I couldn’t really believe it myself, but there I was in Ohio in the beginning of November, and politics were the last thing on my mind. In the rural county of Hocking Hills, a land of limited cell reception and winding forest roads, Romney and Obama's automated "will you please just vote for me already" phone calls would have needed a bloodhound to track me down amongst the tall pines. The election is an important thing, for sure, but to be honest I couldn't have been happier to step out of the crossfire without taking one side or the other.

Despite what the name would suggest, there are no great changes in elevation in Hocking Hills. While it's not flat as far as the eye can see, describing the area as hilly would be close to an overstatement when you're evaluating it based on adventure travel standards. Ohio is not the west, but that is not to say it doesn't have a few solid options for losing yourself in the outdoors. It's actually a great place for those who want a full dosage of the wilderness without having to carry their clothes on their back - most of its gems are highly accessible, perfect weekend getaways for those living in Columbus (1 hr ), Cleveland (3 hrs), Cincinnati (3hrs), and Pittsburgh (3 hrs).

While I never associated Ohio with a paved landscape, glaciers actually took a large toll on the area. The best example of this is found in Hocking Hills State Park, known for its glacier-carved, historically-smothered sunken valleys. The headline attraction, Old Man's Cave, is supposedly haunted by a man and his two dogs who lived and died in the cave in the late 1700s (the man was found dead by a group of men passing through and is buried somewhere in the vicinity). At night, visitors and park rangers have reported hearing barking dogs, only to arrive at the cave and find nothing.

Ash Cave - a larger, more dramatic cave in the State Park - is also apparently one of the most haunted places in the area, with reports of loud "drumming" heard throughout the night. I say apparently here and supposedly above because, as I explain here, ghosts don't seem to want anything to do with me. The cave is beautiful, though, and the largest in Ohio.

Zip-lining, kayaking, and caving are all other options for visitors to the area. You can fly superman-stylewith Hocking Hills Canopy Tours (my friend Kristen of Hopscotch the Globe is going to be making a video that will include this ride, so I'll be sure to pass it along when it comes out for a visual), paddle down the Hocking River with the Canoe Livery , or take a scenic flight for an aerial view of the inspiring colors, caves, and waterfalls.

For lodging, I was invited to stay at the Inn at Cedar Falls. While the first thing you come across on their website is that they have free Wifi, don't get the message twisted - a stay at the Inn is a damn-good escape (awful cell phone reception, which I enjoyed). They just added a spa cabin and you have the option of staying in a private cabin or a single-room in a lodge. Its location a few miles from Cedar Falls and a five-minute drive from Hocking Hills State Park puts you right in the thick of it.

One thing I would highly recommend would be to plan this trip for late September through mid-October, when the fall colors are at their peak. We caught the tail end of it all - the winds from Sandy sort of spoiled it - but the potential was beyond evident.

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It wasn't a bottle of white wine, although in hindsight it's obvious that cold vino would have been the way to go.

Anyone who has read The Sun Also Rises will understand what I mean when I say I "went Hemingway" on the creek, wedging my water bottle between two rocks, allowing the cold water to do its thing. It was early afternoon and quite hot in the sun - approaching 90 degrees - and as the adrenaline from the morning climb wore off I began to feel my tired muscles. Having learned my lesson hiking to 14,000 feet earlier in the week, I passed on an afternoon cocktail for a healthy serving of hydration.

Looking back that decision seems foolish now, given the calming scenery and how good the sips of wine would have tasted in the heat of the day. As if sitting on the side of the creek and hearing the water flow wasn't enough, the canyon walls, pine trees, blue sky, and cascading waterfall wrapped everyone up in an afternoon comfort. People gathered at the base of the falls, sitting and walking with their ankles in the water, the dogs jumping into the deeper pools. Some had brought picnics, others hammocks and chairs.

That morning I had climbed about 1000 ft to the top of the first flatiron, and needless to say my toes were a bit rough from the journey, from being stuffed into the purposely cozy climbing shoes (reason being a big shoe wouldn't fit in a small hole in the rockface). When I held my feet in the running water and spread my toes, the force of the current performing a makeshift massage, I felt like rehabilitation - both in mind and body - had begun. One man took it a step further, as you'll see from the photos below.

Boulder Falls is located about 12 miles from the cabins of Chautauqua Park (trail open May 1 - October 31), a beautiful drive along the winding road into the Rockies. It's less than a five-minute walk from the road, making it the perfect outdoor sanctuary for people who want to feel good about doing absolutely nothing. My advice would be to bring some friends, and wash down the afternoon with a cold drink.

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One of my friends told me that she usually starts to "feel it" around 13,000 feet.

We were about a mile into the three to four mile ascent, and we had just come across a pack of mountain goats on the snow-covered rocks. The dog chased them as far as he could over the ridge, stopping when the pitch became too intimidating, looking down at the goats that now stood comfortably on the side of the mountain.

I inhaled deeply. We were around 10,000 feet and I knew the air was thin, but I felt like a million bucks - the blue sky, fluffy clouds, wildlife, and distant peaks distracting me from the stress on my body. In a few minutes this would all change - this was no ordinary hill.

Classified as a fourteener, a mountain over 14,000 ft, Quandary Peak is located just outside of Breckenridge (80 miles from Denver). There are approximately 70 fourteeners in the lower 48 states, and 53 of them are in Colorado (numbers may vary depending upon source as each uses slightly different qualification criteria). It's a thing around here, for sure. People keep track of how many they've hiked, and when you tell someone you've hiked your first they are genuinely congratulatory.

I wrote in a recent feature that Denver's urban/outdoor combination attracts an active and athletic population, and now I'm starting to wonder if that might have been an understatement. Those used to living at sea level who consider themselves to be in good shape are in for a surprise - the altitude has a way of humbling visitors. Myself included.

I'll give credit to the Coloradans: Despite being incredibly fit and physically capable, they carry a tremendous amount of respect for the elements and how dangerous these beautiful environments can be. Staying on the trail is an extremely good idea, and hiking without ample food and water is downright foolish. It's a good thing I was going with locals, because I was prepared to set off with nothing more than the water in my Camelback.

Let's put this all in perspective: When I went skydiving over Santa Barbara last year, I jumped out of a plane that was cruising at 13,000 ft. That's stunning to me, and probably explains why I had to stop every five to ten minutes to catch my breath once we hit 12,000 ft. Even though it's only a class 1, the hike to Quandary Peak is all uphill, from the first step to the last. As you ascend the terrain changes from covered paths to exposed rock fields, and you go from simply walking up hill to now stepping up and climbing loose rocks. Stair-stepping, if you will.

Spouts of dizziness and a thumping heart forced me to stop and regroup frequently once we hit the final mile - something I simply had to get used to and accept. While initially frustrated, I did begin to appreciate the way taking a seat brought the surroundings to my complete attention. I can't imagine it's an unlikely scenario for one to put their head down and charge up the mountain and allow the workout to drown out the scenery.

Arriving at the top of Quandary Peak was by no means anti-climatic - just take a look at the photos. The sight lines exploded and people were drinking beer, hanging out (my sorry ass stuck with coconut water). It was really the nonchalance that impressed me, that made me shake my head and laugh. You know, climb 14,000 ft, have a beer, climb down. Whatever.

Check out Colorado Fourteeners for more information on Quandary Peak (and others). Here are the photos of our journey to 14,265 feet: