#ecotourism

#ecotourism

On a cool, rainy afternoon in the wilds of Laikipia, Kenya, I am lying in savasana, or corpse pose, beside a log fire in the pool house of Enasoit Camp. The teacher, Laura Bunting, gently intones a yoga nidra to our small, all-female group, during which I slip in and out of a hypnotic half-light state, only vaguely aware of the sound of rain on the thatched roof and the percussive efforts of a nearby woodpecker.

Rock iguanas once roamed freely across the islands of Turks and Caicos. Spotting one today, however, requires a bit of planning-and a boat ride. After centuries of hunting and the introduction of predators, the reptiles suffered a steep population decline and were classified as "critically endangered" in the 1970s. Today, things are looking slightly better for the green lizards, and in 2020, their classification was upgraded to simply "endangered." But that doesn't mean it's all smooth sailing for the iguanas.

My mother and I are at our best when unwinding on the beach with a piña colada in hand. It's not that we don't love adventurous travel; it's just that our travel styles are different. She's all about going with the flow, and I prefer to have a plan and a well-balanced itinerary. But one thing we both appreciate is a good tropical resort.

Quintana Roo is consistently Mexico's most-visited state. Travelers flock here for blue waters rich in snorkeling and dive sites, powder-soft sands, ancient Maya cities cocooned by jungle, and a proliferation of rowdy bars, clubs, and all-inclusive resorts. But as millions of sun-hungry travelers pack their bags for Cancun, Playa del Carmen, and Tulum this winter, remember there are still pockets of secluded paradise to be found and cherished along Mexico's Caribbean coastline.

Translating to "green mountain" in Spanish, Monteverde is a haven for ecotourism on Costa Rica's central Pacific coast. Home to thousands of plants and more than 400 bird species, like the elusive quetzal and scarlet macaw, the region inspires immersion in its varied topography and wildlife. The biggest attraction, Monteverde Cloud Forest Biological Reserve, draws thousands of annual travelers to its mist-tinged mountains.

For years, limited flights, visitor caps, and steep environmental fees kept Fernando de Noronha notoriously difficult to access, especially for international travelers. This kept the remote Brazilian archipelago wild and rugged, its volcanic cliffs and crystalline waters luring mostly domestic travelers in search of Brazil's most pristine beaches. But now a new direct LATAM flight from São Paulo, Brazil's main travel hub, makes it easier for foreign visitors to fly in.

It was late November, and I was standing in an ancient beech forest at the edge of Towada-Hachimantai National Park in Japan's Tohoku region. The area, deep in the Ōu Mountains on the northern tip of Honshu, is known for its autumn colors, hundreds of species of moss, and the Oirase Gorge, a river valley with abundant waterfalls. The Oirase Stream is fed by Lake Towada, a volcanic double caldera that is the primary source of the region's rich biodiversity.

Four miles by foot into the Colombian Amazon, in war-torn Guaviare, a stunning prehistoric rock painting known as the "Sistine Chapel of the Ancients" stretches across a full eight miles of cliff face. The frieze, estimated to be about 12,500 years old, depicts massive ice age beasts thought to have once roamed South America, including mastodons and ground sloths the size of a car.

Year-round, a herd of 250 goats known as the goat brigade is deployed in Santa Juana to prevent forest fires by eating highly-flammable vegetation.