THIS summer, be sure to pack some extra cash in your carry-on. More airlines are starting to charge for services that used to be free on many carriers.

Skybus Airlines, a new carrier based in Columbus, Ohio, that plans to take to the skies this Tuesday, promises low fares but will charge extra for everything from soft drinks ($2) to bag checking ($5 apiece for the first two bags) to early boarding privileges ($10 a person, except for those with disabilities).

Next month, Spirit Airlines, based in Fort Lauderdale, will begin charging for bag checking and onboard beverages, which had been free. It’s also moving to a single-class cabin but renaming its business class Big Front Seat and charging a premium for the larger seats.

Meanwhile, nearly every major carrier has done away with free onboard meals in coach on domestic flights, and has instead begun to charge for individual food and drink items, often at hotel minibar prices. Earlier this year, American Airlines, for example, replaced its $4 snack boxes offered on domestic flights of three hours or longer with offerings like Lay’s Stax Potato Crisps ($3), M&Ms ($3) and bottled water ($2) and now sells them on domestic flights of two hours or longer. On longer flights within the United States, American offers $5 light meals like breakfast bagel sandwiches, Italian wraps or Asian chicken salads.

“What the airlines are doing is basically the same thing as if you go to a typical hotel or movie theater,” said Henry H. Harteveldt, a travel analyst at Forrester Research. “Your room rate includes the room you want. If you want an in-room movie you’re going to pay for that. If you want breakfast you’re going to pay for that. A movie ticket includes the seat. The popcorn is extra.” The airlines, he added, “are finally realizing that not everybody sitting in the economy cabin wants or needs to have the same experience.”

Airlines say it’s a way to keep fares low while giving customers exactly what they pay for. “Why should your ticket price include your neighbor’s dinner?” Skybus said on its Rules of Flying fact sheet. But charging separately for seats and services is also a way to increase ancillary revenue, and it’s a tactic that has been gaining popularity among airlines looking for ways to dig out of bankruptcy or stay profitable.

Delta added a dedicated HBO channel to its in-flight entertainment system just this month and is charging domestic coach passengers $5 per feature film and $2 for television programs. A new cocktail service costs $5 a glass for domestic coach-class passengers. Some airlines are even charging passengers to reserve the most coveted seats for them. Northwest Airlines began charging passengers $15 to reserve some of the better coach-class seats, like exit row seats, on domestic flights last year. United Airlines charges a premium to sit in the Economy Plus section, which gives passengers five extra inches of leg room.

Air Canada has perhaps taken the à la carte pricing concept the furthest. For example, the airline’s cheapest tickets, called Tango, come with minimal flexibility and earn just 50 percent nonelite frequent flier miles. The most expensive, Executive Class, come with all the perks including meals, lounge access, unlimited itinerary changes, and 150 percent Air Canada Status Miles. Customers can also pick and choose from a list of add-ons like seat assignments and bag checking or forgo those options for savings.

Amadeus, which provides software and a booking engine for such creative pricing, says that more than 20 airlines, mostly international, are using its Flex Pricer technology to help maximize revenue and distinguish themselves from other carriers.

“Airlines are looking at ways of differentiating themselves and bringing value back to what has largely been a commoditized product over the last several years,” said Robert Buckman, director of airline distribution strategy at Amadeus North America.

À la carte pricing also tends to boost the bottom line. “Given the choice,” said Mr. Buckman, “consumers will pick the best choice for them, and it’s not always the lowest price.” He added that an analysis of 10 Amadeus clients who used à la carte pricing saw ticket revenues increase more than 32 percent across the board in the first three months, representing more than $200 million in additional sales for the carriers.

Las Vegas-based Allegiant Air, which charges for extras like snacks, checked bags and reservations by telephone, has experienced growth of ancillary revenues to $31.3 million last year from $11.2 million in 2005 and $3.1 million in 2004. The airline, which caters to leisure travelers flying to destinations like Las Vegas; Orlando, Fla.; and Tampa, Fla., also sells tchotchkes like $5 Elvis sunglasses and other products like $15 beach towels on board. On its Web site, it also sells hotel rooms, car rentals and show tickets, offering up options tailored to passenger itineraries.

As airlines move to this approach of selling services separately, customers should be wary of unexpected wrinkles. Spirit Airlines sells travel insurance from AIG Travel Guard at the time of the airline ticket purchase. But instead of letting the traveler decide to buy, the insurance is already included in the final price, forcing the traveler to opt out or uncheck the selection to avoid paying the $12 insurance fee. (AIG Travel Guard says customers who realize later that they failed to drop the insurance have up to 15 days to cancel and receive a full refund, as long as it is prior to their departure and no claim has been filed.) And Skybus, while touting its food offerings, is telling customers not to bring their own food “unless you brought enough for the whole plane.”

AIRLINES say that à la carte pricing allows passengers to customize their flight experiences by picking and choosing what they want to pay for. But unless customers get something in return that wasn’t free before, or a reduction in price that compensates for the charges, the separate fees amount to price hikes.

“They’re not doing you a favor,” said Joe Brancatelli, the publisher of the subscription travel Web site www.joesentme.com. “They’re trying to get more revenue.” And although it may appear that the airlines are lowering fares, he added, simply charging more for services that were once included in the base fare is “effectively, raising the cost you’re paying to fly.”

Not all airlines are going à la carte. Continental is one of the few that still offers hot meals on domestic flights and continues to have blankets and pillows available for passengers. And JetBlue, which offers complimentary Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and satellite television on all its flights, has no plans to begin charging for these extras.

“In fact,” said Bryan Baldwin, a JetBlue spokesman, “we continue to look at ways to enhance customer experience without charging customers to do it.”

IN the former East Berlin, directly across from the Marx-Engels-Forum — where immense statues of Karl and Friedrich seem to sit in stern judgment of the city — you might stumble across the Alt-Berliner Weissbierstube, a cozy cafe specializing in Berliner weisse, the city's classic local beer.

There, wide goblets of weisse are doctored with shots of syrup before serving: most commonly green, made from woodruff, a fragrant forest herb; or red, made from raspberries. Both have the effect of coloring the drink a garish jade or vermillion, and both are said to make it cloyingly sweet.

When a waitress came by to take my order, I asked if I could try the beer without the accompanying syrup.

“You could, but it's very sour,” she said.

She was right: it was bitingly sour, partly from the unusual use of lactobacillus in fermentation, the same type of bacteria that produce yogurt, in addition to the regular brewer's yeast. After a very light sweetness in the mouth, there was a sharp, yogurt-like sour finish that made the drink surprisingly refreshing.

I asked for another.

Dynamic, bustling Berlin may be many things — an Old World capital of cool, the home of a vibrant literary and artistic community, Eurotrash style central — but it is not generally thought of as a city with great beer. And yet just 200 years ago, Napoleon's army celebrated its occupation of Berlin with big mugs of weisse, toasting victories with a light, golden elixir that the French hailed as “the Champagne of the North.”

Back then, there were said to be some 700 brewers of weisse in Berlin. Today, the number is rapidly approaching zero, with the last two major producers, Kindl and Schultheiss, recently coming under the same ownership.

Thus the rub: though Germany is home to some of the greatest beer culture on the planet, local flavor is increasingly elusive. Ever since the rise of lagers like Pilsener and the spread of industrial brewing in the late 19th century, dozens, if not hundreds, of charismatic local beers have disappeared.

“It happened very quickly,” said Ron Pattinson, whose European Beer Guide lists many obsolete and rare German beers, including broyhan from Hannover, mumme from Braunschweig and keut from Münster. “The older styles were overwhelmed, and what we've got left are just the odd remnants of beers. It's like a landscape that has been swamped, and you can just make out the odd tree and hilltop.”

This spring, I decided to make a journey to some of these remaining trees and hilltops in search of a few local beers that had not vanished. I wanted to try those German brews that had maintained a sense of local flavor, beers that were produced in their hometowns and, more or less, nowhere else.

In Cologne, I would drink Kölsch, a light and fruity pale ale, one of the few beers protected by an appellation of origin as if it were a wine. In Leipzig, I would seek out Gose, a spiced amber beer that was out of production for two decades and that is just now making a small comeback. And in Bamberg, I would try the elusive rauchbier, a beer made with wood-smoked malt that is said to taste like liquid bacon.

Other beer pilgrims could have just as easily chosen other cities with great brewing histories — Düsseldorf, Dortmund and Munich come to mind — but my trio seemed to offer the most promise and variety.

WITHIN a day of my introduction to Berliner weisse, I was whizzing across Germany toward Cologne via the high-speed Deutsche Bahn, the German rail system, traveling faster than many of the cars on the autobahn outside. There, after booking into a hostel in the center of town, just minutes from the Dom, Cologne's massive cathedral, I set out in search of my first Kölsch.

I found it at Brauerei Päffgen, a traditional wood-on-more-wood tavern on a narrow lane just outside the Old Town. But drinking a Kölsch is more than just drinking a beer: it's like drinking an entire culture.

By German law, only beers brewed in Cologne may be called Kölsch, and they must be served in the tall, cylindrical glasses called stange. The Kölsch waiter, known as a Köbes, is almost always clad in blue and is universally known for a sharp tongue. (Request a glass of water instead of beer and your Köbes will probably ask if he should bring soap and a towel, too.)

I managed to get my first Kölsch without much hassle, handed over by a burly Köbes swinging the traditional round tray called a kranz, or wreath. The beer was not unlike a Pilsener in color, but the taste was much less bitter, with a nice grassy note in the mouth and a delicate fruitiness to the finish. I had more trouble getting the second, and when it came, I noticed the Köbes brusquely called me “du,” the informal word for “you” that an adult might use to address a child.

“The Köbes is always like that,” the man sitting next to me said. His name was Guenther Herrmann and he told me that once, sitting in a pub, he had tried to move his chair out of a ray of direct sunlight, “and the Köbes said, ‘No! The chair stays here!' ”

Traditional décor and traditionally gruff waiters are obviously part of the charm for the older Cologne residents I kept encountering: while visiting Schreckenskammer, a Kölsch pub near the hostel, I calculated the average age as roughly 73 ½. Ditto the historic Kölsch pub Früh, down near the cathedral. But what about local beer fans who were not yet drawing a pension?

I got the answer while struggling with my map outside the city's wondrous Chocolate Museum, which sits directly on the banks of the Rhine. A young woman stopped and offered directions. After we figured out where I was going, I asked if she drank Kölsch.

“All the time,” she said.

If I was interested in beer, she asked, would I like to go on a Kölsch crawl with her and a few of her girlfriends?

Twelve years after college, all those German classes finally paid off. That night I met the woman, Mira, and two of her fellow university students at Scheinbar, a cool lounge in the upscale Belgisches Viertel neighborhood. The crowd, a mix of gay and straight, youngish and younger, was mostly sipping cocktails, though several people held the distinctive narrow Kölsch glasses.

Why beer, in such a slick place? And why Kölsch?

“We're proud of it,” Mira said. “I'm not necessarily proud of being German, but I am proud of being from Cologne. This is our beer.”

In fact, Kölsch seemed to be a favorite of all the cool kids. Just around the corner from the venerable Päffgen, Mira and her girlfriends took me to Päff, a sister bar. Where Päffgen was all about Old Cologne, Päff typified the new one: a packed club playing hip-hop at high volume while a diverse crowd partied with glasses of Päffgen Kölsch.

If my presence had brought the average age down in Schreckenskammer, it had certainly raised it in Päff. But it was dark, loud and fun enough that no one seemed to notice.

The next day, after a five-hour trip on a Deutsche Bahn Inter-City Express, I was in Leipzig, standing in St. Thomas Church, where Johann Sebastian Bach worked as cantor and director of music from 1723 to 1750. During Bach's tenure, Leipzig started to become famous for something other than great melodies: Gose, a deep orange brew flavored with salt and coriander.

This gave rise to the Gosenschenke, a type of Gose specialty bar that was once found throughout the city. Not long after World War II, however, with Leipzig on the other side of the Iron Curtain, Gose production wavered, then stopped entirely.

But then a Gosenschenke called Ohne Bedenken reopened in 1986, serving the city's first real Gose in almost 20 years, followed by a new Gose brewpub, Bayerischer Bahnhof, which opened in a magnificent former train station just around the turn of the millennium. Another Gose, Ritterguts, is now being made just outside of town. And Gose partisans have even organized a Gose-wanderweg trail for hiking from one Gosenschenke to the next, leading from Leipzig to the town of Halle along the Pleisse, Weisse Elster and Parthe Rivers.

In the theater district just steps from the site of the great Leipzig synagogue that was destroyed on Kristallnacht, now the site of a chilling Holocaust memorial, I found Sinfonie, a dark cafe-restaurant with Ritterguts and “things to go with Gose” on the menu. I decided on a half-liter of Gose with a pairing of pan-fried zander and salmon accompanied by lemon sauce and a warm cucumber salad.

The Gose was amazing, with a mild taste of salt immediately noticeable in its thick, mousse-like head. Its body was light and slightly spicy followed by a remarkably bright finish — more crisp than the most crisp riesling, sharper than the sharpest Chablis, and a better match for tricky citrus and vinaigrette than any wine I'd ever encountered.

The next day, at Ohne Bedenken, I tried both Ritterguts and Bayerischer Bahnhof beers with roast pork and sauerkraut, another notorious trap for wine. Both complemented the meal marvelously. In comparison, the Bahnhof had a bit more malt in the body, was lighter in color and was substantially less aggressive. The darker Ritterguts tasted much more sour, saltier and had more spicy coriander notes.

If I had to pick one, the Ritterguts would probably be the winner, simply for its brawn. But compared to Radeberger, the dishwater Pilsener from the region, both versions had character to spare. Like difficult but dear old friends, these were challenging beers, but rewarding ones.

If any city in Germany understands the value of difficult beers, it must be Bamberg in Franconia, a storied brewing region that is now part of the state of Bavaria. Though Munich's two-week Oktoberfest is more famous internationally, Bamberg celebrates beer all year, with organized beer trails leading to its 10 breweries, a significant number for a town of just 70,000. While some of the beers produced in Bamberg are variations on the Pilsener style, the city's list also includes a much older, indigenous type: the smoked-malt brew called rauchbier.

A Gothic arch etched with the date of 1310 stands at the back of the Schlenkerla brewery's taproom, inside the old town's cobblestone maze above the Regnitz River. There, I attempted to order a rauchbier, but I was thrown off by a special offer: because it was Lent, the grandmotherly waitress informed me, Schlenkerla was also tapping a fastenbier — still smoked, but much stronger, like a bock.

Swooning from the intense flavors even more than the alcohol, I tried to catalog the tastes: caramel, acacia and notes of smoked meats ranging from ham to Alaskan salmon and sweet unagi, Japanese eel. It was liquid bacon, sure, but it was also as peaty as a fine single malt — Ardbeg came to mind.

It was an amazing medley, almost overwhelming, and I could still taste the smoke as I walked over the three bridges leading back to my brewpub hotel, Spezial, the city's second producer of rauchbier.

Compared to Schlenkerla's, Spezial's rauchbier seemed to be understated, even dignified in its light smokiness, with extremely complex caramel and cola flavors, the kind of beer that could justify a long voyage all by itself. I mentioned this to a local resident, Lorenz Weber, who seemed impressed that I had come all this way just to drink rauchbier, though he noted that he usually drank Pilseners himself.

“I only drink rauchbier three or four times a year,” he said. “But that way, you look forward to it very much.”

A true treat, he added, was a rauchbier from Spezial paired with a slice of hot leberkäse, the Bavarian meatloaf.

Three or four times a year? I had the realization that, either with leberkäse or without, I would be lucky to drink Spezial rauchbier three or four times in my life.

I raised my hand to signal for another.

VISITOR INFORMATION

Despite the disappearance of many traditional styles, Germany still has more than 1,000 breweries and 7,500 beers, according to “Good Beer Guide: Germany,” a valuable resource available at shop.camra.org.uk for £14.99 ($29.85 at $2.03 to £1). The author, Steve Thomas, also runs www.germanbeerguide.co.uk.

The European Beer Guide (www.europeanbeerguide.net) contains maps, pub listings and historical information.

Breweries in Bamberg and the rest of Franconia are thoroughly covered at www.franconiabeerguide.com.

GETTING AROUND

Deutsche Bahn (www.bahn.de) is notorious for its hard-to-understand pricing. Perhaps the easiest option for non-European residents is the German Rail Pass, offering five days of travel within a 30-day period. A second-class pass is 189 euros, first class 249 euros ($263 and $346 at $1.39 to the euro); for two, 280 and 380 euros.

WHERE TO STAY

Cologne's Station Hostel (49-221-91-25-301; www.hostel-cologne.de) may have lumpy mattresses, but it also has a central location, a raucous bar and free Wi-Fi. Doubles with private bath are 52 euros.

In Leipzig, the Hotel Kosmos (49-341-233-4422; www.hotel-kosmos.de) has rooms decorated with Dalí posters and other funky themes not far from St. Thomas Church and the Holocaust memorial. Doubles with breakfast start at 66 euros.

Two breweries in Bamberg, offer inexpensive lodging: Fässla (49-951-26516; www.faessla.de; doubles, 60 euros) and Spezial, (49-951-24304; www.brauerei-spezial.de; doubles, 55 euros).

WHERE TO TASTE

Berlin: Alt-Berliner Weissbierstube, Rathausstrasse 21; (49-30) 242-4454.

Cologne: Päffgen, Friesenstrasse 64-66; (49-221) 13-5461; www.paeffgen-koelsch.de.

Schreckenskammer, Ursulagartenstrasse 11-15; (49-221) 13-2581; www.schreckenskammer.com.

Früh, Am Hof 12-18; (49-221) 2613-211; www.frueh.de.

Scheinbar, Brüsseler Strasse 10; (49-221) 923-2048.

Päff, (49-221) 12-1060; Friesenwall 130; www.paeff.com.

Leipzig: Ohne Bedenken, Menckestrasse 5/Poetenweg 6; (49-341) 566-2360; www.gosenschenke.de.

Bayerischer Bahnhof, (49-341) 12457-60; Bayrischer Platz 1; www.bayerischer-bahnhof.de.

Cafe Sinfonie, Gottschedstrasse 15; (49-341) 9999-898.

Bamberg: Schlenkerla, Dominikanerstrasse 6; (49-951) 56060; www.schlenkerla.de.

Spezial, Obere Königstrasse 10; (49-951) 24304; www.brauerei-spezial.de.

WHEN Albert Gallatin, the United States Treasury secretary under Thomas Jefferson, first dreamed up what would become, more than a century later, the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, he envisioned a series of linked rivers, canals, bays and deep-water channels that would provide an easy way to transport cargo and troops back and forth between the North and the South.

Today, that 1,300-mile Waterway is more commonly traveled by people like Bill Breiling.

On a gray, chilly day in early May, Mr. Breiling could be found sitting on the deck of High Spirits, his 48-foot powerboat, as it docked in Beaufort, N.C., a sleepy former fishing village near the Outer Banks. Mr. Breiling was five weeks into a watery pilgrimage from his winter home in Boca Raton, Fla., to Brewerton, N.Y., near Syracuse, a journey that would take him 20 more weeks and provide plenty of opportunity to serve up the house specialty — vodka and grapefruit juice, with a squeeze of limes grown in his backyard — to fellow boaters he would meet along the way.

“It’s really such a close-knit community,” said Mr. Breiling, as Barbara Sloan, his companion of 20 years, pointed out a wild brown horse on nearby Carrot Island. “And everybody in this community talks to everybody else.”

Late spring means the start of an annual migration of snowbirds like Mr. Breiling, who make their way north each year. Using the Waterway — whose most heavily traveled leg stretches from Key Largo, Fla., to Manasquan, N.J. — as a kind of floating I-95, they move slowly up the coast, going perhaps 30 miles a day, and stopping off at places like Georgetown, S.C.; Elizabeth City, N.C.; and Beaufort, to rest for a day or two, to refuel and maybe hit the shore for a little shopping, to renew old acquaintances and make new friends. (The Waterway’s historic version continues to Gloucester, Mass., and there is also the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway, an interrupted 1,700-mile leg along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico.)

Known as cruisers, these long-haul adventurers stow their key worldly possessions in onboard lockers and load up on fuel, food and charts, as well an increasing number of satellite phones and laptops, to explore America’s waters by boat, in journeys that can play out over several states, and months.

ALTHOUGH precise numbers of cruisers are hard to come by — most marinas don’t keep tabs on where people are coming from or heading to, and many cruisers adopt low profiles, anyway — their numbers are definitely rising, say longtime boaters, marina officials and industry analysts, especially among the retirement-age set, who seem to be forgoing the Winnebago for a Grand Banks or a Sabre.

And Beaufort (pronounced “BOW-fort,” not “BYOO-fort,” like its South Carolina namesake), because it sits just a few miles east of the waterway, has become a popular cruiser pit stop, said Joseph Brearey, known as Jeb, who is Beaufort’s dockmaster. He fields phone calls daily from cruisers wanting to moor at one of Beaufort’s 98 slips.

Slender and soft-spoken, with wire-frame glasses and just the hint of a drawl, and missing a thumb tip on his right hand, Mr. Brearey guesses that cruiser traffic has jumped 40 percent in the last decade in Beaufort, where he has worked the docks since 1978. In fact, on a given late-spring day, three-quarters of all boats in the harbor might be cruising, he said, as opposed to being boats from the region.

These migratory boaters are hardly roughing it. “In the old days, more people caught fish for dinner; now there tend to be steaks in the coolers,” Mr. Brearey said, his walkie-talkie crackling. It was a call from the captain of a 110-foot powerboat, which had started out in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., who wanted to reserve a berth for the night. (Mr. Brearey urged him to arrive before sunset, to avoid shoals, which on the Waterway can be nasty.)

Until the 1980s, Beaufort was known for its fish factories, which extracted oil from menhaden, then loaded it onto trains parked at its docks. Few traces of that era survive, though, since a full-scale redevelopment recast the village, which has a full-time population of 4,000, as a maritime center, one in which the marina amenities include the use of a car (included in the docking fees of $2 per foot per night), which allows boaters to zip to the grocery store.

Beaufort has also become a popular launching pad for side trips, to the diamond-patterned lighthouse at Cape Lookout or upriver to New Bern, founded by a Swiss explorer in 1710. Or, boaters can loll around Front Street, Beaufort’s six-block-long commercial strip, which is chock-a-block with bars, coffee shops and restaurants; there’s also a maritime museum.

Where most boaters tend to congregate, though, is in Beaufort’s coin-operated laundry, tucked behind the General Store. In the cinder-block laundry room, free books, some inscribed with the names of their boats of origin, are stacked on a bench below ads listing services at local churches.

Here, boaters swap tales of too-close-for-comfort target practice at Camp Lejeune and not-close-enough whale sightings off the coast. They also trade tips on cleaning plastic (add vinegar to water) and where to find the best apple fritters (Swansboro, N.C.).

Mary Crossley, her straight hair spilling below her zip-up jacket’s collar, removed quarters from a sealed plastic bag as she talked of piloting her 39-foot sailboat from the Bahamas to Maine, a journey she has taken every year since 1999.

Because she was running a bit of ahead of schedule, she had decided to take a few days’ break in Beaufort. But she added that her money was beginning to run low because the Waterway was getting more expensive every year with high docking fees, like those at Beaufort’s marina, becoming more common.

“It’s expensive to go out to eat, buy gifts — really getting tough for the middle class,” Ms. Crossley said as she pulled towels from a dryer. “And this is a lot of people’s retirement.”

Back on the docks, the clouds were still thick, which muted the light, giving the sky the milky-white hue of seashells.

Aboard a blue-hulled sailboat, with an inflatable raft suspended across its back, Keith May, with a silver, drooping David Crosby-like mustache, and his wife, Carolyn, with eyeglasses perched on her head, drank their morning coffee. They sold their restaurant in Camden, Me., last fall, and after wintering in the Bahamas, they were headed home, where months of unpaid bills awaited, Mr. May said.

He marveled that the Waterway could temporarily unite two distinct species, powerboaters and sailboaters, who have historically avoided each other like the plague. “This is the closest I’ve been to one in weeks,” said Mr. May, his voice unhurried as he gestured to a powerboat parked a buoy’s-width away. “But I guess we’re all like-minded.”

A bad fuel injector on his 42-foot powerboat had kept Jerry Caravan, who keeps the boat in Little River, S.C., stuck for an extra day in Beaufort. Still, Mr. Caravan, whose short-sleeve knit shirt was stretched tight over his stomach, seemed to take the delay in stride, as he headed to the DockHouse, where the Weather Channel plays round-the-clock on bar-side televisions. His brother Barry, whose left ear sparkles with an earring, ordered a round of Yuengling drafts, which they nursed outside.

Later, as he explained it the next morning, his eyes rimmed red, Mr. Caravan had met local fishermen, who kept him slinging back drinks till Beaufort’s bars closed around 3 a.m. “There’s a great, friendly group of people here, who love to help each other,” Mr. Caravan said, gazing at a harbor riffled by a breeze where a pair of new arrivals nosed in. “That’s what it’s all about.”

YOUR children are going to camp far from home this summer, but you can’t get off work or justify the expense of an extra plane ticket just to fly them there. Should you trust the airlines to take care of them if they fly alone?

Given the well-publicized difficulties in commercial air travel — with ever-shifting security rules and, earlier this year, passengers stuck on grounded planes — some parents simply won’t consider it.

“Some families don’t have a choice,” said Michelle Bisnoff, a mother of two from Orange County, Calif., “but how can anyone trust the overall situation for their kids, much less hand off the light of their life to underpaid flight attendants from close-to-bankrupt airlines, who have a full-time job once they are in the air, and it’s not watching your kid?”

“No way,” she concluded. “I’d be a nervous wreck.”

Yet many children between 5 and 14 years old fly alone each year, with most airlines charging fees to take them. JetBlue flew more than 40,000 unaccompanied minors last year, with most traveling during June, July and August. American Airlines flies roughly 200,000 a year. Southwest (one of the few that charge no fee) takes more than 100,000.

Each airline has its own set of rules. In general, airlines promise to escort unaccompanied minors onto their flights and release them to the properly designated person upon arrival. Some carriers give children pouches where they can keep their IDs and itineraries. Others have designated areas in airports, with books, games and snacks, where children can wait for connecting flights under airline supervision. Both Qantas and Air New Zealand require their employees not to seat unaccompanied minors next to men.

But the airlines’ assistance is far from babysitting service. Children must be at least 5 years old to fly alone. Three or four different airline employees may take responsibility for a minor during one trip — shuffling the child from airline workers at the departing city to flight attendants on the plane to other employees at the destination. And they are typically barred from care-taking tasks like giving your child medicine.

To make sure the child is handed off correctly at the end of the trip, some carriers ask for a photocopy at the time of check-in of the photo identification of the person who will receive the child.

International flights tend to involve more paperwork. For example, a child alone or with an adult other than a parent or legal guardian must have a notarized letter of authorization in Spanish to fly between the United States and the Dominican Republic.

To increase the chances that unaccompanied children won’t be stranded somewhere, they are rarely accepted on the last flight of the day. And some airlines will turn them away if the weather is threatening.

After the terrorist attacks on Sept. 11, 2001, most domestic carriers stopped allowing unaccompanied children 8 and younger to take connecting flights, and most now continue to allow them only on nonstop or direct flights. A few carriers, including US Airways, JetBlue and Southwest, won’t accept unaccompanied minors of any age on connecting flights.

The restrictions have forced parents to be more selective in choosing flights. And summer camps that receive children from far away have had to respond. When the child’s route to camp demands a change of planes, “some camps may fly a staff member to that hub city and have them inside security to meet the flights,” said Don Cheley, a board member of the American Camp Association and a director at Cheley Colorado Camps in Estes Park, Colo., “just for the change.”

The cost for children flying alone has been going up. Last summer, JetBlue, which previously offered its unaccompanied-minor service free, began charging a $25 fee each way and raised the maximum age for which it is required to 12 from 11. American raised its fee to $75 from $60 in March. Continental raised its fees between $5 and $20 last year and now charges $50 on nonstop domestic flights and $95 on connecting flights.

For many parents, knowing someone is looking out for their children is well worth the cost. “It would be so scary if your child ended up in another city somewhere and no one really knew,” said Melissa Babcock, a mother of two from Kenilworth, Ill., whose son Will, now 15, has been flying solo since he was 11.

For teenagers, most airlines will provide unaccompanied minor service for the usual fee, but don’t require it.

Mix-ups do happen. Last June, a 14-year-old boy flying as an unaccompanied minor to South Bend, Ind., with United fell asleep while waiting for a transfer at Chicago O’Hare airport and missed his flight, according to reports by The Associated Press. And another boy, who was supposed to be flying to Taipei, Taiwan, via Tokyo, ended up in his seat. When the mix-up was discovered, United turned the plane around and went back to O’Hare to correct the mistake.

But such blunders are not common. Out of a total of 8,324 complaints against airlines received by the Department of Transportation last year, just 49 concerned unaccompanied minors.

FOR parents unwilling to place their children in the care of an airline, Shawn Habibi, founder of the Trusted Traveler, a business based in St. Paul, runs a service that sends personal escorts to pick children up at their homes and travel beside them for the entire journey. Unlike the airlines, it will accommodate very young children and those who need to switch planes en route.

“A child who is 8 years old might be frightened,” said Mr. Habibi, who has a 2-year-old daughter himself. “We explain to them the bumps and noises and things that happen on airplanes. That’s the difference in service.”

It comes with a hefty price tag: $1,500 round trip for domestic flights and $2,000 for international. That’s on top of the price of the tickets for the child and the escort.

Even though his child transport service escorted only a handful of clients in its first year, business has been growing, Mr. Habibi said, with divorced parents making up a significant portion of the clientele. This year, he expects to transport roughly 150 unaccompanied minors.

When sending children off on solo flights, be sure they have a copy of the itinerary in case something goes awry. A cellphone or phone card with important phone numbers is a good idea, so that your child can easily contact you if problems occur. And be sure to remain at the airport until the flight has departed — not just left the gate. At domestic airports, most airlines will provide a gate pass to parents so that they can accompany the child through security and to the gate.

AT 20 weeks pregnant, Courtney Monardo, a 40-year-old processor for a mortgage company in Scottsdale, Ariz., was — to quote Madeleine Kahn in “Blazing Saddles” — “so tired.”

“After work, I’d sit down on the couch, take a cat nap, eat dinner, and I’d be in bed by 8:30,” she said.

So her husband, who is also her boss, did something about it. “He walked into my office and told me to shut my computer down,” she said. The couple soon arrived at the Westin Kierland Resort and Spa, also in Scottsdale (www.kierlandresort.com). “He explained to me that this was a getaway, to be pampered, that I needed it.” First on the agenda was an in-room ice cream sundae. Next, a couples’ massage. Then a shopping trip for baby clothes, a room-service dinner ordered from the 24-hour cravings menu and a movie. The next morning included breakfast in bed, a round of golf and a pedicure.

The appeal of this brief but indulgent experience — known as a babymoon in travel industry parlance — is pure escape. “Everything was done for us,” Ms. Monardo said. “ We didn’t really need to plan anything.”

The World Travel Market Global Trends Report 2006 cited the babymoon as an illustration of the ways in which “travel and tourism companies are carving out increasingly customized packages to target different life stages.” For example, www.bnbfinder.com, an online bed-and-breakfast directory, is currently offering more than 30 babymoon packages.

When she learned about babymoons, Ilonka Molijn-van Ginkel, a 31-year-old mother of two who lives in Amersfoort, the Netherlands, co-founded www.baby-moon.eu, a clearinghouse for luxury pre-birth getaways, in January. “Just like everybody knows the honeymoon, this should also happen with the babymoon,” she said. The Web site covers Asia, North America, the Caribbean, Europe and the United Arab Emirates.

Some of Mrs. Molijn-van Ginkel’s favorite spots include the Renaissance Chancery Court in London (www.marriott.com/hotels/travel/loncc-renaissance-chancery-court-london), which offers minicupcakes and a “musical energy balance” massage that involves chakra-balancing (445 pounds, $950, at $2.04 to the pound); the Hotel Schloss Fuschl (www.baby-moon.eu/schlossfuschl.html), a castle outside Salzburg, Austria, which offers lymph drainage for the legs and lakeside walks (325 euros); and the Westin Kierland’s “Bundle of Joy” package, mentioned above ($599).

According to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, the second trimester is the safest time for pregnant women to travel.

But Kelly Miller, a 30-year-old teacher from Denville N.J., chose a third-trimester experience. She and her husband, who wanted to hike but were restricted to car travel, drove to Mohonk Mountain House (www.mohonk.com) in the mid-Hudson Valley of New York. “I was really impressed; they massaged me as I lay on my side,” Ms. Miller said of her posthike spa treatment, admitting that she had had doubts as to how the therapist would work around her 33-week pregnant midsection.

Nina Smiley, director of marketing for Mohonk, said of her babymoon clients, “They are about to become nurturers themselves, so one of the things we delight in is nurturing the mother and father to be.” Beginning June 1, rates for the Mohonk package will start at $374 a person, a night.

“It’s kind of bittersweet,” Ms. Miller said of her prenatal days. “Now when we go away, we either have the baby with us or we worry about her if we’ve left her behind. The babymoon really was like our last hoorah.”

Melissa Perlman, a mother of an 11-month-old and founder of Amansala Eco Chic Resorts (www.amansala.com) in Tulum, Mexico, knows firsthand that her yoga-inspired babymoons give expectant parents much-needed time to bond and regroup.

“A babymoon is not only about pampering, but about slowing down enough to savor the pregnancy,” Ms. Perlman said . “It helps mom keep in touch with her sensuality, with her body, and to embrace the change that is happening in her life.”

TEEMING with international high-rollers, glittery skyscrapers and construction cranes, China's sophisticated capital of business wouldn't seem a welcoming place for children at first glance. But it won't take long for parents to discover that Shanghai, with its many parks, markets and museums, can captivate the younger set.

It helps that despite the crowds (the population of Shanghai is 17 million), the city is relatively crime-free. Taxis are cheap, and the subway is easy to navigate.

In fact, transportation is part of the fun, which begins as soon as you land. From the Pudong International Airport, about 30 miles east of the city, you can catch the 267-mile-per-hour German-engineered Maglev, or magnetic levitation, train (86-21-2890-7777; www.smtdc.com). It's a scenery-blurring, eight-minute hurtle to the edge of town. One-way trips are 50 yuan, about $6.40 at 7.85 yuan to the dollar, or 40 yuan with a same-day airline ticket. From the Maglev's terminus at Longyang Lu, you can take a taxi or the subway to the city center.

FROM MARKETS TO MUSEUMS

As early as the 15th century, the heart of Shanghai was the Yu Yuan (Yu Garden) area. This Ming Dynasty walled garden of pavilions, willows and rocks has been overshadowed by its bazaar, a labyrinth of kiosks and specialty shops overhung by swooping, Ming-style tile roofs. There, you can buy chopsticks, silk pajamas, wigs, American fast food, guitars, kites and fermented tofu, among many other items. Merchants demonstrate everything from bubble-blowers to Chinese yo-yos; others beckon passersby to sample tea and gelato.

From the Yu Yuan's zigzag bridge, children can toss fish food (2 yuan a bag) into a murky pond, and the water will roil with red and gold carp. Next to the bridge, through the kitchen windows of the Nan Xiang Steamed Bun Restaurant, a dumpling brigade pumps out xiao long bao, soupy pork nuggets that are Shanghai's signature snack. For a super-size, fun-to-eat version, go to the He Feng Lou Snack Plaza (10 Wen Chang Lu, Yu Yuan; 86-21-6326-7898). Diners there poke straws into 10-yuan dumplings as big as plums to drink the broth.

Engrossing to some, gross to others, Shanghai's street markets are an unforgettable adventure. West of Yu Yuan, for instance, Dajing Lu's sidewalks overflow with poultry, fish, shrimp and crabs. A woman guts a three-foot eel, and a few stores down, young men skin palm-sized frogs faster than you can peel a tangerine.

At the Shanghai Municipal History Museum in Pudong's Oriental Pearl TV Tower (1 Shi Ji Da Dao; 86-21-5879-1888), you can judge how much or little Dajing Lu might have changed over the ages. Dioramas of a 19th-century cotton-making shop, a pharmacy and other establishments have life-size wax models, and videos show Shanghai's former racetrack and a Chinese neighborhood in the 1930s. Editorializing is light — aside from the hallway entitled “The Metropolis Infested With Foreign Adventurers,” a reference to almost 100 years of British, American and French control. Admission is 17.50 yuan for children under 47 inches tall, and 35 yuan for everyone else.

Farther out in Pudong, Shanghai's Science and Technology Museum (2000 Shi Ji Da Dao; 86-21-6862-2000; www.sstm.org.cn) catapults you to the cutting edge. Children can challenge a robot at games, ride a bicycle on a cable 15 feet in the air and fiddle with optical illusions. A “4D” movie showers you with snow and other surprises. Although many exhibits lack English explanations, my 10-year-old nephew loved it. Admission: 20 to 60 yuan.

Regardless of your age, “ERA: Intersection of Time” (Shanghai Circus World, 2266 Gong He Xin Lu, north of downtown; 86-21-6652-7501; www.era-shanghai.com) keeps you on the edge of your seat. Contortionists twist into pretzels, stilt-walkers somersault and motorcyclists speed inside a 10-foot-diameter sphere. Tickets: 80 to 580 yuan.

OUTDOORS

Shanghai's lifeline to the sea, the Huangpu River, also divides the city into Puxi, its older, western part, and Pudong, the more recently developed, flashier section. Pudong's riverfront promenade is ideal for strolls, flying kites and views of the Bund, a stretch of early 20th-century European edifices. The hard-working Huangpu bustles with tugs, barges and freighters.

Chinese parks are typically simulations of nature overtaken by pavement, artificial lakes, rides and snack stands. Of Shanghai's public parks, Gongqing Forest Park in northeastern Puxi (2000 Jungong Lu; 86-21-6532-8194; www.shgqsl.com) is the closest to natural. Its tree-stump trash cans are fake wood, but the grassy meadows, fir and bamboo groves and bird trills are very real. Horseback riding, roller coasters, merry-go-rounds, go-kart rides and a rock-climbing wall are among the entertainment options. To get around Gongqing, you can walk, catch a shuttle (10 yuan), or ride a tandem-bike (20 yuan an hour) or boat (20 to 50 yuan an hour). Entrance is free for children under 47 inches, 9.6 to 12 yuan for bigger folks.

DOWNTIME

For a higher-than-a-bird's-eye view, head to Jin Mao Tower, an Art Deco monolith, which on cloudy nights evokes Gotham City. The Grand Hyatt (88 Shi Ji Da Dao; 86-21-5049-1234; www.shanghai.grand.hyatt.com), occupies floors 53 to 87, and the lobby offers jaw-dropping panoramas. From the 56th-floor Patio lounge, gaze up at the dizzying spiral of rooms. Though the lounge is geared toward the cigar-and-cognac set, you can order milk (50 yuan) and chocolate cake (70 yuan). An evening trio plays jazz on classical Chinese instruments.

The Shanghai Huangpu River Cruise tours (127 Zhongshan Dong Er Lu or 219 Zhongshan Dong Er Lu; 86-21-6374-4461) plunk you amid the action on the Huangpu. Cranes mark future sites of the 2010 World Expo, a cruise ship terminal and a 101-story office tower. Boats depart every half-hour, but try for one at dusk, when landmarks on both banks are illuminated. An hour cruise is 38 yuan until 6 p.m., 50 yuan afterward; kids under 51 inches ride free.

With its strobe lights and psychedelic colors, the Bund Tourist Tunnel (300 Zhongshan Dong Yi Lu; 86-21-5888-6000) offers a Disney-esque tram ride across the Huangpu. A one-way trip is free for children under 31.5 inches, 17.5 or 35 yuan for everyone else.

WHERE TO EAT

Have breakfast where the executive chef of Jean-Georges Vongerichten's restaurant on the Bund does: at the stalls on Changle and Xiangyang roads. Meat and vegetable steamed buns, scallion flatbread and egg-filled crepes sell for about 1 yuan apiece. You can picnic at nearby Fuxing Park.

A few blocks south, the maestro at Wang Hao Wang (123 Xiangyang Lu; 86-21-6466-0832) twists and pulls blocks of dough into skeins of spaghetti, then plops them into boiling broth. The noodles, starting at 4 yuan a bowl, are divine.

Din Tai Fung (2nd floor, Xintiandi south block, Huangpi Nan and Zizhong Lu; 86-21- 6385-8378) makes Shanghai's best xiao long bao (45 to 68 yuan for 10). Also on its menu are basics like wonton soup, braised bamboo shoots and sweet-smoky fried fish.

If you're craving upscale and your children are adept at fine dining, T8 (Building 8, Xintiandi north block, 181 Taicang Lu; 86-21-6355-8999; www.t8-shanghai.com) will suit you both. The cuisine is Aussie-Asian; the décor, swanky Zen. Entrees include roasted black cod with potato and lobster mash (288 yuan) and Angus beef tenderloin with oxtail strudel (358 yuan). The children's menu offers pizza, fish and chips or a BLT and ice cream for 58 yuan. Sit alongside the open kitchen to watch the chefs.

The Sunday brunch at the Westin Bund Center (88 Henan Zhong Lu; 86-21-6335-1888; www.westin.com/shanghai) is a buffet with everything from caviar and tiramisù to chicken nuggets and ice cream sundaes. Dancers and acrobats perform, and roving artisans turn balloons and grass into animals for the kids. A babysitting corner has toys and cartoons. Ages 6 and younger eat free, 7 to 12 are 185 yuan, and adults 418.

WHERE TO STAY

At the Portman Ritz-Carlton (1376 Nanjing Xi Lu; 86-21-6279-8888; www.ritzcarlton.com/hotels/shanghai) the service, including babysitting and toddler-proofing kits, is superb. In the Shanghai Center, the hotel is just steps from a grocery store, pharmacy and family-friendly restaurants. Standard doubles are 3,320 yuan, but look for specials.

The Radisson Plaza Xing Guo Hotel (78 Xingguo Lu; 86-21-6212-9998; www.radisson.com/shanghaicn_plaza) is surrounded by lawn and trees. The oasis of a hotel also has a swimming pool, bowling lanes, ping-pong tables and babysitters. Standard doubles, a bit small, start at 1,600 yuan on weekdays.

Regal International East Asia Hotel (516 Hengshan Lu; 86-21-6415-5588; www.regal-eastasia.com) has tennis courts, billiards, a bowling alley, a pool and a small play room. The rooms are simple and comfortable, and doubles are 1,300 yuan on weekdays and 900 yuan on weekends through July.

The Shanghai Center's short-stay apartments (1376 Nanjing Xi Lu; 86-21-6279-8665; www.shanghaicentre.com) generally require a minimum five-nights' stay, but not always. Apartments come with kitchens, maid service and use of the Ritz-Carlton's gym. One-bedrooms start at 1,570 yuan a night, two bedrooms at 1,970.