Skiing in Summer in Chile

The first surprise is that they're blue—startlingly blue. A glacier in Alaska doesn't look anything like an ice cube in your freezer. That's because the ice in tide-water glaciers is so densely packed that it absorbs all visible light except the short, blue spectrum. There is some white near the surface, where the ice traps air bubbles, and there are patches of brown throughout from dirt and rocks and debris. It's all a reminder of how, on its slow trek downhill, the mighty glacier's movement scrapes up everything that lies in its path, including the earth. SEE PHOTOS OF GLACIERS! We all think we know what a glacier looks like—how many times have you watched Titanic? But seeing South Sawyer Glacier in person—in one of the last wild places on the planet—is nothing like you expect. At first, the glacier looks almost like a toy. As you head out on the Disney Wonder cruise ship, you pass sparkling blue bergs bobbing like ice cubes in a punch bowl. On a few of them, you spot seals and eagles sunning themselves lazily on their icy rafts. As you get closer, however, the mood changes. You're confronted with what looks like a massive blue river of ice pouring down the mountains. The individual pieces are indeed pretty—you can see why the slang for a diamond is "ice"—but they are also threatening, with their jagged peaks and sharp crevices. Yet for all the visual drama, what's surprising about getting up close and personal with a glacier is how it hits the other senses. Listen carefully, and you'll hear low groaning and popping and maybe even a distant roar that sounds like thunder. That's the sound of an impossibly large force hauling its weight around the world. You can feel a glacier, too, even when you're not touching it. Even in the middle of the summer, you shiver in your hat and gloves, due not as much to the cold as to the chilling realization that you're witnessing a kind of raw, natural power that makes everything else feel insignificant. At no time is that sense of helplessness greater than when a glacier calves. Calving (a term that has nothing to do with cows but is related to the word cave, as in cave in) happens when massive icebergs are set loose from the motherland. You see it first: a spray, like a frozen mist or fine sleet, shimmying through the air. Then comes the violent sound of a hotel-size piece of ice falling into the water. If you're close enough, the glacier says good-bye in ripples that rock your boat, as if you'd strayed too close to a waterfall. You don't realize until afterward that you were holding your breath. And then it really hits you: The glacier is dying. Whether that's the result of global warming or the natural ebb and flow of nature is a matter of debate. But there's no question that what you've been witnessing is a piece of earth fading away. Like Luca Brasi in The Godfather, a part of South Sawyer Glacier has just gone to sleep with the fishes.

Luke Mairs's 4 p.m. departure time seems, at first, like a mistake. When his 47-foot white catamaran, On Ice, is finally prepped and putters out of Airlie Beach for a two-night sailing trip in Australia's Coral Sea, it's far too late to go beneath the waves and get face-to-snorkel with the trip's star attraction, the Great Barrier Reef. But as On Ice slips farther away from the east coast of Queensland the light starts to fade, and you suddenly appreciate the method to Mairs's mad schedule. The sun sinks behind the boat and sets the scene ahead of us on fire, with a spectrum of oozing reds and pinks cast across the water. A string of islands, the Whitsundays, comes into focus, only to fade from a rich hunter green into an inky black silhouette. It's like someone just turned on an IMAX nature film and projected it in front of your face. "If it's your first time to the Whitsundays," Mairs says, "then this is the perfect introduction." SEE PHOTOS OF AUSTRALIA! There are countless access points to the Great Barrier Reef. Americans tend to set off from Cairns, a mid-reef port that's also a major cruise-ship hub. The Whitsundays are where the Australians go, and not just because they're less crowded. They're also arguably the only spot along the 1,400-mile Reef that offers attractions above the waterline that rival what's below. There are 74 Whitsundays in all, and aside from a few given over to posh resorts, 66 of them are undeveloped, with a fragrant mix of hoop pines and lowland rain forest at their hearts and postcard-worthy beaches on their edges. You have all the thrills of the Reef—the sherbet-colored coral, tropical fish, giant turtles and rays—with the added bonus of a tropical-island chain. Plenty of companies offer sailing trips out of Airlie Beach, but for years they fell into two categories: upscale charters that can run $1,000 or more per day, or shoestring party boats where the beer-guzzling passengers easily out-drink the fish. In 2007, Luke and his younger brother, Tristram, moved to town from Melbourne and started offering affordably civilized overnights aboard On Ice and another vessel called Iceberg. Each boat sleeps 10—there are four surprisingly roomy cabins along with three bathrooms, a galley, and a dining area. Luke's girlfriend, Isabelle, serves as first mate and cooks all the meals, and all of them are delicious (though after a full day in the water even a piece of salty driftwood would go down easy). Each morning, Luke heads to sheltered coves perfect for beginners like us. Squeezing into our full-body wet suits, we novices are about as quiet as a pack of elephants, and I'm convinced that we've scared away any fish within 50 nautical miles. Yet within seconds of dipping in, I'm surrounded by such a variety of colorful sea life, it's hard to identify what's what—a bright orange-and-white clown fish darts behind a purple brain-shaped coral just as a turtle, as big as I am, glides right next to me. I spend a good half hour following in its wake along the coral ledge. "The fact that Luke is a local is pretty rare—most of the tour leaders just come into town for seasonal work, so they're not as familiar with the islands," says Daniel Fisher, a Perth native who signed on for an On Ice trip with two friends. "Luke has contingency plans if the snorkeling scene is too crowded or the waves are too rough at one place." He even has toys lashed to his boat in case you'd rather not snorkel at all. There's a collection of stand-up paddleboards, which are wider, more manageable versions of surfboards that let you balance on top and use an oar to navigate to shallow waters. You can easily see the Reef just beneath the surface. There's also a clear-bottomed kayak, made of translucent plastic, which gives the illusion of sitting on an aquarium. There's no way anything on land could live up to that kind of show, right? That's what we skeptics are thinking when Luke suggests heading ashore. Our first stop is Betty's Beach, which looks like a slice of the New England coast, plopped into the Caribbean. Thick stands of pine collide with milky white sand and aquamarine water so clear that when we hike up to a scenic overlook a half hour later, we can spy the outline of a manta ray cruising in the bay below. It's nearly perfect—aside from the presence of a dozen other sailing groups. "This is where everyone comes," Luke says later, as he's steering us away from Betty's. "You kind of have to see it—but it shouldn't be the only beach you see."  We anchor next at Whitehaven Beach, a few miles south. Whitehaven turns out to be just as gorgeous as Betty's, only we have the place to ourselves, save for a few pieces of coral and a lone starfish. Some folks take off their shoes and stroll along the waterline, but the rest of us simply lay out and relax in the sun. The sand is so fine, soft, and startlingly white that it seems like baby powder. A few hours later, when Luke offers to take us to another snorkeling spot or let us stay put, a few people say they'd rather hang at Whitehaven. Everyone ultimately agrees to go snorkeling—I, for one, want to find my turtle buddy again. But the fact that we've found a piece of dry land nearly as tempting as the magical maze of the Great Barrier Reef makes one thing clear: We've just had the surf-and-turf vacation of a lifetime.  

It's two hours before sunrise in Hawaii's Volcanoes National Park (808/985-6000, nps.gov/havo, entrance fee $10 per vehicle). The winds are gusting, and stars fill a rare cloudless sky. For a place that's all about heat and fire, Kilauea Volcano is surprisingly cold—and nobody comes to Hawaii for the cold. But the blackness of the night is the best time to experience one of the world's most active volcanoes. A column of gas, steam, and ash pours out of Halemaumau, the caldera's largest crater. The red-and-orange glow from Halemaumau's lava lake reflects off the plume, and, as the wind ebbs, you can hear the moan of molten lava and boulders roiling inside the crater. According to Hawaiian legend, Pele, the volcano goddess, lives in Halemaumau. Alone in the darkness—half-awake and caught somewhere between dreams and the plume's hypnotizing dance—it's easy to feel her power. She seems a bit restless, too.s Kilauea doesn't really look much like a world-class volcano, either. At a mere 4,000 or so feet above sea level, it is less than a third the size of the Big Island's fraternal twin volcanoes, Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. It comes off as a bit wan compared with the stately, conical profiles of Mt. Fuji and Vesuvius. But for sheer drama, Kilauea stands above all other volcanoes. "There's a sense of the unknown: It could shut off tomorrow, or something much more dramatic could happen," says Andrea Kaawaloa-Okita, a Hawaii Volcanoes National Park ranger for the past 17 years. "It's this open book, and the story has yet to be written. Tutu Pele is saying, 'I'm still here. This is your little reminder. But I'm going to leave you hanging.'" Tutu is a Hawaiian term of endearment, which might seem odd considering Kaawaloa-Okita's experience. Her family has lived in Kalapana, a nearby historic village, for five generations. As a young girl, she woke up to the sound of Pele's fire fountains and was lulled to sleep by them at night. But the 1983 eruption was a slow-motion disaster. The flows kept coming, closer and closer. There were evacuations, and many of Kaawaloa-Okita's relatives lost their homes. For her, the grief for the loss of ohana ("family") and the scattering of her kin was greater than the sadness she felt as the lava buried her home. "We always knew that Tutu Pele could reclaim what is hers," she says. Looking back, Kaawaloa-Okita sees a certain inevitability in her decision to work at the park (she's the third generation to do so in her family) and become a geologist. She speaks of fate and the curiosity that came with growing up with lava all around her. What is more surprising is that she has moved back to Kalapana, even as lava continues to flow from Pu'u 'O'o. "It's what I know to be home," she says. In a way, Kaawaloa-Okita's journey gets at the heart of Kilauea's essence. The volcano is more about renewal than devastation. Life finds a way here, whether in the rain forests filled with crimson 'apapane and 'i'iwi birds or along the lava itself, where nene, the world's rarest goose (2,000 exist), find 'ohelo berries to feed on. Kilauea has been called the Drive-In Volcano because of its easy access, and the park itself is suffused with trails. But when Halemaumau began erupting full force in 2008—its first significant, ongoing eruption since 1924—the Park Service closed the trail across the caldera. Just to the east, however, you can still hike across the floor of a crater at Kilauea Iki, where a 1959 eruption sent fountains of lava 1,900 feet into the sky. The trail begins high above the crater and descends through native rain forest, a sliver of ancient Hawaii. Purple shoots of uluhe ferns, their unfurled fronds coiled in tight spirals, poke up from the understory, and the 'apapane birds harmonize in a sweet chorus heard nowhere outside Hawaii. The forest evolved largely in isolation from the rest of the world, and its lack of major predators (and surprisingly few bugs) gives it an Eden-like feel—only without the snakes. The transition from paradise to Hades is abrupt as the trail drops into the crater. It feels like something out of myth: A cracked, barren landscape of black lava made even creepier by a veil of fog. Steam rises from vents and fissures and a lake of magma bubbles just a few hundred feet beneath the crater floor. Get down on your knees to take a photo and the lava's jagged edges feel as sharp as glass. But like Kaawaloa-Okita returning to her ancestral village, the rain forest is slowly reclaiming the crater. Scrubby 'ohi'a, a fraction of the size of their tree-size rain-forest brethren, are pioneering the rock. Colonizing ferns trace zigzag patterns of green along cracks where enough soil and nutrients have settled for them to take root. Fifty years ago, temperatures in the crater reached 2,200 degrees. But someday, the 'apapane may sing here, too. Because visitors spendan average of only six hours in the park, it's difficult for them to imagine living on an active volcano. Of course, Hawaiians have been doing just that for centuries. Not far from the end of Chain of Craters Road, a trail leads to the Pu'u Loa Petroglyphs, which feature more than 20,000 carvings of human forms and boats, and, most unusually, piko holes, once used to hold the freshly cut umbilical cords of newborns. Today's population is centered on Volcano Village, the park's gateway community. Houses and cottages are tucked so deeply among the trees that residents sometimes see one another only at the Sunday Farmers' Market—a tropical cornucopia of mango, papaya, and dragon fruit (19-4030 Wright Rd., thecoopercenter.org, Thai chicken soup $5 a bowl, Sundays 6:30–10 A.M.). Idyllic, perhaps, but with more than 100 inches of rain a year, periodic warnings about volcanic smog (known as "vog"), frequent small earthquakes, and an erupting volcano down the road, it's a town that comes with more than the usual homeowner headaches. The village's demographics reflect its unique circumstances. There are scientists, park workers, New Agers, and an intrepid community of artists: painters, woodworkers, and printmakers. Many artists display works at the Volcano Art Center Gallery, located in an 1877 structure built as the successor to the thatch inn where Twain stayed (Crater Rim Dr., Volcano, volcanoartcenter.org, woodblock prints by printmaker-painter Dietrich Varez starting at $5). When ceramist and Memphis native Tim Freeman visited the volcano in 1991, the clouds parted just in time for a solar eclipse over Halemaumau. The crater's steam plumes suddenly stopped drifting sideways and rose in columns straight into the sky. "This is a magical place," he says. "It has moved me deeply for years." Freeman settled in Volcano Village in 2001 and now teaches philosophy at the University of Hawaii-Hilo. His vase-like works evoke the volcano itself. The rims mimic the volcano's contours, and he colors the round interior base a lava-like reddish orange. He fires his pieces in underground pits, using wood from faya trees and other invasive species he's cleared from the forest. "I'm trying to express my appreciation for living here and the almost pristine character of the area," he says. "It gives a sense of the fragility of nature. I'm blown away by the beauty of this place." The notion of a fragile beauty is at the heart of the Kilauea experience. Even a single overnight can reveal its ephemeral ways. As darkness comes to Volcano Rainforest Retreat a few miles from the park, drizzle brushes the canopy of ferns and mist drifts through the trees. Buddha statues and the ceramic masks of Volcano Village artist Ira Ono add to an aura of the sacred and whimsical. Around midnight, thunder rocks the forest as a storm slams into Kilauea, then just as abruptly ends an hour before sunrise. Along the rim of Kilauea Caldera, Halemaumau puffs away as two nene suddenly wing overhead. Thirty miles in the distance and 10,000 feet above Kilauea, Mauna Kea rises over the rain forest. Free of clouds, its summit is covered with snow washed by the pinks and golds of dawn. "The face of Kilauea is always changing," Kaawaloa-Okita says. "There are moments in time that cannot be re-created. That's part of the marvel. And you want to give yourself every opportunity to experience those marvels."   SEE MORE FROM BUDGET TRAVEL: 10 Natural Phenomena You Have to See to Believe 13 Most Beautiful Temples How to Get a Free Upgrade 10 Most Precious Places on Earth 30 Hotel Chains Every Traveler Should Know  

There's no need to fear tax season, especially since tax refund checks average some $3,000. Financial planners may tell you to save it for a rainy day, but, not surprisingly, we say there's no better use for a windfall than a vacation. We are always on the lookout for great travel deals, so we priced out three nights' hotel for two people (and one for a family of four), including transportation and a budget of $125 per person for meals, plus activities from horseback riding tours to surf lessons (all prices were valid at time of writing, but are subject to change). Whether you want to take the family on a national park adventure or go on a romantic vacation to a European capital, we've outlined seven vacations that fit the budget and still leave enough in the bank to appease your accountant. SEE THE TRIPS    West Virginia: $818 per couple West Virginia's mountainous eastern counties have a rustic, road-less-travelled appeal. Choose from dozens of scenic routes that ply the countryside with covered bridges, Civil War battlefields, and panoramic lookouts. The 43-mile Highland Scenic Highway runs entirely through the Monongahela National Forest, one of the most ecologically diverse in the country, with 75 different species of trees and more than 225 different types of birds. But watching the wilderness out the car window isn't any fun. Take a two-hour horseback ride through the New River Gorge, which is a new breeding spot for Bald Eagles (800/787-3982, aceraft.com, $69 per person). Where to stay: Greenbrier County's Lewisburg (voted the Coolest Small Town of 2011!) is an oasis of Appalachian culture and Washington Street, the main thoroughfare, hums with cafes and antique shops. Soak up some local history by staying at the General Lewis Inn, a genteel inn situated on the site of an 1862 Civil War battlefield (301 East Washington St., 800/628-4454, generallewisinn.com, from $110). The audit: Gas ($100)* + 3 nights hotel (from $330) + horseback riding ($138 for two) + meals ($250) = $818 per couple.*Mileage based on driving round trip from Pittsburgh to Lewisburg.   Folly Beach, South Carolina: $947 per couple  The self-described "Edge of America" has loads of down-home Southern charm, with a lively fishing pier, string of crab shacks, and plenty of room to stretch out along six miles of sand. Folly is a barrier island surrounded by waters populated with wildlife including loggerhead sea turtles to bottlenose dolphins. Get up close and personal on a kayak—Flipper Finders is the only full-service outfit in town, with a popular sunset tour amongst Folly's estuaries (843/588-0019, flipperfinders.com, $45 per person). You can't spend time here without having at least one seafood-centric meal: The Crab Shack is everything you want in a local joint: platters of fried seafood, buckets of large Carolina shrimp, and baskets of hush puppies (26 Center St., 843/588-3080, crabshacks.com). Life unfolds at a pleasingly slower pace here; if you need some "big city action," Charleston is a short 15-minute drive away. Where to Stay: Housed in a restored bungalow, Beachside Bed and Breakfast's colorful accommodations are anything but stuffy: Its "70s Room" even features an egg tub shower and an original 8-track player (107 E Erie Ave., 843/633-0184, follybeachsidebb.com, from $169). The audit: Gas ($100)* + 3 nights hotel ($507) + kayak tour ($90 for two) + meals ($250) = $947 per couple*Mileage based on driving round trip from Atlanta to Folly Beach.   Portland, Oregon: $1,145 per couple There's no denying the city itself has broad appeal: cuisine, culture (don't miss Portland Art Museum's Rothko exhibit through late May 2012), and our favorite: no sales tax. Spring is a great time to visit the Rose City, when the extensive network of gardens is in bloom. At Lan Su Chinese Garden, you'll find Oriental classics like hibiscus and silk trees (lansugarden.org, $9.50). The Portland Japanese Garden, with its pagodas and stone lanterns as well as cherry blossoms and bonsai, is considered the most authentic outside of Japan (japanesegarden.com, $9.50). Refuel at one of several food trucks downtown: Nong's Khao Man Gai is famous for its poached chicken with soybean, garlic, ginger and chile (S.W. 10th and Alder, from $6.50). And you can't come to the Pacific Northwest without sampling the fruits of the local vineyards. Locals recommend Noble Rot, a fourth-floor wine bar where you can swirl delicate, homegrown Pinots whose cult status have become legend (1111 E Burnside St., 503/233-1999, noblerotpdx.com, wines flights from $12). Where to stay: Save big on transportation by booking a hotel along Portland's Max rail line. Hotel Deluxe is located just two blocks from the Jeld-Wen Field station, and is full of Hollywood-style glamour like black and white photos and regency furniture (729 SW 15th Ave., 503/219-2094, hoteldeluxeportland.com, from $149). The audit: Airfare (from $356)* + 3 nights hotel (from $447) + gardens entry ($38 for two) + meals ($250) + wine flight ($24 for two) + transportation ($30 for three days of Max passes for two) = $1,145 per couple*Based on round-trip airfare from Oakland to Portland for two people.   North Coast, Dominican Republic: $1,334 per couple There are still plenty of beaches along the Dominican Republic's North Coast where you can escape the masses. The trick is to fly into quieter Puerto Plata. Ditch the all-inclusive scene west of the airport and head east toward Cabarete, a coastal town that still retains a (somewhat) local feel. Dip your toes into Kite Beach, or take a day trip to Playa Grande, a scenic stretch of white sand that won't stay undeveloped for long. Try something new and book a surfing lesson—a two-and-a-half-hour course on Playa Encuentro is a great way to test the waters. Where to Stay: Go around the rocky bend just east of the main town to the deco La Punta Apartments. Even with a prime oceanside location, swimming pool, and large terrace, the rooms are a steal (011-809/571-0897, lapuntacabarete.com, from $64). The audit: Airfare (from $762)* + 3 nights hotel (from $192) + surf lessons ($80 for two) + meals ($250) + transportation ($50 for cab fare) = $1,334 per couple *Based on round-trip airfare from New York City to Puerto Plata for two people.   Amsterdam: $1,942 per couple The Dutch capital is more affordable than other major Western European cities like Paris and London, and you can fly nonstop from 13 North American gateways. Ask any local and they will tell you that the Renaissance architecture and winding canals of Amsterdam are best seen by bike. Secure your transport at MacBike for as little as $8 per day, pedal over to Vondelpark, an oasis of green where it seems the entire city comes to hang out. Amsterdam's wide variety of ethnic kitchens are great for the budget and are not short of flavor. Sari Citra is a flavor-packed Indonesian restaurant with dishes like Bali beef with green beans-the perfect complement to a long bike ride (52 bg Ferdinand Bolstraat, 011-20/675-4102). Where to Stay: The 26 rooms at Chic&Basic in the Jordaan district are just that, but the rate includes perks like free basic breakfast (cereal, juice, boiled eggs) and wireless internet. Be sure to request a room with a  view of the adjacent canal (13-19 Herengracht, 011-31/205-222-345, chicandbasic.com, from $150). The audit: Airfare (from $1,226)* + 3 nights hotel (from $450) + meals ($250) + bike rental ($16 for two) = $1,942 per couple *Based on round-trip airfare from Washington, D.C. to Amsterdam for two people.   Zion National Park: $2,040 for a family of four Utah's Zion National Park has stunning painted landscapes and vertical topographies, and spring means cooler temperatures and smaller crowds than the peak summer season. Tame hikes like the Watchman Trail—with panoramic views of the namesake spire—are an easy way to get your bearings (and perfect for kids). More adventuresome trails will have you wading across canyon rivers, exploring petrified forests, and passing through epic freestanding arches. Pack your constellation guide: On clear nights, stargazing is among the best in the continental U.S. Bring a picnic lunch, but for dinner make your way to Whiptail Grill, a popular Southwestern joint housed in converted fueling station (445 Zion Park Blvd., 435/772-0283, enchiladas from $12). Where to Stay: Driftwood Lodge is located right outside of Zion Park (they offer a free shuttle) and has family-sized rooms, a pool, and unobstructed views of the surrounding canyons (1515 Zion Park Blvd., 888/801-8811, driftwoodlodge.net, from $219 per night for four people). The audit: Airfare (from $708)* + 3 nights hotel (from $657) + park admission ($25 per vehicle for a seven-day pass) + meals ($500) + transportation ($150 for a three-day car rental) = $2,040 per family of four *Based on round-trip airfare from Seattle to Las Vegas for four people.   Iceland: $2,210 per couple Book a trip for the diverse and happening arts scene in Reykjavik as well as the many natural wonders. And even as early as April, the average low temperature rarely dips below the freezing mark. Reykjavik is a small city (about a quarter the size of Los Angeles) but packs a lot of culture into one tiny area, including art museums and galleries with extensive catalogues of works by Icelandic artists. The waterfront Hafnarhus, part of the Reykjavik Art Museum, is home to a large collection of works by postmodernist painter Erró (17 Tryggvagata, 011-354/590-1200, artmuseum.is). Iceland's main draw, though, is the natural beauty further afield. Reykjavik Excursions' Golden Circle tour hits some key highlights: Gullfoss Waterfall, Þinghvellir National Park (site of the Atlantic rift), and Geysir hot springs (011-354/580-5400, re.is). Speaking of hot springs, the country's most famous attraction is the Blue Lagoon, one of the best hot springs in the world (011-354/420-8800, bluelagoon.com, entrance fee $39 per person) Where to Stay: Reykjavik's Hotel Bjork is right in the city center and has 55 minimalist rooms. The included breakfast is a bonus, as are stunning views of the mountains and harbor (22-24 Brautarholt, 011-354/511-3777, bjorkhotelreykjavik.com, from $135). The audit: Airfare (from $1,210)* + 3 nights hotel (from $405) + museum admission ($17 for two) + excursion ($150 for two) + hot springs ($78 for two) + meals ($250) + transportation ($100 for cabs) = $2,210 per couple  *Based on round-trip airfare from Boston to Reykjavik for two people. SEE MORE FROM BUDGET TRAVEL: 10 Most Sacred Spots on Earth 15 More Places Every Kid Should See Before 15 8 Common Mistakes Weekend Travelers Make To Go or Not to Go: 11 Places with a Bad Rap World's 16 Most Picturesque Villages