40 Best Bargain Vacations

Snowbird, Utah Festival: As part of the Wasatch Wildflower Festival, guides run free wildflower walks from the top of Snowbird (July 29 to August 1, 801/947-8263, wasatchwildflowerfestival.org, $5 tram ride to where the walk starts). Off-Mountain Adventure: A half hour away, Solitude resort has an 18-hole Frisbee golf course where they'll let you play free rounds if you're willing to hike it (801/534-1400, skisolitude.com). Only Here: Grab a six-pack of locally brewed Polygamy Porter. The beer's slogan is "Why Have Just One!" Lodging: Snowbird's Mountain Escape package includes a room at The Inn, breakfast, and a scenic tram trip or a ride down the Alpine Slide luge (800/232-9542, $59 per person per night based on doubles). Info: Snowbird.com. Telluride, Colorado Great Hike: Two miles east of Telluride, the Bridal Veil Falls trail ends at a 365-foot waterfall. En route, the 1,200-foot climb traverses territory that is home to bighorn sheep and marmots. Pick up the Telluride Hiking Guide at Between the Covers (224 W. Colorado Ave., 970/369-0967, $14). Festival: Local frustration at a glut of scheduled merrymaking prompted the Nothing Festival (July 21 to 25, telluridenothingfestival.com). Tie One On: Regulars know the Last Dollar Saloon as the Buck (100 E. Colorado Ave., 970/728-4800). Lodging: The Mountain Lodge at Telluride has three rustic log-and-stone buildings furnished in leather, granite, and earth tones (457 Mountain Village Blvd., 866/368-6867, from $99). Info: Tellurideskiresort.com. Whistler, British Columbia Great Hike: An ambitious day hike, the seven-mile path to Singing Pass climbs 3,281 feet. The reward is a gorgeous view of two mountain ranges and a glacier. Only Here: A mass of ice over 270 feet thick guarantees snow on Whistler's Blackcomb glacier even in July. The resort is open for skiing nine months out of the year--November through July--so odds are good that mountain bikers, skiers, and sightseers will share a gondola (day pass $20). Lodging: The Summer Peak Adventure package includes four nights' accommodations in the village and one daylong lift pass per guest for the Peak Chair, which goes directly to the summit (800/944-7853, $170 per person). Info: Whistlerblackcomb.com. Squaw Valley, California Off-Mountain Adventure: : Spend the day tubing the Truckee River. Pick up a tube for $15 at a gas station, or shoot the rapids with Truckee River Rafting (888/584-7238, truckeeriverrafting.com, $32). After Sunset: In July and August, PG movies screen for free in the outdoor village plaza on Thursdays at dusk. Only Here: A cable car drops you at a heated pool and a skating rink at High Camp, just below the summit (cable car $19, pool $5, rink $3). Lodging: Two-bedroom condos in The Village at Squaw start at $179 (877/297-2140, thevillageatsquaw.com). Info: Squaw.com. Aspen/Snowmass, Colorado Great Hike: A two-and-a-half-hour hike in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness Area leads to spectacular American Lake. Festival: The Aspen Music Festival hosts concerts in various indoor halls and the permanent 2,050 seat Benedict Music Tent. Even non-- ticket holders can enjoy the music from the lawn beyond the tent. There are also musicians busking all day long (June 22 to August 21, 970/925-9042, aspenmusicfestival.com). After Sunset: The Snowmass Village Rodeo is Wednesday and Saturday nights June 22 to August 27 (Rodeo Grounds, Brush Creek Rd., 970/ 923-8898, $16). Tie One On: Little Annie's has the cheapest drinks in town (517 E. Hyman Ave., 970/925-1098). If you overdo it, Aspen offers a year-round Tipsy Taxi service, which gives drinkers a free ride home. Ask your bartender. Lodging: Two condo complexes downtown--Chateau Chaumont and Chateau Dumont--have packages that include a two-bedroom condo, free airport transfers, and complimentary Aspen Club & Spa privileges (877/636-4626, from $53 per person based on groups of four). Info: Aspensnowmass.com. Jackson Hole, Wyoming Great Hike: From the Jenny Lake parking lot in Grand Teton National Park, hike two miles around the lake toward Cascade Canyon. Beyond the lake, a brook bordering the trail hints at the splendor half a mile further--the 80-foot Hidden Falls (307/739-3399, nps.gov/grte, weeklong car pass $20). Off-Mountain Adventure: Jackson Hole Whitewater runs four-hour trips on the Snake River (800/700-7238, jhww.com, from $44). Tie One On: The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar uses saddles as bar stools (25 N. Cache St., Jackson, 307/733-2207). Only Here: Watch the Jackson Hole Shootout--a mock gunfight--from the roof of the Rancher bar every day but Sunday at 6:15 p.m. (20 E. Broadway, Jackson, 307/733-3886). Family Fun: Kids Ranch Summer Day Camp in Teton Village (at the base of the Jackson Hole resort) has hiking and arts and crafts (307/739-2691, from $75). Lodging: The Cowboy Up package includes three nights in a two-bedroom condo in Teton Village, an aerial tram ride, a horseback ride, and passes to the Jackson Hole Rodeo (from $159 per person). Or plan your adventures à la carte from a two-bedroom with kitchenette at Jackson Hole's Village Center Inn (from $185; for both properties, the contact is 800/443-8613). Info: Jacksonhole.com. Vail, Colorado Great Hike: Wander through aspen groves on the two-mile hike to Booth Creek Falls, a 60-foot waterfall. Pick up a map from Vail Information, upstairs at the Transportation Center in the village, where you can also catch the free bus to the trailhead (970/479-1394). Festival: Last year's Big Wheel 'n Chili party in Vail Village hosted a cook-off, beer festival, and Big Wheel race. This year's event, on June 25, may feature barnyard animals (970/477-0111). Off-Mountain Adventure: Mount Massive Golf Course in Leadville offers 18 holes for $29 (259 County Road 5, 719/486-2176). Family Fun: Camp Vail entertains kids 5 to 12 with hiking, drama, and even golf (970/479-2292, vailrec.com, $62). Lodging: The Choose Your Own Adventure package includes four nights' lodging at one of the many inns in and around Vail Village, car rental, round-trip airfare from Dallas, Chicago, or L.A., and an activity of your choice, such as rafting or horseback riding (877/750-8245, from $699 per person). Or the Holiday Inn has rooms from $89 (2211 N. Frontage Rd., 970/476-2739). Info: Vail.com. Big Mountain, Montana Great Hike: The Walk in the Treetops, along a 1,000-foot boardwalk up to 70 feet in the air, is much more about the view than the distance you'll cover (406/862-2900, half-day outing $48, includes a snack, water, and souvenir fanny pack). Festival: This year marks Whitefish's 100th anniversary. The town's party includes an art and music festival (August 12 to 14, 877/862-3548). Tie One On: For $8, the Dire Wolf Pub will fill a half-gallon jug with one of its beers on tap for you to take out--ask for a Growler (845 Wisconsin Ave., 406/862-4500). Lodging: At Hibernation House on Big Mountain, you can get a room with a queen-size bed, two bunks, hot-tub access, free laundry service, and free breakfast (800/858-4152, from $65). Info: Bigmtn.com.

Last year, René and Andy Reed, of Mission Viejo, Calif., went to Hong Kong and were dazzled by the bustling city. The year before that, they enjoyed a peaceful driving tour of southwestern England. For both trips, their daughter, Jenna, stayed behind with friends and relatives. But after a recent vacation to Washington, D.C., where all three Reeds had a great time, Andy and René felt that Jenna was ready for her first trip overseas. Touring the medieval villages, castles, and gorgeous countryside along Germany's famed Romantic Road seemed like a good fit. "We want to focus on a small portion of the country and not rush too much," René wrote to us. "We're looking to see as many sights as possible but at the same time have an easygoing, relaxing trip." Andy bought a few guidebooks and did some Internet research to put together an eight-night itinerary. The route planner at viamichelin.com and tiscover.de, a German booking engine and tourist source, proved especially helpful. Andy and René mapped out the trip to include visits to the medieval city of Rothenburg and two famous castles near Füssen. They booked lodging on their own but contacted us for advice about sights that would make the trip especially fun for Jenna. "Our daughter really likes traveling," René wrote. "She's into art and history and castles, as well as typical kid stuff--adventure, animals, and such." One of the Reeds' first questions was whether to stick to Germany or dip into neighboring countries. We said concentrating on Germany was the way to go. There's no shortage of worthwhile destinations while touring the Romantic Road and Bavaria. Moreover, the experience is already like visiting several countries, given the strong regional identities that developed over Germany's long history of being divided into many small states. After picking up their rental car in Frankfurt, the Reeds will drive 75 miles southeast to the baroque city of Würzburg, where the Romantic Road officially begins. We suggested that their first stop should be the Residenz, the immense, 18th-century palace of the local prince-bishops. This UNESCO World Heritage site arguably surpasses any of Europe's royal residences, thanks to the marvelous design of Balthasar Neumann. An unknown when the Residenz was built, Neumann is widely considered the greatest architect of his era. Behind the beige, relatively understated facade are more than 300 ornately decorated rooms. At the center of the horseshoe-shaped palace is the treppenhaus, a grand stairway in an all-white room. Given Jenna's interest in animals, she's sure to want to see Wildpark, one of the largest zoos in Europe. It's less than an hour from Würzburg in the spa town of Bad Mergentheim. Many of the animals live not in cages but in environments approximating their natural habitats. There are otters, bears, and birds of prey, but the big attraction--albeit kind of a creepy one--is a pack of wolves that emerges from the forest to eat their fill before disappearing back into the woods. The Reeds will spend two nights at Rothenburg ob der Tauber, about an hour south on the Romantic Road. Encircled by stone walls from the 13th century, Rothenburg is worth the visit even with the summer crowds. We recommended walking around the walls and climbing up the tower of the Rathaus (town hall) to gaze down on the compact old city. Nearby are several attractions that appeal to kids. Käthe Wohlfahrt is Europe's largest year-round Christmas store, with a 12-foot-high nutcracker and a towering tree decorated with more than 1,000 glass balls and 7,000 lights. The Puppen & Spielzeug Museum houses a huge collection of historic dolls and toys. And then there's the Figurentheater, famous for its puppet shows. Performances are in German, but the puppeteers include some material in English and anyone can enjoy the broad humor. With a full day to cover the remaining 160 miles to Füssen, the Reeds have time for several quick stops. At Schillingsfürst castle, falcons, eagles, and vultures fly during three daily demonstrations. Farther on are two medieval towns that, like Rothenburg, are surrounded by preserved walls: Dinkelsbühl, with its cobblestone streets and 16th-century homes, and quaint Nördlingen, which lies in the heart of the Ries, a moonscape formed 15 million years ago by a meteorite. Toward the end of the Romantic Road, the isolated Wieskirche (Meadow Church) is not to be missed. What's most interesting here, beyond the rococo extravagance of the building, is the reason the Wieskirche was built. In the late 1730s, word spread that tears had appeared in the eyes of the Scourged Savior, a statue of Jesus shackled in chains. Pilgrims flooded the area to see the statue--it was said to work miracles--and a richly decorated church, completed in 1754, was constructed to welcome them. In order to avoid the worst of the crowds, we recommended the Reeds leave early from their hotel in Füssen for visits to Schloss Neuschwanstein, the most outrageous of the fantasy castles commissioned by King Ludwig II of Bavaria (and inspiration for the faux castles at Disney parks), and the adjacent Schloss Hohenschwangau, which was built for his father, Maximilian II. A short, rewarding hike leads up behind Neuschwanstein to the Marienbrücke, a slender iron bridge that spans postcard views of the castle and surrounding mountains. Alternatively, they could drive to Schloss Linderhof, the only one of "Mad" Ludwig's castles actually completed during his lifetime. It's in a park dotted with follies, including a pavilion with a throne framed by enamel and wrought-iron peacocks. The following day, the Reeds will drive to the small town of Maulbronn, clustered around an impressive, well-preserved medieval monastery. The Kloster Maulbronn is a compound of more than 30 buildings, most constructed between 1150 and 1390, with a remarkable irrigation network of canals, drains, and reservoirs that still distributes water. Back on the castle track, we steered the Reeds to nearby Schloss Lichtenstein, set magnificently on a high, narrow peak. It remains the property of the Urach family, who had it built more than 150 years ago. If the Reeds are feeling ambitious, they can check out the Urachs' original seat, the spa town of Bad Urach, home to many cute, half-timbered buildings so characteristic of central Germany. From Maulbronn, the Reeds will continue on to Speyer; its 11th-century Kaiserdom (Imperial Cathedral) was once the largest church in the West. Speyer has a distinguished culinary tradition: It is widely considered the birthplace of brezel, the salted bread that, across the Atlantic, became the pretzel. Fresh, hot pretzels cost about 50¢ at bakeries throughout Germany, and Speyer is a good place to give them a taste test. The Reeds will spend their last three nights at the village of Beilstein, on the River Mosel. We suggested they take a relaxing cruise on either the Mosel or the Rhine and let the pretty scenery of waterside towns, steep vineyards, crumbling castles, and rocky outcrops come to them. Depending on their mood, they can book an all-day voyage or hop from one village to the next as they please. Before the Reeds return to Frankfurt for the flight home, there's one final castle. Owned by the same family and kept largely intact for more than 800 years, Burg Eltz is in a remote wooded valley near the Mosel. While touring the soaring stone building, with four separate residences and multiple turrets and towers, it's easy to envision living like a king--or a princess--during the Middle Ages. Transportation K-D Line 011-49/2212-088318, k-d.com, riverboat trip from $3.50 round trip Attractions Residenz Würzburg, 011-49/931-355170, schloesser.bayern.de, $5.75 Wildpark Bad Mergentheim, 011-49/7931-41344, wildtierpark.de, $10.25 Käthe Wohlfahrt Herrngasse 1, Rothenburg, 011-49/9861-4090, wohlfahrt.com Puppen & Spielzeug Museum Hofbronnengasse 13, Rothenburg, 011-49/9861-7330, spielzeugmuseum.rothenburg.de, $5.15 Figurentheater Herrngasse 38, Rothenburg, 011-49/9861-3333, figurentheater-rothenburg.de, from $10.25 Schillingsfürst 011-49/9868-201, schloss-schillingsfuerst.de, $9 Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau 011-49/8362-930830, neuschwanstein.de, hohenschwangau.de, joint ticket $22, parking $5.15 Schloss Linderhof Ettal, 011-49/8822-920349, linderhof.de, $9 Kloster Maulbronn 011-49/7043-926610, maulbronn.de, $6.50 Schloss Lichtenstein 011-49/7129-4102, schloss-lichtenstein.de, $5.15 Burg Eltz Münstermaifeld, 011-49/2672-950500, burg-eltz.de, $7.75 Resources Tiscover Deutschland burg-eltz.de Michelin Route Planner viamichelin.com Romantic Road Tourism 011-49/9851-90271, romanticroad.de

We first saw the trucks northbound on the Pan-American Highway, halfway between San Jose and Liberia. There were two and they weaved in front of us, the rear one on the other's bumper. To our right, we saw that the cab of an 18-wheeler had run up a hill. Something noxious steamed from under its hood. To our left, hundreds of feet down a canyon, its trailer had shattered into oblivion. "I've got to get around these trucks," said my wife, Regina. "Are you sure?" The trucks lurched. Anything 20 feet in front of us was hidden by a sinister curve. An eternity of switchbacks ensued. Jungle melded into grassland, with little hints of desert below and rain forest above. And this was the ugly part of Costa Rica. Finally, a straightaway appeared. The rear truck put on his left blinker. "What's he doing?" Regina said. "I think he wants you to pass him." The blinker moved faster, almost insistently. Regina whipped into the left lane and gunned the engine. We got by the first truck without a problem, but about halfway past the second truck, we had trouble. A guy on a bicycle was coming toward us. Regina gave a little yelp. I buried my head in my right arm. When I looked up, the trucks were behind us. Regina was gripping the steering wheel with ardor. "That was awesome," she said. Generally, there are two ways to approach a trip to Costa Rica. You take the package tour, which shuttles you from the airport to the resort to various nature experiences and back again, or you strap on a backpack. We wanted a little of what both offer--accessibility, authenticity. We wanted a "real" trip, and we figured a car would allow us to go deep. We soon learned that nothing is more real in Costa Rica than driving. And that would be Regina's job. A few years ago, driving through Ontario, I got distracted while listening to a particularly suspenseful part of The Talented Mr. Ripley on tape, and I switched lanes into a vanful of high-school soccer players from Alberta. Thankfully, there were no injuries, except to my reputation. Since then, I've been restricted, at Regina's orders, to local routes. She handles all the highways, especially foreign ones. Costa Rica is about the size of West Virginia, with a population of under four million. Less than a quarter of the roads are paved, and only 19 percent are in good condition. People, particularly in rural areas, have no fear about walking in the middle of the road. According to the World Health Organization, of the 75 countries it surveyed, Costa Rica has the world's eighth highest traffic fatality rate, 20.1 deaths per 100,000 people. (The rate in the U.S. is 15.) I'm surprised the difference isn't higher: Costa Rica may be an earthly paradise, but driving there is Death Race 2000. We had five days, so we limited ourselves to the province of Guanacaste, in the north, and to the Nicoya Peninsula, which juts west off the northern mainland. We figured we'd be able to take in some road-trip scenery but also have time to enjoy Costa Rica's famously lush nature. We didn't count on roads comprised mainly of potholes the width and depth of family-size lasagnas. We also didn't count on getting bumped off our outbound flight from Houston to Liberia. Instead, we were put on a flight to San Jose, four hours by car to the south. This put a serious cramp in my plans to spend our first morning lolling on the beach. Instead, we got up before dawn and drove. The death race was on. Just past Liberia, we caught glimpses of Pacific surf bashing jagged cliffs. A plain of dry, mildly hilly grassland was dotted with thick-based, spherically crowned evergreen guanacastes, the national tree of Costa Rica, which look like umbrellas and give even the harshest landscape a pleasing feel. We arrived at our hotel, Los Inocentes Lodge, around lunchtime. At the center of the property stands a commanding two-story wooden lodge, dating from 1892. The front porch faces the dark Orosí volcano, and the rest of the property abuts Guanacaste National Park. The park's 85,000 acres span several ecosystems, connecting the dry Pacific coast with volcano-peaked cloud forests before sloping down to rain forest on the country's Caribbean side. Los Inocentes was handy, if not exactly lavish. Our room was small and rustic, with a 26-foot angled ceiling, twin beds, and a private bathroom across the hall. The place was empty, so we had full run of a shared porch running the length of the lodge, with an array of hammocks and rocking chairs. At lunch, the restaurant's theme seemed to be "Feed the Americans anything and pretend it's local." The meat was stringy and the salad had come from a bag. I should've known not to eat at a hotel restaurant, but I'd slept two hours the night before, and when you're that tired, you don't make the best choices. The road we'd taken to the lodge headed up into the hills, and far in the distance it looked like it skirted a narrow gap between two volcanoes. We got back on it to explore. Ten minutes in, we came upon the town of Santa Cecilia, on the edge of a mammoth corporate-owned orange plantation. At this point, our National Geographic Adventure Map, invaluable so far, let us down. It indicated mostly paved roads after Santa Cecilia; the drive looked short and easy. Half an hour out of town, when the roads were still mostly rocks and deep holes, we began to worry, particularly because we hadn't yet reached the next town on the map. I realized that we probably wouldn't see the sun set along the beach, which was at least two hours in the other direction. When you're on a five-day vacation, it's kind of a drag when you waste three hours in a landscape that offers little more than skinny cows and orange groves. Nothing lay ahead of us except potholes. Around 4:30 p.m., the heat finally eased a bit from its high of 97 degrees, and the scenery improved. We had hit volcano country. The road was enclosed on either side by walls of tropical forest. Fading light cast a gilded penumbra around a canvas of deep green. The air smelled old, like earth and pine, cool and wet, a stark contrast to the crisp aridity we'd been passing through just an hour before. As we cruised down the paved exit road, we stopped for a few minutes in Rio Naranjo. In the twilight, the village appeared like a Central American Brigadoon. Little brooks ran through town. Children in school uniforms skipped along the roadside. My attention turned to some hand-painted dinosaur sculptures that faced the highway. I asked the sculptor what was going on, expecting to get some sort of outsider artist spiel. He was building them, he told us, for a Jurassic Park theme park. The next morning, before the day's heat could dominate, we went on a horseback "monkey safari." For two hours, a guide led us through dry lowland forest, wet high forest, and a couple of moist forests in between. We spotted spider monkeys, howler monkeys, capuchin monkeys, a tree sloth, a rare local woodpecker, and several toucans. Atop my grouchy old horse, I saw a baby monkey jump on his mother's back as she swung from tree to tree by her tail. It felt like how I imagine the world used to be. The day's goal was to get from the northern tip of Guanacaste to the southern tip of the Nicoya Peninsula before sundown, a six-hour drive. It was ambitious. The first two hours down the highway bisecting the peninsula were dull and dry, but easy. After a while, we cut east toward the Gulf of Nicoya. The scenery resembled, in turn, the hills of Kentucky, the gently rolling pastureland of Wisconsin and northern Iowa, and the Oregon coast. An hour and a half from the peninsula's base, we came to prosperous towns and passed nice resorts. We rolled down the windows to let in the salty air, and attacked the smooth, hilly roads with enthusiasm. The town of Cabuya is basically a one-lane road, a few houses, a sign for an Internet cafe (though we never found it), and Hotel Celaje, a seven-bungalow oasis operated by two efficient Belgians. Our thatched-roof bungalow had a spacious, high-ceilinged sleeping loft with teak walls and floors. There were little shelves on the walls, and a table, chair, and hammock on the front porch. The hotel's pool was cool and blue and recently tiled. We could hear the soft waves of the rocky beach, which lay beyond a small thicket of palms. It's always a good idea to stay someplace where Belgians are cooking. We left the Celaje the next day at 11 a.m. with our bellies still full from the night before, when we were served anchovy toast, smoked fish, and steak with bordelaise sauce. The seven kilometers we then traveled must be one of the greatest drives anywhere in the world. Cabuya connects to the Pacific side of the Nicoya Peninsula through the Cabo Blanco Absolute Wildlife Reserve, 2,896 acres of tropical forest, with 150 different kinds of trees and untold varieties of fauna. The road skirts the reserve, with steep climbs and magnificent drops, to where the ocean butts up against the western edge. It was an incredible ride and we noodled through it slowly. On the other side was Malpaís, a place that bore the signs of having recently been a sleepy fishing village. Much of the beachfront remains undeveloped, but not for long. The Pacific side of the peninsula is undergoing a land rush unlike any in Costa Rica's history. Ten or fifteen years from now, chances are good the area will resemble southern Florida, or at least the Yucatán. Large groups of college students were wandering the rocks, and ATVs roared along the dirt roads. We followed a dirt road toward the restaurant Soda Piedra Mar. The name literally means "ocean rock," and we could see why. Twenty feet in front of us was an inlet, framed by jagged rocks. The surf roared in and shot up through the rocks like a geyser, but always away from our table. On the other side was pristine beach. People pay top dollar to eat in settings like this. Our bill was $14, and only because I ordered the lobster, which still smelled like the ocean. Regina had fried chicken and rice, and it was delicious. We ate at a couple of relatively fancy, and very good, restaurants later in the trip. But the setting, combined with the high-quality home cooking, made Soda Piedra Mar one of the finest places I've ever eaten. I would have gone back 20 times if I could. Our hotel was down the road a couple of miles, in Santa Teresa, a town that's become a hangout for cool surfers and yuppies. I had booked a room at the Tropico Latino Lodge, just off the main road, months before. They had asked me to wire money for a deposit. Driving in, the wiring seemed worth it. Bungalows were spaced evenly along pathways lined with pretty foliage. A two-tier pool beckoned, overlooking a lovely stretch of private beach. In the middle was a buzzing bar. We checked in with the bartender, who was the head person on duty. He was named Richard, and he was laid-back, slick, and handsome, like a surf version of Peter Krause on Six Feet Under. He also resembled that character in that he didn't really seem to want any responsibility. After disappearing for 20 minutes, he returned to the bar and said, "There's someone in your room already." He shrugged. "I'm just here to make drinks." "Kick them out," I said. "I wired money." Apparently, a French gentleman had seen my name on the reservation sheet and pretended to be me, therefore stealing the last bungalow. The woman working the morning shift didn't seem to notice, or think to check his ID. Richard didn't know how to contact the hotel's owner, or perhaps he didn't want to try. In retrospect, I should've been wary of a hotel that wanted me to wire money ahead. But what could I have done differently? A confirmation number wouldn't have helped much on the Richard front. I stood at the bar for the next three hours as he mixed margaritas and chatted up everything that walked. In between, Richard made a few calls on our behalf, trying to find us a room. By the time I retreated in disgust--with a full refund--I looked like Richard had put me in a blender. I was wild-eyed. Sweat plastered my hair against my forehead. Regina and I drove up and down the road. Every hotel, at every price range, was full. We'd have to traverse the coast until dark. Maybe we'd find a place. As a last option, we turned in at a sign that read florblanca. Regina parked and I got out of the car to see what they had. The restaurant and bar looked like something on the Fine Living Channel, all cool concrete and wooden beams and tables. The hotel was filled with gorgeous, tanned people of many nationalities. I walked up to the front desk. Even though I must have looked scary, they smiled at me. "I need a room!" I said. "Now!" "Of course," the receptionist calmly replied. She showed me a room. I went to get Regina. "This is where we're staying," I said. "How much is it?" "A lot." She didn't bother arguing. Our casita had three rooms. The bedroom was fully enclosed, with the first air-conditioning unit we'd seen on the trip, and it had a mosquito-netted king-size bed. The living room contained many more comfortable chairs than we could handle, and our bathroom was entirely open-air, with an outdoor shower and a sunken concrete tub. In the lobby, the hostess handed us two virgin guava margaritas. The locally picked fruit is goopy and stringy at the same time. It tasted like a mango dipped in honey. We'd accidentally landed in someone else's vacation, a fantasyland of beach walks, swimming-pool dips, fancy drinks, and sushi under the stars. But we had to leave the luxury behind, because we couldn't possibly afford another day. Everyone warned us that part of the road up the Pacific side of the peninsula was literally on the beach. At high tide, it's covered by water. We left at 9:30 a.m. and followed the rough road out of Santa Teresa. Within minutes we had said good-bye to overgrown development. Just when we thought the driving couldn't get any better, the road dipped down and we found ourselves cruising along the sand. The tide was coming in, lapping over the road. "Follow the tire tracks," I said to Regina. She complied, flooring it like they do on the commercials. We came to an estuary, where I got out of the car, took off my shoes, and stepped in. The water came up past my knees. We backed up a couple of miles and took an alternate route, spending the rest of the day slinking through little towns and past small beachside communities that obviously intended to remain secret. Gorgeous view stacked upon gorgeous view. We became blase about foaming surf crashing against rocks with a backdrop of rolling farmland and jungle-foliaged volcano-scapes. At a bend in the main road, we were thwarted by a river. This was beyond our skills. We gazed at the water for several minutes, not saying anything, just awed, realizing that driving in Costa Rica will eventually defeat everyone, no matter how sturdy or determined. As though we'd dreamed it, an electric company truck pulled alongside us, and the driver indicated that we should follow him. He maneuvered his truck into the water, curved left, and then cut sharply right. He was submerged to well above his tires, and then he pulled the truck onto the bank and sat there, waiting. Regina followed his path precisely. The water came halfway up our doors. In my mind, I composed explanations to the rental car company about why their vehicle had washed out to sea. Suddenly we were on the bank. But we couldn't dwell on our success. It was still more than 100 miles to Playa Hermosa, our final stop. After the spectacular places we'd seen, Playa Hermosa seemed like your standard beach town. But on the main drag, just before the turn down to the beach, a restaurant called Ginger set it apart. An expat from Montreal is the chef and owner. She served us a meringue filled with and ringed by mango, pineapple, kiwi, and strawberry. It was one of the best desserts I've had anywhere. We chose Playa Hermosa because it's 22 miles from the Liberia Airport, and we had an early flight. At the airport check-in line, we waited behind a woman from L.A. "So where did you stay?" she asked. My wife and I exchanged the kind of look that makes marriage worthwhile. We'd traveled approximately one third of Costa Rica in five days, in very rushed and peculiar circumstances. We had seen beaches and jungle, overdeveloped tourist towns and unknown hideaways. We'd eaten well and eaten poorly and slept in some really nice beds along the way. We'd experienced a universe, all because we'd dared to get our own car. "Lady," I said, "you have no idea." Driving Survival Strategies   Don't count on road signs for navigation. They're not always correct. The National Geographic Adventure Map is extremely detailed and generally helpful.   It's a good idea to get where you're going before dark. Most roads don't have streetlights.   If you see a branch or a pile of sticks in the road, slow down immediately. This is the Costa Rican version of a road flare.   Gas stations are few and far between. When you spot one, take it as an opportunity to fill up.   Don't assume that pedestrians or bicyclists in the road will try to avoid you. That's your job. Lodging   Los Inocentes Lodge outside La Cruz, 011-506/679-9190, losinocenteslodge.com, from $60   Hotel Celaje Cabuya, 011-506/642-0374, celaje.com, from $70   Florblanca Resort Santa Teresa, 011-506/640-0232, florblanca.com, villas from $295 Food   Soda Piedra Mar Malpaís, 011-506/640-0069, $2--$10 per person   Ginger Restaurant & Bar Playa Hermosa, 011-506/350-2922, meringue $4.25 Attractions   Monkey Safari Los Inocentes Lodge, 011-506/679-9190, $35 for hotel guests   Guanacaste National Park costaricabureau.com/nationalparks/guanacaste.htm $7   Santa Rosa National Park costaricabureau.com/nationalparks/santarosa.htm $7   Cabo Blanco Wildlife Reserve caboblancopark.com Resources   Costa Rica Tourism Board 866/267-8274, visitcostarica.com   Toyota Rent A Car San Jose and Liberia airports, 011-506/258-5797, approximately $400 a week for a 4x4, automatic or manual