EXPEDITION DOCTOR

• The Work: Why stick to the hypochondriac-filled life of a clinic-bound medic when you can be Dr. Adventure? Hired on by outfitters to oversee the well-being and health of team members, expedition physicians organize the acquisition and transport of all medical supplies, treat every kind of emergency, and decide when to call for a helicopter evacuation.
• Payback: Unsalaried but—usually—all expenses paid.You supply the medical expertise, and the outfitter foots the bill for your equipment, permits, airfare, and food (about $15,000 for a six-week ascent of Cho Oyu, for example).
• Time Outside: 100 percent while on expeditions, which can last three weeks to a year.
• Prerequisites: An M.D. is preferable, but wilderness first responders and EMTs are also eligible (earn your certification for both from Wilderness Medical Associates; 207-665-2707; www.wildmed.com). A well-rounded résumé of sports experience can make the difference between a month in Tibet and predawn shifts at your local ER.
• Networking: The Wilderness Medical Society (719-572-9255; www.wms.org) plans to start posting expedition want-ads by summer 2000.
• Peon to Pro: Five years of steady backcountry work before you make the A-list. To stay in the business, you'll need a full-time job at home and a boss who'll tolerate long—and frequent—absences.
• Drudge Factor: When local villagers learn there's a Western doctor in town, get ready for overtime.
• Outlook: Healthy. The current vogue for far-flung expeditions and the growing number of novice clients have put a premium on outdoor physicians. The Wilderness Medical Society reports that requests for doctor referrals have doubled since 1996.

SMALL-PLANE PILOT

• The Work: Fly aerial tours over Utah's canyon country, run charter flights to isolated islands in the Florida Keys, or become a bona fide bush pilot, a winged frontiersman charged with getting anglers to the finest streams, hunters to the elk herds, and mountaineers to the peaks—usually in single-prop planes beyond the range of navigation systems.
• Payback: About $50 per hour of flight, at an average of 500-750 hours a year.
• Time Outside: 25-90 percent in the cockpit, with ample exposure to deserted beaches, glaciers, and alpine lakes between takeoffs.
• Prerequisites: An FAA-sanctioned pilot's license (some 500 hours of in-flight training, written and oral exams, and a solo flight test)—and a mentor. "You have to know how to get your butt out of trouble without whacking something," says veteran airman Rob Grant, 50, who suggests working for an experienced outfit before striking out on your own.
• Networking: The Aircraft Owners and Pilots AssociationWeb site offers a state-by-state database of flight schools (800-872-2672; www.aopa.org).
• Peon to Pro: "The minute you think you're a pro," warns Grant, "you're gonna have trouble."
• Drudge Factor: Getting grounded by stormy weather in remote Arctic villages. And stats show that every bush pilot has at least one accident in his career. Not good odds.
• Outlook: In Alaska, where a third of the population has no access to roads, business is booming. Not so in the Lower 48.

PROFILE
The Trip Scout's Royal Road
Three years ago, when one of the world's fanciest tour operators hired David Farnell to guide bicycling, walking, and wine-tasting trips through the French countryside, the recent college graduate knew he had stumbled onto something good. But it wasn't until last summer, as he was watching the sun set over Nantucket from the deck of the America's Cup-winning yacht Intrepid, that he realized just how sweet his paying job could get. "It was incredible," gushes the 27-year-old Massachusetts native, whose five-day trip included a chance to out-tack Ted Turner's rival craft American Eagle from Martha's Vineyard to Newport.

Despite his sunburn, Farnell was hard at work, studiously researching the Intrepid's plush amenities for his job as trip scout at Toronto-based Butterfield & Robinson. Ever since being promoted from trip leader in 1997, Farnell has spent three months a year concocting deluxe vacations for B&R's well-heeled clientele, a task that entails pedaling back roads of Burgundy in search of the most scenic cycling routes, taste-testing seared scallops at Michelin three-star restaurants, and taking careful notes on claw-foot bathtubs at seventeenth-century chateaux. When the experience meets his rigorous standards, he adds it to B&R's roster. When it doesn't, he shrugs it off as another almost—but not quite—perfect day at the office.

As if his job weren't enviable enough, Farnell recently headed into the backcountry of North America to begin scouting locations for B&R's newest endeavor, multisport expeditions for adventurous clients in their twenties and thirties. With the new territory came a promotion to one of five B&R program directors—and an extra helping of adrenaline: In September, Farnell embarked on a two-week research assignment to hike in the glacier-capped Canadian Rockies, mountain-bike epic singletrack near Whistler, and sea-kayak the remote Gulf Islands—all on founder George Butterfield's tab, of course. "George just puts advances on my credit card and says, ŒGo have fun,'" explains Farnell. So, will one of adventure tourism's most pampered guinea pigs ever feel the need to answer a higher calling? "Not unless Ifind a job with better perks." —KIMBERLY LISAGOR