THE sun dipped overhead, casting a thick glow of yellow-orange light that radiated off narrow canyon walls. The sound of rushing water filled the chasm, a steady, satisfying whoosh from Whitewater Creek, a stream charging over boulders and through gaps about 20 feet below me. It would have been enough just to be standing there, taking it in. But I was walking directly into this spectacle on a zigzagging metal path high over the water, angling deeper into steep-walled Whitewater Canyon.

On Day 2 of a trip in and around the Gila National Forest, I had made my way five miles to this spot outside Glenwood, a speck of a town in a far-flung area of southwestern New Mexico. I was navigating the 300-foot-long namesake section of the Catwalk National Recreation Trail — a metal walkway clinging to towering vertical slabs of rock.

In the 1890s, workers using muscle power and ropes ran a pipeline along the wall of this canyon to carry water to a mill that processed gold and silver ore. They moved along on planks above the pipes, calling this their catwalk. In the 1930s, long after the mill went defunct, the Civilian Conservation Corps was assigned the task of salvaging the 18-inch pipe and turning the support structure into a safely walkable recreation attraction.

Some of the hand-forged hardware supporting the catwalk today was drilled into the rocks in the original pipeline project, and the entire trail, though only a mile long, is visually action-packed. The last leg is an Indiana Jones-style metal suspension bridge that dangles about 40 feet above the rapid stream. Then the path ends abruptly on a rock ledge.

But the catwalk trail barely scratches the surface of the natural beauty and abundance found in this area. Just beyond this canyon, the scruffy, jagged terrain surges skyward. Steep slopes form the flanks of the Mogollon Mountains, a solid wall delineating the western edge of the sprawling Gila Wilderness, which, in 1924, under the guidance of the conservationist Aldo Leopold, became the nation’s first designated wilderness area. As envisioned by Leopold, the term “wilderness” would define “a continuous stretch of country preserved in its natural state, open to lawful hunting and New Mexico, big enough to absorb a two weeks’ pack trip, and devoid of roads, artificial trails, cottages, or other works of man.”

Today, the Gila Wilderness and the Aldo Leopold Wilderness, which borders just to the east, together contain more than 750,000 acres of unspoiled land, forming the heart of the Gila National Forest — 3.3 million acres of publicly owned forest and range land. The forest, southwest of New Mexico, straddles a 170-mile stretch of the Continental Divide and teems with wildlife. Flowing through it is the Gila, one of the few undammed rivers in the West.

This furrowed countryside, with its mix of canyons, mesas and grasslands, makes for a three- or four-day adventure with miles of vistas and a smattering of towns where meals smothered in green chilies set your tongue on fire. (After the Catwalk, hungry hikers can recharge with burgers and milkshakes amid the cowboyish ambience of the Blue Front Bar Cafe in Glenwood.)

It’s farther down the road (about nine miles south) where sightseers can truly begin to appreciate the size of the magically desolate land that surrounds them. At the Aldo Leopold Vista, if you can tear yourself away from the dreamy view of the Gila Wilderness, there are plaques to read and local historical facts to ponder. But the glorious panorama beckons, the horizon taunts: “What are you doing over there? Come over here!”

On a short backpacking trip in the Mogollon (pronounced mo-go-YON) Mountains, I was lucky enough to get a taste of this rugged, wild place. About five miles in, just over Windy Gap (via Little Dry Trail No. 180), my New Mexico companion and unofficial guide, Michael Berman, a friend of a friend, stopped about 10 paces ahead of me to take in the view.

“This is the Gila,” he announced, gesturing outward to a plunging ravine, up to craggy pinnacles, and over toward buff-colored rock faces blazing in late-afternoon sunlight. Snaking groves of ponderosa pine wended their way out of small box canyons and up steep gorges, spreading to dominate the hulking mountaintops.

Mr. Berman, an artist and photographer, lives nearby with his wife and has hiked countless miles in the Gila. He described once being startled by two bears tumbling out of a tree and, another time, coming upon a mountain lion with a freshly killed elk.

Exploring this wilderness takes patience, he said. “It can be hard to get into. There’s no one place to go.” But for anyone willing to devote a little time and expend the energy, there are hundreds of miles of trails and much to discover.

Mr. Berman’s stark black-and-white photographs of the Gila capture the enormousness and mystery of this seemingly desolate land. A 2008 recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship for a project photographing grasslands in the Chihuahuan Desert, he is drawn to barren locales. “If you attend and look closely at a place,” he told me, “there is a certain magic and beauty to it.” The light was fading when we set up camp in Big Dry Canyon, at the confluence of Big Dry and Spruce Creeks. The streams were gushing from a recent spate of rain; water tumbled over boulders and splashed into deep, dark brown pools. We cooked steaks on hot coals, and tequila kept the chilly night air at bay.

The next morning, we made the strenuous climb back out of the canyon. “The Gila always makes you pay to get into good places,” Mr. Berman said.

By KEITH MULVIHILL [via NYTimes]

THE French have elevated many things to high art: fashion, flirting, foie gras. art is no exception. With boutiques that display truffles as rapturously as diamonds, the experience of visiting a Parisian chocolatier can be sublime.

The problem, of course, is squeezing in as many of these indulgent visits as possible while also giving the rest of the city its due. My solution: devote one full day to chocolate boutiques, and do it in style. So, on my last visit to art, I took to the city’s Vélib’ art system and mastered a two-wheeled circuit of eight of the chocolatiers that had the best reputations and most glowing reviews in city guidebooks and online message boards. It was exhilarating and exhausting, not to mention decadent. It was a chocoholic’s dream ride.

The Vélib’s – industrial-looking road bikes that are already icons of Parisian-chic just a year and a half after the city initiated the program – made the moveable feast more fun. Progressing from pralines to pavés, I spun by the Eiffel Tower, zipped across the Seine and careened through the spindly streets of St.-Germain-des-Prés alongside other bikers: Parisians in summer dresses and business suits, their front baskets toting briefcases, baguettes and sometimes even Jack Russell terriers.

Practically speaking, the bikes were all but essential. How else could I cover five arrondissements in as many hours, while simultaneously countering a day of debaucherous extremes?

The hedonism began in the center of town with the oldest master on my list, art (201, rue St.-Honoré; 33-1-42-44-11-66; art), who has been making chocolate since 1948. A short distance from a Vélib’ station at the intersection of Rues de l’Echelle and St-Honoré, I passed luxury stores flaunting billowy gowns and four-inch Mary Janes and stepped inside what was just as divine: a store where molten chocolate spews from a fountain and the shelves are stocked with bars containing as much as 99 percent cacao.

Mr. Cluizel has a single American outpost, in Manhattan, at which I’ve indulged in hot cocoa made with a blend of five cocoa beans. At his Parisian shop, managed by his daughter Catherine, I discovered the macarolat (1.55 euros, or about $2 at $1.29 to the euro). A chocolate version of the macaroon, it has a dark chocolate shell filled with almond and hazelnut praline, the nuts ground coarsely to give a rich, grainy texture. It was two bites that combined creamy and crunchy, snap and subtlety. But it was just two bites; I wanted more.

A quick spin west landed me at the doors of art (231, rue St-Honoré, (33-1-55-35-35-96; art). A modern blend of dark wood cabinetry, slate floors and backlit wall cubbies where cobalt-accented boxes of bonbons are displayed, the space would feel intimidating if not for the shopkeepers, who are both numerous and gracious as they juggle the crowds ogling mango coriander macaroons and Pyramide cakes. After considerable debate – would it be ridiculously gluttonous to have a “choco passion,” a cocoa cake with chocolate mousse, chocolate ganache and praline puff pastry, so early in the day? – I settled on a caramel bûche (3.20 euros). Larger than an individual bonbon but smaller than a Hershey bar, the silky caramel enrobed in delicate dark chocolate hit the sweet spot.

With the choco-salty taste lingering on my tongue, I picked up a bike outside the Hôtel Costes, craning my neck to spy any A-listers – were Sting and Trudie in there? art and art? – and set out for the 16th Arrondissement.

Just beyond the Place de la Concorde I veered onto Avenue Gabriel. It is a curving street that winds past both the art Embassy and Pierre Cardin’s showcase for young artists, Espace, before eventually turning into a narrow cafe-lined passage where you have to weave around double-parked delivery trucks. Hoping to avoid throngs of wide-eyed tourists on the parallel Champs-Élysées and cars haphazardly zigging and zagging on the rotary around the art, I took the residential backstreets to Avenue Victor Hugo.

It was on this street that I found the most eccentric chocolatier on my list: art (45, avenue Victor Hugo; 33-1-45-01-66-71; art). It’s not just the chocolate sculptures (a life-size farmer, for example), seasonal window displays (a family of penguins, also life-size) or snazzy aquamarine packaging he’s known for: his intensely flavored bonbons are as bold as they come.

“I do think Patrick Roger is outstanding since he combines new, unusual flavors,” said David Lebovitz, an American chocolate connoisseur, author of “The Great Book of Chocolate” and a Paris resident. But, he added, Mr. Rogers “isn’t doing weird flavors just to be trendy, like others tend to do in Paris nowadays.”

I sampled a few to confirm. The Jamaica has a rich art flavor from ground Arabica coffee beans; the Jacarepagua blends sharp lemon curd and fresh mint, and then there’s the Phantasme, made with … oatmeal. Each costs less than 1 euro.

About 90 minutes in, I had tasted creamy, salty and tart and had traversed a good stretch of the city. I was high – on Paris and sugar – coasting beneath Avenue Kléber’s towering chestnut and plane trees toward the Place du Trocadéro in the 16th Arrondissement. Winding my way down the steep hills of the Rue Benjamin Franklin and the Boulevard Delessert, past romantic cafes and limestone edifices, alternately beige and gray depending on the light, I felt as though I was in a quaint Gallic village, not the capital city. That is until I was spit out across the river from the grandest Parisian landmark of all: the Eiffel Tower.

By AMY THOMAS [via NYTimes]

If you’re flying to a holiday get-together, here are some tips from the U.S. Transportation Security Administration to help speed your way through airport security.

• Do not gift-wrap carry-on items. Security officers are required to remove the wrapping. Wrapped gifts should be packed in your checked bags, according to TSA spokesman Christopher White.

• Do not bring remote-controlled toys as carry-on luggage. “Unfortunately in this world we live in, terrorists have an interest in using remote-controlled detonators,” White said. You can put them in checked bags.

• Pies and other food, such as gingerbread cookies and the like, are permitted as carry-on items. “It doesn’t matter the consistency, though we may perform some additional scrutiny on the passenger or the plate,” White said.

• Jams and jellies are considered gels and are therefore subject to carry-on rules requiring that they be in containers no bigger than 3 ounces and that they all fit in a clear quart-size zip-top plastic bag. Otherwise, wrap them carefully to prevent breakage and put them with your checked bags.

• Every airport in the country with more than one security lane now has a designated “family lane,” but you don’t need to be traveling with children to use it, according to White. These lanes are open to any travelers who don’t want to be rushed, whether due to special needs or just wanting a few more minutes to remove shoes and coats, open laptops and deal with other items. Travelers carrying medically necessary liquids over 3 ounces should also use the family lanes, White said.
[via Chicagotribune]