road trip. Our first real stop was the town of Altus, capital of Arkansas wine country. You probably didn't know that Arkansas has a wine country. Neither did I. About 115 miles from Little Rock-and not en route to our evening's destination-Altus required a little detour. But I thought it was worth it, since the town has four of the state's five wineries. (A majority of counties in Arkansas, I was told, are Baptist-and therefore dry.) To my delight, I was informed by a welcome to altus sign that this was also "Home of The Simple Life," the Fox reality show featuring Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. There's the Sonic where the girls "worked"! There's the bar where Nicole poured bleach on the pool table! And yet Paris and Nicole didn't leave too much wreckage in their wake. Altus is still a small, quiet town. We stopped in at the visitors center on Main Street to pick up pamphlets about the wineries, half of which are a short drive up a mountain. My favorite was the first we saw, Post Familie Vineyards and Winery, which is run by the 12 Post children. A fellow named Zack (not a Post) poured us reds, ros}s, and a grape juice. The wine was just OK, but the place was wonderfully unfussy. I particularly liked the Altus Grape Juice. Leaving Altus, we entered the Ozark National Forest, heading toward Jasper. Still recovering from our earlier burgers, we got snow cones at the Ozone Burger Barn. Up to this point, the drive hadn't revealed much more than oak trees and the occasional farm, and I was a little worried that we might get bored. (The Paris-and-Nicole rush passed quickly.) At that moment, however, I heard a rumbling sound in the distance, and a spunky 60-something couple pulled up on a pair of four-wheelers. In a matter of minutes, they'd peeled off their goggles, downed a couple of Cokes, and hopped back on their ATVs. As the duo rumbled away in a cloud of kicked-up dust, I was transfixed. The best part of the day's drive was the last 15 miles south of Jasper on Highway 7, called Scenic 7. Essentially, the road to Jasper had been a gradual climb. We finally got an unobstructed view of the valleys off the side of the ridge we'd been ascending, known as the Grand Canyon of the Ozarks. There isn't much more to the town of Jasper than an ice cream parlor, a Christian bookstore, and a little shop selling rocks and minerals. But Newton County, of which Jasper is a part, bills itself as the Elk Capital of Arkansas. In 1981, to encourage tourism, officials trucked in 112 elk from Colorado. The herd has grown to 550, and they roam free all over the area. Which is not to say that we saw any. The Ozark Caf}, a '50s-style diner, was still open when we got there just before 8 p.m. (Everything closes early in these parts.) Black-and-white photos of early settlers covered the walls. Maggie and I both had the fried catfish special, and then we split a piece of peach cobbler with ice cream. We found a nice room down the road from the town square at the Arkansas House Bed & Breakfast. The place reminded me of my grandparents' house: soft colors, floral wallpaper, and old, wooden bed frames. 2) Jasper to Eureka Springs Our B&B offered free breakfast at the Boardwalk, a restaurant next door. We loaded up on biscuits and gravy, sausage, bacon, and hash browns. Then we set out to walk it off. Up the street, Emma's Museum of Junk was one of the better junk shops/thrift stores we visited. Maggie bought two old scarves for a dollar apiece. There wasn't much else to do in town, so we took a half-hour side trip down the mountain toward Boxley to hike the Lost Valley Trail. The trail is a gentle climb along a riverbed leading to a deep cave. I was feeling adventurous, so I decided to try spelunking. To get more than 20 feet in, you need a good flashlight or headlamp. I borrowed a small one from a couple we met on the trail, but the cave still got very dark-quickly. At the back, it narrowed to a twisting, single-file passageway that led to a long, low, dripping room. I shimmied around, crouched under a ledge, and then turned back. A sign at the bottom of the trail explained that a little farther in there's a high-ceilinged cavern; during the wet springtime, it's the source of an underground waterfall. After hiking down the trail, Maggie and I returned to Jasper, buying groceries, lures, and weekend fishing licenses at Bob's A.G. Supermarket and Do-It-Best. The Buffalo River is known for manageable water, great smallmouth bass fishing, and dramatic limestone bluffs above the shores. Both Maggie and I love to canoe and fish, and we planned to do a long stretch of the river, camping out overnight. (In preparation, we'd brought our own fishing rods, sleeping bags, and a tent.) We stopped at Dillard's (now closed), an outfitter where we rented canoes, life jackets, and paddles for $40, and left our car out back. A fellow named Bobby drove us to the river, and showed us on a map where he'd pick us up. The Buffalo was slow, so we admired the bluffs. We caught a couple of small fish (which we threw back), and the day was pleasant enough. But the water was so low that we had to keep getting out to push the canoe over shoals. By the halfway point, we were ready to bail. We happened to arrive in Eureka Springs at exactly the same time as a classic-car convention. The town's more affordable spots up the hill-like the Stonegate-tend to fill up early. Book ahead if you're planning to get in late. 3) Eureka Springs to Mountain View Sunday morning I drove over to see the site of the Great Passion Play, a reenactment of Christ's last days. Performances take place five days a week from late spring through early fall in an outdoor amphitheater, located on a hill overlooking town. The full-blown affair sounded like more religion than I usually enjoy on vacation, so I checked out the site at 8 a.m., when it was sure to be deserted. A 67-foot-tall concrete Jesus was planted near the amphitheater, and soft organ music floated out from speakers on nearby pine trees. The historic section of Eureka Springs is one of Arkansas' biggest tourist destinations. The town used to be known for the healing power of its springs; there's still a quaint, 19th-century feel here. A bus built to look like an old-fashioned trolley runs a loop through the historic part of town. It's a quick way to see what's worth coming back to on foot. First we navigated the steep, winding roads through the busy town center, which felt like a well-behaved Bourbon Street. Then, the trolley began to climb a hill through the leafy neighborhoods where the locals live. Twenty minutes later, we got off and walked up to the Palace Hotel and Bathhouse, Eureka Springs' only remaining baths. The best deal here is the eucalyptus steam and the clay mask treatment ($12 each), recommended as a pair. For the steam, I sat inside a wooden box that enclosed everything but my head, which poked out the top. I felt like a prisoner in a medieval torture chamber. The experience was anything but painful, however; it was a refreshing half hour. The only thing left to do in Eureka Springs was walk around and eat. By this point, we were tired of southern food, so we went to New Delhi, an Indian restaurant run by Bill Sarad, a Mumbai native. We split a meal of lentils, vegetarian meatballs, and basmati rice. We got into Mountain View around 8:30 p.m. The town is Arkansas's Capital of Folk Music, and this time the label fit. We saw several groups playing bluegrass in the town square. People were casually strolling around with instruments, moving from one ensemble to the next. Most of the instruments were stringed-guitars, banjos, mandolins-and the voices were flat and high. The entire town seemed to be out enjoying the festivities. The only place still open for dinner was Kin Folks Bar-B-Q, a tiny building at the edge of the square, and that's where I ate my first Frito pie. It came in a French-fry tray, with three layers: Fritos on the bottom, chili in the middle, cheddar and onions on top. I still can't get over the incredible, disgusting genius of this idea. Plus, it happened to be quite tasty. 4) Mountain View to Little Rock After my success with Frito pie, I was feeling lucky, so I made one final southern-food stop in Greenbriar, at Nelson's Wagon Wheel Restaurant. The sign had fallen down outside, the place was shabby, and the clientele was intimidatingly local. But the chocolate pie was a towering wonder of buttery greatness. It was one of the best-and biggest-slices I've ever had. I can see it now: Greenbriar, Arkansas's Capital of Chocolate Pie. Finding your way Both Maggie and I flew in and out of Little Rock, the airport with the most affordable flights. The best time for this trip is in spring, when the rivers run high and the caves are wet. 1. Little Rock to Jasper via Altus, 205 miles For the direct route, take I-40 west from Little Rock to Russellville. Then catch Scenic 7 north to Jasper. That trip is 142 miles and should take about 2 hours and 45 minutes. If you want to see Altus and the wine country, which is 115 miles from Little Rock and adds another hour and a half, take I-40 west past Russellville to exit 41. To get up to Jasper, backtrack a little on 40 east, and then get on 64 east for three miles to 21 north. After about 30 miles on 21, you meet 16 east and then Scenic 7 north to Jasper. 2. Jasper to Eureka Springs via Yellville, 135 miles Here's the prettiest way to get to Eureka Springs: 74 west to Boxley, then 21 north to Berryville, and then 62 west to Eureka Springs. If you want to go canoeing out of Yellville, that trip is about 62 miles and takes an hour and a half. From Jasper, go north on 7, east on 62/412, and south on 14 to Dillard's. Yellville to Eureka Springs is a straight shot west on 62. 3. Eureka Springs to Mountain View, 140 miles Take 62 east to Mountain Home, then 5 south toward Mountain View. If you happened to miss the scenic stretch on 21 and 74, however, take 62 east to 21 south to Boxley. From there, take 74 back through Jasper to Hasty, where you'll meet 123 north, then 65 south, and then 66 east. One warning: On the map, 74 may look as if it connects to 65, but the road dead-ends after Mount Judea. Don't miss the connection from 74 to 123, which leads to 65. 4. Mountain View to Little Rock, 105 miles Take 9 south to Clinton, and then 65 south. Follow that to Conway, and I-40. Signs will lead to the airport. Day one Lodging The Arkansas House B&BHwy. 7, Jasper, 870/446-5900, thearkhouse.com, from $49 Food The Purple Cow8026 Cantrell Rd., Little Rock, 501/221-3555, burger $4.75 Ozone Burger BarnHwy. 21, Ozone, 479/292-1392 Ozark CafeHwy. 7, Jasper, 870/446-2976, catfish $6 Post Familie Vineyards1700 St. Mary's Mtn. Rd., Altus, 479/468-2741 Day two Lodging Stonegate 2106 E. Van Buren, Eureka Springs, 479/253-8800, from $39 Boardwalk CafeHwy. 7, Jasper, 870/446-5900 Attractions Lost Valley TrailHwy. 43, north of Boxley, nps.gov/buff Shopping Emma's Museum of JunkHwy. 7, Jasper, 870/446-5865 Bob's A.G. Supermarket and Do-It-BestHwy. 7, Jasper, 870/446-5164, fishing license $11 Day three Lodging Red Bud Inn428 Sylamore Ave., Mountain View, 870/269-4375, from $40 Food New Delhi2 N. Main St., Eureka Springs, 479/253-2525, buffet $8 Kin Folks Bar-B-Q123 Washington St., Mountain View, 870/269-9188 The Great Passion Play935 Passion Play Rd., Eureka Springs, 800/882-7529, greatpassionplay.com, $23.25, kids $10 The Palace Hotel and Bathhouse135 Spring St., Eureka Springs, 479/253-8400, palacehotelbathhouse.com Historic trolley ride137A W. Van Buren, Eureka Springs, 479/253-9572, tickets $2 Day four Food Nelson's Wagon WheelHwy. 65, Greenbriar, 501/679-5009, chocolate pie $1.75