It’s no surprise that Idaho tops several lists when it comes to river sports. Idaho is home to the most navigable miles (3100) of whitewater in the continental USA. Whatever your skill level or available time, there are miles of adventure to discover on Idaho’s rivers.
The first commercial river rafting trips in the United States were launched in Idaho. Idaho outfitters always have been standard setters for the industry who can advise and take you on whitewater experiences ranging from easy 2-hour floats, one and two-day options for the time poor, to the excitement of a week- long adrenaline-fueled adventure and the wildest of whitewater.
The Salmon river is the most famous river in Idaho, and comprises different sections of the more than 300 miles for different experiences. The Middle Fork Salmon River is a legend in its own right and drops 3000 feet during its 105 mile Idaho rafting journey through Idaho’s remote and spectacular River of No Return Wilderness, the largest wilderness area in the lower 48 states. It is protected by Congress as one of America’s first Wild and Scenic Rivers and its whitewater rapids are perfect for all ages.
Families with younger children can play on river beaches, explore Indian rock art and pioneer homesteads on specially designed rafting trips.
The Snake river is another Idaho legend where you can try raft-supported hiking trips. Or, immerse yourself in spectacular American grandeur of America’s deepest river gorge on a four or five-day Snake River in Hells Canyon trip. Other options in Idaho include the Bruneau river that carves its way through a remote wilderness of awe-inspiring deep canyons.
Or try an inflatable kayak adventure on one of Idaho’s most remote river trips along the upper reaches of the Owyhee. For those with more experience, the Lochsa River is Idaho’s wildest class IV whitewater run – perfect for experts and thrillseekers.
The Route of the Hiawatha is considered one of the most scenic stretches of railroad in the U.S. and is now the most popular ski area bike trail in the country, attracting more than 70,000 riders in 2020.
The Route of the Hiawatha winds through the rugged Bitterroot Mountains in the St. Joe Ranger District of the Idaho Panhandle National Forest along an abandoned section of the Milwaukee Railroad. Its gentle 1.6-percent to 2-percent, all-downhill trail straddles the Idaho-Montana state line for 15 miles, through 10 dark tunnels and crossing seven sky-high steel train trestles.
Fifty interpretive trailside signs enhance the family-friendly experience, and tell the story of the railroad, the people who worked here, the forest, and the area’s rich history.
Lookout Pass Ski & Recreation Area is a short 7-mile ride to the East Portal trailhead for the Route of the Hiawatha. The resort offers lift-served downhill mountain biking, scenic chairlift rides up and down the mountain, lift-served hiking trails, a mountain summit nine-hole frisbee golf course, a bungee jump, and huckleberry picking later in the season.
There are five top-to-bottom downhill mountain bike trails with more planned. There are no jumps or wooden features on its family friendly trails, which vary from singletrack that winds through the woods and across ski trails to wider mountain-access roads. All the trails offer fun rides with some offering impressive views of the St. Regis Basin.
Lookout Pass offers rental bikes for adults and kids, as well as Burley bike trailers for youngsters and trikes and recumbent bikes for seniors and a few tandem bikes for the romantics. It also rents handlebar-mounted bike lights, necessary for riding through the route of the Hiawatha’s 10 dark tunnels, the longest of which burrows for 1.6 miles.
Special events during the summer include full-moon night rides and the Hiawatha Back to Nature Trail Run, a half marathon plus the Mountain Archery Festival, a family-focused event for archers of all abilities.
Dust off your boots, grab your gal or guy and two-step your way around the Broken Spoke – an Austin institution.
Owned and run by the same couple since 1964, this dusty dancehall is what honky tonk Texas is all about. Long neck beers, the best chicken fried steak in town (whatever that is), and wooden table and chairs where ladies wait for men to ask for their hand to dance. It’s all the real McCoy here – sagging wood floor, low ceilings in disrepair and a dance floor with pumping country music both live and DJ.
It’s rumoured to be Willie Nelson’s favourite hangout – not to mention countless other country music stars. It ain’t fancy, but it’s sure as hell fun. A treasure for Texans and tourists alike.
There is a precise moment when I regret leaving my tutu, butterfly wings and Game of Thrones crown at home. Although roaming aimlessly, I am surrounded by what seem to me to be hundreds of colourful aliens who have touched down for a colossal drinking festival.
Dressed in worn jeans and tattered shirt with loads of camera gear strapped to my back, I feel like a bore. I zoom in on a gent pulling a pair of tighty-whities over his costume. They have a set of red balls hanging from the crotch. And I thought New Orleans was wild!
The cause for celebration is Courir de Mardi Gras, or what some call Cajun Mardi Gras. It’s held in towns throughout southern Louisiana, but one of the bigger events takes place right here in Eunice, about 250 kilometres west of New Orleans.
The day, misty and moody, began at 6am at the town’s community centre. Inside I asked the friendly folk who appeared to be in charge if there was any coffee. They pointed to a table lined with whisky shots. Partaking didn’t seem quite right since the sun hadn’t yet risen above the horizon, so I declined. Once dawn broke though, I reassessed the situation and helped myself to several. Hey, they were going fast.
Suitably buzzed, my friend Sarah and I climb aboard the float we’ve been invited to join. It’s actually a trailer with a corrugated tin roof and walls decorated with 3XL underwear, and is being hauled by a pick-up truck. Almost immediately we make friends with those already in position. They pass a Crown Royal jug from which we dutifully down a couple of swigs.
Cajuns are giving people and fiercely loyal to their European traditions. Many of them are descendants of the Acadians, French settlers exiled from Nova Scotia by the British in the mid-eighteenth century, while others’ families came from Quebec and even France itself. Their Mardi Gras is a completely different beast compared to the one celebrated in New Orleans.
It’s a tradition that dates back to medieval France. The rural poor, dressed in masks to hide their identities, trailed from house to house begging for food and money. The garb worn in Eunice these days is much the same, with the body covered in scraps of material, some of it turned into fringing, simulating the rags used centuries ago. The signature hats – conical caps called capuchons – add a whimsical flair as their wearers dance and beg along the parade route.
In Eunice, the revellers trail along the back roads, past acres of prairies and shallow ponds used for crawfish farming. All along the route, families lounging on lawn chairs or piled into the trays of their pick-up trucks await the parade. In another tradition that dates back generations, many of these homeowners offer food, everything from sandwiches to full buffets, to those on the move.
The Cajun people we’re with today bring new levels of artistry to pleading. The men crouch low on the bitumen, moving slowly toward the spectators much like hungry alligators hunting prey. Coins shower down on the footpath and the drunken fools scurry to gather them up. Further along the road mature ladies seem to know how to handle the younger men. They hold up coins and command them to roll across the road like trained mutts.
A horde of eager participants races after the bird through slush and mud. In what seems like no time, the winner stands triumphant, holding the rooster in the air like a prized trophy.
Remember the tighty-whitey guy? He decides to craft a musical instrument (of sorts) to join those playing tunes along the trail. He walks up to a home, asks for a black gumboot and PVC pipe, and marches back rocking out with his newfound boot fiddle.
By far one of the most anticipated parts of the day – and they happen at various times – are the chicken runs. Mounted on a horse, Capitaine Pat Frey, who has been in charge of proceedings at Eunice for 20 years, holds a rooster in the air, before releasing it and taking off at a gallop. A horde of eager participants races after the bird through slush and mud. In what seems like no time, the winner stands triumphant, holding the rooster in the air like a prized trophy.
In the past, the chickens were put in a pot of gumbo later that evening, but today they are treated more like poultry royalty. At least one of the victorious chicken-chasers carries the bird along the entire route, stroking its feathers. Several merrymakers take their chickens home to roost in the henhouse.
Two of the more comical chaps on our float have an obsession with muddied mischief. One is dressed in a costume covered with a tiny crawfish print, while the other’s is printed with miniature Confederate flags. They dive into dirty ditches then hop back on board the float wringing wet. It’s only a matter of time before they come crashing down on me, so I curl up in a ball caressing my camera like a sleeping infant.
There is some order to this madness though. The impressive co-captains of the parade – handsome men sitting tall on their steeds with lassos hanging from their saddles – blend in perfectly. With their flowing green and gold capes they’re almost like superheroes, eager to help anyone who finds themself in distress.
At midday, the krewe stops for lunch alongside a vast crawfish pond. Throngs of parade-goers line up like starving zombies, eager to scoff down a lavish link of boudin. It’s made the traditional way – a blend of spices, liver and rice squeezed into a slippery skin of pig intestine. You suck the yummy meat out of the casing into your mouth. Sure, it looks slightly X-rated but no one cares when everyone is this hungry.
As the day wears on, the music gets louder, the lips looser and the beer – well, it’s everywhere. Pick-up trucks bearing eskies filled with cold brews provide refreshment all along the route.
One of our by now extremely muddy cohorts jumps into a ditch and emerges with two crawfish to demonstrate his knack for making creature-feature earrings. “See, look, you just put the claws next to that meaty part of your earlobe,” he says, turning his head towards me and wincing a bit. “Then a quick pinch and you have a crawfish earring.”
By now, we’ve been going for hours and exhausted revellers hop on trailers to rest for a while. Jumping aboard a moving vehicle, however, is a bit tough, especially if you’ve been imbibing all day. They pick up the pace, running as fast as they can. Some have beads tangled around their necks seemingly about to choke them. With one giant leap, they stumble aboard the trailer and everyone cheers, raising their beer cans.
I’m now perched on the edge of an esky, just enough to keep my balance. There’s crazy stuff going on around me, so I scribble some notes to prove to myself later that I wasn’t hallucinating. A strange light is emanating from some silver silos, making them look like spaceships. “Hey, y’all, I need another swig of that Crown,” I yell, believing yet more alcohol might sharpen reality.
The landscape slowly changes from farmland to a few scattered homes before we finally enter downtown, where families with young children eagerly await the floats. With that, the masked marauders retreat to their roots.
One lively Cajun approaches a small boy and falls to his knees with hands clasped, begging for money. A bit timid, the youngster creeps forward then slowly drops a few coins into his hands. The masked gent bows his head in thanks, and slowly steps away. The minute his feet touch the road once more, he breaks into a Cajun jig.
Overlooking the small town of Orderville and a short distance from the east entrance of Zion National Park, this new resort offers tiny houses, tree houses, glamping tents and yurts, all completely fitted out with everything you could ever need.
Our favourites are the yurts, the largest of which can sleep up to five people. There’s a giant bubble on top for stargazing, a coffee maker to get you up and atem for early morning hikes, and a patio area that overlooks the epic scenery. This is the perfect base for exploring Zion, Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef national parks all famous for their monumental landscapes as well as the surrounding lakes and Moqui Cave.
There are normal roller coasters, then there’s the X2. This mechanical beast, which you can find by following the howl of deathly screams all the way to California’s Six Flags Magic Mountain, is in a league of its own, so much so, it’s considered the very first 4D coaster.
That means riders are placed in extra-wide 360-degree rotating seats that twist and flip independent of how the main train navigates the tracks. It also runs on four rails, instead of the usual two. Sound distressing? That’s not the end of it. While you’re spiralling through the air headfirst and facedown, the X2 is also accelerating to speeds of 122 kilometres an hour and climbing to an elevation of 60 metres. Oh, and your feet are dangling weightlessly in the air too, which any frequent ride-goer will know is a truly awful sensation.
Chuck in a couple of inversions (corkscrew-like manoeuvres), two ultra-rare raven turns (half loops that turn into sheer drops), a backflip and the added drama of a pair of flamethrowers, and you’ve got yourself one hell of a heart-thumping ride.
A rooftop bar in New York City? Groundbreaking, we hear you say in your best Miranda Priestly voice. But there’s something pretty special about the latest addition to the skyline.
Located in the heart of Midtown, The Skylark is a classy multilevel space that boasts unparalleled views of Times Square, the Empire State Building and Hudson River. Suede couches and plush furnishings in moody splashes of grey, black and caramel create a sophisticated vibe, while outside on the terrace the decor is sleek and minimal.
Cocktails that demand an immediate taste test include the honey and bourbon blend Fort Knox, and the signature Skylark, which mixes gin, vodka, dry vermouth, St Germain liqueur and blue curacao into one helluva knockout drink!
You’ve got to question the state of mind of whoever conjured up the nightmarish, stomach-churning situation that is Insanity the Ride.
Positioned atop the tallest structure in Las Vegas, The STRAT Hotel, Casino and Skypod, this terrifying centrifuge ride uses an enormous mechanical arm to dangle passengers 265 metres in the air. As if that wasn’t enough to have you murmuring a couple of Hail Marys under your breath, all trapped thrill-seekers are then tilted to an angle of 70 degrees (in other words: you’re staring directly at the ground below) and spun around at speeds of up to 64 kilometres an hour.
Apparently Insanity is also programmable with various different motion sequences, which means no two rides feel the same. We want to suggest downing a couple of strong, oversized, Vegas-style cocktails before allowing yourself to be strapped into this sky-high monstrosity, but that could end badly for everyone involved. Instead, all you can really do is sit back, admire the view and hope your seatbelt is done up.
Swings are for kids, right? Not this one. The Giant Canyon Swing at Glenwood Caverns Adventure Park is big enough and mean enough to strike fear into the hearts of seasoned adrenaline junkies.
Perched precariously on the edge of a frighteningly sheer cliff, 400 metres above the Colorado River, the Giant Canyon Swing is not your average piece of playground equipment.
For just on 60 seconds it hurtles four passengers at a time, back and forth, to a near vertical angle. It also rockets to a top speed of 80 kilometres an hour, which is enough to create negative G-forces. That’s kinda like having butterflies in your tummy, only a hundred times worse, and with the added fear of vomiting or passing out. Or both.
It’s so scary, riders must sign a liability waiver, and anyone under the age of 18 must have a parent’s or guardian’s signature. Even owner Steve Beckley has only ever ridden the Giant Canyon Swing once. Now if that’s not an indicator of how petrifying the experienceis, we’re not sure what is.
There are few better places to try ice climbing than Fish Creek Falls in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Take a day off from the surrounding slopes for an adventure you won’t forget.
You’ll be picked up directly from your accommodation, fitted out with all the right gear and taken to the entrance of the glorious snow-covered Yampa Valley. From there, you’ll shuffle through waist-deep powder and over icy bridges, crossing frozen rivers to the imposing Fish Creek Falls.
Ice climbing is not for the faint-hearted, and is more difficult than you’d think. Once you’ve attached your crampons and worked out how not to take your eye out with the ice picks, it’s onto the frozen waterfall and upwards.
The big key is trusting your crampons once you’ve kicked into the ice, again much more difficult than you’d think. Only then can you relax, look around and enjoy the incredible surroundings.
(
