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Through the summer, we’ve done our best to blog weekly. But we’ll be unable to do so for the next two months. We’ll be climbing the via ferrata in the Italian Dolomiti, then trekking the Grande Randonnée 20 on the French island of Corsica.

Many peaks in the Dolomites have fixed cables, ladders and bridges, allowing otherwise isolated climbing routes to be joined to create longer routes and making them accessible to climbers who, like us, are not exceptionally skilled. “Via ferrata” means “iron way.” The first via ferratas were built in the Dolomite region of northern Italy during the First World War to aid the movement of mountain infantry.

The GR 20 follows the mountainous spine of Corsica. From Calenzana in the north, to Conca in the south, it’s about 180 km (112 mi) long, entails more than 10,000 m (32,800 ft) of elevation gain, and takes about two weeks to complete. It’s widely considered the most demanding long-distance trek in Europe.

We’ll resume blogging in late November. Please check back with us then. We’ll have lots of practical advice and inspiring photos to offer anyone interested in the via ferrata and/or the GR 20.

If you’re contacting us about business—specifically, the titles published by hikingcamping.com—not to worry. Our distribution manager, Theresa, will be here handling our publishing company’s daily operations while we’re away. She’ll promptly ship your book order and gladly respond to any questions or concerns.

Please check our blog again in late November. Shortly thereafter, our new book — Heading Outdoors Eventually Leads Within, Thoughts Inspired by 30,000 Miles on the Trail—will be available. Keep it in mind as a Christmas gift for friends and family who have an affinity for nature. We know they and you will find it unique, meaningful, and beautiful.

Until then…   Walk on.

– Kathy & Craig

Travelers often yearn for friends and family to ask stimulating, thoughtful questions. It rarely happens. When it does, it’s a gift. It helps travelers better understand their own motivations and articulate the deeper meaning of the experiences they’ve had en route.

The standard questions… What place did you enjoy most? Where was the best food?… are briefly tolerable but soon wearisome. When asking them, people don’t realize they’re short-changing themselves. More probing, challenging questions elicit more surprising, entertaining, revealing answers.

How do you know if it’s a “good” question? You’ll feel it’s daring of you to ask it. Or you’ll hesitate before answering, because the question demands reflection. Good questions are personal. Contemplation is necessary to think of good questions, as well as to answer them. A good question discloses something about the person asking it. Good questions are the ones you wish someone would ask you. The result of a good question is that both people know each other better and feel closer to one another.

A great friend of ours, with whom we’ve traveled and hiked in the Canadian Rockies, New Zealand, and the French Alps, recently emailed us several good questions about our experiences this winter in the mountains along the Mediterranean. He’s pondering a long, adventurous journey himself and wants it to be soul-enriching, not just a sight-seeing trip. Here’s what he asked and how we answered:

Q: What do you find challenging about your work hiking/traveling?

A: Balancing how much we take with how much we give. We don’t want hiking/traveling to be entirely selfish, which it can easily become. We want to use what we experience to heighten our contribution to others through our books and website blog. We want hiking/travel to make us wiser and more compassionate. What we learn, we can share through our writing. Compassion is a welcome gift in any human exchange.

Q: What meaning did you get from Liguria as opposed to the Costa Blanca?

A: We’re in Liguria now, just inland from the Italian Riviera. The true meaning of a travel experience takes time to bubble up through the soul into the conscious mind. We think it’s yet to do that. We could, of course, offer several answers to that question now. But the real answer will probably emerge later.

Q: What did France’s maritime alps say to you, and what did Italy’s Alpi Apuane say to you?

A: France said “You’re here rather early for hiking.” Italy is saying, “Just in case you didn’t understand it in French, I’ll repeat it in Italian: ‘You’re here rather early for hiking.’”

Q: Why did you choose, or what feelings led you, to go to Liguria?

A: We came to Liguria for the same reasons that have motivated all our European journeys. It feels as if our mental/emotional tank, with regard to Europe, was barely a quarter full. We want to fill up. Our desire to see Europe’s architectural and natural beauty remains intense. Because European society is ancient, there are trails everywhere. More trails per square kilometer here than anywhere. We’re hikers, so how can we resist the Continent of a Million Trails? The reason we came this winter is that we wanted to escape the vastly harsher winter weather at home, in the Canadian Rockies.

Q: How did the feelings generated in Liguria inspire or contribute to your next choice of destination?

A: On the simplest level, we’re compelled to return to these mountains in summer to take full advantage of all the high-elevation hiking trails that are inaccessible to us in winter. On a deeper level, our experience here is nudging our gaze back to North America, specifically to Utah, where we want to build a home in the high-desert canyon country, where the infinite canyons invite endless exploration, and where our souls resonate most vibrantly with the land.

Q: Do you get a sense for local people when hiking in Europe?

A: Yes, but not the present-day locals. We rarely meet anyone hiking here in winter. But we get a strong sense for the Europeans who built the ancient trails. These people are no longer physically present, of course, but we sense them nonetheless. We not only see their handiwork, we use it, much as they did. The trails they built are not just functional, they’re art. Beautiful, earthen art. The terraces they constructed are marvels of patience, engineering, craftsmanship. The trees they cultivated are gorgeous. These people obviously had a profound relationship with the land. We can’t help but begin to see the world through those people’s eyes and to feel kinship with them. And through them, we deepen our relationship with the Earth.

To reach the Costa Blanca Mountains, we trained from Barcelona to Valencia, then rented a car.* We glimpsed the city only briefly, but it seemed intriguing. So before our flight** from Valencia to the island of Mallorca, we devoted an afternoon and evening to exploring the city. We’re glad we did.

Most European cities have interesting historic centres. Naturally, some are more compelling than others. Barcelona’s ancient centre, for example, is fascinating, whereas medieval Valencia is more oppressive and dilapidated.

Most of the architecture here—including the Longa de la Seda (silk market), Torres de Serranos (Europe’s largest Gothic city gateway), and heavyweight cathedral in the Plaza de la Virgen—is somber. The National Ceramics Museum is a weird, garish, rococo affair. The modernisma Plaza del Mercado is unimpressive from the outside but houses an enormous, thriving market.

Urban floating (walking through a city at the pace of a float in a parade, slow enough to see and be seen) is always enjoyable. But in Spain, the joy is marred by smokers. Apparently, lung cancer is to the Spanish what global warming is to Americans: a myth. When we weren’t dodging the cigarettes they thoughtlessly wave about, we were ducking the clouds of smoke they spew.

Having seen enough of old Valencia, we began navigating back toward our hotel.*** En route we entered the Jardin Del Turia. In 1957, the Turia River flooded, wreaking havoc on Valencia. Fearing a repeat disaster, the city diverted the river and reclaimed the riverbed, cultivating it into a lovely, sinuous, leafy park running 7-km (4.3-mi) through downtown. It was now dark, so we were wary about walking here, but we soon realized this is where athletic Valencianos exercise after work. The former riverbed was coursing with joggers.

The Turia led us directly to La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias (The City of Arts and Sciences). We anticipated contemporary architecture, but La Ciudad is magnificently futuristic, as if it had been beamed down from a distant planet whose civilization is far more advanced than ours. And La Ciudad is huge, comprising several, glorious structures. This, we realized, was all the reason we needed to visit Valencia.

La Ciudad ranks among Europe’s great monuments. The architect was Valencia-born Santiago Calatrava. The scope of the project he completed is staggering. It’s originality is inspiring. Its beauty is stirring. And the details he incorporated, such as Gaudiesque fragments of tile (an historically important industry in Valencia), are brilliant.

But La Ciudad isn’t just a monument. It functions as a performance venue, an oceanarium (Europe’s largest marine park), a planetarium, and more. In addition to the photos we’ve posted above, you’ll find more under “Spain” on the Photos/Videos page of our website. And La Ciudad’s website (http://tv.cac.es) is rich with imagery. Right of the main, homepage photo, scroll down to, then click on, “Great Events.”

*In Spain, we recommend renting a car from Gold Car (www.goldcar.es/en). Their Valencia office has a free airport shuttle. Gold Car’s rental vehicles and the quality of their service are excellent. Yet their rates are much lower than those of their international competitors.

**From Valencia to Palma de Mallorca, we recommend flying with Air Europa (http://www.aireuropa.com/en/default.html). Compared to other airlines, Europa is less expensive yet allows a higher weight allowance (23 kg) for your one, allotted, checked bag.

***In Valencia, stay at the NH Villacarlos (http://www.nh-hotels.com/nh/en/hotels/spain/valencia/nh-villacarlos.html). It’s clean, modern, quiet, reasonably priced, and the staff is very helpful. It’s also within easy walking distance of La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias. And it’s very close to the busy roundabout graced with a fantastic sculpture by Juan Garcia Ripollés. To us, it looks like a huge, childlike, dancing, sun god. You’ll no doubt have your own creative interpretation. You’ll find it at the intersection of Eduardo Boscá and Paseo la Alameda, at the end of the Puente Angel Custudio, just above the southeast side of Parque de la Rambleta, a mere 2.5 blocks from the Villacarlos.

We just spent four days in Barcelona. At every opportunity, we asked residents how they like their city. All of them enthusiastically said, “I love it!” And it was easy for us to appreciate why.

Barcelona is vibrant, eclectic, culturally rich, architecturally beautiful. It has that easy, inviting, comfortable ambience so characteristic of Spain. And, like most European cities, Barcelona is entirely walkable. For urban hikers like us, it’s an ideal destination in winter. At the Calgary airport, the ground crew spent 30 minutes de-icing the wings of our jet during a blizzard. When we arrived in Barcelona, we left our hotel wearing short sleeves.

Go to the Photos/Videos page of our website (http://www.hikingcamping.com/photos-spain.php) to see far more shots of Barcelona than we could possibly include with this blog post.

You’re a traveler, and Barcelona is on your “gotta see” list? Here are a few notes from our recent stay that will further encourage you to visit this great city, might help you plan your trip, and could be useful once you arrive.

Make reservations at Aparthotel Silver (www.hotelsilver.com). This 40-room hotel is everything a traveler could ask for: modern, clean, comfortable, efficient, friendly, and an excellent value.  We chose what they call a “comfort” room. It even had a kitchenette and a safe. We were entirely pleased. The hotel is in the Gracia neighbourhood, which is authentic, low key, neither commercial nor touristic. Yet there’s a subway stop within 100 meters of the Hotel Silver’s front door. (In Spanish, the subway or metro is called “el meteo.”) And its an easy walk from the Hotel Silver to Parc Güell—the huge, gorgeous, unique, urban park designed by Antoni Gaudí, Barcelona’s most celebrated architect. From the park’s highpoint, you can survey the entire city. It’s dazzling at night.

Upon arriving at the Barcelona airport, we caught the Aerobus (runs every 15 minutes, 4 euros per person) to Plaza Catalunya. From there, we rode the meteo to the Fontana station, then walked five minutes to the Hotel Silver. Utterly easy. Even enjoyable. Suggestion: In all the public transport facilities, look for the elevators (ascensors) so you don’t have to portage your luggage up and down lengthy staircases and end up in need of a chiropractor.

We enjoyed wandering the Gracia neighbourhood. Flow east along Carrer d’Asturias, then north along Verdi. You’ll pass a superb bakery that offers organic, alternative-grain, gluten-free bread. You’ll also see silver-jewelry shops, a couple exotic tea shops, and of course numerous boutiques selling those utterly impractical, extremely sexy, nearly knee-high leather boots that fashion-conscious women everywhere from Montreal to Moscow are tucking their tight jeans into these days.

Eat at La Lola. It’s on the corner of Carrer de l’Escoria and Carrer de Saint Lluis, near the Joanic metro station, about a 20-minute walk from Hotel Silver. This is by no means haute cuisine. It’s fresh, hearty, local fare at a reasonable price served in the Spanish equivalent of an American diner. The collegial staff rightfully takes pride in their excellent work. They hustle, but they’ll also stop to chat with and kindly touch the cheek of a long-time local patron. Watching them in action was gratifying and entertaining. When we came back a second time, they all beamed, then proceeded to treat us like friends. This is “community” in action. For about 10 euros, the lunch special (approximately 1 to 3 p.m.) is an enormous meal that includes a cerveza and dessert. La Lola is a convenient place to stop while walking from Parc Güell to the most famous Gaudí creation of all: the wildly whimsical cathedral known as Sagrada Família.

From Barcelona’s iconic cathedral, we entered the city’s medieval center. The Barri Gotic and Ciutat Vella are intriguing warrens where you can wander (we call it “urban floating”) for hours through narrow, serpentine alleys and streets, admiring an encyclopedic variety of unique shops and distinctive restaurants. Like hot, colourful, liquid jello poured into an antique mold, people have oozed back into this ancient setting and exuberantly revived it. Contemporary creativity and sophistication ambushes you around every archaic corner. Locals obviously find everything they need here—including stimulation. Independent entrepreneurs such as these artfully demonstrate how soul-less the world-dominating superstores really are.

Be sure to see Eglesia de Santa Maria del Mar. It’s a marvelous, Gothic cathedral that will inspire you regardless of your spiritual leanings. The Placa del Rei should also be on your agenda. If possible, see it at night, when golden lighting romantically softens the harsh stone of this stalwart plaza.

We also enjoyed the relatively new district of Eixample, which has many, impressive Modernisme apartment buildings. On Passeig de Gracia you can admire Gaudi’s famous Casa Milà, better known as La Pedrera. It’s more sensuous sculpture than monolithic structure.

As for tapas, you’re spoiled for choice in Barcelona. We saw dozens of tapas restaurants we yearned to sample. Tapas, by the way, are a sophisticated, Spanish cuisine—a slow meal in which you continue choosing from a vast array of appetizers. They can be cold (such as mixed olives and cheese) or warm (such as puntillitas—battered, fried, baby squid). Tapas are conducive to conversation because a single, large meal never distracts you from your companions, and because you all share, plucking the toothpick-speared delicacies from numerous, small plates. In some restaurants, diners stand and move about while eating tapas, which further stimulates social interaction. Caveat emptor: the bill can quickly swell to three figures well before you’re sated.

After much deliberation, we finally chose Longja de Tapas. We’re glad we did. Superb food, gracious service, congenial atmosphere, reasonable prices. Here, the chefs respond to each order as it arrives in the kitchen, so every tapas dish arrives at your table fresh. (Some restaurants have counters laden with trays of pre-prepared tapas.) You’ll find Longja de Tapas at Pia del Palua 7, in Ciutat Vella, across the alley from an exotic tea shop that seductively offers free samples.

People who’ve visited Barcelona tend to launch their description of the city by telling you about Las Ramblas—one of Europe’s most famous pedestrian arteries. It’s true that walking Las Ramblas is an engaging experience. We enjoyed it. But everything else we’ve described here outranks it in our memory. Most of the commercial establishments lining Las Ramblas are not particularly interesting. And a large percentage of the people strolling Las Ramblas are tourists, much like yourself. What’s of interest here is the ambience. Tidal surges of humanity aimlessly sauntering up and down a grand boulevard and eyeing each other with curiosity is… well, a curiosity. By all means, join the promenade. But only once, for a short while. Don’t fixate on it the way most visitors do.

More impressive than Las Ramblas is Monestir de Montserrat—an ancient monastery perched on a spectacular massif just beyond the edge of the city. After exploring Barcelona for a day or two, it’s refreshing to switch from urban hiker to mountain hiker and stride among pinnacles and along ridges to Montserrat’s 1,236-m (4,055-ft) summit. A mere 16 euros buys you a 3-hour round-trip train ticket from the city center to the monastery, where marked, maintained trails begin.

Infinitely more impressive than Las Ramblas is a performance, any performance, at Barcelona’s gorgeous Palau de la Musica Catalana. Immediately after you settle in at the Hotel Silver, find out what’s on at the Palau and reserve seats. For us, the planets aligned: we discovered Cecilia Bartoli, the world’s most famous mezzo-soprano, was performing the night we arrived. She was perfection. And the venue itself beats many of the world’s great art galleries.

After the performance, we walked across the city, back to Hotel Silver. It was late. The Spanish are creatures of the night, but by now the streets were quiet. Barcelona was ours. And we felt absolutely safe. Guidebooks had warned us about thieves, pickpockets and such, but we detected no threat whatsoever.

We could have ridden the meteo. Barcelona’s public transport system is extensive, swift, and comfortable. Ten meteo passes cost just 8 euros. But we rode the meteo only when we were burdened with our luggage.* The rest of the time we walked. We  urge you to do the same. Barcelona is a brilliant city for urban hikers.

*Wish we could say we travel in svelte, ultralight style, but we don’t. Between destinations, we’re beasts of burden: humans imitating mules.

We just returned from the Banff Mountain Film and Book Festival this weekend. One of the vendor booths was for an international travel company selling spectacularly expensive, guided, group tours. Their brochure, full of colour photos of enticing destinations, is stunning. And throughout, the word “adventure” appears with wallpaper frequency.

Flipping through the brochure, we couldn’t help but shake our heads in dismay.

Is it really an adventure if everything is organized in advance for you? If you’re making none of the consequential decisions? If you’re sheltered among a group of well-to-do westerners much like yourself? If a guide is leading you?

Perhaps, if you’re mountain climbing or backcountry skiing. But if you’re simply traveling? No, it is not an adventure. It’s daycare for adults in exotic locales.

You want a travel adventure? Plan it and do it yourself. Most of the world is far more accommodating of independent travelers than tour companies would have you believe.

Prime example: Cuba. A couple winters ago, we took our bicycles to Cuba and rode across much of the island in five weeks.

We cycled from Havana, west to Vinales. Then we caught a bus back to Havana and on to Santa Clara. From there, we cycled through central Cuba and visited the UNESCO World Heritage town of Trinidad. Our favourite region was the three-day stretch along the south coast, between Montezuma and Santiago de Cuba.

It was a magnificent experience, sometimes challenging but always rewarding, because figuratively as well as literally we were self-propelled.

Exploring Cuba by bike is possible for anyone who’s athletically fit, reasonably adaptable and, yes, adventurous. If you’re intrigued, click on “Free” in the menu bar of this website. Under “Free Articles,” click on “Bicycle Cuba: They’ll Love You For It.”

That’s the article we wrote about our Cuba trip. It was originally published in the Calgary Herald travel section. Read it now. Winter is the time to go to Cuba.

Resuming our anniversary tour (celebrating 20 years as Canadian citizens), we’ve spent the last several days in Quebec City, Ottawa, and Montreal. Here are a few observations:

Quebec City… The European charm seduced us, but it was quickly evident the old city comprises more tourist-oriented shops than authentic businesses serving locals. Compared to  Montreal’s Plateau Mont-Royal, old Quebec feels like shallow entertainment. We were also startled to discover that locals call Quebec City “the national capitol,” one of the city’s most impressive buildings is labeled “the National Assembly,” and not far away is a regional park that Quebecois call a “national park” and where we were told our Canadian National Park annual pass was invalid. So is Quebec a Canadian province, or not? We think all Canadian citizens should be deeply offended by this national posturing within Quebec. If Quebecois are that desirous of independence, let them have it.

Ottawa… We arrived here hoping the capitol of our adopted nation would impress us. It didn’t. As capitol cities go, it’s very modest. Parliament Hill and its immediate surroundings (the Chateau Laurier, the Rideau Canal, the Ottawa River, the Museum of Civilization) are beautiful. But the Parliament buildings are so slavishly imitative of British architecture, it’s rather embarrassing. Nothing original here? No innovative Canadian architecture? What a disappointment. And while touring Parliament, we were reminded that for any bill to become law in Canada, it must have “royal assent.” Come on, Canada, why do we continue to bow and scrape like this? Let’s have some self respect and sever these humiliating Commonwealth ties. What did impress us in Ottawa was the extensive network of bike paths. Bravo! We spent most of an entire day cycling throughout the city. The sight we found most engaging was John Félice Ceprano’s balanced-rock sculpture garden in (yes, in) the Ottawa River. We admired it for half an hour. While touring Ottawa, it was continually apparent that residents of our nation’s capitol are unhappy. Almost nobody smiles at, or even makes eye contact with, passing pedestrians. They all appear to be shouldering a weighty mental burden. What’s the explanation for this? In New York City, people recognize each other, often smile, and appear very content.

Montreal… A beautiful city, with many elegant, historic, stone buildings. The stately, leafy neighbourhoods of the Plateau Mont-Royal (north of Rue Roy, south of Ave Laurier, in the vicinity of Rue St. Denis, Ave Duluth, and Ave Laval) are a national treasure. Very European yet distinct. We walked here for hours. Not just on the more commercial Blvd St. Laurent (shops, boutiques, restaurants) but also through the residential enclaves, where three-story homes rich in character are squeezed together for block after block. We call this kind of walking “urban floating,” because we have no particular destination and we’re sauntering at about the pace of a float in a parade: allowing time to see, be seen, and interact with everybody and everything we pass. Urban floating in Montreal is a joy. The city oozes creativity and fashion. And the people who live here are obviously very social. Restaurants everywhere, and most of them full! If we were urbanites, this is the Canadian city we would call home. We especially appreciated how alive the city is at night. People are out, the sidewalks are buzzing, the shops are busy. It’s invigorating. What also astounded us about Montreal, however, is the high percentage of citizens who smoke cigarettes. Everywhere you look, you see people lighting up, puffing away, blowing smoke in your face, tossing butts in the street. It’s disgusting. Nowhere else in Canada have we seen such a high concentration of smokers. These people are apparently oblivious to the health risks of smoking and the unfair burden they’re placing on our healthcare system. Still, we loved Montreal.

We just spent three days in Manhattan, where we walked everywhere and were constantly in a state of wonder. Total on-foot distance: 20 miles, more than half of which was at night. Our basecamp was the apartment of friends who live uptown, in Washington Heights.

We’d previously urban hiked in London, Paris, Rome, and San Francisco. All were exhilarating. But New York? It never appealed to us because, we now realize, our preconceptions were laughably distant from reality.

Driving into the city we were slightly on edge. Intending to walk extensively, we wondered how best to avoid getting mugged. That’s ridiculous. Common sense and basic street smarts were all we needed to feel and remain absolutely safe. On day two, our friends were pleased to hear us announce that “Affection has evicted trepidation.”

Aggressive, abrasive New Yorkers? We met none. They didn’t ride their car horns in traffic. Never did they bulldoze us off the sidewalk. None of our fellow subway passengers was pushy or intimidating. Whenever we engaged anyone, they were kind and helpful. Most were bright, open, willing to interact with us longer than courtesy dictated. Often we were touched by their warmth. Civility and civic pride are pervasive in NYC.

By the time we left, we agreed we wouldn’t have lived fully had we not explored this magnificent city. And that’s coming from a couple of wilderness zealots. It seems we’ll be feeling the impact of our visit for a long time. Having just left, here’s what we see when we close our eyes:

The Chrysler Building, whose celestial spire is utterly distinct among NYC’s dozens of astounding towers. From a distance, this sublime skyscraper looks like it links earth and heaven, as if it might be the conduit through which virtuous souls ascend to the pearly gates. It’s 319-m (1047-ft) high — a statistic that’s especially meaningful if you’re a hiker. And the lobby? Wow. An art-deco temple. Marble, onyx, amber, and gold leaf. Egyptian pharaohs adorn the elevator doors. Many contemporary architects think this is NYC’s most impressive tower. We agree, but we think the world’s most impressive building is…

The New York Public Library, at 5th Avenue at 42nd Street. It’s a shrine to books, to reading, to learning. When it opened in 1911, it housed more than a million volumes on 121 km (75 mi) of shelves. The Beaux-Arts structure is stunning inside and out. We find it more rousing than the monumental buildings of Europe, in part because it’s not merely a monument. It’s a functioning, public building. You can actually check out a book. Or settle into a magnificent chair at a grand table in the main reading room (the size of a football field) and concentrate in an inspiring atmosphere where literature is sacred. Among the library’s many startling features are the ceiling murals. Tilt your
head back, and you’re not assaulted by ridiculous cherubs or guilt-inducing biblical characters. Instead you gaze into a blue sky adorned with billowing white clouds, suggesting the unlimited possibilities available to an open, inquisitive mind.

Whatever your appetite, NYC will satisfy it. After several hours of walking, we were ravenous. But we continued passing alluring restaurants until arriving at the 2nd Avenue Deli, at 162 East 33rd Street, between Lexington and 3rd avenues. It was worth the hike. Our kosher pastrami-on-rye sandwiches were so thick, the top slices of bread were nearly vertical. Though utterly unadorned, they were delectable. Still, every couple bites we varied the taste by adding a spoonful of fresh, tangy mustard. Everything about the experience — the collegial staff, historic atmosphere, pickled green tomatoes — felt like we were participating in a venerable tradition. If we lived in NYC, you’d find us seated at the 2nd Avenue Deli’s marble counter at least once a week.

We were awed by Central Park, of course, but NYC is rife with parks: islands of nature punctuating the manmade environment. Some are tiny yet gorgeous, like the one sequestered near the U.N. building. Others are unique, for example High Line Park (www.thehighline.org). Built on an elevated 1930s railway, it was completed this summer. Tall, native grasses now sway in the breeze where trains once whooshed across Manhattan. Views are constant: over the Hudson River, toward Jersey City, and into an industrial district of historic, brick buildings. Most people enjoy the park as a promenade, but it also has wooden chaise lounges where you can relax.

From High Line Park, we began a long, rambling, evening stroll into West Greenwich Village. We were entranced by charming cafes, intriguing boutiques, and our fellow strollers. After staring up at skyscrapers all day, we were soothed by the human-scale village. The streets are narrow, leafy, and the brick buildings rarely exceed four stories. It reminded us of Amsterdam. We later learned this was indeed where the Dutch originally settled.

The Museum of Modern Art (MOMA), the Metropolitan Museum, the International Center for Photography, Times Square — each was engaging. For us, however, one experience surpassed them all: walking the Brooklyn Bridge.

Our first morning in the city, we began our tour by riding the subway to Brooklyn Heights and admiring the city across the East River while sauntering along the Esplanade (yes, we do occasionally, briefly slow down), then picking up the pace and entering the melee on foot via the Brooklyn Bridge. The bridge has a broad, pedestrian walkway above the vehicle lanes, allowing you to enjoy the wondrous view in relative peace and security. The Statue of Liberty is far left. Wall Street is left. Ahead is the Woolworth Building. Right is the Empire State Building. And that’s but a fraction of what’s in view.

Our last night in the city, we walked from Central Park back to the Brooklyn Bridge and crossed it again, this time in the opposite direction, turning frequently to admire the illuminated cityscape. It was wondrous. We felt like time-travelling savages who’d wandered into the 21st century’s most vital metropolis. We were awed, reluctant to leave, yet compelled to return to our distant home in the wilderness.

En route to NYC, we stayed with our friends David Gubits and Mariella Bisson in Woodstock. David is a highly successful attorney who generously devotes time to preservation of wild lands. He’s also the most knowledgeable music and art aficionado we’ve ever met. Mariella is a brilliant artist whose creativity extends beyond the canvas. She possesses the mental equivalent of a Ferrari and handles it like Mario Andretti. Because she usually says what she thinks, being in her presence is stimulating and refreshing. Visit www.mariellabisson.com to see how her waterfalls leap beyond conventional landscape art. Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjmLRxu3C-M to watch Mariella’s video “Like Paper for Water” on You Tube.