Jessica Coen's Girlfriend Getaway to Chicago

4 P.M. I've just arrived in Chicago and am at my friend's apartment. I fully intended to write this first post on the airplane, but my computer failed to boot up. Incredibly irritating. I had no choice but to read the latest Vanity Fair instead. There are worse fates. Anyhow, my flight. As we all boarded the plane and I plopped down in my window seat, a youngish, handsome, southern-sounding gentleman loudly sat down in the row behind me. "I'm waaay-sted!" he announced to the similarly jovial people sitting around him. He began rambling about how he was wearing the same clothes as last night, and how he went home and slept with some "unfortunate guy." It was time to bust out the iPod. Then it hits me: vodka. This guy's scent spread throughout the cabin, and I exchanged a wince with the woman sitting next to me. But then I remembered that I was on my way to a bachelorette weekend, and I might very well smell as bad as he did (though likely worse) on my return flight. 5:30 P.M. So I'm decompressing at the apartment of one of my college friends, Anne. She lives in a fabulous high rise downtown just off Michigan Avenue overlooking the river. Anne's decorating style revolves around soothing beiges, so I feel as if I'm in a spacious hotel room, even though I'm really just budget shacking with a friend. It's the sort of apartment that makes me seriously hate myself for stubbornly paying in blood just to live in my fifth-floor tenement apartment in New York City. Actually, I tend to feel this way every single time I visit someone who lives elsewhere. I can feel the self-loathing coming on. Anne calls from her office. She wants to make a quick run to Nordstrom's, conveniently located just a few blocks from her apartment. I love Michigan Avenue. Its high-end shops may seem like nothing exceptional compared to NYC, but it'll always hold a special place in my wallet. I grew up and went to college in Michigan, so Chicago was my first Big City experience--my first glimpse of real high-rises, my first kick-ass slice of pizza, and my first romantic first whiff of urban life. And, obviously, it was my first experience with truly fantastic shopping. Time to spend some money. 7 P.M. We have to meet the bachelorette party for an 8 P.M. dinner and are rushing because we lingered in the shops too long. I had wanted some sort of shoe that wouldn't force me to lose a toe to hypothermia (it's 45 degrees and gray out). Alas, Nordstrom's failed to present any satisfactory, closed-toe choices, so I instead spent a hundred compensatory dollars on face painting tools from Sephora, none of which I actually needed. Whenever I'm around my girlfriends, I'm a beacon of responsible spending. Unaware that it'd gotten so late, we run back to Anne's apartment, stopping quickly at the wonderfully named Bockwinkel's supermarket for some Bud Light (classy!), cheese, and crackers, because my stomach was dangerously close to eating itself. We have to meet the bride-to-be and the rest of the girls at 8. I'm feeling ragged and very much need to wash the American Airlines from my skin. Day two: Tacky fun and more shopping

Update: On October 17, the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) recalled all Quechua tents and canopies--like the 2-Seconds Tent we covered in our July/August issue--because some may fail to meet the industry's flame-resistance standard, posing a fire hazard.   With the Quechua 2-Seconds Tent on your back, you look a bit like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle   To open the tent up, just slide off one strap and fling it in the air. It's remarkably easy--and addictive   The tent is light and waterproof, and takes less than 30 seconds to fold up (decathlontent.com, $69)

After Labor Day, there's an absence of bugs as well as crowds at most parks, and the chill of winter hasn't set in yet. "September is an ideal month to visit the parks," says Rick Nolan, Chief of Interpretation at Redwood National Park in northern California. "Once the kids are back in school there's plenty of elbow room." Temperatures are in the 60s in early fall, and the average rainfall for September is less than two inches (compared to nearly a foot per month in the winter). Last year the park welcomed 64,000 visitors in July, but only 42,000 in September, making it the perfect time to soak in the primordial vibe created by the Pacific mist and the 350-foot-tall redwoods. At Crater Lake in Oregon, the last of the season's boat tours runs sometime in mid-September (541/594-3100, $26-$36). To board, you must hike down steep switchbacks for a mile. It's worth the trip: Nothing compares to gazing into the deep, electric-blue water up close. Head to the park's southeast corner to check out the jagged rocks known as the Pinnacles. "They're a cool geological formation that occurred when ash flowed during the eruption," says interpreter David Grimes. "The mountain had frothy flows of rock coming down the sides into valleys. Gas then superheated this ash to solidify it." The earth surrounding the Pinnacles eroded centuries ago, leaving behind spiny, gray rocks jutting up from the ground. The year's best weather at Acadia in Maine and North Cascades in Washington comes in July, August, and September, and the latter is by far the least crowded. "In September at Acadia it gets into the 60s during the day, which is great hiking weather," says park ranger Wanda Moran. "Even with the foliage season, it's pretty quiet compared to summer." The first leaves to turn colors are in the upper elevations, so hike to Beech Mountain (overlooking two ponds), or take the lazy route and drive up to the park's highest peak, 1,530-foot Cadillac Mountain. Sometimes at North Cascades it's not until late summer that all of the alpine trails are clear of snow. Hiking is the major draw, though you don't have to work hard for great scenery. "The views from the Cascade Pass Trail parking lot are just incredible," says Michael Liang, a park ranger. "You see glaciers and sheer cliffs as soon as you step out of the car." The vistas gets even better on the trail, which brings opportunities to run into mountain goats and furry little creatures such as marmots (oversized squirrels) and pikas (undersized rabbits). After ascending 1,800 feet in 3.7 miles, you reach a dramatic lookout for both the east and west faces of the Cascades. __________________________________________________ Plan Ahead Instead of paying for notoriously overpriced groceries, film, and outdoor gear inside parks or at tiny gateway towns that make a killing on tourists, stock up on supplies ahead of time in a large shopping center. __________________________________________________ Penguins and Jokers Not Welcome Thousands of Mexican free-tailed bats go through a nightly ritual at New Mexico's Carlsbad Caverns. Just after dusk, swarms come flapping out of the Natural Cave entrance to gorge on moths and insects. Flights occur from spring to early fall, and are most impressive in August and September, when newborns are old enough to join in the hunt. Visitors watch the spectacle from a stone amphitheater after listening to a park ranger give a free talk (575/785-2232; exact times change). By October the insect population is down and the bats have headed to Mexico for the winter.

There's no getting around the fact that summer is peak season at most parks—but "peak" is relative. At Lassen Volcanic, an overlooked park in the northeast corner of California, you can hike all day on one of the busier trails in July or August and maybe see a total of 10 people. Lassen marks the south end of the Cascades, a mountain range that extends through the Pacific Northwest into British Columbia. The 106,000-acre park is unique for its hydrothermal features: fumeroles (like geysers), mudpots, and boiling springs. There are also dozens of lakes, hundreds of plant species, wide-open meadows, and a more than 10,000-foot dormant volcano. Because the park isn't on the way to or from any major attraction, Fourth of July and Labor Day weekends are typically the only times you have to worry about crowds. People who make it there love driving the beautiful, 30-mile Lassen Park Road (Hwy. 89) past lakes, forests, and remnant lava flow. Another favorite is the 1.5-mile walk to an elevated boardwalk leading through a basin of mudpots and steaming pools at Bumpass Hell, the park's largest hydrothermal site. The Cinder Cone Trail, in the remote northeast corner, is especially nice if you're out early in the morning, before it gets too warm. You trudge through sand-like soil for a few miles to magnificent views of Butte Lake, Lassen Peak, and the Painted Dunes colored in trippy browns, reds, and whites. Colorado also has a park that's under most tourists' radar, not only because it's miles from the nearest interstate but also because it became a national park relatively recently. After decades as a national monument, Great Sand Dunes earned the new designation in 2004. If you're not excited by a big pile of sand, you've never seen the dunes—nearly 30 square miles of them, 750 feet high, braced up against the 13,000-foot peaks of the Sangre de Cristo. Locals know to come to the park in early summer to play in the water streaming over the base of the dunes. Creeks often don't dry up until mid-July, around the time that the bright gold threadleaf goldeneye and other flowers are sprouting. "Basically anywhere there's water, you'll find wildflowers," says Carol Sperling, the park's chief of interpretation and visitor services. "Just go for a short walk along the creek on the Mosca Pass Trail or hike to some of the subalpine lakes in the high country." Temperatures in July and August hit the mid-80s in southern Colorado most days, dipping down to the 40s overnight, and there's little or no humidity. The sand can heat up to well over 100 degrees in the sun, however, so wear pants and boots if attempting to climb to the top of the dunes (at a good pace it takes about an hour). Miles and miles of more dunes come into view after cresting every ridge, and at the summit you can see across the valley to the San Juan Mountains 60 miles west. The sunsets are superb, casting yellows, oranges, and purples across the wide-open sky. Before nightfall there's generally a chance to witness why the peaks to the east were named the Sangre de Cristo. As the story goes, centuries ago a Spanish priest, dying from a wound in battle, cried out the phrase ("the blood of Christ") while looking up at the mountains as they turned a deep shade of red. _______________________________________________ The Presidential Park It's hard to get further off the beaten path than North Dakota's Theodore Roosevelt National Park. The only time there's a real crowd is in August, when the Champions Ride rodeo saddles up nearby. Follow in Teddy's footsteps by hiking the Petrified Forest trail—with siliconized cypress trees everywhere, it's like walking in a forest of stone. Plus, you can spot bison herds.