Just a few days ago, in a widely reported story, things did get out of hand when a crowd of Sherpas fought with three foreign climbers in a dispute over fixing ropes on the route high up the mountain. In a story for National Geographic News, Brot Coburn provides good context for understanding the relationship between Sherpas and foreign climbers, one that has been and continues to be positive in almost all respects. Jon Krakauer’s bestselling book from 1997, Into Thin Air, illustrates how badly things can go wrong when the mountain gets crowded and the weather changes.

But most of us don’t need to worry about the crush of climbers on the route above base camp. Elite mountaineers climb, the rest of us hike — or trek, as they say in Nepal.

John Flinn wrote recently in the San Francisco Chronicle about his return to the Khumbu, the local name for the Everest region, after 22 years. His story, “Into Thin Hair” (retitled on the Chronicle website) brought back memories of my treks in the area, the first in 1979, the most recent in 2002. As John conveys, if he can do it, you can do it.

That’s how I feel about my treks there. If you take your time, don’t push yourself, and get into reasonably good shape before you go, you should be fine. John sure got me interested in returning. The thin air, indescribably dramatic mountains, and welcoming Sherpa culture are heady stuff. Not to be treated as a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

More recently I hiked with friends in the Jungfrau region, basing ourselves in Mürren on the flank of the Lauterbrunnen Valley, what has to be one of the most scenic settings on earth. At other times I’ve explored Geneva, Lausanne, Luzern, St. Moritz, Gindelwald, Appenzell, Chur, and other places, but I’ve never been there in winter.

Well, I was once in Chamonix on the French side, and stayed in the village of Argentiere near the railway tunnel into Switzerland. I skied with friends there for several days, but never crossed the border, so that doesn’t count.

Twice I’ve been to the Jungfraujoch, the highest railway station in Europe, in summer, looking down the mind-boggling Aletsch Glacier and up at the Jungfrau and Mönch. The excursion train to the Jungfraujoch — the Jungfraubahn — begins in Kleine Scheidegg. Even in summer it’s clear that the slopes here would offer superb skiing.

Naturally, right now the  Swiss Alps are covered in snow. A quick look at ski reports shows a 2-foot base and 6 feet on the upper slopes of the Matterhorn, and similar stories at Verbier and Mürren-Schilthorn.

Snow has been falling in California and throughout the American West. It’d be cheaper and easier to go to Lake Tahoe, to Mammoth Mountain, or to Sun Valley, Idaho or Park City, Utah for that matter, but where do I really want to go?

I think my daydreams are telling me where.

A few years ago I got my chance, and on one glorious weekend I played Pebble, Spyglass, and the Links at Spanish Bay. All three courses are managed by the Pebble Beach Company, but at the time I’d forgotten about the fourth course in the fold, Del Monte Golf Course, the granddaddy of them all just a few miles inland.

It turns out that Del Monte is the oldest continuously operating golf course west of the Mississippi River. San Francisco’s Presidio Golf Course is older, by a little more than a year, but it was closed during the Spanish-American War of 1898 to serve as a drill field. Del Monte was built as an attraction for the Hotel Del Monte, which later joined the navy (literally) and is now the headquarters of the Naval Postgraduate School. Now the golf course is connected to the Hyatt Regency Monterey Hotel & Spa.

When I say connected, I mean that just about literally. The 17th green is so close to the lobby windows I was hesitant to stand by them when looking around the place on arrival. Just about every golfer who’s swung a club can overshoot a green by ten yards, and that’s about all it would take to plunk one off the plate glass windows.

But that’s part of the appeal, of course. The hotel nestles up to 17 and a portion of the 18th fairway, so you know you’re staying on the golf course, and because it’s a hotel “& Spa” there’s enough there to interest non-golfers.

The course is stately and beautiful, as you’d expect from a course with its pedigree. Towering Monterey pines and broad oaks line the fairways, often poking into fairways and challenging you to clear them to cut distance on doglegs. Many of the holes seem easy, but few of them are.

The greens are small, there’s plenty of sand protecting greens and in fairway bunkers, and for me, reaching the green was never a guarantee of par. They’re hard to read with lots of slope, and fast enough to bedevil the occasional golfer like me.

And I like this about Del Monte: it’s a favorite course for locals. If you come without your golf buddies you can join up with locals who’ll share their course knowledge, tell you how best to make your way around. That only goes so far, naturally; you’ve still got to hit the ball and put it in the hole. But the camaraderie is always welcome. And by Monterey standards, the place is affordable. Greens fees are about one-fifth the cost of a round at Pebble.

So nobody dreams about playing Del Monte, they dream of Pebble. But now I do. Locals say the course is subtle, and it takes time and repeated play to understand its character. I know I only got a whiff of those subtleties, and the course got the best of me. But I’ve been thinking about the shots I didn’t make, and I want another chance. I’ll be back. It’s the perfect weekend away.

But I live in San Francisco and can be on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe in less than four hours. Lake Tahoe, the place with more ski resorts and ski acreage than any region in the USA, plus the glorious spectacle of the lake from many peaks. Why run off to Utah, or Jackson Hole, Wyoming, or Big Sky, Montana, or Vail or Aspen or Whistler, BC when I live so close to such a winter wonderland?

One reason this winter was the pitiful snowfall in the Sierra. Another was a group of friends from college days who wanted to meet there for a reunion. So, with tickets booked far in advance, I had powder dreams reminiscent of Warren Miller films and couldn’t wait to get going.

As all skiers know, little snow has fallen throughout the West this season. It’s picked up in recent weeks (in fact, Jackson Hole reports snow every day over the last 20 days of February, with 3 feet in the last week; and 5 feet of snow fell at Lake Tahoe this week, so winter’s best weekend is about to start), but when we headed out mid February, Utah had almost as little snow as California. It seemed that our reunion would be more hanging about the hot tub than schussing down ski runs. But did that matter? Wasn’t the point to get together with a group of great friends who hadn’t seen each other in years?

Yes and no. We also wanted to ski. We had a palatial house (honestly, palatial doesn’t do it justice, it was too vast for that) in the hills above town where we had to yodel to locate each other in the far bedrooms. But once found, we all gathered in the kitchen and living room for fine meals and conversation. We drank too much wine, caught up on the years, and plotted our days on the slopes.

And those days weren’t bad. Park City made it easy. For those of us who needed rental equipment, the Ski Butlers delivered it to our door. Park City Resort was a short drive away. Deer Valley a little farther, and The Canyons pretty close. While thin in places, snow on the groomed runs was dry, workable. Skiing was surprisingly good. And the biggest surprise of all, after skiing we stopped for a beverage and snack at Baja Cantina at Park City Resort, where a generous margarita cost $2.75! A bucket of ice jammed with four Coronas cost $10! Was this a throwback to our college days put on just for us?

Drinks at Deer Valley the next day weren’t as affordable, but hey, that’s what we expected. The skiing was just as good, and we were happy.

Overnight before our last ski day it snowed an inch, and by the time we headed for The Canyons, about three inches had accumulated. Most of the day we skied in snowfall so visibility was tough, but a foot of fresh snow greeted us on many runs and I began to get a sense of why Utah has the reputation it does.

But I’ll have to go back another time, in a more normal season, when the base is deep and the sun is shining. The good thing for people like me who live in or around San Francisco: flying to Salt Lake City takes less than two hours, the drive to Park City is less than an hour, and there are plenty of options for lodging. It’s pretty accessible, and despite my bias for Lake Tahoe, I’ll try Utah again.

Next time I’ll book closer to traveling so I can get better snow. Trouble is, my buddies won’t be there, unless I can convince them to drop everything and join me. Which, if the conditions are right, they might be happy to do.

One of the great pleasures of travel is reading about places, whether on the road, before you go, or after you’ve returned. The UK’s daily Telegraph recently posted a list of great expat travel books, both memoirs and novels, to get you started dreaming or reminiscing.

World Hum canvassed its contributors and fans for their favorite travel books, and the list that resulted could build a great library of travel literature.

And of course a reliable source for superb travel reading is Travelers’ Tales, whose annual Best Travel Writing collections take you all over the world and back. Or Townsend 11, a new e-book series from a San Francisco writers group.

So sit back at home, en route, or abroad, and prepare to be carried away.

Recently I joined a mini reunion of college pals in Sun Valley, Idaho for a trifecta of outdoor activities: mountain biking, fly-fishing, and river kayaking.

Read all about it in the San Francisco Chronicle travel section: Sun Valley’s Summer Rush.

He wrote in a recent New York Times essay that if you’re willing to put up with some discomfort and able to be flexible with your movements, the rewards of travel in troubled places are enormous. Such travel can show you the utter stupidity of much human conflict and the inspiring ways people manage to live their lives.

And isn’t that ultimately why we travel? To understand life on our planet and see how others express their humanity?

Rough travel can be, well, rough, and sometimes the lessons learned come only in retrospect, but they are lessons worth learning, now and in the future.

Since 1997 she’s worked to conserve Crete’s cultural and natural heritage through her own version of a slow food movement, engaging more than 40 small business and individuals in “Crete’s Culinary Sanctuaries” to offer visitors a taste of traditional Cretan cuisine. Ingredients come from local organic farms, and chefs put a modern twist on the old cuisine so there’s always a tasty surprise.

Her programs have received sustainable development awards from the likes of National Geographic, and she’s booking tours for the summer. Visit artisan food producers, organic farmers, rural communities that have been inhabited for 4,000 years, and take botanical hikes in the land of the Minoans. Explore ancient sites, too.

And of course, eat well.

Triporati’s South Pacific expert, Stanley has spent much of the last 30 years traveling, crossing six continents overland and visiting 212 of the world’s 245 countries and territories. That puts him right up there as one of the world’s most traveled people.

As much as he’s traveled, he returns to the South Pacific again and again and considers it his favorite area, which says a lot about the appeal of the place. His book is full of the practical advice you’d expect from any good guidebook, but Stanley’s decades of experience in the region give this volume a special appeal. He knows the people, he knows the territory, and he knows how to share it with his readers. This make him the ideal guide to get you started on your journey.

Me? I can’t make it to Tahiti this year, but next month I’m going to Fiji. And I’ll be carrying Stanley’s new Moon Fiji Handbook with me when I go. This one is in its ninth edition, and I’m getting started in my pre-trip preparation.

Brendan Spiegel reported on the Hauz Khas Village district, hidden among narrow lanes behind the ruins of a 13th-century mosque and royal tomb, in the New York Times.

It looks like a great place to spend a day or two on your next visit to Delhi. I want to go to the bookshop, Yodakin.