Around Joseph, Oregon, alpine lakes, glacier-carved peaks and quiet backcountry trails create a slower, less crowded version of the American mountain West. BY KAY ESPOSITO, MAY 23, 2026 MOUNTAIN TOWN HIKING Mt. Howard summit in the Wallowa Mountains I CREDIT Wallowa County Chamber of Commerce The road into Joseph, Oregon, narrows gradually as the Wallowa Mountains begin rising from the valley floor. For miles, the landscape feels more ranch country than alpine wilderness, open pasture, weathered fences and long stretches of road where traffic becomes increasingly rare. Then the mountains appear almost without warning. Granite peaks rise sharply behind the town, catching afternoon light above a main street lined with small cafés, art galleries and old brick storefronts. With a population of roughly 1,100 residents, Joseph feels less like a gateway town built around tourism and more like a community that happens to exist beside one of the most dramatic mountain ranges in the Pacific Northwest. That contrast defines much of the hiking experience here. The Wallowa Mountains in northeastern Oregon are often called the “Alps of Oregon,” though the comparison feels incomplete once you begin moving through them. The range is quieter, less developed and far less trafficked than many better-known hiking destinations across the West. Trailheads rarely overflow before sunrise. Parking lots stay manageable even in peak summer. On longer routes, it’s still possible to hike for hours without seeing another group. Yet the terrain itself feels fully alpine. Hike the Wallowa Lake East Moraine I CREDIT JOSEPH OREGON TRAVEL & TOURISM Near Wallowa Lake, trails climb quickly through dense pine forest before breaking into high meadows scattered with wildflowers during midsummer. Water moves constantly through the landscape here, snowmelt streams crossing trails, waterfalls dropping through granite channels and alpine lakes tucked beneath steep ridgelines. The Ice Lake Trail begins just outside town and rises steadily into the Eagle Cap Wilderness, the largest wilderness area in Oregon. The lower section winds through shaded forest before opening into exposed alpine terrain where the mountains begin to feel significantly larger than they first appeared from town. By late morning, clouds had started building over the ridges while hikers stopped near the shoreline of Ice Lake, where cold turquoise water reflected the surrounding granite walls. Patches of snow still lingered in shaded areas above the basin despite the middle of summer. The elevation arrives gradually but noticeably. Joseph itself sits at roughly 4,200 feet, while many trails quickly climb above 7,000 or 8,000 feet into exposed terrain shaped by glaciation and volcanic activity. Afternoon weather changes quickly in the high country, and local hikers often begin before sunrise to avoid storms moving across the ridgelines later in the day. Despite the mountain setting, the pace around Joseph remains notably slow In town, hikers return from trailheads dusty and sunburned before drifting into coffee shops or sitting near the edge of Wallowa Lake as evening light settles across the peaks. Conversations tend to revolve around trail conditions, weather windows and wildlife sightings rather than packed itineraries. That slower rhythm extends into the landscape itself. Unlike heavily commercialized outdoor hubs, the Wallowas still feel shaped primarily by geography rather than recreation infrastructure. Trail signs are minimal in places. Cell service disappears quickly beyond town limits. Some access roads remain gravel or washboarded well into the mountains. And that relative lack of development preserves something increasingly difficult to find in popular hiking regions: solitude. On the Lakes Basin Trail, alpine meadows stretch beneath jagged ridgelines where mountain goats move easily across exposed rock. The route connects a series of glacial lakes scattered throughout the upper basin, each reflecting shifting weather patterns across the surrounding peaks. Farther into the Eagle Cap Wilderness, backpacking routes extend for days across remote passes and valleys where hikers often carry bear canisters and water filtration systems not because regulations require it, but because services simply do not exist once you’re deep enough into the range. Eagle Cap Wilderness I CREDIT SUBMITTED PHOTO Wildlife remains part of the daily experience here. Mule deer move through meadows near dusk. Bald eagles circle above Wallowa Lake. Black bears occasionally appear along less-traveled sections of trail, particularly during late summer berry season. At higher elevations, the landscape becomes quieter in a way that feels increasingly rare in the modern West. Wind moving across rock replaces traffic noise entirely. Water becomes the dominant sound. Even busy trails thin out significantly once elevation gain begins separating casual visitors from committed hikers. One evening near Hurricane Creek, low clouds moved through the valley while the last sunlight reached the upper ridges above the tree line. Below, Joseph’s lights had just begun appearing faintly across the valley floor. From the trail, the town looked remarkably small against the scale of the mountains surrounding it. That perspective may be part of what makes the Wallowas so memorable. The region never feels overbuilt around its scenery. Joseph remains a real small town first and an outdoor destination second. The mountains dictate life here more than tourism does. For hikers accustomed to crowded national parks and heavily trafficked trail systems, the Wallowas offer a different experience, one defined less by spectacle and more by immersion. The trails demand effort, distances feel longer than expected and weather shapes nearly every decision once you enter the backcountry. But the reward is a mountain landscape that still feels genuinely quiet. Hurricane Creek I CREDIT SUBMITTED PHOTO By the final morning, fog drifted across Wallowa Lake while early light filtered through the surrounding pines. Along the shoreline, a few kayaks moved slowly across the water beneath peaks still holding traces of snow high above the basin. Nothing about the scene felt rushed. In Joseph, the mountains remain the dominant presence, larger than the town, larger than the trails and seemingly indifferent to whether anyone arrives to photograph them at all. For more or to plan your adventure, visit https://josephoregon.com/ or click the logo below.

New River Gorge and Summersville are emerging as one of the most well-rounded outdoor regions in the eastern United States. Think whitewater rafting, hidden waterfalls, mountain views and crystal-clear lakes. BY KAY ESPOSITO, MAY 23, 2026 ADVENTURE HOTSPOT Paddleboarding in Summersville Lake / CREDIT VISIT GREATER SUMMERSVILLE WV What if one of the country’s most compelling outdoor destinations was still relatively under the radar? In southern West Virginia, the New River Gorge and Summersville region offers a landscape shaped by whitewater, sandstone cliffs and dense Appalachian forest. The area has quietly become a destination for travelers seeking both high-adrenaline adventure and slower experiences tied to the water and mountains. At the center of it all is New River Gorge National Park and Preserve, where the terrain shifts dramatically from steep wooded ridgelines to deep river canyons carved over millions of years. The scenery alone is enough to draw hikers, climbers and photographers, but the region’s rivers remain its defining feature. The New River is widely regarded as one of the premier whitewater rafting destinations in the eastern United States. Its two distinct sections create experiences that range from accessible family trips to technically demanding runs through some of the gorge’s largest rapids. The Upper New moves at a slower pace, with Class I to III rapids winding through broad valleys and forested shoreline. The calmer water makes it well suited for families and first-time rafters, while still offering enough current to feel engaging. Trips here tend to focus as much on the surrounding landscape as the rapids themselves. Whitewater rafting near the New River Gorge Bridge / CREDIT NEW RIVER GORGE CVB Farther downstream, the character of the river changes. The Lower New narrows into the gorge, where larger hydraulics, continuous waves and faster-moving water create a far more dynamic run. The rapids arrive in quick succession beneath towering bridge spans and heavily wooded cliffs, giving the stretch a sense of scale that feels distinctly Appalachian. For many rafters, the Lower New is the river that defines the region. Nearby, the Gauley River carries an even stronger reputation among whitewater enthusiasts. Often referred to as the “Beast of the East,” the Gauley is known for steep gradients and technical Class V rapids that attract experienced paddlers from around the world during the fall release season. Summer conditions vary depending on water levels, but sections of the river still provide challenging runs through remote mountain terrain. The Upper Gauley remains one of the most difficult commercially rafted stretches of whitewater in the country, while the Lower Gauley combines powerful rapids with longer scenic pools and canyon views. Whitewater rafting near the New River Gorge Bridge / CREDIT NEW RIVER GORGE CVB Not every experience here revolves around whitewater, however. Just north of the gorge, Summersville Lake sits in West Virginia’s Mountain Lakes Region, where forested ridges and sandstone cliffs surround a large reservoir of strikingly clear water. At 2,700 acres, it is the largest lake in the state and is known for water clarity that can reach 20 to 45 feet during summer months. The lake has become a popular long-weekend destination for travelers looking for quick access to paddling, swimming and open water in a canyon setting. Summersville Lake holds some of the clearest water in West Virginia Flatwater kayaking, canoeing and paddleboarding are common along sheltered coves and full-service marina provides boat ramps and rentals, making the lake accessible for both casual visitors and longer stays on the water. The shoreline is defined by steep rock walls and forested slopes, with hiking access points at Long Point, Battle Run and Salmon Run. From these trails, the lake appears as a wide ribbon of blue set against vertical cliffs and wooded ridgelines. Paddleboarding in Summersville Lake / CREDIT VISIT GREATER SUMMERSVILLE WV Pontoons and motorboats move across the wider basin of Summersville Lake, where open water stretches between steep sandstone walls and forested ridgelines. The lake’s scale creates a different rhythm from the narrow coves and paddling routes, with boats spreading out across long sightlines of clear water that shift in color with the sun. Even at its busiest, the basin maintains a sense of space, traffic disperses quickly, and the surrounding cliffs keep the horizon tightly framed, giving the impression of moving through a natural amphitheater rather than a typical reservoir. While often described as a retreat, the lake is better understood as part of a larger system of contrasts within the region, calm water set just upstream from one of the most active whitewater corridors in the eastern United States. Elsewhere in the region, smaller waterways create quieter experiences. Hawks Nest Lake, located within Hawks Nest State Park, is defined by calm flatwater suited for beginner kayakers and paddleboarders. Nearby, Mill Creek offers a short but technical Class IV run favored by experienced paddlers navigating fast-moving channels and narrow drops. At Kanawha Falls, paddleboarders launch from the Kanawha River and move into sheltered pools behind the falls themselves, where the sound of moving water replaces the noise of roads and nearby towns. The setting feels surprisingly remote despite its accessibility. For a slower pace, Boley Lake at Babcock State Park offers canoe, rowboat and paddleboat rentals surrounded by forested hills and some of the state’s most recognizable scenery. Even motorized excursions here remain closely tied to the landscape. New River Jet Boats, departing from Hawks Nest State Park, travel beneath the New River Gorge Bridge at high speed, giving passengers a rare perspective of the steel arch rising above the canyon walls. Departing from Hawks Nest State Park / CREDIT VISIT GREATER SUMMERSVILLE WV What distinguishes the New River Gorge and Summersville region is not simply the range of outdoor activities, but the way those experiences remain connected to the landscape itself. The area still feels defined more by rivers, forest and geology than by large-scale tourism infrastructure. For travelers looking beyond more established outdoor hubs, that sense of continuity between water, rock and forest may be the region’s most compelling feature. To learn more and plan your next adventure, visit https://www.summersvillecvb.com/ and https://newrivergorgecvb.com/ or click the logos below.

Along the southern shore of Lake Michigan, Indiana Dunes National Park blends towering sand dunes, forest trails and quiet beaches into a national park experience that feels far removed from the everyday Midwest. BY FIA BROWER, MAY 20, 2026 MIDWEST TRAVEL Indiana Dunes National Park I CREDIT INDIANA DUNES NATIONAL PARK A few hours north of Indianapolis, the landscape starts to change.The highways flatten out, the air gets heavier with lake humidity and suddenly Indiana stops feeling like cornfields and backroads. Then you crest a dune trail and see Lake Michigan stretched out in front of you like an ocean, and it hits you all at once, this place feels different. For Hoosiers, Indiana Dunes National Park has always carried a certain kind of pride. It officially became the country’s 61st national park in 2019, but long before the designation, people from Indiana knew there was something special tucked along that 15-mile stretch of shoreline between Michigan City and Gary. At first glance, it’s easy to underestimate it You hear “Indiana dunes” and maybe you picture a couple sandy hills near the water. But once you spend a day there, you realize the park is layered in a way most people don’t expect. Beaches give way to forests. Wetlands turn into prairie. Quiet trails suddenly open into massive dune overlooks where the lake wind feels strong enough to push you backward. The park protects more than 15,000 acres and is considered one of the most biologically diverse areas in the National Park system. More than 1,100 native plant species grow here, a number that surprises even longtime visitors. Scientists have studied the dunes for more than a century because the landscape shows how ecosystems evolve over time, from bare sand near the shoreline to fully developed forests farther inland. Indiana Dunes National Park But honestly, when you’re standing barefoot at the edge of Lake Michigan watching waves crash into the beach, you’re probably not thinking about ecology. You’re just thinking about how wild it is that this exists in Indiana.That contrast is part of what makes the dunes memorable. On one side, you have steel mills, highways and industrial skylines that remind you this is still the Midwest. On the other, there are stretches of beach and trail that feel surprisingly untouched, especially early in the morning before crowds arrive. Places like West Beach pull in families and beachgoers during the summer, while trails like the Dune Succession Trail give visitors a quick look at the landscape changes that made the area famous among environmental researchers. Then there’s the 3 Dune Challenge at Indiana Dunes State Park, technically separate from the national park but surrounded by it. The trail climbs the three tallest dunes in the state and has become a rite of passage for visitors who underestimate how difficult hiking through sand can actually be. The first dune feels manageable. By the second, your calves are burning. By the third, you start questioning your decision-making while pretending you’re still enjoying yourself. And somehow, that becomes part of the fun.What makes the Indiana Dunes work so well for a weekend trip is how accessible everything feels. You don’t need a week off work or a detailed itinerary. You can leave central Indiana after breakfast and still have your feet in the lake by lunchtime. Indiana Dunes National Park That ease fits the personality of the place. The best moments here usually aren’t overplanned anyway. They happen when you pull off at a random beach access point, find a quiet trail through the trees or stay on the shoreline long enough to catch sunset colors reflecting off the water. There’s also something refreshing about how unpolished parts of the dunes still feel. Some beaches are crowded. Others feel forgotten in the best possible way. You’ll find birdwatchers carrying binoculars, families hauling coolers through the sand and hikers stopping every few minutes because they didn’t expect the views to open up the way they do. Even nearby towns lean into that slower pace. Places like Chesterton and Michigan City have become natural stopovers for coffee, breweries and post-beach meals without losing their Midwest personality trying to become full-blown resort towns. And maybe that’s the real charm of the dunes. They don’t try too hard. Indiana Dunes National Park The dunes leave you with something harder to describe, the feeling that you found a place that still moves at its own pace. Indiana Dunes National Park may not be the loudest destination in the Midwest, but that’s exactly why people keep coming back. To plan your next adventure, visit www.indianadunes.com or click the logo below.

BY UNPLUG STAFF, MAY 15, 2026 WATER ADVENTURES Little River Canyon National Preserve There’s a kind of silence in the South that doesn’t feel empty. It feels intentional. Not the postcard version of the region, not the crowded overlooks or the heavily tagged waterfalls, but the in-between spaces. The places you only find if someone tells you, or if you miss your turn and decide not to turn back. This story started like that. We were headed somewhere else entirely when the road narrowed, the signal dropped, and the landscape started doing that quiet Southern thing where it stops trying to impress you and just becomes itself. That’s how we found Little River Canyon National Preserve, a place that somehow still feels like a secret, even though it absolutely shouldn’t be. The canyon you don't expect Little River Canyon sits on top of Lookout Mountain in northeast Alabama, but it doesn’t feel like “top of anything.” It feels carved, not elevated. The river runs along the canyon floor instead of through it, which is the first clue that this place doesn’t follow the usual rules. The water moves fast in some sections, then disappears into still pools that reflect the rock walls like glass. You can hear everything here, wind, water, the occasional distant call of someone who’s definitely not in a hurry. Most people pass through on their way somewhere else. That’s what makes it work.There are overlooks along the rim, but the better experience is below. Down where the road noise doesn’t make it. Down where the air feels cooler than it should for Alabama. How to actually experience it Start early. Not because it’s crowded, it usually isn’t, but because mornings here feel like the canyon is still loading. The main access point drops you close enough to the water that you can hear it before you see it. If you’re paddling, certain sections offer short, seasonal runs after rain. If you’re hiking, the trails follow the edge in and out of forest and rock formations that feel half finished, like the earth paused mid-construction. Bring less than you think you need. The canyon does not reward overpacking. It doesn’t really reward planning either. What it does reward is attention. Rhythm of the place After a while, you stop trying to “do” the canyon and just move with it. That’s when it starts to show its actual personality, not dramatic, not curated, just steady. Fish breaking the surface. Leaves spinning in slow circles near eddies. Rock that looks like it’s been waiting a very long time for someone to notice it.There’s a section where the canyon opens slightly and the river bends hard left, disappearing behind a wall of trees. Most people don’t follow it far. There’s no sign telling you to continue. That’s usually where places like this lose people. We followed it anyway. It got quieter. Why it still feels unknown The truth is, this isn’t undiscovered. It’s just underused. The South is full of places like this, not hidden, just overlooked. They don’t need hype because they’ve never depended on attention to stay interesting. And that might be the real reason places like Little River Canyon still matter. They don’t ask to be part of your itinerary. They don’t care if you post them. They just exist, doing what they’ve always done. If you go Go without an agenda. Go without trying to “cover it.” The canyon doesn’t work like content. It works like weather, you experience it, not capture it. And if you find yourself standing at the edge thinking it feels quieter than expected that’s not the canyon being empty. That’s you finally hearing it.

BY KAY ESPOSITO, April 2, 2026 MIDWEST TRAVELS Buffalo National River I CREDIT UNPLUG STAFF There’s a moment on a quiet river when your phone goes from a lifeline to dead weight. No bars. No buzzing. Just the dip of a paddle, the hum of insects and the occasional side-eye from a great blue heron who clearly thinks you’re in its lane. That’s kind of the point. We set out to find the Midwest’s most underrated water trails , the ones that don’t require a permit, a lottery win or a week of planning spreadsheets. Just you, a boat and a willingness to drift. What we found: slow travel at its best. No crowds, no chaos, just current. First stop: Arkansas, where the Buffalo National River runs clear and cold through limestone bluffs that look almost too cinematic for the middle of the country. It’s technically just south of what most people call the Midwest, but the vibe fits: low-key, underhyped and wildly accessible. Buffalo National River We pushed off early, the kind of morning where the fog hangs low over the water like it’s not ready to wake up yet. Within minutes, the outside world felt far away. No motors. No noise. Just the steady rhythm of paddling and the occasional splash of a fish breaking the surface. Floating the Buffalo isn't about andrenaline It’s about letting go of the idea that you need to be entertained every second. You drift past towering bluffs, gravel bars and dense forest that feels older than it probably is. At one point, we stopped paddling entirely and just let the river decide where we were going. It turns out, that’s enough. A few days later and several states north, we traded sandstone cliffs for something quieter but just as immersive: Wisconsin’s Namekagon River. If the Buffalo is dramatic, the Namekagon is subtle. It doesn’t try to impress you, it just does. Namekagon River I CREDIT UNPLUG STAFF This stretch of water is part of a federally protected system, but it feels almost untouched. The current is gentle, the banks are lined with pine and hardwoods, and the loudest thing you’ll hear is the wind moving through trees. We went hours without seeing another person. That kind of solitude hits different. At first, it feels eerie, like you’re missing something. Then it clicks: you’re not missing anything. This is the thing. We pulled off on a sandy bank for lunch, shoes off, feet in the water, watching clouds drift by like we had nowhere else to be because we didn’t. No itinerary beyond “keep floating.” No notifications waiting to be checked. Just a slow, steady day that felt longer in the best way. By the time we reached Ohio, we were fully leaning into the unplugged mindset. Hocking Hills is better known for hiking, waterfalls, caves, all the greatest hits, but just outside the main park area are paddling routes that deserve equal hype. Namekagon River I CREDIT UNPLUG STAFF The water here winds through a mix of forest and open stretches, with enough twists to keep things interesting without tipping into stressful. It’s the kind of place where you can paddle in the morning and hike in the afternoon, then sit by a campfire wondering why you don’t do this more often. We didn’t have a deep answer for that. Probably because it’s easier not to. Easier to stay plugged in, to scroll instead of go, to assume the “real” outdoor experiences are somewhere else, out west, farther away, more extreme. But here’s the thing: they’re not. The Midwest doesn’t shout. It's just quieter about it. And these rivers prove it. No permits. No crowds. Just you, the current and, yes, a heron that still thinks you’re in the way. By the end of the trip, our phones were buried in dry bags, forgotten for hours at a time. Not because we had to ignore them, but because we didn’t want to check them. The water gave us something better to pay attention to. And when we finally did paddle back to shore, signal returning, notifications lighting up, it all felt a little less urgent. Like maybe the river had a point.

Franklin and Nantahala, North Carolina, deliver rushing cascades, layered mountain views and the kind of outdoor energy that surrounds you with the untamed beauty of the outdoors. BY: Kay Esposito -May 5, 2026 WATERFALL GETAWAY Sunrise over Franklin, NC (Photo by Franklin Area Chamber of Commerce) Out here, the water does the talking. In Franklin and Nantahala, tucked deep in the mountains of Western North Carolina, everything seems to move to the rhythm of the outdoors. Waterfalls crash, rivers rush, wind moves through the trees and somehow, it all syncs up. It’s not quiet in the way you might expect. It’s alive. This part of the Blue Ridge Mountains feels built for exploring. Trails wind through dense forest, leading to hidden waterfalls that don’t feel staged or overdone, they just exist, powerful and constant. You hear them before you see them: a low roar that grows louder with every step, until suddenly you’re there, standing in front of water pouring over rock like it’s been doing forever. At places like Cullasaja Falls (located in the Nantahala National Forest, approximately 8-9 miles east of Franklin, NC,) and Dry Falls along the scenic Mountain Waters Scenic Byway, the experience feels almost cinematic. Cullasaja crashes down a rugged cliffside, dramatic and loud, while Dry Falls lets you walk behind the curtain of water, close enough to feel the mist on your skin. A little farther out, Bridal Veil Falls spills gently over rock, wide and steady, offering a completely different kind of beauty. And once you step into it, it's hard to look away Some falls are tall and dramatic, dropping in a single, jaw-dropping line. Others spill over layers of rock, creating a staircase of water that feels just as mesmerizing. Either way, there’s a moment when you stop walking, stop thinking, and just take it in. Cullasaja Falls (Submitted photo) A must-see in person The mountains themselves bring a whole other level to the experience. Rolling ridgelines stack into the distance from overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway, fading from deep green to soft blue as they stretch farther out. It’s the kind of view that makes you want to stay longer than you planned. Spots like Wayah Bald offer panoramic views that feel endless, especially at sunset when the light softens across the peaks. And the best part? You don’t have to be an expert to get into it Wayah Bald at sunrise (Photo by Franklin Area Chamber of Commerce) There are trails for every kind of explorer here. You can go all in on a longer hike, like sections of the Appalachian Trail that pass near Franklin, or keep it low-key with shorter paths that still lead to incredible spots. Even a quick walk can end with something worth remembering—another waterfall, another overlook, another reason to keep going. Then there’s the Nantahala River, cutting through it all with steady energy. It’s not just something to look at—it’s something to experience. Whitewater rafting through the Nantahala Gorge is a full-on adrenaline rush, with rapids that demand your attention and keep your heart rate up. But in between, there are calmer stretches where you can actually take in the scenery, towering trees, rocky cliffs and that constant, grounding sound of water moving forward. Whitewater Rafting (Photo by Franklin Area Chamber of Commerce) What makes Franklin and Nantahala stand out isn’t just that they have mountains or waterfalls, it’s how close you are to all of it. You can go from downtown Franklin to trailheads in the Nantahala National Forest in minutes, from a casual morning to standing in front of a waterfall before lunch. And it keeps going, all day Afternoons stretch out with more trails, more views, more chances to explore without feeling rushed. You can chase multiple waterfalls in a single day or spend hours in one spot, watching the light shift and the water keep moving. Drives along U.S. Route 64 open up to one scenic stop after another, each one offering a slightly different angle of the landscape. By evening, the mountains start to settle into a different kind of energy. The light softens, shadows stretch, and everything feels a little calmer after a full day outside. It’s the kind of tired that feels earned, legs sore from hiking, skin warm from the sun, mind clear in a way that’s hard to explain. And even then, the outdoors aren’t done with you. Wesser Bald (Video by Franklin Area Chamber of Commerce) The sky takes over From open viewpoints or quiet cabins tucked into the hills, the stars come out strong, sharp and bright, scattered across the sky in a way that doesn’t feel real at first. It’s the perfect ending to a day that started on the trail and never really left it. Franklin and Nantahala don’t ask you to slow down. They just give you something better to follow. Water that never stops moving. Mountains that don’t need filters. Trails that lead somewhere worth going. It’s not about escaping life, it’s about stepping into something bigger, louder and more real. And once you do, it’s hard to imagine choosing anything else. Dry Falls (Video by Franklin Area Chamber of Commerce) For more about Franklin and Nantahala, North Carolina, please visit Franklin Area Chamber of Commerce or click the logo below.

Along the quieter stretch of Maryland between major cities, Cecil County is building a getaway around trails, waterfront towns and slowing down. BY KAY ESPOSITO, MAY 15, 2026 WEEKEND GETAWAY CREDIT I DISCOVER CECIL Positioned in the northeast corner of Maryland along Interstate 95, Cecil County has become a go-to weekend escape where city pace gives way to open water, trail time and small-town downtime. Roads narrow. Harbors replace traffic noise. Small towns begin appearing along the water with brick sidewalks, old storefronts and marinas filled with boats rocking gently against the docks. The pace eases almost immediately. That slower rhythm is becoming part of the draw. Over the last several years, Cecil County has quietly grown into one of the East Coast’s more underrated weekend destinations, a place built less around packed tourist attractions and more around space to breathe for a couple of days. The appeal starts outdoors. The county offers more than 100 miles of trails spread across forests, waterfront parks and protected natural areas. Visitors spend weekends hiking, biking, kayaking and fishing, often within short distances of small towns and restaurants that still feel distinctly local. In many places, the Chesapeake Bay defines the atmosphere. Waterways cut through much of the county, shaping both recreation and daily life. Some visitors paddle quiet stretches near marshlands while others book boat tours along the historic Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. By evening, waterfront views become part of the routine as people gather near marinas, restaurant patios and public parks to watch the sun disappear over the water. CREDIT I DISCOVER CECIL The sunsets here tend to slow people down. That balance between outdoor recreation and quieter downtime gives the county a different personality than larger beach destinations farther east. There is plenty to do, but very little pressure to rush through it. One afternoon may involve trail riding through wooded areas or camping under the stars. The next might revolve around local wineries, bookstores, coffee shops or farm markets selling seasonal produce and baked goods. Food has become part of the experience as well Across the county, Chesapeake-inspired seafood remains central to many menus, but the area’s food culture extends well beyond crab cakes and waterfront dining. Creameries, cider mills, bakeries and small-town cafés help shape the region’s laid-back atmosphere, especially during summer and fall weekends when visitors move between orchards, markets and roadside stands. CREDIT I DISCOVER CECIL Places like Chesapeake City and North East lean heavily into that slower charm. Both towns remain highly walkable, lined with historic buildings, specialty shops and small museums that reflect the region’s maritime and colonial history. In some neighborhoods, it still feels possible to spend an afternoon wandering without much of a plan. History exists almost everywhere in the county, though it rarely feels overly curated. Covered bridges, preserved waterfront districts and historic estates remain folded naturally into the landscape rather than separated behind ticket booths and crowds. At Mount Harmon Plantation, visitors travel down a tree-lined road toward a historic property overlooking the Sassafras River, a setting that feels removed from modern development despite being only a short drive from major highways. Farther south, Elk Neck State Park draws hikers and campers looking for access to forest trails and shoreline views. One of the park’s most recognizable destinations, Turkey Point Lighthouse, sits high above the Chesapeake Bay where cliffs open toward wide stretches of water and sky. Families have found their own reasons to visit as well. Some stop at Plumpton Park Zoo or nearby orchards during seasonal events. Others build weekends around the massive indoor water park at Great Wolf Lodge Perryville, where waterslides and indoor attractions contrast sharply with the otherwise relaxed pace of the surrounding countryside. CREDIT I DISCOVER CECIL Still, what makes Cecil County stand out may be its simplicity. Unlike heavily commercialized vacation areas, much of the county still feels approachable and unpolished in a way that works to its advantage. Visitors are not arriving for massive attractions or tightly scheduled itineraries. They come for a quieter kind of reset built around small towns, outdoor space and the ability to disconnect without traveling especially far. That accessibility matters. With three direct exits off I-95, the county sits within driving distance of cities including Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington while feeling noticeably removed from all three once visitors arrive. For many travelers, that combination has become increasingly valuable. The farther daily life leans toward screens, traffic and packed schedules, the more places like Cecil County begin to feel necessary, somewhere close enough for a spontaneous weekend but quiet enough to feel like an actual break from routine. In Cecil County, the goal is not really to impress people with scale. It's to give them room to slow down long enough to notice where they are. To plan your adventure getaway, visit discovercecil.com or click on the image below.

Seasoned hikers cut weight and boost reliability by focusing on repair skills, smart redundancy and field-tested essentials instead of overpacking. BY KAY ESPOSITO, MAY 14, 2026 GEAR TIPS CREDIT I ROBERT J. HILL Backpacking looks simple until you’re a few miles in: everything on your back starts to matter, and anything unnecessary feels like a mistake. That’s usually where the gap shows up between beginners and experienced hikers, not in fitness, but in what’s inside the pack. Ask anyone who has spent enough nights outside, and the pattern is pretty consistent. Beginners tend to pack for what they think might go wrong. Experienced backpackers pack for what actually does. That difference shows up fast once the trail gets long, steep or wet. Less “just in case,” more fixing things on the fly New hikers often carry backups for their backups. Extra socks, extra layers, extra gadgets. Seasoned backpackers go the other direction. Instead of carrying duplicates, they carry ways to fix what breaks. Gear tape, a small repair kit, a bit of cordage and a needle and thread are standard. A lot of hikers also wrap duct tape around trekking poles or water bottles so it’s always there when something rips mid-trip. The mindset is simple: if it breaks, you deal with it. You don’t carry a second one. Water isn’t carried — it’s managed Beginners often load up on water and suffer for it on climbs. Experienced hikers rarely do that. Instead, they carry a filter or purification system and treat water on the go. Streams, springs and lakes become refill points instead of something to avoid. It’s a shift in trust: you don’t carry everything you need for the next 10 miles — you know how to make what’s available safe. Navigation doesn’t live in one place Phones are great until they aren’t. Batteries die. Screens crack. Signal disappears fast once you’re off the ridge. That’s why experienced backpackers almost always carry a paper map and compass, even if they also use GPS apps. Offline maps are standard, not backup. It’s not about paranoia. It’s about not betting your entire route on one device. Sleep systems built for real nights, not perfect forecasts One of the fastest ways to learn on trail is a cold night. Beginners often underestimate how cold it gets after sunset, especially in the mountains. Experienced hikers don’t. They build sleep systems around worst-case conditions, not best-case forecasts, a properly rated bag or quilt, plus an insulated pad that actually protects you from the ground. Even in summer, extra insulation is standard in higher elevations. Submitted photo One solid emergency layer, not a full wardrobe Instead of extra outfits, experienced hikers rely on layers that actually work together: base, insulation and shell. But the key piece is the emergency layer — a jacket or rain shell that doesn’t get used casually. It stays dry in the pack, ready for weather that turns fast. Beginners rotate through clothing too much. Experienced hikers keep one system and stick to it. Headlamps over everything else You almost never see experienced hikers relying on handheld flashlights. Headlamps are standard because hands-free light matters the second you’re cooking, filtering water or setting up camp in the dark. Most hikers carry backup batteries or a second light if they’re going deep. Comfort is not the enemy There’s a misconception that experienced backpackers suffer more. They don’t — they just choose carefully. A small sit pad, a better snack than standard trail food, or something to read at night can make a big difference over multiple days. These aren’t luxuries. They’re what keep morale from dropping when miles start stacking up. Long trips aren’t just physical. They’re mental. Simple gear, fewer moving parts Cooking setups are another place where experience shows. Beginners often bring too much: big stoves, full cookware kits, extra fuel. Experienced hikers strip it down. A small stove, one pot, one utensil. Sometimes no cooking at all on short trips. Less gear means less to break, clean or carry. Submitted photo The real shift: judgment replaces gear After a while, experienced hikers stop trying to prepare for every possible scenario. They start focusing on the ones that actually happen: rain that shows up early, feet that start hurting on day two, gear that fails when you least want it to. That’s the real difference. Not lighter packs for the sake of it, but smarter ones built from experience. At some point, backpacking stops being about what you can bring and starts being about what you can confidently leave behind.

From cushioning to grip to weight, hikers break down how footwear choices shape comfort, speed and performance on the trail, and why there’s no one-size-fits-all answer. BY KAY ESPOSITO, MAY 15, 2026 ON FOOT CREDIT I SALOMON SHOES Spend enough time on trail and you’ll eventually see it: a hiker in heavy boots grinding uphill next to someone in lightweight trail runners moving like they’re floating. Same trail, same distance, completely different philosophies. The debate between trail running shoes and hiking boots isn’t new, but it has gotten louder as gear has evolved and long-distance hiking culture has shifted. Ultralight backpackers, thru-hikers and trail runners have pushed the conversation in one direction. Traditional hikers and mountaineers haven’t gone quietly in the other. The truth, like most things in the backcountry, sits somewhere in the middle. Boots: built for support, durability and protection Hiking boots have been the default for decades, and for good reason. A traditional boot offers ankle support, thick soles and protection from rough terrain. On technical trails with loose rock, sharp scree or heavy loads, boots still make sense for many hikers. Experienced backpackers who prefer boots often point to stability under weight. When you’re carrying a heavy pack, especially on uneven terrain, a stiffer sole can reduce fatigue in the feet and provide a more controlled feel on descents. Water resistance is another factor. Many boots are designed with waterproof membranes, which can help in wet climates or early-season conditions where streams are high and mud is unavoidable. But boots come with tradeoffs. They’re heavier, slower to dry and often require a break-in period. On long-distance hikes, that weight adds up over thousands of steps. And once boots get wet, they tend to stay wet. Trail runners: light, fast and built for distance Trail running shoes have become the preferred choice for many thru-hikers and fastpackers, and not just runners. The appeal is simple: less weight on your feet means less energy spent with every step. Over the course of a 20-mile day, that difference becomes noticeable. Modern trail runners are built with aggressive tread patterns, durable uppers and cushioning designed for long hours on uneven ground. While they don’t offer the ankle support of a boot, many experienced hikers argue that strong foot muscles and good technique matter more than external support. Drying time is another major advantage. Trail runners get wet, but they also dry quickly, which matters on multi-day trips where conditions change constantly. They also tend to be more comfortable right out of the box. There’s no break-in period, which makes them appealing for both beginners and seasoned hikers alike. The ankle support argument isn’t what it used to be One of the biggest points in the boot-versus-trainer debate is ankle support. Boots have long been marketed as injury prevention tools, but many experienced hikers now question how much ankle height actually prevents rolled ankles compared to strength and awareness. On uneven terrain, ankle rolls happen in both boots and trail runners. The difference, according to many long-distance hikers, is that lighter shoes allow quicker adjustments. You feel the terrain more directly, which can improve reaction time. That said, hikers with a history of ankle injuries or those carrying heavy loads still often prefer boots for the added structure. Weight changes everything If there is one argument that consistently shows up in modern backpacking culture, it’s weight. Every ounce matters more the farther you go. Trail runners typically weigh significantly less than boots, and that difference compounds over time. On a multi-day trip or thru-hike, saving weight on your feet often matters more than saving weight in your pack. This is one of the reasons trail runners have become standard among many Appalachian Trail and Pacific Crest Trail hikers. Less weight also means less fatigue in the knees and hips over long descents, something experienced hikers pay close attention to after enough long days on trail. Durability vs. replaceability Boot supporters often bring up durability, and they’re not wrong. A well-built boot can last a long time in rough conditions. But trail runners operate on a different logic: replace more often, but move faster and more comfortably in between. Many long-distance hikers expect to go through multiple pairs of shoes on a single thru-hike. They plan for it the same way they plan for food drops or water resupply points. It’s a shift in thinking: instead of buying one pair to last the entire journey, you accept that shoes are consumable gear. Terrain still matters There is no universal winner in this debate because terrain changes everything. Boots still make sense in certain environments: off-trail travel, heavy pack loads, cold-weather hiking or rocky alpine terrain where protection matters more than speed. Trail runners excel on maintained trails, long-distance routes and fast-moving hikes where efficiency is the goal. Most experienced hikers eventually stop asking which is better and start asking which is better for this specific trip. The hybrid reality most hikers end up in Spend enough time in the outdoors and most people don’t stay loyal to one side. A lot of hikers switch depending on season, route and pack weight. Boots for winter or rugged terrain. Trail runners for summer mileage days. Some even carry both on longer trips, switching mid-hike as conditions change. There’s no rulebook, just tradeoffs. What actually matters more than the shoe After enough miles, most experienced hikers will tell you the same thing: the shoe matters less than how it fits and how you move in it. Blisters, hotspots and fatigue usually come from poor fit, not category. A perfect boot that doesn’t fit well will cause more problems than a well-fitted trail runner on rough terrain. Sock choice, foot care and pacing often matter more than the label on the shoe. The real shift in the debate The trail running shoe versus hiking boot conversation isn’t really about footwear anymore. It reflects a bigger shift in outdoor travel culture. One side values protection, tradition and stability. The other values speed, efficiency and adaptability. But most experienced hikers have moved past the argument entirely. They’ve learned that the trail doesn’t care what you’re wearing. It only responds to whether you can keep moving comfortably long enough to reach the next mile. Core “go-to” options for most hikers and runners Salomon — known for aggressive grip and technical trail performance HOKA — famous for max cushioning and long-distance comfort Altra — popular for zero-drop design and wide toe box comfort Brooks — comfort-first shoes that work well for many hikers and runners Merrell — budget-friendly, durable hiking/trail hybrid shoes La Sportiva — high-performance mountain and technical terrain footwear Saucony — balanced, versatile trail runners used in long-distance hiking Which do you prefer for the trail? Vote below and let us know.

From the soaring quartzite fins of Seneca Rocks to the remote backcountry beneath Spruce Knob, this rugged corner of the Monongahela National Forest delivers some of the East Coast’s most overlooked mountain adventure. BY KAY ESPOSITO, MAY 15, 2026 WILD APPALACHIA Seneca Rocks I CRESIT PENDLETON COUNTY, WEST VIRGINIA The area of Pendleton County doesn’t announce itself with billboards or trendy gear shops. You reach it by climbing into the folds of eastern West Virginia, where U.S. 33 twists through the Allegheny Mountains and cell service fades somewhere around the last gas station in Franklin. Then the ridgelines begin stacking against the horizon like dark ocean swells, and suddenly you understand why climbers, backpackers and trail runners keep this corner of the Mountain State close to the chest. This is the wild spine of the Monongahela National Forest, home to the Spruce Knob–Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area, where quartzite fins explode from the valley floor and long mountain ridges run uninterrupted for miles. The hiking here is rugged without pretense, scenic without crowds and surprisingly vast for a state often overlooked by outdoor travelers. Nearly 60 miles of trails weave through the Spruce Knob and Seneca Creek backcountry alone Most visitors start at Seneca Rocks, and for good reason. Rising nearly 900 feet above the North Fork River Valley, the jagged Tuscarora quartzite formation is one of the most recognizable climbing destinations in the East. More than 375 traditional climbing routes run up the fins and cracks of the formation, drawing climbers from across the Mid-Atlantic every spring and fall. But even non-climbers get a taste of the exposure on the Seneca Rocks Trail, a steep but manageable 1.3-mile climb to an observation platform beneath the summit fins. The round-trip hike covers roughly 2.6 miles and gains about 1,000 vertical feet through hardwood forest and switchbacks before opening onto a panoramic overlook of Germany Valley and the surrounding ridges. Germany Valley view at Seneca Rocks I CREDIT PENDLETON COUNTY, WV On a cool October morning, the overlook feels suspended above Appalachia itself. Ravens ride thermals along the cliffs. Climbers move like slow insects across the rock face. Below, smoke curls from cabins tucked into the valley floor. Unlike more famous East Coast climbing hubs, Seneca still carries the feel of an expedition. There’s grit in the parking lots and dirt under the fingernails at the general store. Just west of Seneca Rocks rises Spruce Knob, the highest point in West Virginia at 4,863 feet. The summit road climbs through dense red spruce forest before ending at a stone-and-steel observation tower ringed by alpine wind. The easy half-mile Whispering Spruce Trail loops around the summit through stunted spruce groves and exposed overlooks, but stronger hikers skip the roadside access and head into the surrounding backcountry. The real magic of Pendleton County lives between the landmarks, on the long ridges and hidden creek valleys where trails disappear into deep forest. The Seneca Creek Backcountry offers some of the best backpacking in the central Appalachians, with nearly 60 interconnected miles crossing open meadows, mossy spruce stands and cold mountain streams. Pendleton Rocks I CREDIT PENDLETON COUNTY, WV One of the standout routes follows the Seneca Creek Trail, an old railroad grade that traces the creek upstream beneath towering hardwoods and rhododendron tunnels. The gentle grades make it approachable, but the setting feels wonderfully remote. Campsites dot the creek banks, and brook trout flash through clear pools beside the trail. For hikers chasing bigger mileage and bigger views, the North Fork Mountain Trail delivers one of the premier ridge walks in the Appalachians. Stretching roughly 24 to 34 miles depending on the route variation and access points, the trail follows the crest of North Fork Mountain from Judy Gap north toward Chimney Top. NROCKS VIa Feratta I CREDIT PENDLETON COUNTY WV The terrain is dry and rocky compared with the surrounding Allegheny highlands, creating an ecosystem unusual for West Virginia. Along the ridgeline, cliffs erupt without warning, offering cinematic views into Germany Valley and across to Spruce Knob’s forested dome. Water sources are scarce, shelters nonexistent and cell service unreliable. That’s part of the appeal. Locals often describe the trail as one of the best-kept secrets in Appalachian hiking, and on a weekday in peak foliage season it can still feel astonishingly empty. You can walk for hours hearing nothing but wind in the pitch pines and the occasional rattle of leaves skittering across sandstone. The county’s outdoor culture remains refreshingly unvarnished. Climbers trade route beta at Yokum’s campground. Backpackers refill coffee in Petersburg before heading into the mountains for three-day loops. At sunset, pickup trucks line gravel pull-offs along Route 33 while locals watch the ridges fade into blue shadow. Pendleton County isn’t trying to become the next Asheville or Moab. That restraint may be its greatest asset. The trails are still muddy. The roads are still narrow. The mountains still feel bigger than the infrastructure built around them. And in an era when many outdoor destinations feel curated for social media before sunrise, that kind of authenticity has become its own form of wilderness. To plan your next adventure, visit https://www.pendletoncountywv.com/ or click on the image below.