Matador Network's Blog, page 15
August 4, 2025
The Cotopaxi Envo Pullover Is a Fleece for People Who Hate Fleece
Despite being a pretty outdoorsy person, I’ve never liked classic fleece jackets. I don’t care for their telltale “outdoorsy” texture, the frequent pilling on the sleeves that can happen after just a few washes, or the boxy silhouettes that say “trailhead” instead of “town.” That’s especially true because I have short legs and a long torso, and shapeless, bulky fleece jackets just aren’t flattering. For years, fleece has been on my list of gear I avoid – until I tried the Cotopaxi Envo Fleece Quarter-Zip Pullover. It’s fleece, but you wouldn’t know it, thanks to styling that looks almost office-ready.
If the downsides of fleece have made you give up on ever reaping its benefits, the Envo may also be the pullover that changes your mind.
We hope you love the gear we recommend! Just so you know, Matador may collect a small commission from the links on this page if you decide to make a purchase. It doesn’t change the price for you, and listed prices are accurate as of the time of publication.
Summary of our Cotopaxi Envo Fleece testing:Pros:Streamlined, not-overly-outdoorsy designLarge side pocket big enough for a phoneWarmth of fleece without boxiness and bulkComes from a sustainable, certified 1% for the Planet brand Cons:Collects dog hair/lintMay pill/show wear over timeStraight fit likely to fit most buyers on the first tryFirst impressions: not your usual fleece
Out of the package, the Envo looks and feels different from the “fuzzy” microfleece you’d expect from brands like Patagonia or The North Face. In dark green, it’s even a far cry from most other fleeces and jackets from Cotopaxi, a brand known primarily for vibrant, multi-colored clothing and gear. The exterior is smooth and streamlined, without the thick, compressible feeling of fleece fabric. The color I tested, Heather Woods, is more of an earthy neutral than you’ll find on most gear walls, and it definitely appeals to the lower-profile, no-frills side of me that wants to be able to wear a shirt days in a row without anyone noticing.
About our test of this productHere’s what Cotopaxi says about this pullover: Wicking properties keep you dry, a brushed fleece interior provides cozy comfort, and an anti-pilling finish keeps your fleece fresh.
Where we tested the Envo Fleece: We wore it off and on for three months, from April (still winter) in high-elevation Lake Tahoe to June in the wetter and rainier temperate rainforests around Whistler and Squamish, BC.
Why we chose this location:
Because that’s where we happened to be. Fortunately, the Envo Fleece claims it’s well-suited to casual wear while also wicking sweat and moisture, so the two environments seemed like a good fit.
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It’s also very minimalist on branding — something unusual for the brand, which normally works with designs you can spot as Cotopaxi from a mile away. For example, everything in the brand’s Del Dia collection is made from remnant fabric scraps from other products, allowing the craftspeople to choose whatever random color combinations they like for each item. Many of the brand’s backpacks and travel duffels are attention-drawing, as well. If neon colorblocking isn’t your thing, you’ll appreciate that the Envo is nearly free of any recognizable branding, save for a relatively small logo on the left chest.
Buy Now: Men’s Quarter Zip ($80+)Buy Now: Women’s Quarter Zip ($80+)Field test: Warmth without the bulk (or ‘I’m on the PCT’ vibes)
Photo: Suzie Dundas
I’ve been wearing the Envo Fleece for about three months, wearing it on winter days (April in the Sierra Nevada) all the way up to rainy summer days in Canada, and back to summer nights in California. It’s deceptively warm for something this light and compact, feeling as warm as a regular fleece despite a thinner fabric. The brushed interior lining has the softness of a technical base layer, rather than the scratchy, static-y feeling that’s made me dislike most of my fleeces in the past.
I comfortably layered the Envo over a long-sleeve tee, and later wore it beneath a rain shell when temperatures dropped and the skies opened up. It had room for layering, but wasn’t so big that it bunched up with another layer over it. It also didn’t create any bulk around the shoulder or armpits, which can happen with thicker fleece. It has a regular fit, which can sometimes mean too bulky at the midsection. Sizing up (to a medium; I’m normally between small and medium) gave me enough room for loose layers, but didn’t feel frumpy when wearing it.
Simple details that don’t add bulk
The large side pocket is semi-hidden and big enough to carry most phones. Photo: Suzie Dundas
Despite the simple styling, there are a handful of details I appreciated. The most useful is the hidden side pocket on the right. It’s very flat, and you may not even notice it while you’re wearing it. But it’s large enough for a phone, giving the Envo zippered storage without the bulkiness that come come from layering pockets on the front of other fleece jackets. It also has a decently sized front zipper that’s easy to grip while wearing gloves, and after a lot of wear and a handful of washes, it isn’t pilling much — certainly not as much as fluffier fleece fabrics. That could change, but it’s also not meant to be washed after every wear (or at least I certainly haven’t been).
It’s something you can wear almost anywhere (but watch for lint)
Photo: Suzie Dundas
For me, the big draw of the Envo is how easily it blends into city environments. I wore it on multiple hikes through wet, rainy forests — but also wore it to dinners and to meet up with friends at a coffee shop. It’s no button down shirt, but it doesn’t feel like it screams “I just came from the woods.” And while I don’t work in an office, it seems like the kind of pullover you could leave at your desk and pull on when the A/C blasts without anyone asking you “hey, are you about to go summer a 14er?”
One consideration that may be worth noting to pet owners is that it did seem to collect lint and hair easily. Of course, I wore it when sitting on my dog-hair-covered couch all day, so I can’t say that any other fabric would perform better. But like most of my clothing, I had to lint roll it before I left the house to avoid shedding dog hair in public.
Bottom line: Fleece, without the downsides of fleece
Photo: Suzie Dundas
After a few months with the Envo Fleece, I’m not about to start hoarding fleeces, but I’m keeping this one. It delivers warmth without looking like trail gear, shows minimal pilling to date, and is subtle enough to wear even if your feet never leave payment. Here’s how it compares to some other comparable options.
Cotopaxi Envo Fleece vs. Mountain Hardwear Kor Alloy Crew: The Kor Alloy Crew is a lightweight, breathable pullover with the technical resistance of an outer layer, while the Envo Fleece Quarter-Zip is a more of a midlayer designed for every day active wear. Opt for the Kor Alloy. Opt for the Kor Alloy Crew if you want the tech resistance of a jacket but the look of a pullover, and opt for the Envo if you want more of wear-every-day-type pullover for a general outdoorsy lifestyle.
Cotopaxi Envo Fleece vs. Cotopaxi Teca Fleece: The Envo has more of an everyday, relaxed vibe while the Teca is a bit thicker and more of a traditional fleece jacket. The Teca is a full-zip jacket that can double as an outer layer, and has Cotopaxi’s recognizable bold colorblocking, whereas the Envo’s design is significantly more subtle.
Cotopaxi Envo Fleece vs. PAKA Hoodie: The Paka Hoodie is a solid-color pullover with a hoodie made from durable, temperature-regulating alpaca fiber. It has a sleeker, more sweater-like look, and is naturally odor-resistant and quick drying. However, because it’s woven, it’s more likely to get snagged or pulled, and isn’t nearly as good of a pick for people with pets whose nails may snag on the fabric.
Cotopaxi Envo Fleece vs. used gear: Buying used gear helps keep fabric out of landfills, and used gear is usually less expensive. The flip side is it’s used, so it may not be quite as warm or brand-spanking-new-looking. But if you don’t mind, sites like REI’s used gear program usually have a few dozen hoodies and pullovers at any given time, though neither the men’s sweaters or women’s sweaters pages currently have any Cotopaxi offerings. 
Greek islands without the crowds
Summering in the Greek islands isn’t just for British royalty anymore. And, unfortunately, that’s kind of the problem. The places that have given the islands their worldwide reputation for white-walled cliffside villages, ancient ruins, and stunning blue water are full. Hit a beach in Santorini this time of year, and you’ll be hard-pressed to find someplace to put a towel. Drinks at bars in Mykonos are as much as they are in Manhattan. It’s generally just a tourism glut.
The good news is that Greece has over 6,000 islands, and not all of them are over-touristed. Some islands are beginning to draw more interest but still feel untouched — for now. Here are the dreamiest islands in Greece to plan a trip to before everyone else does.
We hope you love the spaces and stays we recommend! Just so you know, Matador may collect a small commission from the links on this page if you decide to book a stay.
The best islands for hiking | For beaches | For history and culture | For nature and wildlife | For romantic getaways:
Kythira
Photo: Georgios Tsichlis/Shutterstock
No slice of paradise should be easily obtained, and the island of Kythira is no exception. The most cost-effective way to reach it is by ferry from Neapoli on the southern Peloponnese — a journey that takes just over an hour and winds through a quieter part of mainland Greece. Once on the island, you’ll find a wild landscape of rivers, gorges, and waterfalls. The old-mill trail near the village of Mylopotamos follows a stream through lush terrain, past crumbling stone mills and over small bridges, ending in a series of pools perfect for cooling off.
Farther out, hidden beaches like Kalami are only accessible via a rope descent through a steep gorge or with the help of a canyoning guide — a good reminder that solitude takes effort here. The capital, Hora, sits high on a hill with a Venetian castle overlooking the Aegean. Its narrow streets are lined with quiet cafés, bookstores, and rooftop restaurants that stay blissfully untouched by the pace of the high-season crowds.
When it comes to where to stay, book ahead — options here are limited, and the best Airbnbs fill up early. In Livadi, there’s this restored 19th-century home overlooking the hills is split into two self-contained apartments with stone walls and shaded terraces that look out toward the sea. Or, for something closer to the island’s most scenic bay, this one-bedroom apartment in Kapsali puts you just above the beach, with breezy balconies and original artwork from Greek and Kytherian artists lining the walls.
More like thisEpic StaysThe 10 Dreamiest Islands in the Mediterranean, and Where to Stay on EachSamos
Photo: Nejdet Duzen/Shutterstock
Remember in high school when you had to memorize that formula for the side lengths of a right triangle? You can thank Samos, birthplace of the great mathematician Pythagoras who gave us the Pythagorean theorem, for that. His old thinking cave is near the town of Marathokampos (not Isomata), and while there’s not much to see aside from a sweeping view down the south side of Mount Kerkis, it’s still a fun bit of trivia to tack onto a hike.
Ninth-grade-geometry tourism aside, Kerkis and its almost-twin peak, Ampelos, dominate the skyline. Hikes up those mountains offer the most rewarding views of the island. But if you’d rather spend your vacation without leg cramps, you can kick back at Potokaki Beach or in the harbor town of Kokkari, where sunset drinks are among the best on the island.
Before you plan what to do it’s worth deciding whether you want a base near beaches like Tsamadou or closer to the old harbor in Pythagorion. If you want to stay near Tsamadou Beach, there’s a stunning two-bedroom house above Avlákia with a cypress-shaded terrace and a short footpath down to the water. Or, south of the island, there’s a newer bungalow above Puntes overlooks the marina and Turkish coast, with a private pool, citrus trees, and wide stone terraces that catch the light well into the evening.
Koufonisia
Photo: giovannifederzoni/Shutterstock
Looking for an island where you can just land, grab your swimsuit, and explore some of the most beautiful beaches in Europe? Koufonisia is your spot. Or, more specifically, Pano, or Upper Koufonisia. This region of the Cyclades is actually three islands, though Pano is the only one really set up for visitors. Land ashore and throw on some sunscreen, then begin your trek around the two-square-mile island, stopping at any beach you can find. Back in the main settlement, seaside tavernas await to refuel you after a long day.
If walking the island in search of secluded beaches sounds too exerting, small boats will take you to more popular beaches like Pori Beach for about $6. There, you can relax with a cocktail at Kalofego before strolling back to the harbor. Or head to Fanos, where a natural swimming hole leads you out to the ocean via an underwater passage.
Most visitors stay near Chora, where you’ll find a mix of small studios and low-rise homes set back from the port. One renovated studio about five minutes from Ammos Beach is a good fit for couples or solo travelers, with a quiet garden-facing balcony and easy access to tavernas and the ferry. For a larger group, a three-bedroom home set just above town has a lovey kitchen and open terrace that face the sea. It’s also an easy walk from both the harbor and the island’s best swimming spots.
Meganissi
Photo: Calin Stan/Shutterstock
The fact that this Ionian island sits just a short boat ride from Skorpios—where Aristotle Onassis married Jacqueline Kennedy—should say plenty about how perfectly secluded it feels. You can get here by flying into the small airport at Preveza, taking a roughly 40-minute taxi ride to the coast, and then hopping on a 15-minute boat to the capital of Vathy on Ithaca. Its compact charm and yacht access explain why many of the world’s elite have quietly moved in.
These days, it’s a relaxing little island of around 3,000 people — Vathy is the main hub — where most visitors off yachts are sailing types stopping for seafood at the tavernas. Like most Greek islands, the restaurants serve fresh fish caught that morning, and prices are typically about half of what you’d expect back in America. If one village tires you out, the other two are just a short walk away.
Meganissi has three main villages, but most visitors stay in either Vathy or Spartochori in the north. Near the entrance to Spartochori, there’s a three-bedroom stone cottage with garden walls, sea views from the terrace, and a shaded outdoor dining area that makes it a good fit for families or groups. In Vathy, just steps from the marina, a two-floor Airbnb sleeps up to seven across three bedrooms, with tall windows and two sitting rooms that open out toward the harbor.
Traveling to Greece? Check out Matador’s accommodations guides: The Most Stunning Corfu Airbnbs For An Island Getaway These Athens Airbnbs Make for a Unique and Cozy Stay in Greece The Most Stunning Airbnbs in Mykonos for an Unforgettable Greek Getaway The Top Airbnbs With Views of the World’s Most Famous Archaeological Site The Most Jaw-Dropping Hotels in Santorini With Iconic Views 20 Airbnbs in Santorini With Epic Sea Views and Pools Milos
Photo: Georgios Tsichlis/Shutterstock
The problem with a vacation to a small island is that you sometimes run out of stuff to do. Not the case in Milos, where the history, geography, and beaches make it the odd island you can visit a few times without getting bored. The volcanic island in the Cyclades is most notably where the Venus de Milo was discovered, but functionally, it was a rich source of minerals for centuries.
Unless you’re an avid geological tourist, what you’ll really want to come here for are the beaches. Milos has over 70 of them. From the white cliffs and turquoise-clear water at Kleftiko Beach to restaurants that cook your food in the sand at Paleochori, Milos’s beaches offer stuff you just won’t find elsewhere. Take a boat out along the coast and you’ll see the fascinating rock formations that line the island. Or stay inland and wander through history in its countless catacombs and an amphitheater that once sat 7,000.
If you’re staying in Mandrakia, there’s a wild cave house carved directly into the harbor rock, just steps from the water and a short walk from the village’s well-known Medusa tavern. This one-bedroom stay is one of the highest-rated on the island and among the top five percent of Airbnbs. The space opens onto a sea-facing terrace where you can swim straight from the doorstep or watch the boats drift through the bay. It’s compact but fully equipped, and the setting — in a working fishing cove with whitewashed boat garages cut into the cliffs — is one of the most photographed on the island.
Karpathos
Photo: Pawel Kazmierczak/Shutterstock
The old world lives on in Karpathos, an island of about 6,500 people where locals still wander out of their houses and strike up conversations with visitors on the street. Those villages are colorful clusters of small homes built into the mountainside, the most notable of which is Olympos. There, people speak their own dialect and keep their old customs — a snapshot of Greece centuries ago.
Karpathos is also home to over 20 beaches, with a variety of scenery from the clear blue waters at Kyra Panagia to the emerald coastline at Apella. Windsurfers will find the best winds near Diakoftis and other exposed beaches shaped by the Meltemi. Divers will also find plenty to explore, including shipwrecks between Karpathos and Kasos that were only recently uncovered during a major underwater survey in 2023 — some dating back thousands of years.
Kyra Panagia is one of the island’s standout beaches, and there’s a three-bedroom apartment perched just above it, with sea views from a wraparound veranda and a short path leading straight down to the sand. Closer to the island’s port, a lovely studio near Pigadia sits below the old mountain of Potidaion, with panoramic views over town and a location that makes it easy to catch ferries or walk to dinner in the square. It’s a good pick for couples looking for a romantic, in-town base.
Tilos
Photo: David Fowler/Shutterstock
For pure, unadulterated nature in the Greek islands, you won’t find many places better than Tilos. This island lies about 50 miles northwest of Rhodes and is largely a protected ecological park—a bird lover’s paradise full of goldfinches, bee-eaters, Bonelli’s eagles, Eleonora’s falcons, and dozens more species. It’s also the last place elephants roamed in Europe; dwarf elephants called Tilos home four thousand years ago. Their remains were discovered in Charkadio Cave in 1971, which you can still visit today.
And no Greek‑island nature fix is complete without beaches. The sands at Eristos and Agios Antonios are as good as you’ll find anywhere in the region — and you won’t find crowds, since they’re still very much under the radar.
Halki
Photo: Lubos K/Shutterstock
If you want to feel like you’ve wandered into a remote fishing village in the middle of perfect blue waters, Halki is your spot. A 40- to 75-minute boat trip from Rhodes, this little island feels frozen in time — literally, since the clock in the harbor has been stuck at the same time for decades. Under that clock, you’ll find colorful, rickety fishing boats where seafarers prepare their vessels and unload their catches in the afternoon.
Though buildings throughout the island look like they date back millennia, much of the island is also new and bright. Visiting the waterfront tavernas in the island’s lone settlement of Emborio, you’ll find many have cable television and, on occasion, Wi-Fi. There are not many visitors, though, so be prepared to make your own fun. The good news is that the people here are the kind of small-town friendly that makes you feel like you’ve lived there for decades — so much so, you may find it hard to get back on that boat to Rhodes.
Most rentals on Halki are clustered near the port in Emborio, but there’s one standout just beyond the edge of town. Set above Ftenagia Beach, this two-bedroom villa is a 10-minute walk from the harbor and opens onto a large stone terrace with views across the Aegean. A path leads down to the beach itself, where a small taverna serves lunch just a few steps from the water. With its quiet setting and uninterrupted sea views, it’s especially well-suited to couples or a small family looking for a peaceful, romantic stay.
Kythnos
Photo: Aerial-motion/Shutterstock
For a relatively undiscovered island that’s easily accessible from Athens, check out Kythnos. Here, you’ll be greeted by a smattering of whitewashed buildings along the shoreline with rolling green and brown hills beyond. Venture over the mountains into Loutra and find the island’s most famous attraction: its natural hot springs. These holdovers from the area’s volcanic past are the only place you might find even remotely crowded, but if you visit during the week, it shouldn’t be too bad.
Beaches like Apokrousi and Episkopi double as boat tie-ups, and though they don’t rage like we do back in America, the scenery is enough to make them worth the visit. You can also check out the biggest cave in Greece at Katafiki, then, when you’re finished, grab seafood along the cobblestone streets of Chora.
When it comes to where to stay, near Loutra — the village best known for Kythnos’s mineral hot springs — there’s a two-bedroom stay with wide windows and a terrace that looks out over the Aegean. The house is a short walk from both Shinari and Loutra beaches, and close to a family-run taverna that serves local dishes just above the water. It’s a practical, well-located base for travelers planning to split their time between the baths and the quieter coves along the coast.
August 2, 2025
FIFA World Cup Travel Prices Are Already Climbing. Here’s How to Beat the Surge.
Soccer’s most anticipated tournament is still a year away, but when the 2026 FIFA World Cup sweeps across North America, experts are expecting to see fans in record numbers descending on the 16 host cities. That will likely mean competition for hotel rooms and other travel necessities, so experts are advising that fans start booking now to avoid high costs.
According to Expedia’s debut Fan Travel Outlook, the next few months are the time for booking a trip to catch a World Cup match without breaking the bank. Expedia’s trove of booking data shows just how much the World Cup is already driving travel trends: searches for travel in host cities in the US, Canada, and Mexico are up 125 percent compared to this time last year. And according to travel experts, it’s likely to influence travel costs and availability for the next year.
It’s both Americans and international travelers searching for reservations, according to Expedia Travel Expert Melanie Fish, with searches to host cities from domestic travelers up 120 percent year-over-year across the board. It means “US travelers are planning to attend the games just as enthusiastically as the rest of the world,” Fish says.
Expedia’s data shows that spikes in searches (and accompanied price surges) are noticeable on match days, not spread across the whole summer. That indicates searches are tied to World Cup travel, rather than reflecting a general growing interest in those cities. In Seattle, hotel interest soared 185 percent for the June 19 group-stage match. Los Angeles saw an 80 percent increase in searches over match days, with similar trends in most cities. Fish has advice for Matador Network readers thinking about booking World Cup travel: “Turn on Price Alerts in the Expedia app so you’ll get notified when prices drop.”
Here’s what else to start thinking about if you’re hoping to save money on booking World Cup travel.
Photo: /Shutterstock
Demand has already started driving up hotel searches and rates for tournament dates, according to Expedia’s data. Fish advises that fans keep an eye on schedules and try to beat the rush. “Fans are already scouting out where their teams will play, and once the matchups are finalized, we’ll likely see a big spike in travel planning,” she told Matador Network. Because of this, she advises booking stays now, and making sure they’re refundable. That way, you’ll have a reservation lined up if your team of choice is playing. And if it turns out they’re not playing in the city you expected, you can cancel your reservation without penalty.
If you wait, expect prices to climb further, even this far out. “Demand is heating up, so now’s the moment to be strategic,” she adds.
As of now, Mexico’s three host cities offer the most affordable hotels and flight prices. Photo: carlos.araujo/Shutterstock
For cost-conscious fans, Mexico is the “budget-friendly MVP,” according to Fish. Expedia’s data show that Mexico City, Monterrey, and Guadalajara hotel prices are consistently offering lower hotel prices than their US and Canadian counterparts over match days. They’re significant differences, with the data showing that average hotel rates over game days are about 50 percent lower than US host cities, and 55 percent lower than Vancouver and Toronto.
Savings are also noticeable when it comes to flights. Mexico has fast and inexpensive travel between host cities, with flights on Expedia between Monterrey, Mexico City, and Guadalajara typically priced under $150 and taking two hours or less. That means savvy fans could feasibly attend multiple matches in Mexico across different cities for the cost of attending one game in a more expensive city, like Vancouver. And Fish notes that the distinct local culture in each city, combined with an abundance of lodging options, makes them a great pick for people who want to experience more than just a soccer match.
Cities like Fort Lauderdale (near Miami) offer good proximity and lower hotel costs. Photo: Sean Pavone/Shutterstock
Travelers can stretch their dollars by booking hotels just outside, rather than in, host cities. Places like Fort Worth (40 minutes from Dallas) or Fort Lauderdale (45 minutes from Miami) are likely to have comparable quality hotels and resorts, but at much lower rates. Cities that are close to stadiums “can save you $50 or more per night,” Fish advises.
Photo: Sean Pavone/Shutterstock
While you may expect cities like Vancouver or San Francisco to be the most expensive, it’s actually Dallas that stands as the priciest destination for fans, outpacing all other host cities when it comes to hotel rates and overall expenses. Nightly hotel rates in the Dallas suburb of Arlington (where the matches will be played) range from $100 to a whopping $1,400 on the night of the first match. Expedia experts advise that several factors are driving the costs: “Dallas is the city hosting the most games of the tournament (nine matches), versus other cities across North America that are hosting between 5–8,” Fish says. Dallas also has fewer hotel options than places like New York, LA, or Miami, creating noteworthy price differences. Houston, Miami, and LA all currently have hotel rates over the World Cup match dates at about half the cost of those in Dallas.
It could also be that travelers are realizing Dallas’ convenience, especially if they plan to attend multiple matches. Fish says it’s appealing as it’s only a 3.5-hour drive from Houston, a city hosting another seven matches. “It’s also a great hub to fly to Mexico from, with daily flights to Mexico City, Monterrey, and Guadalajara,” she adds.
Interestingly, Kansas City is seeing a massive 380 percent increase in travel searches over the World Cup. Fish says it’s almost all tied to the matches, as it’s not normally a top summer destination. She thinks fans may be using the World Cup as an excuse to visit a new city they wouldn’t otherwise visit, such as Kansas City. “It’s also smack dab in the middle of the country,” she says, “so it takes less time to get there by air or car for a lot of fans.”
Photo: BCFC/Shutterstock
Travelers seeking to catch several matches in more than one city should plan early and look for bundled flight and hotel deals. While flying anywhere within Mexico is affordable right now, travelers arriving to US cities may have to get savvy when it comes to planning their routes. And for those flying in from abroad, booking travel in separate segments may be beneficial. Fish advises landing entering the US via New York City, “one of the cheapest international entry points.” Visitors can catch one of the final matches, then travel elsewhere in the US for an extended trip by booking a separate domestic flight.
However, the number one takeaway based on Expedia data and expert advice is to make your plans soon — but also plan for flexibility. Prioritize getting your hotel and flights booked, but monitor price changes, and consider secondary cities and nearby suburbs if they’re already too pricey. As Fish recommends, “book your stays early, but just make sure they’re refundable. That way, you lock in a good deal now but still have the flexibility to change plans later if needed.”
With demand only expected to intensify as kickoff approaches, those who plan ahead will be in the best position to watch their team while avoiding the worst sticker shock on World Cup travel.
August 1, 2025
In the Age of Biohacking, Nature-Based Saunas Are Still the Most Restorative Wellness Getaways
My normal recovery routine after a long night out involves a brisk walk, light breakfast, and perhaps a hair of the dog. I didn’t have that time luxury on a trip to San Francisco a few years ago, as I was scheduled to drive up to Napa for work before lunch. So I took the advice of one of my best friends growing up and followed him into the Bay at sunrise.
The water was somewhere in the 50s, according to guesses from a smattering of locals doing the same. We submerged to our necks and shivered for as long as I could stand it. We didn’t worry about the exact temperature or how long we stayed, and distracted ourselves with the birds and rhythm of the morning. I’m by no means a regular cold plunger, but this felt truly restorative. More so even than the precisely measured hot-cold cycle in an upscale sauna complex I did with the same friend during his bachelor party in Las Vegas.
The benefits of hot-cold water treatments are a big part of today’s wellness conversation. Travel companies have responded, with hotels and day spas promoting treatments measured to the half-degree, catering to those determined to not let a vacation interrupt their biohacking routines.
Yet what if true wellness requires a more hands-off approach? Something more connected to nature than to what you can keep on a spreadsheet?
Photo: Fjord
Photo: Fjord
Photo: FjordThese questions resonate with the founders of a Fjord, a new floating sauna and plunge experience in the Richardson Bay, just north of San Francisco in Sausalito. Recently opened, it’s the first floating sauna in the San Francisco area, and Fjord saw an immediate response to their anti-biohacking approach to sauna culture.
Fjord intentionally avoids wellness tropes, instead positioning itself as a recreational and social experience built around thermal activities, co-founder Alex Yenni tells me. Fjord’s approach is “more pure fun and not so hardcoded in body optimization.”
Photo: Fjord
Fjord has access straight into the water and Mount Tamalpais in the distance. It offers a “rare opportunity for people who live in the Bay Area who’ve never swam in the bay,” Yenni says, a “floating destination where it’s just silence and seagulls and sailboats and seals and weird weather patterns and microclimates. It’s a very immersive environment.”
Fjord makes the biohacker’s definition of “optimization” feel far away even here in Silicon Valley, where much of the biohacking tech is developed.
Balancing nature in wellness tourismThe Global Wellness Institute predicts that “wellness travel” — loosely defined as any travel where a major focus is on improving one’s mental or physical wellbeing — will be a $1.4 trillion industry by 2027. It’s one of the fastest growing travel categories, and hotel programs and companies that cater to tourism have quickly moved to meet the moment. The number of hotels offering wellness programs is growing, even if it doesn’t always make money. That’s led to everything from your standard massage business, to a Six Senses resort with the “latest targeted biohacking tools” (and dog massages, for what it’s worth), to on-site genetic testing.
Within the broad wellness umbrella, an analysis of TripAdvisor reviews, bookings, and recommendations found that one of the biggest subsects of wellness travel revolves around water experiences: cold plunges, thermal spas and hot springs, and wellness cruises.
Photo: Fjord
The places that are most overly coded as wellness getaways often tout precision and science, whether it’s 24/7 tracking of your vitals or hot-cold water treatments timed down to the second. It’s a data-backed approach to answer what biohackers are looking for. Over analyzing can ruin the whole point, however.
“When we’re fixated on timers and exact temperatures, we often miss the profound relaxation and joy that practices like sauna bathing can offer,” says Marcus Coplin, a naturopathic medical doctor and the medical director for The Springs Resort in Colorado and Murrieta Hot Springs Resort in California, both of which are fed by natural flowing, deep-earth geothermal mineral water that’s unique to place. “The most compelling research on sauna benefits comes out of cultures where it’s a social, recreational, or even ritualistic activity, ingrained into daily life. These cultures often use saunas as a way to disconnect from the daily grind and reconnect with loved ones and community.”
Contrast therapy, or alternating hot and cold exposure, can help with relaxation and clarity, says Tammy Pahel, the vice president of spa and wellness at Carillon Miami Wellness Resort and the chief wellness officer at Alchemy Wellness Resorts. Pahel adds that “perhaps the most compelling aspect of sauna culture today lies beyond the physical. Increasingly, wellness seekers are drawn to thermal rituals not only for their benefits, but for their feeling of a reconnection with self, breath, and presence. There’s an emotional intelligence in these rituals, a capacity to ground us in the body and the moment.”
The benefit of saunas and cold plunges, Coplin adds, is from regularly building your body’s response to low-dose temperature stress (regularity being the key word here). Constant monitoring and rigid routines can negate any positive effects of the practices themselves when sticking to the program becomes a chore.
Big data has its place, but at the end of the day, it’s about feeling well, not just measuring it, Coplin adds.
“The moment wellness becomes about performance rather than presence, you’ve lost the therapeutic benefit,” says Ryan Pomeroy, who leads Pomeroy Lodging, which operates Alyeska Nordic Spa in Alaska and Kananaskis Nordic Spa in Canada.
“You simply can’t replicate what nature provides,” Pomeroy says. “Nature adds elements that can’t be measured or optimized: the sound of wind through trees, the changing seasons, the visual meditation of mountain landscapes and rock formations. These aren’t just nice-to-haves. They’re therapeutic in ways that indoor facilities simply cannot replicate.”
And, importantly, it’s difficult to over optimize in nature where you can’t control the sunrise or the temperature. “The unpredictability forces you into presence rather than performance,” Pomeroy says. “Indoor facilities, no matter how well-designed, become another controlled environment where people can fall back into tracking and measuring.”
Bridging recreation and wellness in a natural environment
Photos: Fjord
At Fjord, the more relaxed approach has clearly been well received by the city and the community. Reservations are booked out for months. It’s a departure from the lifestyle that Yenni had prior after nearly 20 years in the creative agency world. That line of work left him unfulfilled, he says. It spurred the desire for a reinvention focusing on what can be felt in person rather than transmitted through film sets and streamed videos.
The core mission is to “break people out of their hermetically sealed bubbles” and help them “actually feel something visceral,” Yenni says.
His cofounder at Fjord, Gabe Turner, had a similar motivation at a similar time. Together, they set out to bring a California ethos to the global appreciation of hot and cold experiences at Russian banyas, Finnish saunas, Japanese onsens, and Turkish hammams.
Photo: Fjord
Fjord represents a move “toward something more analog,” Yenni says, offering a “real physical and social connection.” Something different than the lackluster sauna and super-chilled tub in a windowless room that’s familiar in urban hot and cold spots. Without the natural environment, “the third leg of the stool is missing: reconnection and the experience of being in nature.”
While Fjord opened at a time when wellness travel and interest is very much having a moment, Yenni and the Fjord team started planning before the current hype and are intentional about avoiding the typical wellness tropes. Still, it doesn’t hurt that the benefits of hot-cold experiences has gone mainstream. “The work has been done for us that there’s enough critical awareness around the benefits around hot and cold,” Yenni says.
Fjord’s tagline of “feel something” targets an experience that’s not specifically what one would find at a high-tech, data-backed treatment center. It’s more in the lane of a recreational and social experience, with the added benefits of being good for you.
Location may be one of the most important factors in a natural sauna experience, but it’s not always an easy find. Permitting a location with natural beauty was “probably the hardest part about the project” for Fjord, Yenni says. It involved approval from eight different agencies, and a strong commitment to sustainable design. Architect Nick Polansky reused abandoned infrastructure like a decommissioned wave attenuator from the 2013 America’s Cup, repurposed second-hand shipping containers, and utilized sustainable second-growth California redwood for Fjord. Clean electric and no toxic runoff helps Fjord “blend seamlessly into the environment” and be good stewards to the nature around them, Yenni says.
Photo: Fjord
Fjord’s approach clearly resonates with the public just as much as my first plunge in the Bay did years ago. Guests run the gamut in age, background, and culture, from young adopter types to the elderly, Yenni says. It has had to shut down its booking platform a couple of times already due to being book out for months at 100 percent utilization.
Yenni and the Fjord team are “sprinting to figure out how we offer this to more people.” They’re already in talks with the city of San Francisco about potential partnerships for expansion. More saunas as social spaces that embrace their surroundings through thoughtful, sustainable design can only be a good thing. In time, the biohackers may realize that, too.
Glamping, Rodeos, and Full-On Cowboy Core: Inside Florida’s Only Dude Ranch
Nothing captures Americana quite like a summer rodeo, a waterpark, or a skeet-shooting range. As a born-and-raised rural American now living abroad, I haven’t done any of these activities in years. But after four days and three nights at Westgate River Ranch Resort & Rodeo in Florida, I realized this was the Yellowstone-lite, cowgirl-cosplay summer vacation I needed.
River Ranch is an unincorporated community in Polk County. While not exactly a replica of Montana’s scenery, it has beautiful meadows and expansive pastures dotted with wetlands. It’s the perfect setting for Florida’s only dude ranch. Being only an hour and a half from Orlando, though, I had my doubts about whether the land of Disney World and Palm Beach could deliver a true dude ranch experience, complete with a rodeo every Saturday. After experiencing it for myself, I’m pleased to report that Westgate River Ranch Resort is the perfect place for urban families, international visitors, and grown-up horse girls like me to get a taste of ranch life.
Settling in at Westgate River Ranch Resort
Photos: Gwyneth Talley
Westgate’s entrance is on the edge of the Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park, which has lush greenery, wetlands, and wildlife. The property has multiple accommodation options: RV parking, traditional tent areas, lodge rooms, cabins and cottages for rent, and then the glamping choices — saddle club rail cars, covered wagons, and a teepee village.
As an anthropologist, it gave me pause to stay in a teepee in a state known for the Trail of Tears without much acknowledgment of the Seminole and other Indigenous groups that used to inhabit the area (most of whom lived in chickees, large palm-covered wooden structures, rather than teepees). My teepee’s comfort was undeniable, however.
While it might look like glamping on the outside, the interiors of the wagons and teepees are full-on luxury suites. Each unit has A/C, a sitting area, a little kitchenette, and a large bathroom. The covered wagons are spacious enough to fit a family of six, while the teepees are a better size for couples or smaller families, with a king-sized bed and a pull-out couch. Each wagon and teepee comes with a deck, rocking chairs, an umbrella, an outdoor grill, a cooler, and a golf cart for getting around the ranch.
On Friday — my first night at the resort — we gathered at the River Ranch Cattle Company Chophouse and Bar, one of several dining venues on the property. This Western-themed eatery was located at the main reception building and bills itself as a “ranch-chic” steakhouse. The drinks were strong, and the food portions were huge. A wedge salad smothered in toppings, followed by as much New York strip steak as I could manage, left me patting my stomach and wondering if I’d ever be able to eat again. After a hearty meal, we returned to our lodgings and congregated around the nightly campfire at the covered wagons for s’mores. I turned in for a luxurious sleep before a jam-packed day of activities.
A full day on the ranch
Photos: Gwyneth Talley
After sampling an omelet bar and the ranch’s famous Cowboy Donuts — catered onsite in the “chickee” lodge in the teepee village — I made my way to the petting farm and stables in anticipation of the trail ride we’d be doing. As little kids were getting pony rides, I scratched the chins of some cute calves, patted some very pregnant donkeys, and attempted to snap pictures of an energetic emu.
We mounted our steeds, and our guide led us out of the paddock into a nearby pasture. The steady rhythm of the horse moving was the most meditative hour spent enjoying the outdoors and reconnecting with nature. With both of my hands on the reins, a horse named Mango gently walked me across the meadow and into the saddle graveyard, where retiring cowboys hang up their saddles on the Spanish moss trees in hopes of good luck. For beginners or people with a fear of horses, this ride will instill confidence.
After finishing the ride, it was steaming up outside, and it was time to cool off in Westgate’s newly opened River Country Water Park. We sat in one of the cabanas, ordered drinks and snacks, and hurried off for a dip. With three slides of varying degrees of exhilaration, I might have sent an unknowing companion on the scariest waterslide, known as The Drop. Each slide had a different vibe: one featured a tunnel with rave lights, another was open with twists and turns, and then there was The Drop, which shot your body down at a thrilling angle. I couldn’t remember the last time I was squealing and giggling as my inner child zoomed down the slides again and again.
Photos: Gwyneth Talley
Before I knew it, it was time to towel off and see the “running of the horses” where all the working horses were let out to pasture for the evening. While not exactly the cattle drive of San Antonio, it was fun to see the horses kick up their heels and get to the lush pasture after a hot day’s work.
Next, I grabbed some barbecue at Smokehouse on the River and headed over for a line dancing lesson at the River Ranch Saloon. We boot-scoot-and-boogied, learning six new line dances and cooling off with a cocktail in a boot. The night was still young as we made our way to S’mores and Pours, where we made s’mores, enriched our palates with a bourbon tasting, and learned about branding on the ranch (which now focuses on wood branding for decoration).
Rodeo nights and river daysSaturday morning came with a breakfast of avocado toast sliders and waffles to get us energized for a morning of skeet shooting. (For those under 18, there are options for airgun and archery ranges.) Cody, our instructor, gave us the safety rundown, and we stepped onto the range. Drawing our shotguns tight to our shoulders, I yelled “pull,” firing at clay pigeons. Whether working with experienced or brand-new skeet shooters, the instructors tried hard to make sure everyone hit at least one clay pigeon and celebrated safely (handing the shotgun over to the instructors before jumping up and down).
Next, we needed to get out of the sun and humidity, so we hopped back into the Chophouse for a sandwich and cool-down, before jumping on the boat in the marina for a tour down the Kissimmee River, where we motored through the locks and enjoyed spotting some Everglades wildlife like alligators, ospreys, wood storks, and anhingas (a type of waterbird).
Photos: Gwyneth Talley
Soon after, it was time to get ready for the Saturday night rodeo. As a country-raised kid, I was skeptical that this ranch could pull off an authentic rodeo every weekend. But it was an edge-of-your-seat affair, full of bronco busting, bull riding, and fun for the whole family — even in torrential rain.
Florida in June is always questionable in terms of rain (so bring a rain poncho or jacket), but the rodeo runs rain or shine as long as there’s no lightning on the horizon. Guests, campers, RVers, and locals line up to find their seats in the 1,200-seat rodeo arena. Local cowboys have the little kids line up to learn lasso tricks and rope spinning while waiting for the show to start.
The evening I was there, the rodeo started with a star-spangled flag introduction, followed by bull riding and then intermission acts including trick riding, bullwhip stunts, and mounted shooting. The emcee explained how the local cowpunchers (cowboys) and bull riders score points as they clung as hard as they could for their eight-second ride to glory.
After two hours of mud, sweat, and horsehair, we made our way to the front of the saloon next to the arena where the locals put on a street party complete with mechanical bull riding, line dancing, socializing, and shopping. Truly, the ranch resort has a little something for everyone — especially those who love a little bit of camp, campy fun, and nature.
July 31, 2025
The 10 Cheapest US Cities to Visit for a Last-Minute Labor Day Trip
Hoping to plan a last-minute Labor Day weekend vacation without dropping a fortune? While international flight costs are higher than normal around the weekend of August 29 to September 1, flying to many US destinations is much, much cheaper than normal.
According to new research from Dollar Flight Club, the US airfare market is experiencing an interesting split as summer winds down. Domestic fares have dropped to their lowest point in five years, though international ticket prices are still hovering at higher-than-normal, peak-summer rates. So travelers who choose to keep their adventures domestic may find the upcoming weekend an ideal time to travel. To calculate the most affordable cities to visit over Labor Day, analysts looked at more than 500,000 airfare data points, finding that domestic roundtrip airfares are averaging $240–280 for Labor Day weekend in the US. It’s a slight drop from 2024 prices, but more than 15 percent cheaper than pre-pandemic Labor Day flight costs.
In sharp contrast, international fares remain elevated, with average roundtrips clocking in at $836, mirroring midsummer peaks and more than triple the average cost of staying within the US. That’s likely because higher fuel prices globally and ongoing global demand is enough to keep international flights high, while demand for domestic flights has been down, leading prices to fall accordingly.
When calculating prices for each city, experts looked at the average cost to fly from 10 major US airports: Atlanta, Los Angeles, Chicago O’Hare, Dallas/Fort Worth, New York’s JFK, Denver, San Francisco, Seattle, Miami, and Boston. Prices were checked between July 1 to 20, 2025, for roundtrip fares departing August 29–30 and returning September 1–3, 2025. Cities that consistently showed fares below $300 from these hubs were highlighted as the best bets for affordable Labor Day getaways.
The 10 most affordable Labor Day destinations in the US
Photo: Dollar Flight Club
Boston, Massachusetts: (Avg. cost: $290 roundtrip)
View this post on InstagramA post shared by Meet Boston (@meetbostonusa)
Competition between JetBlue, Delta, and American (especially out of Boston Logan) means travelers can find plenty of cheap flights to the historical city. It becomes especially affordable during Labor Day as airlines target “bargain seekers” looking to travel outside of the peak season. While nights can be brisk, Boston is generally delightful in late summer. Visitors can walk the free-to-access, 2.5-mile Freedom Trail, connecting 16 revolutionary historic sites, or watch swan boats glide along the water in the Boston Public Garden, America’s first public botanical garden.
Seattle, Washington: (Avg. cost: $298 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Visit Seattle (@visitseattle)
Seattle’s high volume of flights from both Alaska and Delta ensure a steady flow of affordable fares throughout the year, and Labor Day is no exception. Visitors keen to save money can visit Gas Works Park for panoramic city views and picnic opportunities, or stroll the historic Pike Place Market, where window shopping and live street performances make for a fun, free day out.
Miami, Florida (Avg. cost: $293 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Greater Miami & Miami Beach (@visitmiami)
Miami’s competitive aviation market is served by both budget airlines and all large US airlines. Year-round, you can typically find sub-$300 flights. Without the autumn crowds, Miami’s vibrant neighborhoods and outdoor spaces are ideal for those on a budget, whether you want to see the city’s signature Art Deco buildings, chow down on some of the best Cuban food outside of Havana, or discover native plants at the Miami Beach Botanical Garden (which has complimentary admission).
Dallas, Texas (Avg. cost: $289 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Visit Dallas | Things to do in Dallas (@visit_dallas)
Pack your cowboy boots if you’re heading to Dallas this Labor Day, as the city’s status as an America Airlines hub means you can almost always afford to spring for a checked bag. In September, crowds taper off but the cultural offerings are still ready and waiting. Spend the afternoon relaxing in Klyde Warren Park (with free daily events) or wander the Dallas Museum of Art. It’s a massive art gallery with absolutely free admission year-round.
Atlanta, Georgia (Avg. cost: $283 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Discover Atlanta (@discoveratlanta)
As the world’s busiest airport, Atlanta has plenty of airline competition (and plenty of seats), helping keep prices low, even on holiday weekends. By early September, the city’s attractions are buzzing but not overcrowded. Explore civil rights history at the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site (with free entry), or attend the last weekend of Marietta Square’s Art in the Park festival, with music, activities, vendors, and local artists at no cost.
Chicago, Illinois (Avg. cost: $280 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Choose Chicago (@choosechicago)
Chicago O’Hare’s scale and connectivity guarantee affordable flights from across the country, with fares that drop once most schools in the country are back in session. The city pairs world-class culture with accessible prices. Millennium Park and the famous “The Bean” sculpture are open to the public, and Chicago museums like the Art Institute of Chicago and Field Museum host select discounted admission nights throughout the year. Chicago is also considered one of the more affordable cities in the country, so you won’t break the bank if you splurge on a night out or an extra cocktail or two with dinner.
Denver, Colorado (Avg. cost: $273 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Visit Denver (@visitdenver)
Massive Denver International Airport is served by nearly every airline in the US, giving it below-average holiday rates this Labor Day. Early September brings pleasant weather in Denver and the start of fall higher in the mountains, making it a great time to explore the city’s numerous free parks and outdoor attractions. Not-to-miss budget activities include strolling the 16th Street Mall (a mile-long pedestrian promenade with a free shuttle), or touring the fascinating US Mint, which offers complimentary admission and tours.
Phoenix, Arizona (Avg. cost: $265 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Visit Phoenix (@visitphoenix)
Phoenix’s large airport, rapid population growth, and availability of low-cost carriers ensures some of the lowest fares in the Southwest, and traveling in the off-peak month of August also reduces demand. Because it’s bound to be quite hot, travelers may want to rent a car and head to roadtrippable nearby destinations, such as Sedona or the Grand Canyon. Travelers could also use Phoenix as a hub for a luxury-focused road trip, as the area is home to dozens of spa and wellness-focused resorts.
Orlando, Florida (Avg. cost: $258 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Erica | Food is life (@erica_eatseverything)
Orlando’s status as a leisure and family-travel magnet mean it generally has low airfare throughout the year, Labor Day included. Late summer is prime for family-friendly bargains, making it an ideal time to combine a pricier day at Disney World with more affordable activities in the city, like a pedal-boat ride on Lake Eola, kayaking with manatees, or enjoying the air-conditioning at one of the city’s many beloved museums.
Las Vegas, Nevada (Avg. cost: $244 roundtrip)View this post on InstagramA post shared by Las Vegas (@vegas)
Whether you’re flying in to catch the Backstreet Boys at the Sphere or are more of a circus fan, you can count on exceptionally affordable flight costs if you’re visiting Las Vegas over Labor Day weekend. The city’s relentless off-season promotions and constant competition to draw visitors into casinos means there’s no shortage of free things to do, including walking the strip to appreciate the over-the-top theming and decor at the city’s famous hotels. The Arts District has a First Friday Festival over Labor Day, offering free live music, art, and food trucks, and shows like the one at the Bellagio Fountains are free and open to the public. You can also score last-minute stage tickets through websites like Vegas.com.
What Trekking to Machu Picchu Taught Me About Strength, Surrender, and the People Who Make It Possible
Cusco, Peru, is asleep. The van is not. It’s 4:30 AM on the outskirts of the city, and the air hums with cold breath and the shared weight of what lies ahead.
The trek I’d committed to was no small thing: six nights, seven days, and 55 miles with Alpaca Expeditions — a hike that weaves together the snow-capped Salkantay route and the sacred steps of the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. It promised a “moderate to difficult” challenge with cultural depth and sweeping vistas.
I chose this particular tour because it was run by a local, Peruvian-owned company whose mission was unusually clear: pay and equip porters fairly, educate tourists about Inca culture, and give back to the mountain communities from which its workers hail.
It felt like a responsible choice. It also felt very far from my life in New York City, where hiking means dodging potholes on the way to the L train.
Thin air and the shock of the Salkantay
Photo: Wakaba Oto
The van drops the five of us — me, my three hiking companions, and our guide — at Marccoccasa, a sun-drenched patch of earth folded between green valley and forest. Twenty steps in, I’m gasping for air like I’ve never used lungs before. At 10,826 feet, the altitude hits fast and without mercy. Sol — our guide, short for Soledad — sets a patient pace. She pauses often to show us herbs and roots and to let us breathe without having to admit we need to.
There’d been an avalanche on the usual route, so we’re on a detour, which takes us through a steeper, longer, less shaded path. My legs shake. My brain negotiates: just to that rock. Just until someone else stops. I chew coca leaves like they might save me. For a while, I focus on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other.
Then, mercifully, one of the others throws up. It’s the best thing that’s happened all day. Not because I enjoy his suffering, but because it means I’m not the only one falling apart. This trail doesn’t care how many races you’ve run. Up here, we’re all cracked open.
By the time we reach Soraypampa at 12,631 feet, I’m dizzy and certain I won’t survive another day. And yet, our tents are up, our duffels waiting, hot soup ready. A full-course Peruvian meal with fresh avocado salad, garlic bread, grilled trout, rice, and potatoes follows.
That night, too tired to wash my face, too awed to sleep, I begin to understand what it means to be held up by someone else’s strength.
The team behind the trek
Photo: Wakaba Oto
Every afternoon, every night on the trail, our tents, toilets, meals, and duffel bags magically await us when we arrive at camp. This magic has a name: the Green Machine. That’s what Alpaca Expeditions calls its team of porters. They carry our tents, gas burners, bathrooms, duffels — everything you could ever imagine. When the horses leave after day four, they carry everything.
It’s because of them that we hikers only need to carry daypacks — and the smaller, the better. I used an 18-liter pack with a two-liter water bladder and stuck to the essentials: my passport, trail cash (for tips, snacks, and bathrooms), sunscreen, chapstick, layers, hand sanitizer, a solar charger, and toilet paper.
Each porter is limited to 20 kilos (44 pounds) — already staggering when you consider the altitude and terrain — but still less than the government’s legal maximum of 25. It’s a deliberate cap, enforced out of respect. Alpaca’s founder, Raul Ccolque Ccolque, began his career as a porter. That legacy runs deep. The company treats its porters not as labor but as kin.
Alpaca employs over 250 porters from across the Cusco region — Pisac, Lares, Calca, Ollantaytambo — and equips them with proper shoes, sleeping bags, insulated pads, and hot meals. They’re paid above the industry average, and not just through tips.
On our trek, we have eight porters. Pedrito, our chef from Pisac, bakes a cake — an actual cake — from scratch at 12,500 feet. When the four of us inhale the entire platter of popcorn at teatime one night, he returns the next evening with two platters.
Joel, Pedrito’s sous chef from Urcos, jokes with us in Spanish. He’s studying to become a guide himself. On a few mornings, he’s the one who wakes us up — gently, with hot coca tea and a smile.
Then there’s Sol. Sol is also from Urcos. She’s one of the few women guiding high-altitude treks. Alpaca Expeditions recently launched a women-only trek — female porters, chefs, guides, and assistants. Sol has led it twice. She points out a female porter to me on the path — one of the very few — and grins. “We’re getting there.”
Seeing the trail through a guide’s eyes
Photo: Wakaba Oto
Sol doesn’t eat guinea pig or alpaca, both staples in the Peruvian diet. I’d followed the advice to spend at least three days in Cusco before the trek to acclimate to the altitude. During that time, I tried alpaca stew — rich, tender, almost like lamb but earthier. I tell her about it and she laughs.
“I feel bad,” she says. “They’re just so cute.”
Later that day, we spend 20 minutes watching a llama try to escape a pen. Everyone is invested, but none more than Sol.
She teaches us the names of each plant. What heals. What poisons. What’s used to cook the very guinea pigs she refuses to eat. She tells us about the apus — the sacred mountain spirits. About offerings wrapped in coca and tied with string. About the gods that live inside glaciers.
At one point, she pauses beside a sheet of lichen crawling across a boulder and says, “For you, it’s pretty.” She turns to me, her finger still on the moss. “For us, it’s life. It means the air is clean.”
Later, in my tent, I think of Studio Ghibli’s Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, how healing the land begins with learning to listen to it.
Photo: Wakaba Oto
On the second day, Sol leads us to Humantay Lake in the morning — one of the highlights of the trek. She turns to me and another hiker, both born between April and October, Cusco’s dry season, and tells us to blow the clouds away. We laugh, but do it anyway. Slowly, the fog begins to lift. And then, as if obeying, it clears.
Before us lies Humantay Lake — a glacial pool of milky turquoise, still and luminous, with the white-capped peak of Humantay reflected perfectly in its surface.
Later that day, we reach two more lakes near Ichupata — wilder basins cradled between the arms of two mountains. The air up here turns blue and sharp, as if even oxygen has to earn its place.
That night, we camp at around 15,000 feet. I wake to what feels like tiny men crashing cymbals against the inside of my skull. My eyes feel like they’re trying to leave my body. Still, I do what I’ve learned to do: chew coca leaves, drink water, keep moving.
The coca — dried, bitter, a little numbing — is sold at every roadside stall and market in Cusco. It helps with altitude sickness. I’d also brought altitude pills — Diamox from home — though there’s a local version called Alti-Vital, sold in every pharmacy for a few Peruvian soles.
The hardest climb, the biggest view
Photo: Wakaba Oto
We climb toward the Chiriasca Pass, the highest point of our entire trek. The landscape strips itself down to rock and sky. Sol reminds us: one step at a time.
Eventually, we reach the top: 15,700 feet. That’s over a thousand feet higher than Mount Whitney, the tallest peak in the Lower 48 states.
And the world opens.
On one side: snow and sky, blue shadows carved into black stone. On the other: endless ridged hills, green bleeding into gold. Far below, horses graze like punctuation marks in a sentence too wide to read.
I stop and swallow the air. People call this beautiful, but that feels too small a word. Beauty wants something from you — your gaze, your praise, your agreement.
But the mountain doesn’t invite admiration. It demands surrender.
There’s a kind of mercy in how little it cares. It doesn’t measure your strength or your story. It’s not waiting to be impressed. And in that indifference, something in me lets go — as if I’ve slipped outside the need to matter. The stone beneath my feet was here before names, before stories. It will be here long after. There’s no comfort in that, but there is freedom: to belong to something you don’t have to hold.
This, I think, is awe. Sublimity — that quiet mix of fear and reverence when the world refuses to shrink for you.
Humantay Mountain, which loomed so large from below, now feels like it’s watching with something gentler. Not approval, exactly. But recognition. Like it sees the effort. Like it knows we’re not here to conquer anything — only to witness.
Maybe that’s what this trek is about. Not to summit, not to conquer, but to walk with the mountain. Not above it. Not against it. With it.
After the pass, everything softens. We descend into a valley of black sand and yellow moss. We pass llamas, cows, prehistoric ferns, and more dung than I care to admit. It feels like The Sound of Music if the Von Trapps had altitude sickness.
Joining the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu
Photo: Wakaba Oto
We merge with the more popular Inca Trail on day four. The Salkantay section had been wild and raw — sometimes barely a path, more like a suggestion. But the Inca Trail is something else entirely: carved, engineered, and enduring. Five centuries old and still holding fast. The air turns wet again. We’re back in the cloud forest now, high-altitude jungle. The kind that beads sweat at the base of your neck and makes the rocks bloom moss.
“The Incas didn’t move the big rocks,” Sol says. “They built around them. That was their way. You don’t fight nature. You adapt.”
The steps are uneven. My knees snap with each descent. But the lesson lands hard.
My hiking group starts flying by other groups — big tours in bright ponchos, trekking poles clicking like metronomes. After four days in the mountains, we’re faster, tighter, hardened by shared blisters and scenic (and untimely) bathroom breaks. Sol shakes her head, half-exasperated, but there’s pride in her eyes.
Inca sites appear one by one: Sayacmarca, Phuyupatamarca. Cliffside fortresses, towns in the clouds. Sol tells us their names, meanings, and uses.
On the fifth day, we reach Dead Woman’s Pass — 13,828 feet, the highest point on the Inca Trail. The name comes from the ridgeline’s silhouette, which looks like a woman lying on her back. Fitting, maybe. But despite the name, I feel more alive than ever.
This section is brutal, even after four days of mountain legs. Some people train for weeks beforehand — long hikes, stair machines, loaded packs. I didn’t. I definitely should have. But pain is a good teacher. So is stubbornness.
I am the first to reach camp later that day. The porters give me a look I think is respect.
The next day, we reach the Sun Gate, the original Inca entrance to Machu Picchu. It was designed so that, on the solstice, the rising sun passes perfectly through its stone arch and lights the city below.
Below us, Machu Picchu emerges from mist — stone bones draped in moss, sharp lines softened by cloud. It looks both impossibly deliberate and entirely organic.
I can’t believe my legs got me there. But they didn’t — not alone.
The next morning, Sol gives us a walking tour. She explains the geometry of the site, how the Incas built their temples with stones that interlock without mortar, earthquake-proof and engineered to last. The city had homes, observatories, baths, temples, agricultural terraces. It was never found by the Spanish. It stayed hidden for centuries.
We stay until our legs ache. And when it’s time to leave, I find that I don’t want to.
What the Salkantay Trek and Inca Trail teaches you
Photo: Wakaba Oto
I began this hike with something to prove — a hunger to push myself to the edge and see what I was made of. But the mountains weren’t interested in my reasons. They didn’t care about ambition or resolve.
If anything, Pacha Mama — Mother Earth in Quechua, the Andean highlands’ native language — conquered me. Again and again. At every pass, every ascent, every cold, aching morning. And I let her. That was the lesson.
This trek didn’t create strength. It revealed it. Not the loud kind, but the kind that looks like heavy breathing, sore knees, and choosing — over and over again — to keep going.
Through it all, it became clear who makes journeys like this possible.
Sol, with her encyclopedic knowledge and the rare ability to make you laugh mid-ascent. Our porters, who carried our weight so we could carry ourselves. Pedrito and Joel, who somehow baked a cake from scratch on a mountain.
As we descend the last ridge, I spot a patch of moss clinging to a boulder. I press my fingers to it, the way Sol did. It’s soft, alive, humming with the cold. For me, it’s still pretty. But now I know better. Now I know it means the air is clean. That we were here, and the mountains let us pass.
What Trekking to Macchu Pichu Taught Me About Strength, Surrender, and the People Who Make It Possible
Cusco, Peru, is asleep. The van is not. It’s 4:30 AM on the outskirts of the city, and the air hums with cold breath and the shared weight of what lies ahead.
The trek I’d committed to was no small thing: six nights, seven days, and 55 miles with Alpaca Expeditions — a hike that weaves together the snow-capped Salkantay route and the sacred steps of the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. It promised a “moderate to difficult” challenge with cultural depth and sweeping vistas.
I chose this particular tour because it was run by a local, Peruvian-owned company whose mission was unusually clear: pay and equip porters fairly, educate tourists about Inca culture, and give back to the mountain communities from which its workers hail.
It felt like a responsible choice. It also felt very far from my life in New York City, where hiking means dodging potholes on the way to the L train.
Thin air and the shock of the SalkantayPhoto: Wakaba Oto
The van drops the five of us — me, my three hiking companions, and our guide — at Marccoccasa, a sun-drenched patch of earth folded between green valley and forest. Twenty steps in, I’m gasping for air like I’ve never used lungs before. At 10,826 feet, the altitude hits fast and without mercy. Sol — our guide, short for Soledad — sets a patient pace. She pauses often to show us herbs and roots and to let us breathe without having to admit we need to.
There’d been an avalanche on the usual route, so we’re on a detour, which takes us through a steeper, longer, less shaded path. My legs shake. My brain negotiates: just to that rock. Just until someone else stops. I chew coca leaves like they might save me. For a while, I focus on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other.
Then, mercifully, one of the others throws up. It’s the best thing that’s happened all day. Not because I enjoy his suffering, but because it means I’m not the only one falling apart. This trail doesn’t care how many races you’ve run. Up here, we’re all cracked open.
By the time we reach Soraypampa at 12,631 feet, I’m dizzy and certain I won’t survive another day. And yet, our tents are up, our duffels waiting, hot soup ready. A full-course Peruvian meal with fresh avocado salad, garlic bread, grilled trout, rice, and potatoes follows.
That night, too tired to wash my face, too awed to sleep, I begin to understand what it means to be held up by someone else’s strength.
The team behind the trekPhoto: Wakaba Oto
Every afternoon, every night on the trail, our tents, toilets, meals, and duffel bags magically await us when we arrive at camp. This magic has a name: the Green Machine. That’s what Alpaca Expeditions calls its team of porters. They carry our tents, gas burners, bathrooms, duffels — everything you could ever imagine. When the horses leave after day four, they carry everything.
It’s because of them that we hikers only need to carry daypacks — and the smaller, the better. I used an 18-liter pack with a two-liter water bladder and stuck to the essentials: my passport, trail cash (for tips, snacks, and bathrooms), sunscreen, chapstick, layers, hand sanitizer, a solar charger, and toilet paper.
Each porter is limited to 20 kilos (44 pounds) — already staggering when you consider the altitude and terrain — but still less than the government’s legal maximum of 25. It’s a deliberate cap, enforced out of respect. Alpaca’s founder, Raul Ccolque Ccolque, began his career as a porter. That legacy runs deep. The company treats its porters not as labor but as kin.
Alpaca employs over 250 porters from across the Cusco region — Pisac, Lares, Calca, Ollantaytambo — and equips them with proper shoes, sleeping bags, insulated pads, and hot meals. They’re paid above the industry average, and not just through tips.
On our trek, we have eight porters. Pedrito, our chef from Pisac, bakes a cake — an actual cake — from scratch at 12,500 feet. When the four of us inhale the entire platter of popcorn at teatime one night, he returns the next evening with two platters.
Joel, Pedrito’s sous chef from Urcos, jokes with us in Spanish. He’s studying to become a guide himself. On a few mornings, he’s the one who wakes us up — gently, with hot coca tea and a smile.
Then there’s Sol. Sol is also from Urcos. She’s one of the few women guiding high-altitude treks. Alpaca Expeditions recently launched a women-only trek — female porters, chefs, guides, and assistants. Sol has led it twice. She points out a female porter to me on the path — one of the very few — and grins. “We’re getting there.”
Seeing the trail through a guide’s eyesPhoto: Wakaba Oto
Sol doesn’t eat guinea pig or alpaca, both staples in the Peruvian diet. I’d followed the advice to spend at least three days in Cusco before the trek to acclimate to the altitude. During that time, I tried alpaca stew — rich, tender, almost like lamb but earthier. I tell her about it and she laughs.
“I feel bad,” she says. “They’re just so cute.”
Later that day, we spend 20 minutes watching a llama try to escape a pen. Everyone is invested, but none more than Sol.
She teaches us the names of each plant. What heals. What poisons. What’s used to cook the very guinea pigs she refuses to eat. She tells us about the apus — the sacred mountain spirits. About offerings wrapped in coca and tied with string. About the gods that live inside glaciers.
At one point, she pauses beside a sheet of lichen crawling across a boulder and says, “For you, it’s pretty.” She turns to me, her finger still on the moss. “For us, it’s life. It means the air is clean.”
Later, in my tent, I think of Studio Ghibli’s Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, how healing the land begins with learning to listen to it.
Photo: Wakaba Oto
On the second day, Sol leads us to Humantay Lake in the morning — one of the highlights of the trek. She turns to me and another hiker, both born between April and October, Cusco’s dry season, and tells us to blow the clouds away. We laugh, but do it anyway. Slowly, the fog begins to lift. And then, as if obeying, it clears.
Before us lies Humantay Lake — a glacial pool of milky turquoise, still and luminous, with the white-capped peak of Humantay reflected perfectly in its surface.
Later that day, we reach two more lakes near Ichupata — wilder basins cradled between the arms of two mountains. The air up here turns blue and sharp, as if even oxygen has to earn its place.
That night, we camp at around 15,000 feet. I wake to what feels like tiny men crashing cymbals against the inside of my skull. My eyes feel like they’re trying to leave my body. Still, I do what I’ve learned to do: chew coca leaves, drink water, keep moving.
The coca — dried, bitter, a little numbing — is sold at every roadside stall and market in Cusco. It helps with altitude sickness. I’d also brought altitude pills — Diamox from home — though there’s a local version called Alti-Vital, sold in every pharmacy for a few Peruvian soles.
The hardest climb, the biggest viewPhoto: Wakaba Oto
We climb toward the Chiriasca Pass, the highest point of our entire trek. The landscape strips itself down to rock and sky. Sol reminds us: one step at a time.
Eventually, we reach the top: 15,700 feet. That’s over a thousand feet higher than Mount Whitney, the tallest peak in the Lower 48 states.
And the world opens.
On one side: snow and sky, blue shadows carved into black stone. On the other: endless ridged hills, green bleeding into gold. Far below, horses graze like punctuation marks in a sentence too wide to read.
I stop and swallow the air. People call this beautiful, but that feels too small a word. Beauty wants something from you — your gaze, your praise, your agreement.
But the mountain doesn’t invite admiration. It demands surrender.
There’s a kind of mercy in how little it cares. It doesn’t measure your strength or your story. It’s not waiting to be impressed. And in that indifference, something in me lets go — as if I’ve slipped outside the need to matter. The stone beneath my feet was here before names, before stories. It will be here long after. There’s no comfort in that, but there is freedom: to belong to something you don’t have to hold.
This, I think, is awe. Sublimity — that quiet mix of fear and reverence when the world refuses to shrink for you.
Humantay Mountain, which loomed so large from below, now feels like it’s watching with something gentler. Not approval, exactly. But recognition. Like it sees the effort. Like it knows we’re not here to conquer anything — only to witness.
Maybe that’s what this trek is about. Not to summit, not to conquer, but to walk with the mountain. Not above it. Not against it. With it.
After the pass, everything softens. We descend into a valley of black sand and yellow moss. We pass llamas, cows, prehistoric ferns, and more dung than I care to admit. It feels like The Sound of Music if the Von Trapps had altitude sickness.
Joining the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu
Photo: Wakaba Oto
We merge with the more popular Inca Trail on day four. The Salkantay section had been wild and raw — sometimes barely a path, more like a suggestion. But the Inca Trail is something else entirely: carved, engineered, and enduring. Five centuries old and still holding fast. The air turns wet again. We’re back in the cloud forest now, high-altitude jungle. The kind that beads sweat at the base of your neck and makes the rocks bloom moss.
“The Incas didn’t move the big rocks,” Sol says. “They built around them. That was their way. You don’t fight nature. You adapt.”
The steps are uneven. My knees snap with each descent. But the lesson lands hard.
My hiking group starts flying by other groups — big tours in bright ponchos, trekking poles clicking like metronomes. After four days in the mountains, we’re faster, tighter, hardened by shared blisters and scenic (and untimely) bathroom breaks. Sol shakes her head, half-exasperated, but there’s pride in her eyes.
Inca sites appear one by one: Sayacmarca, Phuyupatamarca. Cliffside fortresses, towns in the clouds. Sol tells us their names, meanings, and uses.
On the fifth day, we reach Dead Woman’s Pass — 13,828 feet, the highest point on the Inca Trail. The name comes from the ridgeline’s silhouette, which looks like a woman lying on her back. Fitting, maybe. But despite the name, I feel more alive than ever.
This section is brutal, even after four days of mountain legs. Some people train for weeks beforehand — long hikes, stair machines, loaded packs. I didn’t. I definitely should have. But pain is a good teacher. So is stubbornness.
I am the first to reach camp later that day. The porters give me a look I think is respect.
The next day, we reach the Sun Gate, the original Inca entrance to Machu Picchu. It was designed so that, on the solstice, the rising sun passes perfectly through its stone arch and lights the city below.
Below us, Machu Picchu emerges from mist — stone bones draped in moss, sharp lines softened by cloud. It looks both impossibly deliberate and entirely organic.
I can’t believe my legs got me there. But they didn’t — not alone.
The next morning, Sol gives us a walking tour. She explains the geometry of the site, how the Incas built their temples with stones that interlock without mortar, earthquake-proof and engineered to last. The city had homes, observatories, baths, temples, agricultural terraces. It was never found by the Spanish. It stayed hidden for centuries.
We stay until our legs ache. And when it’s time to leave, I find that I don’t want to.
What the Salkantay Trek and Inca Trail teaches youPhoto: Wakaba Oto
I began this hike with something to prove — a hunger to push myself to the edge and see what I was made of. But the mountains weren’t interested in my reasons. They didn’t care about ambition or resolve.
If anything, Pacha Mama — Mother Earth in Quechua, the Andean highlands’ native language — conquered me. Again and again. At every pass, every ascent, every cold, aching morning. And I let her. That was the lesson.
This trek didn’t create strength. It revealed it. Not the loud kind, but the kind that looks like heavy breathing, sore knees, and choosing — over and over again — to keep going.
Through it all, it became clear who makes journeys like this possible.
Sol, with her encyclopedic knowledge and the rare ability to make you laugh mid-ascent. Our porters, who carried our weight so we could carry ourselves. Pedrito and Joel, who somehow baked a cake from scratch on a mountain.
As we descend the last ridge, I spot a patch of moss clinging to a boulder. I press my fingers to it, the way Sol did. It’s soft, alive, humming with the cold. For me, it’s still pretty. But now I know better. Now I know it means the air is clean. That we were here, and the mountains let us pass.
July 30, 2025
AndBeyond Opens a New Safari Lodge in Kenya’s Wild North, Far From the Crowds of Maasai Mara
When it comes to safari experiences in Kenya, the Maasai Mara tends to dominate the conversation. But if you’re looking for something quieter, more immersive, and far less trafficked, the Laikipia Plateau in the country’s north offers a compelling alternative. Located northwest of Mount Kenya, this sprawling region of grassland, rocky escarpments, and winding rivers is home to a newly opened lodge from luxury outfitter &Beyond — the only one operating in the 44,000-acre Suyian Conservancy.
Photo: andBeyond
&Beyond Suyian Lodge sits in what was once a working cattle ranch. Over the last several decades, livestock numbers were reduced and rotational grazing was introduced, allowing native species to return and ecological diversity to improve. Today, Laikipia is considered one of Kenya’s most ecologically important areas — home to endangered species like the reticulated giraffe, Grevy’s zebra, and African wild dog. Most exciting for many visitors is the chance to see a black leopard in the wild.
“There’s a rawness to encounters at Suyian that’s lost in busier locations,” says Joss Kent, CEO of &Beyond, in a company release. “When a guest spots a black leopard, it’s genuinely a once-in-a-lifetime moment.”
Because Suyian operates as a private conservancy with no other lodges, you won’t find yourself surrounded by other vehicles. &Beyond holds exclusive tourism rights here, allowing for off-road exploration, night drives, and activities that simply aren’t permitted in national parks.
Photo: andBeyond
Photo: andBeyond
Photo: andBeyond
Photo: andBeyondDesigned by the firms Michaelis Boyd and Nicholas Plewman Architects to reflect the surrounding geology, the lodge takes its cues from the region’s granite kopjes — steep-sided rock outcrops that rise from the plains. The 14 suites curve into the landscape, with green turfed roofs and stone cladding that make them feel part of the terrain. Each suite features its own plunge pool, outdoor shower, and panoramic views toward the Ewaso Narok River and Mount Kenya beyond.
Photo: andBeyond
More than 70 percent of lodge staff are from surrounding communities, and their perspective is central to the experience. Guided by locals who know the land intimately, mornings might be spent tracking lions and oryx on game drives, or exploring at a slower pace on horseback safaris, camel walks, or by joining herders during their daily cattle movements as part of Suyian’s active ranching initiative.
Photo: andBeyond
When you’re not out exploring, you’ll find plenty of ways to take in the landscape. There’s a yoga deck set high on the rocks, a small but opulent spa built into the hillside, and a kitchen garden where chefs source herbs and vegetables.
Photo: andBeyond
&Beyond’s expansion into Laikipia is part of a long-term partnership with Space for Giants, an NGO working to restore and protect critical wildlife corridors in northern Kenya. The group sees the lodge as a key moment in demonstrating how conservation and tourism can work hand in hand.
“It shows how world-class tourism can directly sustain vital conservation efforts while delivering tangible benefits to local communities,” says Dr. Max Graham, founder and CEO of Space for Giants, in a statement.
By staying at Suyian, you directly support these initiatives — helping fund anti-poaching patrols, habitat restoration, and education programs for surrounding communities.
Rates start at around $1,500 per person, per night, inclusive of meals, daily game drives, and a range of activities like guided walks, yoga, and community visits.
This Airline’s New First-Class Suites Are Like Chalets in the Sky
Within the last year, several airlines have introduced new high-end first-class experiences. But a recent announcement from SWISS International Air Lines raises the bar, with the airline announcing an entirely new cabin concept that offers first-class travelers an experience more akin to a mountain chalet than an airline seat. The new first-class product, dubbed “Swiss Senses,” is the most premium product the Zurich-based carrier has ever offered.
The July 29 announcement includes changes to all four cabin classes (First, Business, Premium Economy, and Economy), but the most noteworthy changes centered on the striking new First Class Suite. It’s the largest interior aircraft upgrade in SWISS’s history, and a clear signal that, as with other airlines, the Zurich-based carrier is chasing a luxury-focused market.
Fewer seats, more space, Swiss aesthetics
One extra-large first class suite will be able to accommodate couples traveling together. Photo: Swiss Air Lines
Only three First Class cabin suites will be on each aircraft, including one double suite for passengers traveling together. That’s a dramatic reduction from the eight-seat first class layout currently used by Swiss, offering more space per passenger (as well as significantly increased ticket costs). Each suite comes with sliding privacy doors, a spacious closet area, and a seat wide enough to accommodate full bedding. Details like seat heating and cooling, wireless charging, and a screen so large it looks more like a cabin window than a television screen are designed to make passengers forget they’re in the air. Even the restroom reserved for first-class is upgraded, with a design inspired by the famous Vals spring, in Switzerland’s Graubünden region.
The color palette in the new suites emphasizes warm neutrals and deep natural colors, reminiscent of a modern Swiss cabin. The airline says it’s designed to promote a “a sense of coziness and comfort,” complete with a lighting system and a custom cabin scent both designed to help combat jet lag.
The new suites will debut on SWISS’s newest Airbus A350-900s, expected to come into the airline’s possession in late 2025. The first route flown by the planes will be Zurich, Switzerland, to Boston, Massachusetts, starting January 1, 2026. The airline also announced it plans to have “SWISS Senses” cabins integrated into existing A330-300 and 777-300ER planes in early 2026, with all planes in the fleet completed by 2028.
Swiss Business gets a “Swiss Senses” upgrade, tooBusiness class travelers will also see improvements in comfort as part of the SWISS Senses overhaul, with most changes focused on creating more space and customization options. Every Swiss Senses Business class seat will have direct aisle access and the ability to convert into a lie-flat bed, plus new seat heating and cooling, wireless charging, and additional bag storage. Some seats will have sliding privacy doors, while others will have extra space to work. It’ll have the same color scheme as first-class, with rich shades of red and deep coal colors. Planes are expected to have 45 Business class seats available after conversions are complete.
Changes to Economy and Premium Economy
A new SWISS Senses Premium Economy rendering. Photo: Swiss Air Lines
The changes to Economy and Premium economy are less significant than the changes to premium classes, and less likely to be noticed by travelers. Premium Economy will keep it’s one-meter seat pitch, but is getting improved cushioning and a new, more modern design. Standard economy passengers will get seats with better ergonomics (according to the airline), improved headrest screens, the ability to connect Bluetooth devices, and USB ports at every seat.
As of now, the amount of personal space per passenger in Economy and Premium Economy is not expected to shrink to accommodate the premium changes. However, there will be fewer of each type of seat available, with planes like the Airbus A350-900 going from 195-210 Economy seats per plane to 156 per plane with the new layout. Those same planes will have 86 upgraded seats between Premium Economy, Business, and First, showing a clear goal of trying to attract higher-value customers. For Economy flyers, it’s likely to mean fewer empty seats on flights, smaller chances of having an empty seat next to you, and fewer options for seat selection if you book last-minute.
SWISS isn’t the only airline pushing the boundaries of luxury in the sky. Several global carriers have recently announced upgraded options, reflecting shifting goals in the post-pandemic travel landscape.Air France recently announced an updated version of its La Première suites, set to debut in 2026. It’ll offer suites with up to five windows per first-class passenger, with lounge-style seating and fully enclosed walls.Emirates, long known for its opulence at 30,000 feet, is expanding its “Game Changer” suites, with floor-to-ceiling walls, virtual windows, and personal climate controls.Singapore Airlines continues to upgrade its A380 suites, with separate beds and couches, private sliding doors, and other touches designed to feel like a luxury hotel room in the sky.Japan Airlines recently won global accolades for its proposed new cabins based on traditional Japanese architecture and design, while Qantas Airways won for the suggestion of introducing wellness zones for passengers to stretch, acclimate, and otherwise attempt to fight jet lag in the sky.
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