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10 picks across the catalog.
Sand, oysters, the kind of porch where the day just goes.
Trees, trails, fires, fewer people. The cabin kind of weekend.
High desert at 3,600 feet with 16 breweries and the Deschutes River running through town. Three hours south of Seattle, you're waking up to Cascade views, eating dinner at a chef-driven spot that doesn't advertise, and realizing the ski town you thought was just for winter works in August.
Two hours from the Bay Area, a lake so blue it looks fake and a single hotel that figured out how to be serious without being a ski resort. Sunnyside sits directly on the water in Tahoe City — lake-view rooms, a deck that gets afternoon sun even in January, and a dining room where locals eat dinner.
Two hours north of Vancouver, Whistler works year-round if you skip the obvious months. Late September or late May — the lifts are closed, the village is half-empty, and the Fairmont still runs like the Fairmont. Hiking the alpine meadows or mountain biking the trails nobody talks about until you're already there.
Two hours north of Boston to a Vermont town that knows what it's doing in October and May better than it does in February. The Trapp Family Lodge sits on 2,500 acres of meadow and forest — yes, that Trapp Family — with trails that empty by 4pm and a dining room where dinner still means three courses.
Drafted by our agent, kept on the list when they hold up. Labeled honestly.
A Colorado ski town that stayed small on purpose. Elk Avenue is eight blocks of Victorian storefronts and one excellent taco truck. Four nights gets you two powder days, one afternoon at the Nordic center, and dinner at a restaurant that sources from the valley it sits in.
A ski town that still has ranchers. Four nights gets you past the Champagne Powder marketing and into the hot springs at 9pm, the brewery that cowboys actually drink at, and a mountain that hasn't been Aspened yet. Fly into Denver, drive three hours, leave the rental at the hotel.
A box canyon at the end of the road with a ski town that never sold out. Main Street fits eight blocks between two cliffs, the gondola's free, and the après scene peaks at 4pm before everyone goes home to cook. Four nights gets you past the first day's altitude headache and into the rhythm of a place that closes half its restaurants on Tuesdays because it can.
Four nights in a ski town that stopped pretending it wasn't expensive decades ago. December powder if you time it right, aprés at a bar where CEOs wear fleece, dinner at Matsuhisa where the toro costs what it should. Aspen earned its reputation — the move is leaning in, not apologizing for it.
Two hours up the mountain for three nights of proper skiing without the Mammoth drive. A lodge with a fireplace you'll actually use, après at a brewery that opened in a 1940s cabin, and snow that LA forgot exists until they're in it.
Three nights in Vermont's best ski town. Real mountains, a village that hasn't been turbo-Disneyfied yet, and a lodge with a hot tub that earns its place after a full day on the front four. Apres at the Matterhorn, dinner at Harrison's, a quad chair that runs when it should.
High desert at 3,600 feet with 16 breweries and the Deschutes River running through town. Three hours south of Seattle, you're waking up to Cascade views, eating dinner at a chef-driven spot that doesn't advertise, and realizing the ski town you thought was just for winter works in August.
Two hours from the Bay Area, a lake so blue it looks fake and a single hotel that figured out how to be serious without being a ski resort. Sunnyside sits directly on the water in Tahoe City — lake-view rooms, a deck that gets afternoon sun even in January, and a dining room where locals eat dinner.
Two hours north of Vancouver, Whistler works year-round if you skip the obvious months. Late September or late May — the lifts are closed, the village is half-empty, and the Fairmont still runs like the Fairmont. Hiking the alpine meadows or mountain biking the trails nobody talks about until you're already there.
Two hours north of Boston to a Vermont town that knows what it's doing in October and May better than it does in February. The Trapp Family Lodge sits on 2,500 acres of meadow and forest — yes, that Trapp Family — with trails that empty by 4pm and a dining room where dinner still means three courses.
