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.

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.

My friend doesn’t do anything unless it is full throttle, so it didn’t surprise me that he had a hankering for extreme speed. It did, however, surprise me when he said his whole body was sore after the less than 2 minute, nearly $150 (Canadian Dollar) ride down the Olympic track. Kitted out, he was placed in the back seat and braced himself to fly down the mountain.

I am a bit of an Olympic geek so I had lots of questions, not least of which was about the poor Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili who was killed during a training run while reportedly going nearly 150 MPH. I knew he was killed on that very same run and I had watched the tragedy unfold.

The Whistler Sliding Center hosted all the sliding events in the 2010 Games and is now a premiere world track. I know the luge and skeleton are much more dangerous than bobsled because the sleds are less protective, but that accident was so haunting. Often, ex-football players or track stars are inspired to be the anchor of the team on bobsled. Their speed helps a team get a fast start, but even those guys and gals train intensely for the sport. I was relieved to hear that the tourist sleds have higher walls and that they start after the treacherous turn where the accident happened. Although lightning fast, tourist runs are significantly slower than Olympic runs.

With a professional pilot and plenty of gear and preparation, tourists can ride the wind and ice at 125 MPH. My friend lived to tell the tale and has the picture to prove it! As for the Winter Olympics, next up are the 2014 Winter Games in Sochi, Russia.

We are headed to a house, inaccessible by road in winter. Set on 100 acres of land, the generosity of the owners allows us to live out my alpine fantasies.  We snowshoe or ski one mile into the house, carrying backpacks and pulling a sled full of all our gear, food and an occasional small child.

As I write, a few loaves of Swedish bread are in the oven baking for the trip. Thoughts of chopping down our own Christmas tree and frying latkes for Chanukah at altitude dance in my head.

My mind wanders to a book I just read my youngest son. Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, of Little House on the Prairie fame, is a classic. Even though I read it as a child, and was a big fan of the TV show in my youth, reading it aloud to my son was inspiring all over again. To live off the land, reap what you sow, eat with the seasons and really earn your keep has a lot of appeal these days. Even though we’re going off the grid, it will be far less arduous than what the Ingalls and Wilder families experienced more than 150 years ago.

If, like me, you are taken with the books and history of the time, you can visit the Wilder Homestead (boyhood home of Almanzo, Laura’s future husband) in Malone, NY, near the Canadian border. One winter scene, from the book, sticks in my mind… as the young boy, his father and two hired men cut ice from the frozen lake to store and keep food fresh for the year. They literally cut thick blocks of ice from the surface of the lake and haul them back to the shed on sleds. Almanzo falls in accidentally and narrowly escapes death.

The blizzards described in the book series sound so epic. As I read this book I wondered if winters in the Upstate region are still as harsh, given climate change. This is a photo of pond hockey in the Lake Placid region.

Recent articles in the New York Times speak of fir and spruce trees dying out in the Catskills, apple orchard varieties diminished and less productive dairy farms in the region.

The Adirondacks — host to two winter Olympics — in the future, may not be the winter paradise they once were, as snow and ice have become less intense during the winter months. Lake Champlain, a popular vacation spot that divides New York and Vermont, used to freeze over completely every winter. Now, some years, milder winters keep it unfrozen in the middle. Flooding from the August tropical storm Irene was a harbinger of things to come.

Despite all of this depressing information, and news that our destination in the Sierras has very little snow as of today, makes me wistful… but come hell or high water, I plan to live out my winter wonderland fantasy nonetheless.

We drove through Yosemite a few weekends ago. It was packed with summer travelers and waterfall gawkers. The major falls are glorious, and fuller than they have been in years. New, smaller falls have even appeared much to the delight of park goers.

As we drove through the park, out past Mono Lake, we were stunned by the high water levels and snowy peaks in early July. We laughed, thinking that we could even cross-country ski in some spots above 7000 feet.

Record snowfalls this winter and heavy unseasonable rain in summer have made conditions epic for nature lovers but also hazardous.

Yosemite is drawing crowds, and visitors to the park should exercise caution while viewing the many falls and swollen creeks and rivers. Since June, there have been at least two people confirmed dead and two missing and presumed dead. The park has banned water rafting on the Merced River until the flows subside to their normal levels.

My son and a group of friends made the trek to Wapama Falls, a wonderful hike which wraps around the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. The photos were astounding, but just days later a Doctor and a friend, both experienced backpackers, were swept away by the torrents when crossing a small footbridge.  Sobering for the folks who took my son, who in hindsight, were fearful of the awesome cascade.

As we made our way back to the Sierras, we stayed at a friend’s house near Kirkwood Ski Resort. I took a short walk, alone, down to the “creek,” heretofore a tiny trickle, where as toddlers, my kids frolicked. At nearly 8,000 feet in elevation, the mule ears were just sprouting and snow patches still remained in early July. I decided to cross the creek and make a circle. Quickly I aborted my attempt. This repeated several times as the current was just too treacherous. I realized I was on my own and if swept away, it would not be a good scene.  I finally found a reasonable crossing point, and with numb legs and feet, made my way to the other side. Not only is the water higher, but it felt colder.

A recent article by Jane Brody in the New York Times Science section offers simple, but useful tips for both beach and mountain water fun. So get out and enjoy the majesty, but respect the elements and have caution!

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.